Page 30 of Every Broken Piece

Chapter thirty

Gabe

W hen I return from walking Hardwick to her car, belligerent Tess is back and I’m so here for it. I’d much rather see her spitfire temper than scared and hurting.

“I would have helped you into bed.” I ignore her arms crossed tightly over her stomach and the dagger-like glare from those gorgeous honey-colored eyes.

“What’d you and the detective talk about when you walked her out?” Her lips twist on the word detective, like she sucked on a lemon. And there was definitely an emphasis on walked her out .

I sit in the chair next to the bed, resisting the urge to unwind her arms and take her hands in mine.

“I asked Detective Hardwick to keep me informed of any developments in your case. I assured her that I would help in any way possible.” Not a complete lie.

Not the complete truth either. It’s not that I want to keep information from Tess, but more that I don’t want to cause unnecessary worry until I have all the facts.

If my theory on the woman in the lobby pans out, I’ll tell Tess about it. Until then there’s no reason to.

She doesn’t seem happy with my answer. In fact, she seems downright suspicious, but I don’t elaborate, and we fall into an uneasy silence.“The doctor came by,” she says after a few minutes. “I can go home tomorrow.”

“That’s great news.” I start to reach for her then pull back, reading her I’m still really angry body language.

I don’t like that I wasn’t here to talk to the doctor with her.

At the same time, I understand that I don’t have the right that a boyfriend or real fiancé would in this situation.

I’m not her real fiancé and honestly, I don’t need to play the part anymore.

But I want to. I want people to think we’re engaged.

I want the access it gives me so I can help her.

“You can go home now,” she says.

Years of negotiating boardroom deals has left me with an excellent poker face, so I don’t let on how much her words sting.

“What’d the doctor say?” I ask instead because I’m pretty confident the doctor wouldn’t release her without someone to stay with her for at least a little bit.

My suspicions are confirmed when she uncrosses her arms and nervously pulls at a loose string at the edge of the blanket, her head tilted down and turned away from me.

I sit back and cross an ankle over my knee, willing to wait her out. It doesn’t take long.

“You can stop the fake fiancé thing,” she finally says, yanking the thread loose and wrapping it around the ring finger of her injured arm. “I’m not your responsibility anymore.”

“You never were my responsibility.”

She tightens the string until the tip of her finger begins to turn purple. “Then why are you here?”

“Why do you want me to leave?”

She throws her good hand up. “Because you don’t need to be here.”

“What did the doctor say, Tess?” I reach over and unwind the string. She huffs.

“You can’t be here, Gabe. You have to go home.”

You can’t be here .

Not I don’t want you here . Not I don’t need you here . You can’t be here.

“Who’ll take care of you after you’re released?”

“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I don’t need anyone to do it for me.”

This girl. She has no idea that she doesn’t need to take care of herself anymore because I’m here now. “I get that you’re frustrated. I understand that you don’t like relying on other people. As much as you want to, you know you can’t do this on your own.”

“I can.”

“You think I don’t know what the doctor said? I bet he said you can go home if someone’s with you twenty-four seven for the next week at least. I bet he said you need to take it easy. Rest. Get plenty of sleep.”

Her jaw flexes and her eyes snap honey brown fire.

She’s so damn stubborn. She’ll fight me till the bitter end and damn if that’s not the biggest turn on. But she’s never butted heads with me. I don’t back down from a fight.

“You think you can take care of yourself?” I ask.

Her chin juts out and I fall just a little bit in love with my Spitfire.

“I can.”

“Then get out of bed.”

Her eyes go wide. “What?”

I roll my hands in a hurry up motion. “Get out of bed. Get yourself dressed. Let’s blow this place. If you can walk out of here on your own, with no help, I’ll take you home now and leave you at your front door so you can take care of yourself.”

I wait, anticipating her explosion of anger.

Look forward to it, actually. She’s not the only one itching for a fight.

I may not be as angry as she is, but I’m tired, and I’m worried.

Hell, I’ll admit it. I’m scared for her because my gut—and the fear buried in her eyes—is telling me that there’s a whole hell of a lot more to her story than she’s let on.

Her inner war is real. I can see her need for independence winning but at the last minute something deep inside her breaks. She turns her head away to blink back tears and my heated fury vanishes. Her tears leave me helpless and wrecked.

I scoot forward in my chair and lean my arms on her bed. Someone braided her hair. The long, twisted rope drapes over her shoulder and pools on the blankets at her waist. Following an instinct I probably shouldn’t succumb to; I move to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing?” She presses herself further into her pillows, blinking rapidly at me.

