Page 18 of Tear Me Down

“No, I’ve made everything since we’ve been home.”

“Is there blood in her vomit?”

“No.” I hear the thermometer beep, and she takes it out and looks at it.

“It’s only ninety-eight point two, babe.” She says sweetly and holds it out for me to see.

“She doesn’t have a fever.”

“Could her stomach have been injured?” Doc asks, and I hesitate at the question, because what the fuck am I supposed to say that? I spread my fiancé on top of a desk and railed her after she teased me with her pussy? I don’t think so.

“In what context?” I question nervously, and she giggles at my reply.

“Was she hit or did she fall?”

Well, not those exact motions.

“No,” I answer curtly.

“Did she ingest any alcohol?”

“No.”

“We had sex earlier, Derek, and now he’s worried, but I'm fine,” she yells into the phone, giggling like a schoolgirl, and I realize through my fucked up, worried brain, that I could’ve just said it like that.

“I see,” I hear him say back with a cautious tone. “Do you have a way to check her blood pressure and heart rate?”

“Serena is on her way over, I'll ask her to check.” I shake my head at her, melting at the sound of her laughter.

“Great. It could be just anxiety, or the antibiotic pills not settling well. I doubt sexual activity could have damaged her stomach. Once Serena checks her out in person, if she feels the need to bring her in, give me a call back.”

“Will do, Doc. Thanks.” I hang up the phone and sit next to her on the floor, trying to relax and sink into her sweet giggles as she leans into me, resting her head against my chest as I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “You sure you're okay?”

“Yeah, besides being sore, I felt fine earlier. I fell asleep and just woke up not feeling well.”

“I'm sorry.” My voice comes out more pained than I expected. I am sorry. I'm sorry that she feels this way. Sorry that I couldn't protect her. She chuckles, but less genuinely than before.

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” she says, so easily and sincerely that it makes it hard to swallow.Yes, it is. Even my men think so, obviously.“Did you guys find anything out about the mysterious Senator?” she inquires, with that attitude I love so much, shaking her head freely against my chest in a playful demeanor and trying to change the subject.

“Not yet, but I'm sure we will.” I clear my throat, trying to loosen the strain. “I’ve got to go to the new building and get shit settled there tomorrow. You can stay and rest if you want. I'm sure I can get Alex or Zeke to watch over you.” She shakes her head.

“I'm fine baby, I feel a little better now. I know tomorrow is a big day for you. I want to be there.” All I can do is nod to respond. Opening my mouth would only reveal the pain I feel building in my chest.

I take this time to inhale her, engulfing her scent to the point I can taste it on the back of my tongue, then holding it in and letting it seep. I feel shaky, and my chest tightens again. She’s fine. She’s right here, breathing, talking… Why can’t I talk myself down? Ever since that day, the slightest thing wrong with her has me feeling like this. Normally, I touch her or kiss her and it goes away, but not this time. I want that motherfucker dead. I want anyone that threatens her dead. That’s going to be my only solace. The only way this guilt, this pain, is going to fade away completely. How am I supposed to look her in the eyes and promise her forever when I'm the reason she almost didn't get to live it?

I'm jolted out of my thoughts by my phone vibrating against the bathroom counter, sending a little shock through my body until it settles only a second later. Gently adjusting our position, I move to grab it and look at the screen. It’s Bradley, one of the moles. I quickly answer and pull it to my ear.

“Yeah?”

“I think I found the one that got into your house, D. Pirate Sip, dark hair, gargoyle tat on left forearm.” The call immediately cuts out. Whenever the moles call, it’s never for long, and only for something extremely important. I put my phone back on the counter and sit back, realizing what this means. He's the one. The one who willingly poisoned the love of my life, and now I can finally get to him.

“What’s wrong?” she asks me.

“Nothing, baby. Serena should be here in a few minutes. I'm going to go handle something.” I stand up and softly help her to her feet.

“Handle what?” I reach down and kiss her cheek before squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“I'll explain when I get back.” I turn and walk away.