Chapter 9

Remy

It had been years since he was at the hospital.

The clean, quietness of the building actually made him feel better.

He'd stitched his own wounds once or twice in the past, but he wasn't eager to do it again.

Besides, what's the harm? It made her happy, and that's all he needed to know.

He came out of the emergency room with a small gauze over his right eyebrow. She sat on a chair just outside the room.

"Did the doctor ask what happened to you?"

"Yes."

"What did you tell him?"

"I fell."

She smiled, "you fell."

"Did anyone ask you?" Remy asked.

"Yeah. You were in a fight, but apparently you're the one who has to press charges."

He shrugged. He had a fat lip and bruises all over his body. He couldn't walk straight without everyone noticing how much he was hurting.

After the adrenaline faded, pain began to flare up everywhere.

"I thought you'd be gone by the time I came out."

She opened her mouth in surprise, almost offended.

"Are you serious?"

"I mean, you have a party going on and all…"

"Really? You want me to go to the party?"

He walked to her, he would have hugged her but he wasn't sure how she would react.

"Let's go pay—"

"I already did."

He stared at her.

"You what?"

"Don't worry, you'll pay me later."

"Hey, that's not fair."

She put her hands on her waist, defiantly.

"What's not fair?"

"Getting in debt with a mob princess."

She opened her eyes so widely he thought they were going to fall out.

"Don't worry, I won't tell."

She didn't say anything.

"Come," he said, and took her hand. She was hesitant at first but went along with him.

The automatic doors opened, the walk back to the car was awkward. She felt so different. As if she wanted to say something, then something else, then thought about it and kept quiet.

They hopped in the cabin and drove away.

"It was a joke, you know," he said, after a while.

She kept focusing on the road.

"But we can’t pretend otherwise. Your father really is a mob boss."

"Don't say that."

"Thank you, by the way."

She took a glimpse at him, wondering what he meant.

"For saving us, I mean."

She suppressed a smile. It was brief but he noticed it.

"So when will I see you again?"

"Never."

He rolled his eyes.

"You really want me to beg?"

"No."

"Because I won't."

He lied. He would crawl and fight and kill for her if he had to. His fate was sealed. God fucking damn it.

He'd find a way to make this work. But first things first.

"Tomorrow?"

She turned the volume up. Happy pop music.

"What about the day after?"

"I said never."

They were getting closer to his apartment, just another two blocks. He didn't have much time left. And you fucked up badly you dumbass.

"I need to see you again, I think," he said.

"You think?" She asked, incredulous. Fuck. He was digging his own grave.

"Yeah. Who will come to save me next time I'm in a fight?"

She pulled over to the side of the road.

"Listen, Remy Morgan," she said, her voice pure seriousness, like the principal at his old grade school when he got in trouble for something, "I like you, but this isn't working. And the fact that you apparently get into fights regularly is not helping at all."

His heart beat harder and harder in his chest.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Then what—"

"I didn't pick that fight, and I tried to walk away from it as hard as I could."

"Not hard enough."

"I defended myself."

"Are you sure of that? Because you seem to like fighting a bit too much, too."

His hand went to her knee, "I swear I'm telling the truth."

Their eyes locked. He couldn't lose her like this. He was stupid and brash, but not seeing her again because of his big mouth was a wake-up call. This was real.

She bit her lower lip and took a deep breath.

"All right."

***

"This is me," he said. She still hadn't given him her number. I fucked up.

He extended his hand to her, she looked at it, then at him.

"Thank you."

She shook it.

"No problem, stranger."

He took a business card out from his wallet.

"That's my personal number, right there. Call me or text me if you ever get over what I said back at the hospital."

She pressed her lips and took it.

"I'm not good at begging. And I already begged you enough for today," he said, "have a good night."

He walked out the car.

Her attitude was a problem, she was too used to being chased. She was something else all right, but she was too spoiled. She needed to be taught a lesson.

"You can park the car right there on the curve," he said, taking the keys to his apartment out.

She hadn't driven away yet.

"And why would I do that?" She asked.

He turned around, tired of her little attitude.

"Well, you don't want us to meet, ever again. But tonight's already ruined, so you might as well come up for tea. I'd offer you coffee but I don't want to stay awake all night, and you haven't sweet-talked me enough to get me to bed."

Her jaw fell open, he could tell no one had ever talked to her like that.

"You're an ass!"

He turned to the door and pointed to the curve, "parking's right there!"