“Eat.” I dropped the plate in front of Jules on the table. It landed with a clatter. But she didn’t move to touch it. “It’s not fucking poisoned. If that’s what you’re thinking,” I told her. “I’m more of ahands-onkinda guy.”
I laughed. She didn’t. Which meant Nurse Keller here didn’t have a sense of humor because that shit was fucking funny.
I rolled my eyes, nearly popping a blood vessel as I forced the edge out of my tone. “Just do me a favor and fucking eat it…please.”
Yeah, that last one was fucking hard. But this girl used manners like a crutch. Might as well toss 'em back at her and see if they stick.
She slid the plate closer to her chest and started picking at her eggs with a fork. I plopped down across from her, yanking the oversized fluffy pink robe tighter across my chest. Oversized to her. The thing barely fit me.
And I know what you’re thinking. Did I answer the door for the delivery guy like this?
Sure did. On the off chance my disappearance made the news—it wouldn’t if Burke and Hare had anything to say about it and they did—I had to do my best to stay covered up. At least for everyone I wasn’t planning on killing.
“I was gonna call you out of work,” I said, breaking the silence as I shoved another forkful of eggs into my mouth. Manners were her thing, not mine. “But looks like you beat me to it.” I lifted a questioning brow, only to realize she couldn’t see it.
Juliet shrugged, taking in more air than food and pretending to chew both. “Didn’t want them to have to find a replacement at the last minute.”
“Suicidalandconsiderate.” I chuckled. “Be still my heart.”
Her lip twitched and so did my cock. Some fucked-up part of me actually liked making her smile. Who would have thought? Not me, that was for goddamn sure.
“So, why’d ya do it?” I asked, and she jerked back like I’d slapped her. Maybe I should have approached the topic a little more gently, but seeing as I’d broken into her house last night to murder and fuck her, not necessarily in that order even if it usually worked out that way, I figured we were beyond discussing the weather.
“Why does anyone do anything?” Another shrug.
“Well…” I leaned forward, shoving my plate onto the floor and listening to it shatter. She was pissing me off and I wanted to startle her. To make sure she was paying attention. I didn’t ask shit because I was interested in idle chitchat. I asked because I wanted to fucking know. “Take me for instance, I break into women’s houses and slit their throats 'cause mommy liked to touch me when I was sleeping…” I glanced down at my bloodied knuckles and flexed a finger, one at a time, until pain was radiating up my wrist. “…and when I was awake and when she was bored or horny or couldn’t get a fix…”
I flattened out my palm and slammed it down on the table between us. Juliet jumped and I leaned back again.
“Now you know my secret. So tell me yours. Who touched ya, Jules?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
HER
Icouldn’t explain what it felt like. But maybe that was the problem… the fact that it didn’t feel like anything. It was just going through the motions. Smiling because it was what you were supposed to do and eating because it was what you were supposed to do. Going to work and coming home because it was what you were supposed to do.
The worst part was thinking that if you did everything you weresupposed to do, that maybe you’d finally feel how you were supposed to feel. Maybe you’d feel like everyone else. Maybe you’d… justfeel. In general. At all.
But the only thing I could feel were the tears trailing down my cheeks. I wasn’t sad. These weren’t sad tears. I wish I was sad. I wish I could be sad. Being sad meant that you knew what it meant to be happy, and I didn’t know much about either.
I wiped at the snot bubbling under my nose—I couldn’t imagine what my stepmother would think if she saw me looking such a mess—only tohave my hand slapped away and replaced by a piece of rolled-up paper towel.
“Will you stop fucking crying already,” he grunted, the sound muffled by the mask that didn’t make sense for him to wear anymore. Not if he really was here to kill me. And something told me that he was. That something beingthe man himself.More than once.
And even if he wasn’t, a mask couldn’t hide what parts of him I’d recognized. I mean, notthoseparts. I wasn’t looking at those parts. I was just dizzy from all the blood loss.
I meant his stature. Guys that tall with shoulders that wide didn’t exactly blend into the crowd, especially at Briarwood. The other physicians were on the opposite end of the BMI chart. More lean meat than actual muscle, except for Dr. Burke, whose physique would have made for a nice Sunday roast.
I glanced down at the job my would-be murderer had done on my arms. The odd crisscross pattern, unlike anything I’d ever seen before, was much more kindergarten art project than med-school graduate. I guess It was safe to assume that, that lab coat was a disguise too. Though I had to admit it looked better on him than the robe he’d yanked off the back of my bedroom door.
He rolled up each of the rose-pink sleeves over his biceps till they were busting at the seams and speared another sliver of runny egg before bringing his fork to his mouth, his jaw clicking when he chewed. I wasn’t sure if it was out of annoyance or habit.
“Sorry.” My reply was definitelyout of habit.
“And stop fucking apologizing,” he barked. “Why the fuck are you always apologizing?”
Because it was the best way to avoid an argument.
