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“You found another girl?”
“I found my girl.”
She stilled, goosebumps covering her tiny body beneath the thin gown she wore. Her breathing picked up speed. Tears clawed at her eyes, trying to get out. Her relieved emotions tried to force a smile, but she kept her lips closed so I would not see the mess her once-pretty mouth had become.
“Is she okay?” She choked on the whisper, and I filled her a plastic cup of water, tilting her head to assist her and prevent it from dripping down her chin.
“She’s alive and well, I guess. She did have some trauma yesterday, but Rodregez saw her, and Kate, who you like, is currently with her right now. Apparently, they are watching Christmas movies.”
A quick call while I raced from one side of the hospital to the other gave me the information I needed, that Cat was okay. Because, in truth, I didn’t want to leave her for this amount of time. Today, she was strong. She was safe in my home and building her strength up with the breakfast I’d made her, but yesterday, she’d had a fucking heart attack. I needed confirmation and asked Kate to text me updates every hour. After she hung up the phone, she sent the first one, telling me about the Christmas movie, one I fucking hated, a depressing fucking thing.
“Will you get one for me? A Christmas movie, for nostalgia purposes.”
“Of course. I’ll get a TV in here by tonight, and you can pick your favorites.”
Please, don’t let it be that same fucking movie, I prayed to the Lord above.
“What is she like?”
“She has a few problems right now. She’s suffering from amnesia. She doesn’t remember anyone. Doctor Rodregez isn’t sure if it’s permanent or not.”
“She doesn’t remember anything?”
“No. Nothing good, not all of the bad. He recommends heart surgery, as she suffered a small heart attack yesterday.”
Ms. Sutter’s hand clutched at her own chest, wrinkling the material of her thin nightgown. “There’s no such thing as a small heart attack.”
I agreed, which was why I needed the updates—I needed to be home when I also needed to be here.
“She’s doing good today.” I closed my eyes and pictured her. “She’s my little warrior.”
Chapter 18
Remi
Atext from Ollie got me home quickly. I couldn’t be sure the tires even touched the ground.
It was a photo message that I missed for all of six minutes because a TV had been put in Ms. Sutter’s room, and we were watching that movie everyone loved—the one with the kid who gets forgotten when his parents spend Christmas in Paris. Lucky bastard. I’d have loved my mother to have fucked off to France when I was growing up. . .and stayed there forever.
The movie couldn’t end quickly enough, but I stayed until the end because that was what good friends did. So, I sat, my foot bouncing with fraying patience, slumped over on my knees to hide the ache between my legs that a little green-eyed monster massaged into a full-blown erection.
Every few seconds, my eyes drifted to the phone. To Cat sinking into the couch with Declan, looking a little too comfortable for my liking. I mean, I wanted her fucking comfortable, but I didn’t appreciate Dec’s arm draped across the back of the seat where she sat. My cock felt the opposite, straining against a denim prison.
Even my cat—and yes, despite that Woodrow would argue, it was my cat—was curled up between them like their fucking lovechild. Traitor.
The second the credits rolled, I called for a nurse. The night nurse would be due soon, but I needed someone to sit with Ms. Sutter until then, and I was happy with my choice. He was a spunky young thing who really put effort into his job and the people he met through it.
A deep cobalt sat above the dark clouds when I stepped out of the van, and I couldn’t be bothered with returning it to the shed. Clearly, Woodrow had thought the same after returning from his mission with the dogs because the front of the house looked like a parking lot.
I entered the house and kicked off my boots. The weak structure of my patience snapped, stepping into the living room. Maybe it was tiredness, but I wouldn’t admit that when I’d been up less than forty hours, I would often do close to sixty with no trouble.
“Remi!” Cat sat up, instantly seeing me, but the closed-off look on my face kept her on the couch, a safe distance from me. Not only that, but Michael, the furball who waved his giant black tail my way, refused to move from Cat’s lap.
“Are you okay?” she asked, trying to nudge the animal onto the cushion at her side.
“We heard you had some issues with stitches?” Dec sat forward, too close to Cat for me not to notice. “Then got sidetracked with your girl at Beyond Heaven? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine.” My words were blunt, ending the conversation.
