“Are you sure you’re okay?” Katie tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear as she hands me a glass of water.

This hospital room feels familiar, safe. After being away from work for a couple of weeks, I miss the order and the cleanliness here.

“I can tell Caine to leave if you don’t want to see him. He doesn’t scare me,” Katie says.

“Yeah, you already told me about how you kept him outside when he came looking for me at home.” I grin, thinking about how fiercely protective Katie’s being. She’s a little crazy, but that’s why I love her.

“I’ll go get him, then. You’re sure, though, right?” Katie asks one more time.

“Yeah.”

Katie slips out of the hospital room, closing the door softly behind her, leaving me alone in my bed,

I don’t know what Caine told the admitting nurse about why I’m here at the hospital. He’s probably sticking to the story about how I’m providing care for his father.

Or maybe he hasn’t told anybody anything. He’s definitely powerful enough to get what he wants without providing much in the way of explanation.

Having worked here at St. Peter’s Hospital for a while, I can tell that Caine probably waved his Foster privilege in the face of whoever was manning the reception desk tonight.

I’m getting special treatment, for sure, especially considering I haven’t sustained much physical injury. I just have little cuts and bruises from having been manhandled by Nathan’s thugs.

I’m glad Katie’s here because she can tell me what’s going on outside. At least it’s pretty quiet tonight, so it’s not like there’s a bunch of people who need medical attention more urgently than I do. I was worried about pushing someone down the waiting list, or taking a hospital bed from someone who needs it more than I do.

Caine may not think twice about using his power to make things go whatever way he wants, even if he’d be putting other people at a disadvantage in the process. He may not care about how his actions affect them because they’re just strangers to him, but I do.

I wonder if the events of the night will appear on the news.

When I went down from Nathan’s office to the ground level of the building, I was surprised to see the buildings and the streets painted red and blue by the flashing lights on top of the police cars. I also saw some news vans with the familiar logos of the local TV stations.

I won’t be surprised if some of the details appear on the news. Even if they do, though, I may not be mentioned at all. I’m just a nobody. The news will probably focus on the Foster family drama.

I’m glad to stay out of the limelight. After everything that has happened over the past couple of weeks, I’m ready to hide out in a cave for some peace and quiet.

The door opens again, and my ears prick up to listen. There’s a small hallway that blocks my view of the room entrance, but I can tell by the sound of the steps that Caine’s in the room. He’s stepping closer and closer, his expensive Italian leather shoes taking sure steps on the linoleum floor.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Caine runs his long, graceful fingers through his thick hair, which is uncharacteristically messy with sweat and stress. He looks older than he usually does. Exhaustion is etched into the lines in his face and the bags underneath his blue eyes.

“Yeah.”

No lie, my first instinct is to spread my arms so Caine can come over and give me a big hug. I’d feel much comfort in his arms. It would feel so safe and warm. He seems like he could use a good hug himself.

Instead, I stay quiet and unmoving, except for the natural rise and fall of my chest as I breathe.

I don’t know what to make of everything that has happened tonight. We went from being a client and a service provider, to a former employer and a fired employee, to a rescuer and a damsel in distress. What are we now, and how are we supposed to act around each other?

Caine pulls the visitor’s chair closer toward the bed and takes a seat.

“Are you okay?” Worry and concern dull his normally brilliant eyes.

“Yeah. I’m not hurt too badly.”

“Thank God.” He heaves a big sigh of relief. “I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if you got seriously hurt.”

“Did you tell them to give me priority?”

“I did.”

“You know I wouldn’t have wanted you to do that.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’m not sorry I did it. I needed to make sure you’re okay.”

Silence reigns again, both of us lost in our own thoughts, too baffled by our own mixed feelings to say anything about what’s really plaguing us.

I decide to start with the obvious question. “How did you even know I was there?”

“After you left, my father told me he’s always had his suspicions about Uncle Nathan, so I realized you were probably right about Todd being the person who had bugged my room.

“I thought about how he would’ve expected to drop by my empty apartment, and saw you there instead. He would’ve taken note of your presence because it was unusual. Instead of screaming at you, I should’ve thanked you. Without you there, he would’ve been able to put his bugs all over the apartment.”

I give him a wry smile. Inwardly, there’s a battle between my anger at the way he dismissed what I’d said, and my delight at hearing how he doesn’t usually have a girl staying in his apartment. It makes me feel special, despite every little shitty thing he’s done.

“Then, I went to your apartment,” Caine says. “Your roommate told me that you weren’t home, and that you were probably gone to see Chad Murray.

