Look After Me (15 page)

I start to walk away, but Addison’s voice stops me. I turn back to look at her, and see that the anger in her eyes has now been replaced with guilt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m just really nervous about this date, and you were making the nerves worse.” She steps closer. “I don’t date a lot. In fact, this is my first date in over a year. It’s kind of a big deal, you know?”

I give her a delayed smile. “You did mean it, but I’m not going to hold it against you because you were right. I know nothing about dating.” I pause for a split second, taking a step closer. “And I’m sorry too. I mean I could have lied but you seem to read me too easily.” I shrug.

“That’s because I’m awesome at my job and I can tell when somebody is bullshitting me from a mile away. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“I guess you have.”

The sound of a cell phone begins to ring, and Addison quickly opens her purse and takes her phone out. She briefly looks down at the screen, and quickly silences the phone call.

“It looks like my date is here. Wish me luck?”

“I still can’t deny that it sounds like a really lame date, but I hope by some miraculous miracle you enjoy yourself.”

“Thank you,” she says with a smile. “And you never know he may actually surprise me with a wonderful date filled with hearts and flowers.”

I take a step closer to her, so our bodies are touching, and I lean my mouth over her ear. “I really hope so, because you don’t deserve anything less,” I whisper. When I pull back, she looks a little breathless, and I can’t miss the way her cheeks glow with a heavenly shade of pink as she stares up at me with a glazed look of surprise. Knowing I’m the reason for her flustered state, a triumphant feeling buzzes through my veins. My heart slams against my chest at the unfamiliar sensation that swims through my body.

She awakens from her stupor and lifts her phone up. “I shouldn’t keep him waiting. I’ll um . . . see you later.” She turns on her heels and walks away, my eyes zoning in on her perfectly shaped ass as she does. Once she’s out of view, I fall into an empty seat, releasing a frustrated breath. I have no idea what the hell is happening, but I do know it’s confusing the fuck out of me.

Once I finally get home, I can’t seem to take my mind off Addison and her
date.
I tried keeping busy by doing chores but when I started to clean the bathroom with furniture polish then tried to clean the furniture with bug spray, I realized nothing was going to be able to keep my mind off them. So now I find myself sitting on the sofa, pretending to watch Breaking Bad as I wonder what Addison and her date are doing right this minute.

Are they talking? Is he serenading her with sweet little nothings in her ear? Are they dry humping each other in the middle of a club? Are they fucking? The last one drives me motherfucking crazy, to the point I’m almost pulling my hair out, unable to cope with the thought of another dude driving his cock inside her. I become a raging mess of jealousy, feeling a green pit of envy swirling inside my chest as I try to get the vision of Addison and some guy out of my head, but failing miserably.

Before I’m pushed over the edge of sanity and a nuclear bomb goes off, my phone begins to ring. I reach over to the coffee table and smile when I see Addison’s name flashing. I notice that it’s only half nine, and I can’t hide the happiness that I feel when I realize her date wasn’t long enough for a
successful
date.

I answer. “Hey, so I guess he wasn’t all hearts and flowers, after all.”

“Sebastian.”

My heart drops to my feet at the sound of her crying voice, and I jackknife forward in my seat.

“Addison, what’s wrong?”

“His g-girlfriend, th-the one he f-forgot to tell me about t-turned up and s-she went bat s-shit crazy and s-she attacked me.”

“What do you mean she attacked you?” I practically roar down the phone, my adrenaline spiking.

“S-She just s-started k-kicking the s-shit out of me. S-She was t-too s-strong I c-couldn’t f-fight her.”

“Addison, where are you?” I demand, already grabbing my truck keys out of the drawer.

“I’m at the emergency room. I n-needed s-stitches.”

Stitches? Holy shit. “Is that dumb fuck still with you?”

“N-No he left me at the club t-to rush after his c-crazy bitch of a girlfriend.”

My body trembles with anger. “Are you fucking kidding me? He just left you?”

“Y-Yes.”

“What hospital are you at?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“V-V-Virginia M-Mason.”

“I’m going to come and get you, okay? Just sit tight. I’ll be there soon.” I slam my front door shut and run down the stairs two at a time.