“Is this okay?” The last thing I want is to make her uncomfortable but sitting in that chair felt like too great a distance. I need to be closer.

I smooth some strands of hair that have escaped her twisted braid, tucking a few behind her ear.

There’s a bruise along her bottom jaw that I skim my fingertip over as I suppress the flash-bang of anger that races through me.

I can’t do anything about the attack. I can’t go back in time to stop it, or erase it, or kill the fucker before he can assault her. But I can take care of her.

To take my mind off her bruises I concentrate instead on the smoothness of her skin, the warmth of her body.

The steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.

The way she watches me so closely like she’s wary, but also curious.

Like she’s suspicious but also intrigued.

Like she wants to push me away, while tugging me closer.

“Tess?”

Those big, gorgeous eyes blink and now her breaths are shallower. She’s looking at my lips like she wants me to kiss her. Her body language has my own body locked down tight.

The dark room, the quiet hospital, the low murmur of the nurses’ voices at their station creates a cocoon of intimacy that makes me want to close the few inches between us and kiss her.

The conqueror inside me, the part of me that survived my wife’s death and built a huge business, who raised a son and defied every obstacle thrown at me, wants to kiss her until that breath hitches for a different reason.

I won’t take advantage of her when she’s helpless. But damn it I want to.

The mood is not necessarily broken but diluted when she drags her gaze from my mouth to beyond my shoulder, releases a deep breath, and rolls her eyes. “You forget that I’m your PA. I know what your schedule looks like. Aren’t you supposed to be in England next week?”

“I’ll reschedule.” We still need to discuss her lack of employment, but not tonight.

She’s still struggling with the loss of independence.

Discovering she’s unemployed might break her completely and she’s had enough for one day.

I have, too. I can’t watch her fall apart when my own emotions are so raw.

“You can’t reschedule,” she says.

“I can.”

“What if I don’t want you here?”

I don’t know why she has walls. She’s dropped clues and I have my suspicions.

I’m making it my mission to find out, but I need to go slow.

One step at a time and right now the step I need to take is to convince her to let me help her through tomorrow.

Then I’ll work on the next day, and the day after that.

“Do you really not want me here? Because if my presence is causing this much distress then I’ll leave. I’ll walk out that door right now if that’s what you really want.”

I won’t. I can’t. But she doesn’t know that. And my gut tells me to call her bluff.

I may not have wanted another woman in my life, but she’s here now and I’m all in. If she kicks me out, I’ll find another way.

“Let me be your family, Tess.”

Mirrored in her eyes is all the confusion I’m feeling. How’d we go from a grumpy boss who hates exclamation points and happy face emojis to the brink of something so explosive it has both of us scared?

I gently tug on the end of her braid. “Let me help you, Tess.”

A shudder runs through her. She’s proud, independent. I don’t know how long she’s been on her own, but it’s clearly been a while.

Her shoulders suddenly droop. “For a little while. You can stay just for a little while.”

I see how much the concession costs her. “For a little while, then.”

Even though what I really want to do is lay down beside her and gather her close to me while she sleeps, I return to my chair and pick up my laptop.

“What are you working on?” she asks. “Do you need me to help?”

“Just catching up on emails.”

“I’m sure your inbox is full. I can at least help with that.”

“The doctor said to stay away from screens for the next few weeks.” I was here for that conversation yesterday. She needs to let her brain heal and screens can cause severe headaches.

“I can’t not work for the next several weeks. My clients rely on me, and I don’t have that much sick time.”

I close my laptop because obviously her watching me work makes her anxious. “For now, let’s not think of me as your client. I’m just a...friend... Here to help.” Friend tastes bitter in my mouth, but I’ll accept it for now.

“Friend? I thought we were engaged.” There’s a sparkle in her eye that makes me grin. This is the Tess of our late-night texts.

“I thought you didn’t want to be engaged.”

She tilts her head and I’m fucking relieved to see that ghost of a smile. “Are we breaking up, Mr. Stone?”

“I’d be a fool to let someone like you go.” The words slip out without thought and an uncomfortable silence falls between us.

Her grin fades.

“Why?” she asks softly, vulnerably. “Why are you doing this?” Her hand sweeps across the room but I hear what she’s saying. Why am I sticking around? Why’d I fly here to begin with? What’s in it for me?

All questions I’ve asked myself over and over.

And only one answer I come back to over and over.

I’m falling for her.