Page 25 of When Hearts Unravel (The Orchid #6)

A chilly breeze chafes my skin and I quicken my pace as I hike toward the western sea-facing walls of Fort Lovrijenac, the distant cry of seagulls keeping me company.

I’m not supposed to be here at a little past seven a.m. because the fort isn’t open to the public yet.

But earlier, when I was walking over from the Old Town entrance, I saw a guard collapsed in the middle of the road in what appeared to be a seizure.

Visions of his body being trampled by cars propelled me forward.

I had to save him—save people in trouble. My calling.

Sprouting the worst Croatian ever—after all, the language glossary in guidebooks weren’t meant for these situations—I declared my doctor status to bystanders, whipped into action, moved him carefully away from oncoming traffic, and stayed with him until his colleagues arrived with a medical team.

As a thank you, a stern-looking officer motioned to the towering fort behind him and, in heavily accented English, told me to have a quiet stroll inside before it got overrun by tourists.

In the distance, faint golden rays attempt to break through the clouds, nature clearly not ready for the sun to disrupt this brooding, brisk morning. I stop to take out my phone and snap a picture of a seagull spreading its wings mid-flight, bravely fighting against the frigid gust.

I wish I had my Leica with me. It’d be more meaningful to take photos for Mia with the camera she gave me.

Holding in a sigh, I turn on the panoramic view and sweep the phone from left to right, taking in the sturdy walls of the ancient fort, the limestone arches, the cannon slots, the deep blue sea peeking out in the distance.

And a lonely silhouette of a man wearing a baseball cap, sitting atop a low segment of the walls.

I freeze, then slowly lower my phone.

There’s something familiar about him.

I walk toward him, my heart skipping several beats when I take in his corded forearms straining against rolled-up sleeves and his large hands bracing the wall, as if it’s taking all his energy to keep himself upright.

He’s sitting so still, he almost looks like a statue. If it weren’t for the place being empty, I would’ve missed him.

Another icy gust hits me in my face. My nose tickles. I cover my mouth before I sneeze, but I’m too late.

The sound gives me away.

The man whips his head around and intense gray eyes, framed by deep slashes of dark brows, meet mine.

Rex.

He’s the version of him I saw on the sun deck when we first arrived. Raw magnetism. Coiled intensity. Completely opposite of the flirty persona he shows to the public.

Unbidden, I close the distance between us, drawn to him like a magnet finally finding its partner.

He doesn’t move a muscle, his face impassive except for the searing heat in his gaze.

I carefully climb onto the wall and sit next to him. Despite the few feet separating us and the icy morning air, I’m not so cold anymore. In fact, I haven’t felt this warm in a long time.

We sit there in silence. I don’t say hello or good morning to him, and likewise, he doesn’t speak to me.

We’re just two souls who aren’t supposed to be here, staring at the endless azure waves tipped in white, crashing against the rocky cliffs and sand below.

My eyes make the mistake of dipping down, and I shake when I finally notice how far up I am.

One slip and I’m dead.

My mouth dries and teeth chatter. Carpe diem. Don’t be the boring, safe twin. Embrace the rule breaker inside you. Live without fears…for yourself.

“One hundred twenty feet. Give or take,” Rex murmurs, his voice a hoarse rasp.

“C-Come again?” I curl my fingers around the limestone slab.

Look at the horizon. Don’t look down. Whatever you do, don’t look down.

“That’s how far up we are.”

“I see.”

I close my eyes. No, I don’t see. And knowing I’m perched at the edge of a twelve-plus story cliff isn’t helping my balance either.

His low chuckles drift to my ears. “You’re afraid of heights.”

And small, tight spaces, which he probably figured out from the cave fiasco. It’s why I admire Alexis, who learned to swim after a near-drowning that left her in an eight-year coma.

It takes guts to face your fears.

“I’m afraid of stupidity and idiocy. Sitting at the edge of a cliff fits both categories.”

“Then why are you here? Go stand on the ground like a good rule follower I’m sure you are.”

Gritting my teeth, I don’t answer him. Resentment builds up inside me. I’ve been called names all my life and I don’t like it, being pigeonholed. Good follower. Good student. Good doctor.

A part of me clamors to break free. I want to be bewitching. He called you that on the jet, remember?

No, that was him trying to annoy me.

Scraping noises reach my ears, and suddenly, a wall of heat appears next to me. “Don’t worry. I won’t let my good little girl fall to her death.”

