Look After Me (16 page)

She blinks groggily, groaning slightly at the sound of my voice. “Huh?” I panic slightly at her disorientation, remembering what the doctor said about confusion being a symptom of something more serious with a concussion, but when I repeat myself, she stretches slightly and gives me a breathtaking smile. “Sorry, I fell asleep,” she says through a yawn.

I unclip her seat belt. “It’s okay.” I round the truck again and open the passenger door. I grab her purse and painkillers and shove them under my arm, then take her hand and gently pull her out of the truck until she’s standing on both feet. I wrap my arm around her waist to steady her as I close the door behind her.

“Thank you,” Addison says softly.

“For what?”

“For coming to the hospital. I know you probably had better things to do with your time than to save a damsel in distress.” I smile as we make our way towards the entrance.

“I was just returning a favor.” We walk up the entrance steps before we come to a stop at the entrance and I turn to her with my arm still wrapped around her waist. “We might have only known each other for a short amount of time, but you’re a good friend, Addison, and I’d do just about anything for my friends. Except maybe rob a bank,” I say as I retrieve the key from her purse.

She laughs softly as her eyes droop with sheer exhaustion.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“Okay,” she mumbles, her head resting on my shoulder as I unlock the entrance door and head towards the elevators. As we wait for the elevator, I realize I have no idea where we’re actually headed.

“Addison, which floor?”

“Three,” she mumbles.

“And what apartment number?”

“Thirty.”

After a short trip in the elevator, we make it to her apartment. I let us both in then search endlessly for a light switch. When I come up empty, Addison has to move from my grasp to switch it on, allowing light to illuminate the living room. I follow her into the bedroom and watch as she hobbles in the dark for a moment before flicking on the bedside lamp. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she kicks her boots off and peels off her socks with her good hand. She goes to unbutton her jeans, when her eyes suddenly fly up to mine with a hint of embarrassment.

“Um, I need to get into my pajamas. Can you get me a glass of water and the painkillers the doctor prescribed me? My head’s kind of hurting.”

My ears prick up at her words and I step forward. “Are you okay? Is the headache getting worse?”

“No, it’s just sore where I cut my head open.” I feel myself relax, my heart rate instantly calming.

“Okay, I’ll just be a second.” I grab her a glass of water from the kitchen and hurry back. When I reach her bedroom door, I halt in my steps, almost swallowing my tongue at the sight I see in front of me. She’s already changed into a pair of shorts but my eyes drift upwards until they’re admiring her white lace bra. I can see her perky little nipples through the transparent material as she struggles to pull a t-shirt over her head. I advert my eyes the moment I realize the tiny glimpse of her perfect tits is turning me on, but I wasn’t quick enough. Her eyes watch me with sexual awareness and I gulp heavily as I take a step forward and place the glass on top of the bedside table, along with two painkillers.

“Sebastian . . . Um, I’m sorry to ask but I hate sleeping with my bra on. It’s really uncomfortable, but I can’t reach the clasp. Can you just undo it please?”

My cock immediately stands at attention. If she looked down, she would definitely be able to tell how turned on I am.

“Yeah, sure.”

She stands unsteadily on her feet, her arm holding tightly against her bruised ribs and turns around, so her back is to me. I take a hesitant step forward, and then gently lift her shirt up, my eyes tracing the incredible silky smooth skin. Unable to resist, I brush my thumb along the skin just below the bra clasp and my cock hardens even more when I feel the goose bumps spreading across her back. Fuck, she’s so damn responsive with just a single touch. I do it again as I grasp her bra clasp, and watch as goose bumps tingle along her fine skin for a second time. As I undo the clasp, my thumbs caress along her bare flesh for a third time and I almost combust on the spot when she noticeably shivers.
Fuck.

I clear my throat as I step away. “There you go.”

She’s silent for a moment except for the harsh inhale of her breath. “Thank you,” she says with a trembling whisper. I’m mesmerized as she slips the bra off without removing her t-shirt and it magically appears. It’s sexy when a chick does that with two hands, but her to do it with one hand, is just fucking mind blowing. She turns to face me again, smiling coyly before limping past me and placing her bra neatly on the stool that sits in front of her dressing table.

I stand in the middle of her bedroom like a moron, watching as she removes her makeup with a wipe, then limps past me to her en-suite, where the buzzing of an electric toothbrush tells me she’s brushing her teeth. Once she’s finished, she flicks the light off in the bathroom, then tiredly shuffles towards her bed, where she proceeds to put her arm brace back on and take her pills. She peels the sheets back with her good hand and lies down. Once she’s in a comfortable position, she groans out loud.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, feeling on edge.

“I forgot to turn the light out. Can you turn it off for me, please?”

I smile with relief. I lean over and turn the light out, allowing darkness to cover us. After a few moments, my eyes adjust to the darkness and I can just make out Addison’s silhouette through the moonlit shadows.

“I’m going to crash on the sofa. I’ll wake you up in a couple of hours.” I start to turn, but her words freeze me in place.

“Stay . . . please. I don’t want to be alone,” she begs with a hint of terror in her voice.

“Okay.”

I walk around the bed, kick off my shoes and slide in beside her, opting to stay on top of the covers. After seeing her nipples through that incredibly sexy laced bra and then unclasping that very same bra, my hormones are kind of haywire. I’m not sure if I can trust myself around her if I’m under the covers. Those hormones spike a little more as she shifts her body towards me, resting her head against my chest, her bandaged arm resting lightly against my stomach. I close my eyes as my heart races rapidly at the sudden proximity and I know without a doubt Addison can hear it, especially since her head is resting almost directly over my heart. After a few moments, my natural instincts kick in and I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tightly, surprised at how natural this feels. I feel her head shift and notice she’s looking up at me.

