Page 12 of The Image of You

“You could have come to tell me you were leaving.”

She crossed her arms. “No, I couldn’t, Adam. We aren’t supposed to fraternize with the patients, and I wouldn’t risk my job. I was going to call you later and see how you were, though.”

I itched to touch her cheek. I wanted to know if her blush warmed her skin. Her words, however, grabbed my attention.

“You were going to call me?” I asked, surprised. “How’d you get my number?”

“Off your file,” she admitted.

“I was gonna give it to you. And ask for yours,” I murmured and gave in to the feeling, cupping one of her cheeks as I stroked it with my thumb. Her skin was incredible—silky, smooth, and yes, so very warm.

She didn’t back away from my caress. Our eyes met and held. So many emotions were in her wide, expressive gaze that looked more green than blue in the dim light. I could make out shadows of exhaustion under them, and the sudden need to care for her hit me. I blinked at the sensation—I had never once in my life experienced anything like it. I stepped back, my sudden movement making me dizzy, and I leaned back into the wall for support.

“You need to go home, Adam. You should have stayed until they released you,” she admonished.

“Yeah, this head thing is messing me up.” I huffed in frustration, unused to feeling so weak. “I need to grab a cab.”

“I’ll drive you.”

I looked at her in surprise. “Yeah? You sure?”

“You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

I arched my eyebrow. “As if I’d admit that when you were falling into my trap so easily?”

She grinned, her dimples deep. “Well, 6B drove me crazy all night. Maybe you could take out your homicidal tendencies on them instead.”

I laughed at her humor. “I’ll try to resist.” Then I frowned. “Wait, what room was I in?”

Her grin widened, and I knew who had driven her crazy. I grinned back, liking her teasing.

“Okay. My car is right there.” She pointed to an older, but still nice Lexus parked at the curb. “Do you need help?”

I couldn’t resist the chance to touch her. “Maybe just your hand.”

She let me enfold her hand in mine. I liked how it felt enclosed in my larger palm. As if it belonged there.

I wondered if my recent head injury was causing these strange emotions.

Except, I had a feeling it was something much more tangible.

Something much more real.

* * *

Ally faltered when we arrived at my building. Conversation had been limited in the car, aside from directions. I had slumped down, closing my eyes and fighting the pain as she drove. Her car smelled like her, and I breathed in the scent, holding the air in my lungs, filling myself up with her essence. Now I could see she was torn, unsure of the next step.

I turned to her with an apologetic grin. “Can I ask another favor?”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“I’m starving.” I indicated a small, hole-in-the-wall restaurant across the street. “That’s Alvin’s. They make the best breakfast sandwich in town. Would you come have breakfast with me?” When she hesitated, I said the one thing I already knew she couldn’t resist. It hadn’t taken me long to figure out how much of a caregiver this woman was, and I took advantage of her giving nature. “I don’t think I can get there and back on my own.”

She unclipped her seat belt. “Of course. I could use something to eat, too.”

She slipped an arm around my waist, and we walked across the street slowly. I liked how it felt having her close, even if she was acting like a nurse. It was early, so Al wasn’t busy yet, and we grabbed a table at the back. I leaned forward conspiratorially. “I recommend the sandwich, but I would stay clear of the coffee. You may be awake for days.”

“Good to know.”