Page 37 of Broken Souls

“I sent him outside right before you came.” I nod toward the back door. “Probably anxious to return, but he was everywhere, and I needed a break.”

“Are you having problems with him?” A worried wrinkle appears between her brows.

“No. Why?”

“Because he’s a vicious little asshole and doesn’t like anyone?” She cackles.

“No, he’s a sweetheart.” I feel a little offended she thinks of Ghost this way. He’s the cutest fur-baby on the planet.

Her brows rise and disappear into her hairline. “All right then. Gotta go. Call me.” And she leaves me alone with Mark.

I go to the back door and open it, expecting Ghost to barrel in, knocking me down. But the dog surprises me by taking a careful step inside and sniffing the air. A low growl comes from his chest, and he lowers himself closer to the floor.

“Are you growling at me?” I pop a hip, but he runs past me to the entrance door and growls again. “Oh, I see. You aren’t friends, huh.”

He growls again and goes to lick Mark’s fingers.

Another groan comes from the couch. Mark’s this time.

“Was it Rachel?” His voice sounds more confident.

“Yeah, she gave you a shot because your fever wasn’t going down.” I walk toward him and stop a couple of feet from the couch, not knowing what to do. “She said to stay here with you since it can come back.”

“You don’t have to.” He croaks.

“I don’t mind.” I lock my hands behind my back, fidgeting with my fingers. I’m completely uncomfortable with the situation, not knowing what to do and not knowing if he remembers what he said.

“Tha—” He starts coughing. “Thank you for your help.”

“No problem.”

He coughs again, and I rush to the kitchen to get him some water. I pass the full glass to him and accidentally touch his fingers. A zip goes through my body, and I nearly drop the cup.

“Can I ask you a favor?” His voice is still coarse, but at least the coughing subsided.

“Sure.” I pause my nervous fidgeting. “What’s up?”

“I’m drenched.” He coughs. “Can you get me a shirt from my bedroom?”

“Yeah, sure.” I’m about to run to his bedroom but pause, since I don’t know where I’m going. “Where can I find it?”

A loud sniffle. “The left bottom drawer.”

“Any preference?”

“A dry one.” He cracks a pained smile.

“Okay.” I chuckle and go to his bedroom to retrieve a shirt. When I pull the drawer open, I find everything is in perfect order. I’ve never had my closet so organized. I grab a white T-shirt and go back to him.

And stop dead in my tracks.

Because he took off his wet shirt and is sitting on the couch shirtless. His wide shoulders are now on full display and seem so huge and powerful. Larger than I remember. His elbows rest on his knees, and his biceps bulge at this angle. The veins pop from his arms, hanging between his legs. His torso holds so much restrained power, I stop breathing, waiting for a wave of horror to wash over me. But it never does. Instead, another thing washes over me. Between my legs. Completely inappropriate timing. Warm shame rises up my neck.

I swallow, trying to moisten my suddenly dry throat.

He notices my presence and lifts his face. “Look, I’m really grateful for you coming here. I know you didn’t have to, and I was an asshole, but thank you. I owe you one.”

I shake my head. “We’re even. You saved me a bunch of times. And if we’re keeping the score, I still owe you.”