My blood heats at his words. Good little girl doesn’t sound so…obedient right now. She sounds devious, naughty, and decidedly…bad. My pulse kicks up at the thought.

I like it.

He’s such a bad influence.

I stiffen, my eyes still squeezed shut. “You’re not that much older than me, Rex.”

“So it’s Rex today? Not Mr. Anderson?”

“We’re obviously not in a session.”

“Not the session I want anyway,” he whispers in my ear, and goosebumps pebble my arms. “Although if we were in one of my sessions, I’d let you call me whatever you want. And I’m seven years older than you… I consider that significant.”

His words graze my skin before snaking between my legs, and I shiver.

“I’m cold,” I mutter, not knowing why I’m explaining myself.

Definitely not because he’s a master in seduction and, apparently, according to Lana, I still need to get laid.

He huffs out a dry laugh. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Do you only have two modes, Rex? Shameless flirt and brooding psycho?” I slap my hand over my mouth, shocked at what I called him.

I, of all people, know psychopathy is a medical condition and not to be used as an insult.

I’m ashamed of myself.

Rex tsks under his breath. “Doctor Lin, do I get on your nerves?”

“I wonder what gave that away.”

He snorts and moves even closer until his hard body presses up against mine, his thigh acting like an anchor, his arm perched behind me. He’s bracing my back and body the way a chair would.

Like he’s trying to make me feel safe.

“Open your eyes. I won’t let you fall. Trust me.”

My heart stutters at his words. Trust me. I shiver again, and this time, even I can’t pretend it’s from the cold.

The next thing I know, something covers my head.

He put his baseball cap on me.

“Trust me, Olivia,” he repeats.

I think back to how safe I felt in his arms when I had a panic attack in the caves. How reassuring his weight was on top of me when he saved me from getting shot.

Despite all his red flags and irrational behaviors, I believe him.

I open my eyes, finding him staring at me, his gaze soft. He adjusts the cap on my head and tucks a few stray hairs behind my ears. My skin lights up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

“There, all snug and warm. A snow bunny.”

Rex smiles, a small and genuine one. He grazes my cheek with his finger and my breath hitches. The touch is gentle and sweet—another side of Rex Anderson the world rarely sees.

He murmurs, “Covering your head keeps you warm. Or that’s what I’m told.”

I hiccup, still mesmerized by the soft smile on his face. At this moment, he looks younger, more lighthearted.

He breaks our stare and turns toward the sea. “Beautiful, isn’t it? If you hadn’t climbed on top of the wall, you wouldn’t have gotten this view. Or the feeling of dangling your feet in the air, the ocean far away yet seemingly at your fingertips.”

Heaving a deep breath, I blink and let my vision refocus on the dark waters in the distance.

“If you don’t face your fears head-on, you’ll never get over them,” he murmurs.

Something in his voice—a twinge of melancholy—wrenches my heart, and I look at him, finding his troubled gaze riveted on the horizon.

“Is that what you do?” I whisper. “But you’re…fearless.”

He lives like no one’s watching, making decisions because they serve him, not others.

“I envy you.” The words tumble out of me and I gasp, belatedly realizing what I just revealed to myself and to him.

Is my contempt toward him really because of his hedonistic persona, or is it because I wish I could be more like him? Make choices for myself?

His gaze snaps to mine, and for a second, I forget how to breathe, because the pain in his eyes is eviscerating. It’s a right hook to my face.

“Things aren’t always what they seem. I’m terrified of many things, Olivia. Always have been. I hide it well now, but it’s my downfall.”

But why? How? He’s a daredevil who doesn’t care what the world thinks of him.

Is this a facade too?

Questions hang between us, but a strange force stops me from asking.

Because in this moment, with his body pressed up against me, I—the good rule follower who fears everything—am sitting on the edge of a cliff and not afraid. And Rex—the daredevil who runs on adrenaline and caffeine pills—just admitted he is.

It’s then I know… He’s a man I can’t force to give me answers.

The answers are only earned when he feels safe.

Because he’s scared of people seeing the real him. Somehow, he believes his true self is unworthy.

And that makes me sad. A different ache ripples under my rib cage.

“And do I make you brave?” The question slips out and I curse myself. I’m pushing too hard.

He falters.

The moment breaks. His lips slowly curve into a sensual grin and my pulse leaps.

“Maybe.”

Before I can ask what he means, he jumps down to the pavement—quick and graceful, like a panther.

He holds his hand out, a twinkle in his eyes. “But I’m more curious about one thing… Do you want to test your bravery with me?”