Unraveling (Second Chances) - By Micalea Smeltzer Page 0,49

playing fair. I was putty in his hands when he looked at me like that.

“Jared I-”

“Please, Katy? The thought of you, alone, in that condo tears me up inside. All I’ll do is worry. Please, stay with me.”

I took a deep breath to center myself.

Honestly, the thought of having to hobble around at home, by myself, wasn’t appealing.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Really?” his eyes lit up.

“Really,” I nodded. “I’ll just want to get some of my stuff.”

“Of course,” he replied with a grin.

His leg bobbed up and down as we waited for the doctor to make his rounds.

I wasn’t looking forward to the doctor showing up, because I knew that meant he’d touch me. I shuddered at the thought alone.

“What’s wrong?” Jared asked.

I knew there was no point in lying, not with Jared, so I said, “I don’t want the doctor to touch me.”

“Katy,” he leaned forward and cupped my cheek. “I’ll be right here with you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” I whispered and meant it. Jared made me feel safe, nothing, no one else, especially a man, had made me feel since my rape.

When the doctor came, Jared comforted me by holding my hand. He would nod reassuringly at me, as the doctor looked me over, I locked my eyes on his and never looked away as the doctor poked and prodded me.

Jared centered me.

“Well,” the doctor said, taping my ribs back up, “everything looks good, I’ll get the discharge papers together and you should be out of here within the hour.”

“Great, thanks,” I said.

As soon as he was gone, I realized I didn’t have any clothes, and voiced this to Jared.

He chuckled. “You’ve got plenty of clothes. I don’t know how, but all the clothes you and Karlie bought, survived the crash unscathed.”

“Really?” I asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “They’re in my car, I’ll go grab a couple of bags and be right back.”

“Thank you,” I said, releasing his hand. “For everything that you’ve done.”

“I haven’t done nearly enough,” he murmured and pressed his lips to my forehead before he left.

I pressed my fingers to my forehead, where his lips had been just moments before, and a smile spread across my face.

I was totally screwed when it came to Jared, because the heart wants, what the heart wants, and my heart wanted Jared.

19

I SIGNED MY NAME ON THE LINE AND THE NURSE SMILED. “I’ll be right back with a wheel chair.”

“I can walk.”

Her smile faltered a bit. “No, sweetie, let me get you a chair. There’s no need for you to be uncomfortable.”

“I have bruised ribs and a broken wrist. I can walk,” I snapped.

She looked over at Jared and he shrugged in a, ‘what can you do’, manner.

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll be right back with your copy and then you can get out of here.”

“Thank God,” I said, rummaging through the bags Jared had brought in.

I found a pair of jeans, a tank top, and loose sweater.

“Do you have some scissors?” I asked him. “To cut off the tags.”

“Do I look like I carry around scissors?” he raised a brow.

I laughed. “Not really.”

“I do, however, carry a pocket knife,” he grinned, pulling out the blade. He cut off the tags and I gathered up the clothes, disappearing into the bathroom.

It took me forever to get the clothes on, because my stupid arm cast kept getting in my way.

First, I couldn’t get my jeans buttoned and then I couldn’t get my sweater over the cast.

I couldn’t wait for the dumb thing to come off.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t bought a brush, so my hair was just going to have to look like a mess.

I knew there was a ponytail holder in my purse, which had survived the wreck, along with my shoes and jeans from that night. My shirt however, was shredded in places.

I opened the bathroom door and rummaged through my purse until I found it.

I brushed my hair, as best I could, with my fingers and pulled it back in a sloppy ponytail.

“I want to get out of here,” I told Jared, hands on my hips.

He chuckled and stood to stretch. I knew his back had to be killing him, after being in that chair for so long.

“I can tell,” he said. “The nurse should be back in just a minute.”

“I’m going stir crazy!” I began to pace in the length of the small room.

“You haven’t even been here for twenty-four hours,” Jared remarked.

“I just hate hospitals. They smell like bleach and things are always beeping.