Page 106 of Save Me

I do as he asks, and he listens to my lungs with a slight frown. Or at least, I think he’s listening to my lungs. Maybe it’s my heart. Oh fudge, he’s gonna hear how fast it’s beating because his hands are on me. Naturally, my heart starts to beat like a bear is chasing me.

“I don’t think anything’s affected, but we’ll keep an eye on it.” Maddox pulls the scope off. “Anything weird about your urine recently? No blood?”

“Nope.”

“I should have asked you sooner. I just had no idea you were this fucked up.” Maddox’s hands are clenched into fists. Gently, so he doesn’t startle, I place mine over his. “It’s not your fault.”

Maddox’s jaw clenches, and I know he believes differently.

“You need to take these meds every six hours on the dot. I’ll be checking to make sure you do.” Maddox is so serious, using his stern voice. It makes tingles rush through me. He cares. He’s paying attention. Enough to be a bossy butt.

“Yes, sir.”

I catch the flash of arousal in his gaze.

Fudge. I’ve never been happier to be hurt.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

I think living out of a hotel room is going to actually drive me crazy.

It’s been three weeks, and we and the animals–who we’ve been hiding–have jumped from hotel to hotel to let the heat die down. Although we haven’t caught much heat. Arthur was reported missing, but because they haven’t found a body or any ‘enemies,’ his case has slid to the side. Plus, I’m pretty sure Micah’s friend Dakota works with the police department and has been pulling some strings.

We could have gone back to Micah’s townhouse, but I just…can’t. I told Micah to go back, and he refused.

Stare at a phone, eat food, stare at a wall, drink water, stare out a window, take the trash out. It’s gotten to the point where taking the trash out every evening is the highlight of my day.

I’m barely functioning. There are reminders of Arthur all over the place, in every older guy I see walk past the window, in every cop that pops up on social media, in every soft look Micah gives me, as if he’s looking at me and seeing my past. I think he caught me waking up crying, although I can’t confirm it. Either way, he treats me like I’m fragile, and I’m not fucking fragile.

Thank fuck the tattoo stopped itching. On some of my later nights, I imagined the itching feeling was Arthur trying to crawl out of my skin. In bad moments, it feels like there’s a volcano in my chest. Sometimes it makes me want to scream, and other times it burns all the feeling out of me, and all I feel I can do is lie in bed and stare at the ceiling.

Micah and I never returned to the thing we started that night. I think I’ve figured out Micah’s side of the game–he wants me to take the lead. Wants me to admit weakness first. Wants me to admit I can’t stop looking at him when I think he isn’t watching. But not in a mean way. At least, not yet.

I just…fuck. In my weakest moments, I think about it, but I mostly try to occupy myself by spending time with Minky and Princess. Minky has been spending a lot of time in the bathroom so Princess doesn’t wipe the floor with his ass.

“Hey, take a look at this place!” Micah beams, showing me his phone. We’re lying in our separate beds, and he’s been showing me properties he wants to buy. It brings me so much guilt because I caused this. I made his home a murder scene.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but when I do, my last nightmare pops into my mind. The one where Arthur comes back to life and beats Micah to death in front of me. Where he hurts Princess. They always end as he strangles me to death on the floor, looking at their bodies, knowing damn well I deserve it for letting them get hurt. I never should have told Arthur off. This is all my fault.

I don’t tell Micah about the dreams. Maybe it’s because the thought of Micah thinking I’m weak makes me want to gag. I should be over this by now. It’s over. It’s all over. So why am I still fucking dreaming about it?

Only it’s not over because Micah, Princess, and Minky are out of a home now because of me.

I glance at the property. It’s an old-looking farmhouse.

“There are a few acres! And a barn! We could start our sanctuary there!”

I frown. Micah is talking about us like we’re a…thing. It throws me every time. Are we a thing? Or does he mean the weird bond when you kill someone together?

Micah is looking at me, as if he expects a response. I dodge the ‘we’ topic. “Aren’t there rules about that kind of stuff? Pretty sure you can’t just…collect a shit ton of animals like some underground zoo.”

Micah’s face falls, losing that easy joy he had just a minute ago.

Because of me.

Something gross twists in my gut. I’m robbing him of his joy.

“I’m sure we could figure it out.”