Crush Crush

Chapter Thirteen

I woke when someone gently lifted the bandages on my chest. A nurse with a kind face smiled down at me. "Good morning, sweetheart. I'm just taking these off before you leave today."

I let her remove the gauze at my neck, chest and legs. She called the doctor in to explain how to take care of my stitches and to return to the hospital immediately if I even felt like I was going to faint or throw up. I listened attentively. Once she was finished, I asked her where Ryder was.

"He's signing you out. He shouldn't be too long."

He came into the room, pushing a wheelchair. I started to protest, but he ignored me, lifting me and settling me in the chair. He thanked the doctor and the nurse before wheeling me out of the hospital. He lifted me into the car despite further protests from me. He buckled me in and drove home. I thought he was going to let me go to my own house, but he carried me into his.

"I'm not letting you out of my sight," he growled after stopping me from limping to my driveway. I begrudgingly allowed him to carry me inside his house, laying me on the couch. He left for a brief moment to grab a t-shirt for me to change into. He helped me strip the dress I wore the night before, which had surprisingly survived despite what happened, and into his large t-shirt that fell to my mid-thigh. He sat against the corner of the l-shaped sofa, pulling me to his chest, my legs perpendicular to his.

"Your parents should be landing sometime around ten tonight."

"Okay."

"Do you need anything?"

I shook my head.

"Are you feeling dizzy at all?"

I shook my head again. "I have a hard head. I'll be okay."

"Are you hungry?"

"No. Stop being a mother hen for ten seconds and just hold me."

He sighed, wrapping his arms tightly around my body. I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck as I fingered the collar of his shirt. "Do you know what happened?" I whispered.

I felt him nod. "They told me."

"Did you know she was obsessed with you?"

His hand rubbed circles into my back. "Yes."

I lifted my head. "You did?"

He nodded again. "I noticed her at the oddest of places. She was everywhere I went. I was intrigued when she approached me at the club a year or so ago. She suggested we come back here and I agreed, though I knew at the time that I shouldn't have. She was practically attacking me when I heard you outside. I grasped at the chance, telling her I had to take care of you, asking her to leave. I never realized she would . . ."

"I know," I said. "She told me all about it—she monologued for quite a while, telling me her entire sob story and her plan to kill me so she could comfort you. She sent me those baskets, you know."

His hand stopped rubbing my back. I looked up at him, frowning at his sudden stillness. "Ry?"

His arms tightened around me. "I should have done more to protect you."

"What do you mean?"

"I knew she had a crush on me, and that she had taken it too far. She started showing up at random hours of the night. I should have done more to make sure she didn't hurt you. I should have taken you away or kept my distance from you so she wouldn't see you as a threat. The second I got those pictures, I should have—"

"Pictures?"

He nodded, reaching for an envelope on the coffee table. He handed it to me. I opened the thick envelope and shuffled through a couple dozen photos—me at cheer practice, me at last week's football game, me . . . standing at the large window with only a button up long-sleeved shirt on. They were all me. Several included Ryder—a couple from the kitchen window, his hand between my thighs beneath the shirt; one from outside, him leaning into the window of my car. I felt bile rise in my throat, but it wasn't because of my concussion. "She took these?"