Dirty Little Secrets (Dirty Little Secrets #1) (10 page)

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I pass in and out of consciousness for a while, vaguely aware of what’s going on around me. Sometimes I’m dragged out of sleep because I hear a strange voice, or loud beeping, or because soft hands are gently prodding at my wrist. Most of it’s just background noise. Eventually, the room seems a bit dimmer than it was earlier, and I’m able to open my eyes without the blinding pain that accompanied the action earlier. I turn my head—or try to, at least—and let out a soft moan, because…ouch.
 

“Mia?”
 

The voice belongs to Caleb, and he’s still clasping my hand. I feel his touch on my face, cupping my cheek as the pad of his thumb slides across my cheekbone. My eyelids flutter open, and yeah. That hurts. Too much light, just…too much everything.
 

I manage to make a sound that comes out kind of like, “Mrphf.”
 

When my vision clears, all I can see is Caleb’s face, full of worry. “Shh,” he says gently. “Don’t try to talk. You’re safe. You’re going to be okay.”
 

Going to be okay? My eyes widen, and he must read the surprise on my face, because…how did I get here in the first place?

“You hit your head, Mia,” he says, sounding about as scared as I feel. “Someone pushed you, and you cracked your head against the cement. There isn’t anything abnormal on any of your scans, but the doctor wants to keep you overnight. Do you remember what happened?”
 

I have to push through the drug-induced cobwebs that are clouding my mind, and think incredibly hard. It’s like the memories are there, just out of reach. I can almost grab onto them, clasp them between my fingers as they threaten to float away. It takes everything I’ve got in me to focus on remembering whatever it was that landed me in here.
 

I remember walking, and talking to Caleb on the phone. I was going to his place, I think, or…meeting him for dinner. I feel like we might’ve argued about something…a car. I remember, he wanted to send a car to pick me up, but I wanted to walk…

Oh god.
 

Oh my god.
 

My bag. Someone ripped my bag off of my shoulder and ran off with it, after punching me in the face and apparently leaving me unconscious on the sidewalk. My head is throbbing, seemingly in time with my racing heart, and when I sit up I think my brain might burst right out of my skull.
 

“My bag,” I say, trying to swing my legs over the side of the bed, because that seems like something that might quell the nausea. All it manages to do is make me feel like I’m going to pass out.
 

“Mia,” Caleb says soothingly, standing up so he can rub my back. That makes me feel marginally better, but not much. “Don’t get worked up. We can replace your things.”
 

I shake my head weakly, as much as the unrelenting throbbing will allow. “You don’t understand,” I tell him, unable to stop the tears that are streaming down my face.
 

Caleb looks confused, and desperate to help me. Desperate to make it better. “Whatever was in there, I can replace, Mia. I’ll help you, please don’t be upset. You’re…you’re going to make things worse.”
 

I’m safe, I’m cared for, and apparently I’m going to get out of this with nothing more than a swollen face and a headache. I know things could be worse. I
know
they could, but desperation is closing in, making my chest tight, tugging at whatever rational thought is left inside of me.
 

“It was everything I had,” I say quietly, telling Caleb more than I know I should. I think the painkillers combined with the head trauma are making it difficult for me to keep my damn mouth shut. “You don’t understand.”
 

Caleb opens his mouth to reply, but a nurse walks in, effectively cutting him off. She’s a friendly, older woman with short white hair. “What’s the matter?” she asks. The kindness on her face and in her voice immediately puts me at ease. “You’ve gotten yourself all worked up, and that’s not good. Take deep breaths,” she says as she inhales, and motions to her chest, indicating that I should follow her lead.
 

I do exactly as she does. Deep inhale, deep exhale. Over and over again.
 

“Let’s see if we can get something to calm you down, okay?”
 

I nod. Being calm sounds really good right now, and I definitely need pharmaceutical help to get me there. “Okay.”
 

When the nurse leaves the room, Caleb helps me lie back on the bed, and smooths my hair off of my face.
 

I lean into his touch. “What’s wrong with me?”
 

“They want to make sure your head is okay,” he says quietly. He’s very patient, despite the fact that I get the feeling I’ve asked him that before, and he had already given me an answer. “You also have some swelling around your cheekbone and your eye.”
 

“I can tell,” I say as I reach up to feel for the damage, but Caleb catches my hand and folds his fingers through mine. “How did you find me?”
 

“I was on the phone with you, when…” he trails off. I realize for the first time since I woke up that he must’ve heard everything that happened to me while he was on the phone. “A nice woman stayed on the phone with me to let me know what was happening after she called nine-one-one. I arrived at the hospital right as they were bringing you in.”

“Oh,” I reply, feeling like I’m on the verge of tears. My emotions are all over the place, and they feel absolutely unstoppable.

“It’s going to be okay.”
 

Caleb is really good at this whole soothing me in crisis thing. I decide that he’s the person that I want to have around for any other kind of emergency I might have in my life. Emergency. Shit - I just remembered that my insurance card was in my bag, along with my ID.

“My wallet’s gone, too. I don’t know my insurance information,” I say, hysteria creeping back into my voice.
 

“I took care of everything, you don’t have to worry about it.”

I’m going to have to figure out how much all of this is costing and pay him back. I’m determined to do that once I get my life in order, no matter how long it takes.
 

“Is there anyone you want me to call?” he asks. “Your parents? A friend?”

The soft, gentle way he’s talking to me makes me want to drift off to sleep again. It’s so relaxing that I think I might not even need whatever medication the nurse has gone to get for me.
 

“My parents are dead,” I tell him, unable to stop myself. I definitely don’t want him calling Marcus. “So there’s no one.” It hurts to realize exactly how true that is. “Will you stay with me?”
 

