Translucent (25 page)

It feels a little strange entering her personal space alone, especially since the only other time I’ve been here was this morning, and I paid no attention to anything but her. Stepping through the front door, I notice she’s done a little decorating in the living room area, with several paintings mounted on the wall and bright-colored drapes framing the window. Everything is spotless, the furniture appears to be brand new, and it kind of reminds me of a model home—unlived in. I enter her bedroom, and the pungent smell of where she’d gotten sick looms heavily in the air. I’ve never in my life cleaned up someone else’s puke, but there’s always a first for everything, right?

I locate the cleaning products under the kitchen sink, grab a couple of towels from the linen closet in the bathroom, and go to work. Thankfully, her floors are laminate wood and not carpet, and it doesn’t take me too long to get it all cleaned up. I even manage to make it through without gagging myself. Unsure of what to do with the dirty towels, I opt to throw them away; I can buy her new ones. I then refocus on my initial mission—getting her bath stuff and clothes. I find a small tote bag in her closet and toss in all of the items from her shower—shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and a razor—and then return to her bedroom and search through her drawers for a couple sets of pajamas and some underclothes. I feel a bit like a creeper digging through her panty drawer, but when I come across a small manila envelope near the back, I forget all about the silk, lacy items surrounding it and my attention solely focuses on the small rectangle.

Several thoughts cross my mind as I decide whether or not to open it. By the feel of the contents, it’s either papers or pictures, nothing bulky. Whatever it is, it must be important to her, because she keeps it hidden in her drawer. If I decide to open it, I can’t un-see it, nor can I let on to her I know what’s in it. The right thing to do would be to put it back in the drawer and walk away, but with all the unknowns about her past, curiosity gets the best of me. I hope it will gift me some sort of insight of what haunts her memory.

A stack of pictures slides out into my hands, and I sit down on the bed to look through them. The first picture is of a woman in her thirties or so, with two teenage kids who appear to be close in age—a boy and a girl—and as I look closely, I notice Blake’s bright blue eyes staring back at me from the young girl’s face. Despite the long, curly, dark brown hair, it’s definitely her, and based on the similarities between the facial structure of her and the boy, I’m guessing he’s her brother and the lady is their mom. Flipping to the next photo, there’s a picture of Blake and the same boy on a boat making goofy faces at the camera. I grin widely at the image of teenage Blake; she’s always been stunningly beautiful, and I wonder why she’s changed her hair so drastically from how it used to be. I quickly go through the remainder of the pictures; there are several with her and her mom, and some others with other young girls, who I assume are her friends.

The very last one is a close up of Blake’s face. It appears to be more recent than the others, maybe in her late teens, and the expression on her face is pure bliss. Delight dances in her eyes, and her smile is brighter than a thousand-watt light bulb; I can’t stop staring at it. Turning it over, there’s a date on the bottom left corner from five-and-a-half years ago, making her seventeen in the photo. I often forget about the age difference between Blake and me; she’s much more mature than the average twenty-two-year-old, and makes me feel much younger than a guy in his mid-thirties, but realizing only a handful of years ago, she was this carefree, untroubled young woman makes me wonder what in the world happened to her during that time.

I place all of the photos back in the envelope and arrange it exactly where I found it…all but that one. I keep it as a reminder of who she should be, of the untroubled person I want to return her to. My Blake deserves to be happy, and I have every intention to give her that life.

Early Monday morning, I leave the hospital for a short bit to drop by the office before anyone else arrives, picking up my laptop and leaving the photo of her in the back of my desk drawer, where I know no one will find it. On the way back to the hospital, I stop off at my house to shower, change, and throw a few of my personal items in an overnight bag as well. I don’t leave her side the remainder of the day, or the next, watching her sleep the majority of the time. They’re administering both pain medicine and a mild sedative through an IV, attempting to limit her brain activity as she heals. Both Mr. Thompson and Jae come by to visit Tuesday at lunch, but she can’t keep her eyes open.

Wednesday afternoon, they take her for a repeat CT scan and find the swelling has decreased substantially and there’s no bleeding anywhere on the brain. The neurologist agrees to release her into my care until she can see him in his office the following Monday morning. Blake tries to argue she can stay on her own and take care of herself, but there’s no way in hell I’m leaving her alone right now. Thankfully, the doctor threatens to keep her in the hospital if she doesn’t agree.

Sarah helps me get Blake settled in my room Wednesday evening, and then disappears to the kitchen to make us both a “real” dinner, as she puts it. Blake is becoming more and more alert as the medicine works its way out of her system, and after we eat chicken and rice casserole, she’s downright restless.

“I need to get out of this bed,” she grumbles.

“And what exactly are you going to do when you get out of the bed?” I ask teasingly.

“I dunno—stretch, run around, take a bath…anything but lay here another minute.” She scrunches up her nose and makes a bratty grunt-noise.

A belly laugh rumbles deep inside me. I find her grouchiness adorable, and I’m so happy she’s feeling better. “I’m not sure about stretching or running around, but if you want to take a bath, I think we can make that happen. First, you need to take your medicine though.”