“I didn’t realize it right away, but the name sounded familiar. I remembered Paul, the cop, had mentioned it before, when he was accusing my father of having been responsible for some illegal activities.

“I called Paul and we connected the dots, then we came up with a plan together. I called Sasha, who happened to be working at Uncle Nathan’s office while he was looking for a new assistant. I asked her to put a small microphone somewhere in the office when she delivered him the cup of tea he asked for every night. I’d worked with the man for years and I knew his habits.

“When I went to the office, we already had a plan, but I almost ruined it by rushing into the room when I heard your screaming.”

I wince, remembering the reason for my screaming. Caine stares sadly at me, while maintaining a respectful distance.

There’s nothing strange going on in this room to a casual observer, but this feels bizarre to me. Normally, Caine would be touching me, kissing me, caressing me. It still feels like we’re magnets, being pulled toward each other, but he’s holding back, afraid of being yet another man to touch me without my permission tonight.

“How’s your hand?” I remember he punched Nathan in the face, and wonder if he hurt himself doing that.

Sometimes, the bones in the hand can fracture from delivering a closed-fisted punch. I’ve seen this injury a lot in the ER on weekends, when bar fights are common.

“It’s okay,” he says, raising his right hand, which doesn’t look okay. It’s red and swollen.

I hold out my hand. When Caine puts his hand on mine, my heart skips in my chest, and my palm buzzes with electricity from this innocent touch. I tell myself I’m just inspecting his injury, like I do every day at work, but it’s never been easy to keep things strictly business with this man.

“I’m so sorry to have put you through this,” he says, his eyes gleaming with sincerity. “I’m sorry for the way I yelled at you, for the horrible things I called you. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I hope for it, regardless.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you care what happens to me? We were done. You could’ve let them kill me.” I flinch at the memory. I thought I was going to get raped and die a violent death within a matter of minutes.

“I don’t know, Daisy. I can’t explain it. As soon as I figured out what was happening, I couldn’t not go there and do everything in my power to save you.

“In fact, I can’t explain everything I’ve done when it comes to you. You turn everything upside down. You make me care when I usually don’t. You make me burn inside when I’m usually cold and numb. And I can’t explain any of it.”

I stare at Caine’s big, warm hand as it starts to grip mine. He rubs my hand with his thumb.

“Maybe love doesn’t need to be explained,” he says.

I pull my hand away. I expect him to hold on as he normally would, but this time he lets go without a fight.

“I know you’re engaged.”

He exhales loudly. “I am.” He’s not even trying to deny it, or cover it up, and it makes me angrier, even though I don’t want him to lie either.

“Shouldn’t you be saying those things to her?” I glare at Caine, expecting him to look away, but I’m met with an insistent, non-confrontational gaze.

“I can’t tell her those things because that’s not how I feel about her.”

“You’ve never had any problems saying things that aren’t true before.”

He goes quiet. I wonder if he thinks I’m not aware of the way he manipulates me. I didn’t realize it as it was happening, but I’ve had some time to think. I know now that he knows exactly what to say, how to act, what to do, to make me give him what he wants.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. I haven’t been counting how many times he’s said that since he walked into this hospital room.

“Tell it to your fiancée,” I hiss.

I’ve seen so many of my mom’s relationships fall apart when her boyfriends cheat on her, or vice versa. I’m following my mom’s footsteps so precisely, anyone passing by the path we’re walking would only see one set of footprints. I can’t believe I’m making the exact same mistakes I grew up vowing to avoid.

Get completely broke? Check.

Depend on a man to give me money? Check.

Use sex as a tool? Check.

Steal a man from his rightful partner? Check.

For bonus points, I even have an actual contract to exchange sex for money with this man, and I almost got killed, too.

And I’m only twenty-one. Plenty of time for me to exceed my mom in many other ways.

“Just go home, Caine,” I say. “Go see your fiancée.”

“It’s not what you think, Daisy. I don’t—”

“What?” I cut him off and challenge him with a glower. “You don’t love her? You don’t care about her? Jesus, Caine. Are you even listening to yourself? Do you know what a hopeless case you are?”

He opens his mouth, but I’ve had enough. I don’t need any more apologies. They’ve lost all meaning at this point.

“Please leave, Caine. I need to be alone.”

This time, he does as I say, slinking away with slouched shoulders.

When the door closes and I’m alone again, tears start streaming down my face. I can’t—and I don’t want to—stop them again.

I let the salty liquid cover me, drown me, hopefully wash me clean.