My eyelids flutter open at the sound of the door opening. I sit up quickly and rub my eyes, watching as Conor walks into the room and towards the bed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wondered if you needed anything else?” he asks softly, almost as though I’m his guest again and not his prisoner now.
“No. I’m good, thanks,” I croak.
He looks at the uneaten sandwich and the unopened bottle of Gatorade on the nightstand and sighs. “You need to eat and drink, Jessie.”
“I ate the candy. And I drank some water from the faucet. I’m fine.”
“Why didn’t you eat the sandwich? Or the Gatorade? Blue is your favorite.”
I glare at him in the dim light of the room. “I couldn’t be sure they weren’t poisoned. The seal on the Gatorade was broken.”
“Poisoned?” he snaps. “Dammit, Jessie. What the fuck?” he runs a hand over his beard and shakes his head.
“You knocked me out and kidnapped me, Conor!” I shout at him.
He sucks on his top lip and holds his hands up in surrender as he steps closer to the bed and then he stares at me with those deep, brown eyes. “How did we get here, Angel?”
“Don’t call me that,” I say, my voice cracking with emotion as the tears prick at my eyes. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”
He drops his head low and then he just stands there for a few moments. I watch his chest rise and fall with each breath he takes and all I can think about is how much I loved him. How much I still love him. My heart feels like it’s breaking into a million pieces as he stands there right in front of me. Close enough to touch, but a million miles away.
“Get some rest, Jessie,” he says eventually in a low growl that vibrates through my core.
“Why?” I snap.
He glares at me, his dark brown eyes smoldering as his jaw works while he tries to keep his temper in check. He probably came in here trying to be nice. As if he could get me back on side by pretending that he cares about me. Cashing in on the fact that he rescued me from that horrible cell in the basement. I swallow hard as I recall how good it was to be held in his arms a few hours ago. How the warmth of his body against mine still brings me comfort despite everything that’s happened.
“Because I fucking told you to,” he eventually snarls before turning around and walking through the open door.
I lie back against the pillows, unable to stop the tears rolling down my cheeks. I wish I knew how we’d ended up here too.