“Thank you again for tonight, for dropping everything and coming to get me. I do have other friends who would’ve happily been there for me but for some reason you were the only person I wanted to call. I guess I feel safe when I’m around you.”

My heart expands at her words, and I find myself falling into unfamiliar territory. A part of me wants to embrace it and welcome it with opened arms, but the other part of me, the part that is still well and truly heartbroken over Ava tells me to run for the hills.

I’m still undecided.

“It was nothing, really. I was happy to be there for you.” Silence follows and after a short while I realize she must have fallen asleep. As I look up to the ceiling to process her words, her voice startles me.

“Sebastian?” Addison whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Ava is an idiot for letting you go.”

My entire body stills at the mention of Ava and I’m officially stumped at what to say to that. Thankfully I don’t get the opportunity to attempt a response when the sounds of her soft snores fill the silent space, a clear sign that she’s fast asleep. I let the words go around and around in my head until I feel myself being pulled under. I fall into a restful sleep, but not before setting the alarm on my phone for two hours.

AFTER BEING WOKEN UP three times in the night by the alarm clock on my phone to check on Addison, I wake a fourth time to find that I’m alone. I sit up and glance at the clock; it’s just after ten am.
Jesus, I never sleep this late.
Realizing the last time I checked on Addison was about five hours ago, I shoot off the bed in a panic and rush into the living room. When I don’t see her in there, I try the kitchen.

“Morning.” She smiles with her swollen lips as she places a plateful of toast in the center of the kitchen table.

I notice she’s holding her bruised ribs with pressure as I approach her. “What are you doing up?” I question in alarm. “You should be resting.”

“I know, but I couldn’t get comfortable, so I thought a walk would do me good.”

“Making breakfast is more than just a walk, Addison.” I pull out a chair and guide her towards it. “Sit. You were badly beaten yesterday. You should be taking it easy, not cooking breakfast.”

“It’s only toast and cereal. I would hardly call that cooking.”

I give her a stern glare, one that tells her not to argue with me. “Just sit down. I’ll take over from here.”

“Fine.” She gently lowers herself down onto a chair, her face contorting with pain as she hisses under her breath. After a few deep breaths¸ her face returns to normal.

“You okay?”

She nods. “I’ll be fine just everywhere is a little tender.” Tender is definitely putting it mildly. Her pretty face looks as though it’s been through the wringer and spat back out again. That bitch must have had some strength behind her because Addison seriously looks as though she’s had a few rounds with Mike Tyson.

“And that is exactly why you need to be resting.”

I place my palms on her shoulders comfortingly, but it’s only when I begin to knead the muscles with my fingers that I truly realize what I’m doing.
Shit.
This is crossing so many boundaries of our friendship, a friendship that already seems to be blurring into something else, something with feelings, something that could have the greatest possibility to break me completely.

The moment she tilts her head to the side and a moan escapes her lips, I ease my way out of the massage until I’m on the other side of the kitchen, putting some much-needed space between us. After everything Ava put me through, there’s no way I can put my heart on the line for somebody to shred it to pieces again. I couldn’t survive that kind of heartbreak a second time. Hell, I barely survived it the first time. Even if I did put myself out there with Addison, I wouldn’t be enough for her because she deserves somebody who will give their heart completely.

And I can’t.

After spending an incredibly long time making two cups of tea—avoiding any kind of eye contact with Addison—I make my way back over to the table. I usually drink coffee in the morning, but all I could find in her cupboards were tea bags.
Who doesn’t drink coffee?
I place Addison’s cup of tea in front of her, finally taking a glance at her for the first time in five minutes and I can’t miss the look of confusion etched on her bruised face.

“Are you okay?”

I take the seat in front of her, cradling the cup of tea in my hands. “I’m fine, just trying to wake up,” I lie, even though the excuse isn’t too far from the truth. I can see she doesn’t believe my cover story when her eyes narrow on mine. “I don’t usually sleep in. Which reminds me—I was supposed to wake you up five hours ago.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but you slept through your alarm and knowing how tired you must have been to sleep right through it, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“Something could have happened, what if—”

“I’m fine, Sebastian.” She looks down at her injured arm. “Well, maybe fine is pushing it a little but my head is okay. My headache has completely gone away. It’s just the rest of me that is a little worse for wear.”

I stare at her, confused at the way she can downplay her injuries like that. She can barely take a step without hissing, yet she makes it sound like she’s just got a bad cold. “Even so, you need to rest,” I say, taking a sip of my tea. Addison is quiet as she eats her breakfast. Once she’s finished her toast, she uses her good arm to pour some cereal into a bowl. When she takes a hold of the milk, she looks at my empty plate, then to me, putting me under her scrutiny again.

“Are you not hungry?”

“I don’t eat breakfast.”

“You don’t eat breakfast?” she asks with disbelief.

I shake my head before taking another sip of my tea. “No, it’s . . . um, it’s kind of an
Ava
thing.”

“Oh.”

I’m thankful she doesn’t enquire further because the last thing I want to do is talk about Ava. But when I open my mouth to change the subject, my words seem to have a mind of their own and I begin to explain about my hatred for breakfast.

“When we had our first date, I took her out for breakfast and it kind of became a rite of passage. So as you can imagine—”

“You hate breakfast.”

“I fucking
hate
breakfast.”

She pours the milk on top of her cereal, then settles the carton back down on the table before taking her spoon. “That’s really sad.”

“Sad as in depressing or sad as in pathetic?” I ask with a hint of amusement.