Chapter 22

twenty-two

Wrenlee

It’s been a rough week. Somehow, apparently, I ingested arsenic. I’ve combed over memories of that day, but nothing stands out. I can’t imagine anyone I know purposely trying to kill me. I’m left with the assumption that however I came to ingest the poison; it hadn’t been intended for me. Thankfully, they hadn’t given me enough to finish the job—although while I’d been vomiting my guts out, I’d almost wished for death. Now, the specialist tells me I’m lucky that the only lingering side effect I have is a numbness in my hands that comes and goes. Thankfully, it’s happened less and less as the week went on.

I’m told I should be hopeful for a full recovery, but as the poison is so toxic, I’ll have to be tested regularly for lasting effects.

I’m doing my best to remain positive, but I still can’t believe something so terrible has happened to me. It’s not something that happens to an average girl in real life. Books and movies, sure. I just can’t wrap my head around this reality. And I’m so tired.

At the doctor’s—and Cash’s—orders, I’ve taken a week to study at home. It’s not ideal, but after relaying my gruesome misfortune to my professors, I’d been assured remaining home for the week was no big deal. I hadn’t even had the energy to argue the order. I’d been so exhausted when I came to after being so violently ill and then medically sedated, that I’d happily accepted Cash’s offer to speak with my professors on my behalf. By the end of the day, I’d received emails from all my professors assuring me my lectures and assignments would be sent daily via email.

Unable to focus on my laptop or the assignment I’m nearly finished, I close my laptop and sink into the couch. I fall into a deep, heavy, dreamless sleep within seconds.

I wake to the buzzing of my phone, groggily reaching for where it sits on the coffee table. The sky is dark outside the condo and for a moment, I’m confused. I haven’t spoken to the doctor about the confusion yet, but it’s been happening. Sometimes, especially after waking, it takes a moment for me to absorb my reality.

The phone buzzes again and I startle as I look down to see Cash’s name on my screen. Four missed calls and five text messages.

I swallow a dry lump in my throat and tap into the text stream.

CASH

How are you?

Kitten?

I’m picking up dinner. What do you want?

Wrenlee, I’ve called. No answer. Call me.

Baby, I’m worried…

Sorry. I fell asleep.

He texts back instantly.

CASH

Phone on silent?

It hadn’t been on silent, but I lie and say it was. I’ve been sleeping heavy.

Yeah. Oops.

I don’t like lying, and don’t make a habit of it. But Cash has been worried since I got—sick. By worried, I mean he’s been overbearing to a point of being obnoxious. If I weren’t so agreeable to staying in the condo, I’m not sure how he’d react. Tie me up? Lock me in my room?

To keep me safe, I’m not entirely certain he wouldn’t go to an extreme like that.

I’m also not sure how I feel about that.

CASH

You hungry?

I can eat.

What do you want?

I’m not picky.

My phone starts to ring. Cash’s name lights the screen and I swallow another dry lump in my throat as I answer. “Cash…”

“Kitten,” he returns in his deep, rough, pebble-my-flesh voice. “You’re being difficult.”

“Pray tell, how am I being difficult?”

I think I hear him smile. “Food, Wrenlee. What kind of food do you want for dinner?”

“Literally anything, Cash. You don’t need to pick something up. I can—I can make something here.”

There’s a long pause, because I’d been getting comfortable-ish in his kitchen before the poisoning. I’d been cooking. Now, I hardly have the energy to wake up every day. But it is getting better. Tonight, however, even though I’ve napped, I’m feeling the weight of exhaustion in my bones.

“I’m thinking Pho.”

“I like Pho.”

“Settled then.”

“Okay.” I want to ask for wanton soup, but I feel like a burden lately. The man is supporting me financially in every way, but my end of the bargain is deeply lacking. It’s lacking so much; Cash hasn’t been doing anything with the band. In fact, they’d cancelled all their shows last weekend so Cash could be home to watch and care for me.

I’m supposed to be out supporting him, standing by his side, cheering him on as the perfect girlfriend. But here I am, napping my days away in his condo.

“I’ll be home soon.” God, I like the way he says that. My belly warms and I clear my throat.

“Okay.” Why do I feel breathless?

“You feeling okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

There’s a pause. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“I’m fine, Cash. Just a little tired sometimes.”

It’s a symptom of the poison. An after effect. We both know it, so neither of us says it.

His command sounds rough over the line, “Find a movie you want to watch. We’re piggin’ out and relaxing tonight, yeah?”

This man makes me smile.

It’s a dangerous thing to let one’s fake boyfriend make her feel the way Cash makes me feel, but I can’t seem to help myself. I can’t seem to pull back or add anymore bricks to the wall I built against him in the beginning. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’s been knocking them down for a while now. Brick after brick. Falling, tumbling, crashing down around my heart.

Soon, I’ll be exposed to him. Vulnerable in a way I’ve allowed myself to be vulnerable to no man. Ever.

Am I ready for that?

No, I’m not. I’m especially not ready to be vulnerable to a man who means for all that I’m beginning to feel for him to be nothing more than a sham.

I clear my throat again as I slam one of the fallen bricks into place, dusting off my hands with a mental, ‘Atta girl’ as I murmur, “A movie night sounds nice.”