Whisper to Me(70)

She sat up, her face a ball of confusion. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t want you sucking my dick because you feel like you need to thank me for something,” I said through clenched teeth. I banged my fist against the steering wheel. I was so pissed and disappointed I was seeing stars. “Or even because you just saw Miles tonight and feel confused.”

She gasped, her hand clamping over her mouth.

“Go down on me because you want to, plain and simple,” I said. “Because I turn you on and make you feel things. Because you like being with me.”

Her mouth fell open and her eyes became glassy. “That’s . . . that’s not at all what I meant.”

I adjusted myself in my seat, anger slipping out of me. God, things were feeling all fucked up again.

“For the record, you dickwad,” she said, her hands shaking, “I’ve never thought about Miles when I’ve been with you. Not once.”

“Shit! I . . . I don’t know how this got so—” I began, but she cut me off.

“You’re the sexiest fucking guy I know.” Her voice had pitched higher and her finger jabbed at my shoulder. “You make my head spin. I get so . . . tied up in knots around you.”

She shivered and rocked back against the seat. “This is getting so messed up.”

My stomach slumped to the ground. “Rachel, wait . . .”

“We . . . I . . . should’ve never started all of this,” she mumbled. “Just take me the fuck home.”





Chapter Thirty


Rachel





I had trouble sleeping all night. Not only because of what had gone down between Kai and me, but also because I had a killer headache and felt like I was going to vomit. Which may have been caused by Kai as well. Or maybe just too much wine.

I never thought I’d feel worlds apart from him like I had hours ago. Everything felt so jumbled in my brain. I wanted to be close to him in all possible ways, but maybe it was just as well that we got back to our roots—to just being friends.

I knew without question he’d always be there for me. He’d always have my back. I needed to get over this . . . this . . . whatever this was. It felt like I had the flu—dizzy, feverish, and nauseous. I must have had the mother of all crushes. What other explanation could there have been?

Nate and Jessie had taken off that night, as had Shane. But Dakota had slept in my bed so that Avery and Bennett could use her room. Ella and Quinn insisted on sleeping on an inflatable mattress on the living room floor.

I’d had Dakota to contend with as soon as I had walked through the door. Apparently, she had quite the conversation with Ella and Avery about me on the way home. She’d asked about what I’d been up to the last couple of years. We’d had a hushed argument as I tried to be honest and make her understand that I wasn’t trying to shut her out—I’d been trying to shut me out.

I groaned as I attempted to open my eyes. The sunlight filtering through the blinds was too bright, the wind was whistling too loud, and I wasn’t sure if I’d even be able to lift my head.

All the colors in the room seemed to blend together in a vivid halo of light as pain slashed across my head and neck. I shifted onto my side and realized that Dakota was no longer next to me. The strong odor wafting beneath the door was coffee, and I suddenly couldn’t tolerate the smell any longer.

I moaned loudly, my trembling hands grasping my stomach, and then threw up over the side of the bed. Chill bumps like sharp icicles jabbed every square inch of my body as I shook violently. Something was seriously fucking wrong.

I called out for the person I wanted, needed by my side. The person I was certain would take care of me. “Kai . . . please help me.”

And then the room went dark.

***

I’ll take care of you, Turtle. Please don’t leave me.

My eyes opened in a blur of colors and sounds. The beeping of a machine, the hum of the ceiling light, the scratchy cotton material at my collarbone.

Fear slammed into me like a locomotive train when I realized I was once more lying in a hospital bed. My chest constricted painfully, panic slicing through my veins—my brain might have been damaged all over again.

My hand shot up to my hair. Despite the sudden relief that my arm still worked and my head wasn’t bandaged, I worried nonetheless about my ability to speak.

Asleep in a chair next to my bed, my mother looked fuzzy around the edges, bright in the middle. “Mo . . . Mom.” My voice was scratchy and my throat felt dry, but I sagged with relief.

My mother stirred and then slowly blinked open her eyes. Once she realized where she was, she shot straight up in her chair. “Rachel, baby. You’re awake.”