Page 107 of Fixation

Except her email is the last thing on my mind. I barely hear Emersyn talking about the two new employees the factory just hired.

The second my eyes land on my bed, my jaw drops.

The sheets are clean. The bed has been made.

Shock transforms into acceptance, and then…

Fuck.

Gratitude.

A knot forms in my throat. My heart warms and expands in my chest.

While I tremble with fear.

This is so fucked up. So wrong, that Anderson’s left his mark on every inch of my home.

He invaded my privacy.

Unable to resist, I lean in, inhaling the scent of my detergent on my sheets. The faint woodsy smell of my doctor is there too.

I hate him.

And…

The man is an ER surgeon. He has to work long hours, has a stressful job.

Yet he found the time to take care of me. To come here and change my sweat-stained sheets. To make my fucking bed.

“Oh, I forgot, they even brought us samples,” Emersyn chirps while confusion makes my temples throb. “I shipped them to your house. They should be there tomorrow.”

“Great.” The word sounds flat. My tongue is heavy.

“Hey, are you okay?” My VP hears it in my voice. “Do you need another day or two off? I’ve got this, you know. I’m good, promise.”

“I’m fine.” Physically, yes. On the inside I’m a mess. I force myself to go to the bathroom. Laundry, I’ll focus on that. I’ll be better soon. “Thank you for the samples. I’ll have fun testing them,” I say what’s expected of me.

It’s all I can do not to gasp.

My hamper has been emptied. My vanity is spotless. Creams, lotions, liquid soap, razor. It’s all still here, right where I left it, just better.

My bathroom is pristine.

Thanks to Anderson.

I don’t know whether to feel violated or grateful.

“One last thing. Really last this time.” Emersyn huffs a laugh while I dash to my closet.

He dressed me in my clothes today, sure, but I never imagined he’d done the laundry.

Confusion claws at the back of my throat. I’m questioning myself, him, and basically everything that went down in that basement.

My mouth goes dry at the follow-up question that arises. Did he? Kidnap me?

An unhinged laugh bubbles from my chest, and I snap my hand over my mouth.

Yeah, he stole my sanity, all right. He went through the trouble of taking care of me while I was out, so I’d become this lost and unstable person that I’d need him again.