The detective tucks the notepad in his pocket and shoots my mother a soft smile, “I think I have what I need.” He pulls a business card out of his back pocket and holds it out to my mother. “In case she remembers anything else.”
She refuses to take it, her mama bear instincts kicking in, not allowing her baby cub to experience any more trauma. “Leave it there.” She nods to my bedside table.
The detective sets the card on the surface and slides it toward me with two fingers. “Call me.”
I look away from him. I’ll never call. Not a chance.
“So, now that he’s gone, who was the third person at the scene?” My mother asks, raising her eyebrows.
I don’t like lying to her, never have. She can sniff out a lie better than a hound can sniff blood. I close my eyes and decide to tell her the truth about what I saw inside that car—what it did to Maureen, to me. I open my mouth to speak, and an alarm sounds overhead. The lights dim, then flicker, and a static voice crackles over the PA system in the hallway. “Code Red. Lobby. This is not a drill.”
A nurse speeds into our room, “Stay here. We’re sheltering in place. There’s a small fire in the lobby.” She exits the room, closing the door behind her. Another door slams outside my room, and another as the staff goes room to room and door to door, securing patients.
As the alarm overhead continues to screech, the fear inside me builds, and I don’t know why. I want to go home and crawl under the covers where it’s safe.
My mother places a reassuring palm on my forehead. “It’s going to be okay.”
I force a nervous smile, and after several agonizing minutes, the alarm falls silent. The door swings open, and a nurse peeks in. “All set. Someone turned on the lobby fireplace, and a magazine left on the hearth caught fire. They think a draft may have blown it toward the flames or something.”
My mother thanks the nurse and stands. “Well, it’s getting late. Your father will be by tomorrow to see you.” She kisses my head and combs my hair with her fingers. “Love you, Tessa bear.”
“Love you too.”
She strolls through the doorway and vanishes around the corner.
I stare at the blank television screen, my eyes stuck and watering. My chest tightens, and I clutch it as I sob uncontrollably. My friend’s dead, my boyfriend’s a cheater, my car’s totaled, I’m in the hospital, and all I can think about is the man-creature that saved me. His words filter into my head, and goosebumps raise the hair on my arms. He said I belong to him now. What does that even mean? And him tasting me, what was that all about?
A shift in light draws my attention to the open door. The hallway grows darker and darker until there’s nothing but a black opening where the door should be.
I grip the sheets beneath me, my nails folding over as a soft orange glow lights up the blackened space. My heart races, and the monitors above me bleep their warnings to whomever will listen as a single burning piece of paper floats into the room, landing on the floor beside my bed. Etched on its surface in black jagged letters is one word.
Mine.
Chapter Four
Jayce
The hallway lights suddenly brighten. I grab my call button and press it repeatedly as the burning paper slowly turns to dust. A nurse swoops into the room, dispersing the remnants of the page and huffs. “Yes?”
“There was…” I point to the floor where she’s standing. “I…” I’m at a loss for words. Now that she’s here, I’m suddenly unable to form whole sentences.
She rolls her eyes, picks up my water carafe and shakes it. “I’ll get you some more ice water.” The second she exits the room, another figure appears.
Jayce swipes his bloodshot eyes, clearing them of tears. Judging by his unruly hair and disheveled clothes, he hasn’t slept.
“Hi,” his voice cracks as he enters the room fully.
I turn my head and stare out the window. “Get the fuck out.”
“Tessa, please. I’m so sorry.”
He touches my arm, and I face him, pulling my arm away. “This is all your fault. You did this to me—to Maureen.” A wayward tear drips from my lids, soaking into the blanket on my lap. “If you hadn’t cheated on me, this would never have happened,” I say, raising my voice.
Tears cascade over his cheeks as he collapses beside me, his hands cupped over the edge of the bed. “Please, Tessa. I need you to forgive me. This is all just too much. I can’t go through this without you.”
“Go through what? Grieving?” I push his hands away from the bed, and he sits back on his heels as I say, “You grieve for her, not for me—not for what you’ve done to us.” I point to the door. “Go feel sorry for yourself somewhere else. I’m all out of forgiveness here.”
“Please, Tessa.” He shakes his head. “Don’t do this. I need you.”