She cocks her head and smiles languidly. “Deal. I was so tired of showering in that hospital bathroom I felt like screaming.”

I grab the bottle of medicine off the nightstand and get out the prescribed dosage. She swallows the two pills together in one gulp, and then waits for me to carry her to the bath. Her ankle is still extremely sore and swollen, and I’m not taking any chances of her falling and jarring her head.

“Let me undress you here on the bed first. It will be easier than in there,” I suggest before sweeping her t-shirt over her head and tugging her pajama pants and panties down her legs.

My eyes sweep the length of her naked body, and I’m instantly hard. I love that she’s already comfortable enough around me not to try and cover up. Staring at my visible erection, she giggles nervously. “Did the doctor say anything about um…” She stops not wanting to say the word.

I tilt my head and look at her with faux-naivety. “Say anything about what?”

Her gaze moves from my tented boxers, up to my face and back down again. “About
that.”

“No, Blake, the doctor and I didn’t discuss my cock. He seems to be working just fine.”

She slaps my bicep and huffs. “Don’t be difficult, Madden. Did the doctor say anything about how long we have to wait to have sex?” Narrowing her eyes at me, she scowls. “There—are you happy?”

“I’m happy ‘cause you’re okay and here with me, and yes, the doctor said no sex until he examines you on Monday.” I bend down and press my lips to hers, wiping away the pouty expression. “Believe me, after last Saturday, feeling you wrapped tightly around me again is high on the priority list, but I’m not willing to jeopardize your recovery for anything. We’ll have plenty of opportunities to build on that in the future.”

Scooping her up in my arms, I stride into the bathroom and lower her into the tub. I turn the warm water on and watch as she relaxes into the basin. “What do you mean by ‘build on’? Did you not enjoy it?” she questions apprehensively, peering up at me.

I kneel down on the floor next to her, bringing my face to her eye level. “Enjoy doesn’t begin to describe how I felt, Blake. It was mind-blowing and unforgettable, but that doesn’t mean there’s not a helluva lot more I want to experience with you. That was just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Really?” she squeaks. “I don’t think I can physically feel much better than that.”

“Yes, really,” I reply, and my dick jumps at the mere thought of just a few of those things, “and I promise you—I’m going to push your body and mind to places you never thought possible.” Her eyes grow wide with bewilderment. “I’ve told you before I will never hurt you,” I reassure her before she can even ask. I want to add,
You do that to yourself enough
, but I refrain. If I can help it, I want her thoughts to stay as far away from the negativity and self-loathing as long as possible. “But that will all come in due time, sweet girl. Now, lean your head back and let me wash your hair for you.”

Less than an hour later, I’ve scrubbed her clean from head to toe, and she’s curled up like a tiny kitten in my arms, sound asleep. The lack of restful slumber from the last several nights on the hospital fold-out bed begins to catch up with me, so I kiss her head before laying my own down on the soft pillow next to hers with one word swirling around in my head…
Mine.

Caroline is waiting for me with a stack of messages the minute I walk into the office Thursday morning, and the disconcerted expression on her face tells me she’s about to deliver some bad news. I didn’t want to come in as it was, but Blake insisted I come in for at least a little while, her guilt over me missing time at work due to spending time at the hospital weighing heavily on her. Sarah guaranteed me she would take good care of her, making her rest, eat, and take her medications on time.

“Morning, Car. Sorry I’m late,” I greet her with a forced smile.

“It’s been one, all right,” she replies with a scowl. “Ms. Lister is waiting for you in your office. She wouldn’t take no for an answer when I told her not to go in there until you arrived.”

I take the papers from her hands, wishing I hadn’t alerted anyone I was coming in. “Thanks. I’ll take care of her.”

Upon entering my office, I don’t see Emerson anywhere, but as I close the door behind me, I find her leaning up against the wall completely naked, except for a pair of high heels.

“Welcome back, Madden,” she drawls, taking a step towards me. “I’ve been waiting so long I had to start without you.” Swiping her wet, sticky fingers across my lips, she smirks at her own little game.

Pushing her away, I wipe my mouth with my forearm and glower at her. “What in the fuck are you doing? Put some clothes on, Emerson,” I demand furiously.

“Shh! You’re old hag of a secretary will hear you,” she whines. “What’s your problem anyway?”

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested? Go fuck Easton, or anybody else for that matter. Just leave me alone.”

Her bottom lip juts out in an over-exaggerated sulk. “That’s not what you were saying a few weeks ago. Is this because of that pathetic little thing you brought with you to the gala? Blake—was that her name? Please don’t tell me you’re playing with babies, Madden.”

It takes everything inside me not to slap the shit out of her. I’m not a violent man by nature, but hearing her talk badly about Blake makes me see red. Grabbing her wrists forcefully, I narrow my eyes and growl, “Get dressed. Leave my office. And don’t you ever say a fucking negative thing about her again. Am I clear?”

Tears well up in her eyes as she rips her hands out of my grasp. “Crystal.” Walking over to where her dress is draped over a chair, she hastily puts it on and moves to leave. Right before turning the handle, she calls out over her shoulder, “You may want to call your brother. He’s been MIA since after your parent’s house on Sunday.”