Page 29 of Indebted

“Katie!”

I came to with something cool resting on my forehead and something warm around my right hand.

My body recognized him before I even opened my eyes. Only one person made my skin feel too tight and my pulse thrum in my veins.

“Where is everyone?”

Justin’s voice was low, gentle. “Most of the patients, Midge can take care of.”

I lay on one of the operating tables, the lights overhead hurting my eyes, all the equipment neatly put away and stored along the sides of the white room, unneeded.

I sat up slowly, Justin’s hand leaving mine—probably for the best—to go to my shoulder.

“Easy,” he said. Once my feet were dangling off the side of the table he stepped back. “Why didn’t you tell me you fainted at the sight of blood?”

I rubbed my temple. “Because it’s only happened once before.” The memory was a bitter pill to swallow, one I didn’t want to relive.

“When?”

“It’s not important.”

“Damnit, Katie. When did this happen?”

“My senior year of high school,” I snapped, the memory resurfacing. The lonely ache in my chest expanding with each breath. “The blood donation vans would come to the schools and I wanted to donate.” I shrugged; it wasn’t a big deal. I wanted to give back, to see the approval in my teachers faces when I had to miss class to ‘save a life’. It was the only positive adult attention I ever got. “Everything was fine up until they stuck me with the needle and the blood started to flow.” I swallowed, feeling queasy all over again. “I passed out.”

Justin frowned. “Why didn’t the school call your mother and I?”

I leveled him with my stare. “They did.”

Straight to voicemail. They never picked up. The staff of the blood donation van had to help me to the nurse’s office. It was a huge deal. Everyone staring. Pointing, whispering. Then it was nothing but pitying looks from the nurses when my mom and Justin hadn’t cared enough to answer my school’s call. The nurse had allowed me to sleep on the cot for a whole class period because she’d felt sorry for me.

“We never got a call, Katie.” Every line on his face indicated he was telling the truth, but I’d been there. I’d lived it.

“You did. You were both too busy to care, is all.”

“Bullshit. We would’ve come in a heartbeat. I would’ve—”

“No one came, Justin, okay? Don’t pretend otherwise to try to make me feel better now. You fucking left me. Both of you. You never cared. It’s over. Done with.”

“Is that what you think? That I didn’t care about you?”

Oh no. We were not having this conversation. I was feeling too vulnerable for that. Too unstable.

“Katie,” Justin’s arms enveloped me, “you’re shaking.”

“No,” I pushed him away.

“It’s okay to take comfort from another,” he growled.

“No, not when that person is you.”

Warm, firm fingers grasped my chin and forced my eyes to his. He stepped between my knees, his voice soft. “I didn’t know, Katie. You want to think I don’t care, because for some reason it helps you keep a barrier between us. One you don’t want taken down. Why is that?”

The air grew thick around us. “You know why.” I deflected. He would never know about the devastation he wrought when he and my mom turned their backs on me. He didn’t even remember it. It was better to have him think the barrier I kept up around myself was because of the tension between us.

The inappropriate tension.

His eyes blazed, the hum between us growing stronger. “Let me take care of you.”