“Sorry t-to d-drag y-you down here b-but I d-didn’t know w-who else t-to call.”

“I’m glad you called me. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

I end the call and continue to rush down the rest of the stairs until I finally reach the parking garage. I find my truck and I’m out of the garage in a flash, navigating my way through the streets of Seattle as I stew with anger.

I don’t know who I’m angrier at: the douchebag who is obviously a cheating fucking scumbag, or his girlfriend for using her fists on Addison.
Who does that!
I can hear the irony in my own words, considering I’ve used violence in the very same way, but God . . . the thought of anybody laying their hands on Addison makes my blood boil.

It’s not long until I’m pulling up in the hospital parking lot and rushing into the emergency room. I head over to the reception desk where I’m greeted by a lady who is in her mid-forties.

“I’m looking for Addison Scott. She was brought in a short while ago.”

She looks at her computer screen before returning her attention to me. “She’s in exam room nine.”

“Thank you,” I say before heading into that direction. Once I find the correct number, I stall my steps as my eyes fall on Addison. She’s sitting on the bed, tears falling down her beautiful bruised face. As I step closer, I see two distinct cuts: one just at the edge of her eyebrow and the other against her swollen bottom lip, both with stitches. Her right arm is covered in a cast, elevated by a sling. When she sees me, she scrambles off the bed with a slight limp and throws herself at me, burying her face in the crook of my neck and crying hysterically.

I wrap my arms around her, my right hand sweeping through the soft tendrils of her brown hair. “Shh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay now.”

I notice her one arm is clutching her ribs with sheer agony and it takes everything within me to hold back my anger. I pull away slightly and brush her hair from out of her eyes, looking down at her. “Hey,” I say with a sympathetic smile.

Her chin trembles before she mumbles, “Hi.”

I allow my eyes to take in her badly bruised and beaten face. I hate how it covers her natural beauty. I begin to steer her back to the bed. “Let’s sit you back down.”

I help her up on the bed and watch as she gets herself comfortable, which is a difficult task considering every time she moves she hisses out in pain. I sit on the edge of the bed and turn to her, my knee bent.

“Tell me what happened.”

She takes a staggered breath and wipes away the tears with her fingers. “It was going really great. We ended up at this bar where this pretty awesome band was playing. We were dancing and out of nowhere I heard him say, ‘Oh shit,’ and then a fist was flying at my face. Suddenly I was on my back and this girl was kicking and punching the shit out of me.” Her bottom lip begins to tremble again, tears filling up her eyes. I reach for her hand and give a gentle squeeze.

“It happened so quickly that I wasn’t able to fight back. Not that I could have fought back even if I tried because I mean fucking look at me—I barely weigh a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. This girl was bigger and a hell of a lot stronger than me. I didn’t stand a chance.”

Tears roll down her face as she takes a deep breath. “She was screaming at me, calling me a cheating hoe bag, saying that I needed to stay away from her man.” She takes a staggering breath, angrily wiping away her tears. “That’s when I realized it was his girlfriend. I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. I wouldn’t have—I’m not like that.”

Her sobs take force and I pull her into my body, holding her as tightly as possible without hurting her, my hand stroking up her back. “T-Then after one f-final k-kick in my s-stomach, s-she s-spat on me and said, ‘S-St-t-tay the fuck away from him, he’s m-mine,’ and then she was gone. When I finally opened my eyes, I realized he had gone too. He’d just left me there,” she muffles into my chest.

I feel the animalistic need to hunt those fuckers down and teach them both a lesson, but I remain calm, not wanting to freak her out by getting angry. She’s dealt with enough crap tonight.

She pulls away slightly and looks me in the eye. “You were right. He was a douche.”

I bring both of my hands up to her face and wipe away her mascara-stained tears with my thumbs, careful not to touch her swollen eye. “I really wish I wasn’t right.”

“Well, that has definitely put the nail in the coffin for me because that’s it. I give up with the whole dating crap. Every single guy I’ve ever dated has turned out to be a fucking idiot. This,” she points to herself, obviously emphasizing to her banged up body, “was the last straw.”

I can’t help my smile.

“What?”

