“So much glass… and blood, oh God, so much blood…” I mumble, staring at the pink-tinged water as it swirls down the drain.
The sight of it makes the nausea I’ve been suppressing rise again.Hot and fast.My stomach clenches violently.I rip my hands from his and lurch towards the toilet, a choked gag tearing from my throat.I barely make it before my body convulses, heaving up the scant contents of my stomach into the bowl.
The world narrows to the cold porcelain beneath my hands and the violent spasms racking my body.A firm hand immediately comes to rest on my back.Another gathers my ponytail, holding it securely away from my face.
His presence is a rigid, silent wall behind me.
The heaving subsides, leaving me empty and trembling.Too weak to get up, my body gives out, and I slide to the cold tiles of the floor.
Matthew flushes the toilet.A moment later, he crouches in front of me, pressing a damp paper towel to the back of my neck and uses another to wipe my mouth and forehead.When he looks me in the face, the fury is still there, a chilling, controlled storm in the depths of his eyes.He reaches out and firmly tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
“Breathe,” he instructs with tense practicality.
I take a shaky, obedient breath.
“I thought… him lying there, all that blood… I really thought he was dead,” I croak, my eyes welling with fresh tears.
Matthew flinches.A storm of emotions wars behind his eyes before he stands and helps me to my feet.His arm is a firm support around my waist, guiding me back to the sink.He runs the water, wetting a thick wad of paper towels.He dabs under my eyes and wipes my cheeks and jawline.
He tosses the soiled paper towels into the bin and turns to grip the edge of the sink.He hunches over, his head tucking into his chest.
A heavy silence fills the small space.
My heart aches for him.For the pain I’ve caused him.I take a hesitant step closer and place my hand on his back, feeling the rigid tension of his muscles through the fine fabric of his suit.
He straightens at my touch.He shrugs out of his suit jacket and holds it out to me without making eye contact.“Wear this,” he says, his voice flat.
I take the jacket, confused by his tone, and slip it on.The scent of him is a slight comfort.
“Let’s go.I’m taking you home.”His expression is closed off.
The finality in his tone makes me recoil.“I can’t leave.”
A muscle feathers in his jaw.“What?”
“I need to make sure he’s okay,” I clarify, my voice a pleading whisper.
I see the hurt flash across his face before it’s replaced by that detached, lawyerly mask.“You did your part.You called for help.He’ll live.”His words are clipped.
He reaches past me, turning the lock with a decisive click.“Now, let’s get out of here.”
“How can you be so cold?”The words escape me in a rush of disbelief.“He was bleeding all over the floor.He could have—”
“Amy.”He opens his mouth to say more, but then shuts it abruptly.
Unadulterated frustration takes over his features.He runs both hands furiously down his face, dragging them back up through his hair.
He looks trapped.
Cornered.
He lets out a harsh, ragged breath.“I’ll get us some water.”
And before I can respond, he swings the bathroom door open with enough force that it hits the wall with a resounding bang.
He storms out.
FIFTY FIVE