He grips my hand tightly, and says, “Of course I will.”
 

I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, fully dressed in the clothes I had been wearing the night I was robbed. Caleb had been kind enough to have them cleaned, but wearing them still feels wrong. I’m being discharged today, after two days of observation. My brain activity is fine, and the swelling on my face is going down. I’m getting better, despite the fact that the bruises on my cheek and eye are blooming an angry, deep purple.
 

I feel oddly detached from everything at the moment. Caleb is standing across from me, listening intently to the nurse as she describes my care instructions to him. It’s funny that I’ve spent the past month or so on the run from an actual hitman, but a common street criminal was able to bring me down first. Luckily I had a stash of cash and a credit card in my pocket, and I still have my burner phone that I can contact Marcus on, but my computer…god, my computer is gone.
 

Thankfully, the hard drive will overwrite itself if anyone other than me tries to sign in on it, and I do have backups of all my programs stored safely in the cloud. There’s just the small issue of not having enough cash to replace the machine that I had. I could charge the parts, sure, but do I risk putting a transaction with my name on it out there for Privya to find? I could take a train to Connecticut or something, and take out a cash advance there. But then I’d risk him knowing where in the country I am, and…maybe he doesn’t know. Maybe I’m worrying for nothing.
 

“Miss Briggs?” I hear the nurse say.
 

I shake head, pulling myself out of my thoughts. The nurse is looking at me patiently, with a faint smile. Caleb is looking at me like he’s not sure I should be allowed to leave this hospital.
 

“Yes?” I say, distractedly.
 

“You need to come back immediately if you experience any of the symptoms on this sheet,” the nurse replies, pointing to a piece of paper that Caleb is holding in his hands. “Understood?”
 

I nod.
 

“You’re going to be staying with Mister Simmons?” she asks, nodding at Caleb.

“She is.” Caleb gives me a look that’s nearly a glare, just daring me to say otherwise. He insisted on me staying with him while I recuperated, and I fought him on it. It’s too soon, it’s too much, but at the same time…where else am I going to go? I’m low on funds, and my prospects are looking pretty bleak right now. It was a superficial fight. I want to stay with him, and, as much as I hate it, I need to stay with him.
 

“All right,” the nurse says, as an orderly shows up with a wheelchair.
 

“Is this really necessary?” I ask.

Caleb gives me that look again, the one that’s just daring me to put up a fight. The nurse quickly tells me that it’s hospital policy, and that if I want to get out of this place, I’m going to have to do it in a wheelchair.
 

If it’s my only means of escaping? I’ll happily let someone take me for a ride.
 

“You’re going to have your hands full with this one,” the nurse tells Caleb.
 

Caleb looks at me fondly, like there isn’t anything in the world that he would change about me, and it makes a warm rush of some unnamed emotion flow through me. He walks ahead to get an elevator for us, and as she pushes me through the door and down the hallway, the nurse leans down and whispers in my ear. “You’ve got a good one here, honey. You better hold onto him.”
 

I know Caleb is going to have some questions for me that I’m not going to want to answer. I wonder how long I’ll be hanging on to him after that.

* * * * *

Caleb and I are quiet on our way back to his apartment, but he holds my hand in the back of the town car as we ride along the busy streets of Manhattan. When we arrive at his building, I follow him inside. It feels strange being here like this, since I’m not here for a visit, I’m here to stay for however long I need or want to, or until I wear out my welcome. I feel naked without my bag, and for as much as Caleb used to tease me about it, he hasn’t breathed a word of it since the short conversation we had after I woke up in the hospital room, where I told him that it was all that I had. Maybe he thinks I don’t remember telling him that, but either way, I’m grateful to not have to answer questions about that statement right now.
 

It’s kind of like a raincloud hanging over my head. I know it’s going to start pouring at some point, but I’m hoping to stay dry for as long as I can.
 

I step inside Caleb’s apartment, feeling uncomfortable with my empty handedness. I’m here for an extended stay, but I don’t have anything with me. I didn’t have anything to bring with me, except for the clothes I left at my hotel. I never did check out of there, and only paid by the night, so I’m guessing the clothes I did have with me have been tossed or donated. Yet another strike against me.
 

When the door closes behind us, Caleb makes a show of locking it. It’s a touching gesture; even though we’re in a secured building on a floor high in the sky, he still wants me to feel safe here.
 

Caleb steps up to me, and pulls me into his arms.
 

“You’re safe here,” he says. He’s holding me as tightly as he dares, and apart from handholding while I was bedridden, it’s the most prolonged contact we’ve had in days.
 

“I know,” I reply with a grateful sigh. “Thank you for letting me stay here. I’m not quite ready to go back to the hotel.”
 

I feel his muscles stiffen as soon as the words leave my mouth, so I know I’ve said something wrong, but I don’t know what.
 

“You’re not going back to the hotel,” he says firmly. There’s a hard, unwavering glint in his eyes, like he’s just daring me to challenge him on this.
 

I take a deep breath to get a grip on my rapidly fraying nerves. I might be scared and borderline desperate, but, “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Caleb.”
 

I’m not sure whether I step out of his arms or he steps out of mine, but before I know it, we’re standing with a few inches (that feel like a mile) between us.
 

“Excuse me?”
 

“You heard me!” I yell. I feel like I’m on some kind of emotional roller coaster, and I can’t tell which end is up. I’m angry, and I can’t get a handle on that, but why am I upset? Caleb cares about me, he just wants me to be safe, but this sets a bad precedent. He can’t just command me to do things his way just because he’s scared and worried. “If I want to go back to the hotel, I’ll go back to the hotel. You don’t get to tell me what to do now, especially not if that’s going to be a requirement for your hospitality.”