Page 34 of Forgive Me Father


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“You said that the other day.”

“I must’ve meant it then.”

Saint smiled a little before his expression sobered again. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Is your life more familiar than it was six months ago?”

A humourless laugh bubbled up my throat. My life hadn’t been familiar since I’d kissed Mateo the first time. How could it be when all the healing-slash-avoidance I’d practised to that point meant nothing when the touch of his lips flayed me open like that? “It’s different every day, but I feel better when Mateo’s around.”

Saint nodded and pulled into the hospital car park. He drove to the outpatient entrance and eased to a stop. “I’ll find you when I’ve parked.”

“You’re coming in?”

He waved his phone. “Team orders.”

Mother ofChrist.

Cursing Cam, I slid out of the car and stomped into the hospital. It smelt like bleach and death, and nausea rolled my belly the second the automatic door closed behind me. I shoved my hands in my pockets, making a fist with one and gripping my phone with the other, already missing my green-eyed, tattooed babysitter. Saint’s company was a trip at the best of times, but I wasn’t good at being alone, andfuck, I missed Mateo.

Thanks to Saint’s hustling, I was bang on time for my appointment. The doctor called me back the second I reached the waiting room, and thirty minutes later, I realised Saint’s pessimism about the mess I’d be in after had been bang on too.

A nurse hovered beside me as I put my clothes back on. “Do you have someone to drive you home? I can call you a taxi?”

I thought of Saint prowling outside and nearly laughed. “I’m good. Thanks.”

She let me go.

Dazed, I left the consultation room. Saint wasn’t guarding the door, but he hadn’t gone far. I found him in reception, perched on the very edge of his chair, his back to the wall.

I wove my way to him and waited for him to stand.

He didn’t, his only greeting to point at the seat beside him.Sit the fuck down.

Okay.

I sank onto the hard plastic chair and braced my forearms on my knees.

“Put your head down,” Saint murmured.

“I’m fine.”

“So?”

It was hardly a valid counter argument, but as dizziness hit harder, I did as I was told, breathing through the sickening head rush rocking my equilibrium.

Saint waved a bottle of water at me.

I shut my eyes, sensing rather than seeing him slide from his seat to crouch in front of me.

A moment later, a phone pressed to my ear.

“Em?”

Mateo.Instantly, something settled inside me, like rough cement being smoothed with a careful hand. “Still awake, then?”

“Are you?”