Page 88 of Rock Me

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Jez

She's quiet through dinner. Not totally, but she's not the usual effervescent and chatty woman I'm used to. I can't help wondering if she's regretting her decision, and realizing she's doesn’t want to be here, to be with me.

I ask her if she wants a coffee and she gives me a small smile and shakes her head.

Maybe she's tired, and doesn't want to tell me?

You idiot, she's been in the hospital for... well, I'm not sure how long, but for some time. She's recovering from a brain injury at least, and you don't even give her time to rest.Thoughtless prick.

"Are you finished?" I ask as she puts down the fork she's been using to pick at the cheesecake on her plate. She didn't eat much. Even more of an indication that she's probably pretty tired. I've seen this woman put away a plate of Emily's lasagna even before I could get a forkful.

She nods and takes a sip of her water, patting at her lips with the napkin. It's quite late now and the buffet dining room is pretty empty. I'd managed to get a booth in the smaller room and there aren't many people to see us.

The last thing I want is to be ambushed while we're here. Without bodyguards and the entourage and the other guys in the band, I'm not really sure how I would handle it.

I get up and give her my hand. She shakes her head and pulls herself out of the booth.

"I don't want to hurt your hand," she explains as she stands up and then takes it and pats it gently before letting go.

Her thoughtfulness is touching and my heart lurches in my chest. While I'm pushing her to fatigue, she's still thinking of me. I take her hand and lead her out of the restaurant. The chaotic noise of the casino instantly bombards us and she flinches.

I pull her closer, sliding an arm around her waist.

Stay with me, I think. I'll keep you safe.

She rests her head on my shoulder as we walk towards the elevators.

"Tired?"

"A little, I guess," she says quietly, and I can barely hear her over the beep-beeps of the poker machines and yells from winners and losers at the game tables.

"Let me get you up to bed and you can go to sleep," I say, kissing the top of her head.

She stops.

Her hand dropping from mine.

"What's wrong? Did you need to go to the restroom?" I ask, pointing to the row of doors behind her.

"Argh!" She yells, "What is wrong with you? Or is it me?"

"What?" I ask; she’s angry, and I have no idea why.

"No, you need to tell me. Is there, like horns growing out of my head?” She makes little fingers movement on either side of her temples. “Or do I smell like funky cheese, or do you only like really tall women, or really short women or something?"

"Um." She's glaring at me, and her chest is heaving with deep, heavy breaths. I'm assuming I've done something wrong but I can't figure out what it is.

"Why... ugh, never mind!" She storms off without finishing her sentence.

I run after her, catching her hand and spinning her around.

"Whoa, whoa, Emmie, baby! What's going on? Did I do something?"

"No!" She snaps, avoiding eye contact.

"So I didn't do something?"