Page 117 of Wade’s Wrath

Ripper looked uncomfortable. “You don't have to thank me.”

“I know.” That made him look at her, and Sarah smiled. “But I want to.”

His expression softened. “Then you're welcome.”

Harlow and Princess left a few minutes later to give Sarah time to settle. Ripper stayed near the doorway. He wasn’t inside or outside the room—but somewhere between. He was just standing guard.

Sarah put her duffel on the bed. “You can go.”

He nodded. “Okay.” He turned, and she panicked.

“Ripper.” He stopped, and Sarah hated herself a little.

He looked back at her. “What?”

She curled her fingers around the new keys. “Are you coming back?” The question made the room go very quiet, and Ripper's expression changed.

“If you want me to,” he breathed.

Sarah swallowed. She wasn't ready to understand why the thought of him leaving bothered her. She wasn't ready for a lot of things, but maybe she could handle one truth. “I think I do,” she admitted.

Ripper nodded. “Then yeah, I’ll be back,” he promised.

“When?” she asked.

“Tomorrow,” he said.

“Will you bring coffee?” she asked.

His mouth curved. “Caramel-flavored coffee,” he said.

“And cinnamon roll?” she asked.

“Bossy,” he said.

“You started it by bringing me coffee and breakfast every day in the hospital,” she reminded.

He groaned. “I’ve created a monster,” he teased.

Sarah smiled, and Ripper stepped into the hallway. “Lock the door if you want.”

“I will,” she said.

“And if you need something—” he started.

“I know,” she whispered.

He paused, and Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to give me your number?” he asked. Ripper stared at her.

“Shit,” she breathed. “Give me your phone.” She held out her hand to him, and he pulled out his phone. Sarah programmed her number in and handed it back to him, and he turned to leave her room. Seconds later, hers buzzed on the bed. She looked at the screen and saw that it was a text from Ripper.

Ripper: Don't call unless it's important.

Sarah stared at the message, and then another appeared.

Ripper: Or not important. Don't give a fuck. Just call.

A laugh escaped her, and she looked up at him. Ripper was watching her from the hall. “You're terrible at this,” she chided.