“It seems there’s now enough of us to form the ‘I hate the opposite sex’ club.”

Her swollen lip tilts up and a bubble of laughter escapes before a hiss of pain takes its place. “God, we’re so pathetic,” she seethes through her discomfort, but I know she meant that with humor.
I hope.

I briefly take in her appearance, noting the droplets of dried blood on her white tank top and down her jeans, and the dried blood knotted in her hair, creating a bird’s nest effect. “So what’s the damage?”

“Thankfully there are no broken bones, but I have a sprained arm.” She lifts her arm up gently. I look down at her cast-covered arm, to discover that it’s actually a bandage. “It was really swollen, so I’ve got to keep it elevated. I have a couple of bruised ribs, a badly beaten face which needed a few stitches as you can see.” She pauses for a brief moment and points to the back of her head. “And I cut my head open, which had to be glued. Other than that, I’m
great,
” she finishes with sarcasm.

“Do you have a concussion?”

“The doctor said I have mild concussion. I—”

She stops talking when a male doctor in his late forties with salt and pepper hair and a mustache comes walking inside. “Addison, how are you feeling?”

She gives a gentle smile. “A little better than before.” I don’t miss how her eyes flick to mine as she says this and I feel honored that my presence alone can help lift her spirits up. It does crazy things to my heart, which is currently racing rapidly against my chest.

“I’m glad to hear it.” He turns his eyes on me and gives me a professional smile, holding his hand out. I courteously accept it. “I’m Dr. Albertson. And you might be?”

“I’m Sebastian Gilbert, Addison’s friend.”

“Sebastian, Addison suffered a head injury during the attack, causing a minor abrasion to the back of her head. The bleeding has stopped and has since been glued with medical glue. With any head injury, there is always a danger of serious concussion. Her vitals and alertness at the moment tell me she’s doing okay, but she’s suffering a mild concussion. It will be in Addison’s best interest if somebody stays with her for the next twenty-four hours.”

“Absolutely.” I glance at Addison with a smile.

The doctor hands me a pamphlet. “This will let you know the important things to look for that may suggest she’s developing a serious concussion or worse. The main things to look out for are intense headaches, weakness, numbness, vomiting, decreased coordination and confusion. Also convulsions, seizures, slurred speech, unconsciousness or if she becomes unresponsive. If she develops any of these symptoms, you need to call for an ambulance immediately.”

Without taking my eyes from the doctor, I blindly find Addison’s hand and lace my fingers through hers, giving her a supportive squeeze.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but I have to warn every one of the risks that can occur after a head injury, whether mild or serious. But I’m confident you’re going to be just fine, Addison. You may suffer mild headaches but that’s normal. I’ll prescribe some strong painkillers,” he says to Addison before returning his gaze to me. “Once you get Addison home, wake her up every few hours, just to make sure she’s still responsive and alert. Do either of you have any questions?”

I look at Addison and she just shakes her head. “No, I think we’re good.”

“Well, the police officers have arrived now to take your statement. Am I okay to send them in?” Addison gives a tiresome nod. “Okay, as soon as you’ve finished up with them, you’re cleared to go home.”

Once Dr. Albertson has left, two police officers enter. Addison spends the next ten minutes answering questions about her attack and going through descriptions of the asshole who beat her up, but unable to clarify her full name other than Abbi. Once Addison has answered a few more questions, the officers tell her they’ll be in touch and leave.

We leave soon after. She’s a little slow on her feet as we walk out of the hospital, but we take our time and eventually make it to the hospital entrance. I sit her on a nearby bench. “I’m going to bring the truck around. I’ll just be a second.”

“Okay.”

With lightning speed, I pull the truck around and park in front of the entrance. It’s designated for ambulances only, but there’s no way I’m letting Addison struggle to my truck. They can give me a ticket for all I care. Once I’ve settled her tiresome body into the seat and have buckled her in, I round the truck and start the engine. I barely make it out of the hospital grounds when I notice she’s already sound asleep. The side of her face is leaning against the headrest, and her soft snores fill the truck. Fifteen minutes later, I pull up outside of her apartment. I don’t really want to wake her, but I have to in order to put her to bed.

“Addison,” I whisper, “we’re here.”