Secret Messages and Hidden Eyes

My boyfriend, Blake, got the girl who made my life a living hell a part-time job.

When I found out, his face didn't even twitch with guilt.

She lost her financial aid because of what you did. I'm just helping her out so you don't have to carry that guilt. He scoffed, crossing his arms. Instead of thanking me, you're interrogating me?

Usually, this was the part where I'd swallow my pride and coax him, begging him not to be mad.

But this time, I was just so exhausted. I was done paying the price for her pathetic, innocent victim act.

When he dumped that blame on my shoulders, my mind went entirely blank.

I couldn't fathom why the victim was supposed to feel guilty when the bully finally faced the consequences of her own toxic actions.

"You really think Ivy getting disciplined by the board and losing her scholarship is my fault?"

Blake shrugged off his jacket, tossed it to me, and sprawled out on the couch like he owned the place.

"It's the truth, isn't it? Because of you, she lost her funding. She can't pay her tuition. She's practically being forced to drop out." He rolled his eyes. "The whole campus is talking about it. Everyone thinks you went way too far."

"And as your boyfriend, it's my job to clean up your mess."

So his brilliant idea of 'cleaning up my mess' was getting her a high-paying gig at the cafe where I worked. He even went as far as draping the jacket I bought for him over her shoulders.

It was a joke. A sick, twisted joke.

The fabric of the jacket in my hands suddenly felt disgusting. I dropped it right onto the hardwood floor, staring him down with eyes like ice.

"Sierra, are you seriously blaming me?"

"Yes."

No hesitation. Just pure, unfiltered anger.

Blake sat up, tilting his head back to glare at me.

"You think I'm just sticking my nose where it doesn't belong?"

"Are you saying you aren't?"

"Fine." He let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh. "I'm a fucking idiot for trying to do you a favor. Don't worry. I won't lift a finger for you ever again."

In the past, whenever he threw a tantrum like this, I'd practically be on my knees, begging him to stay. I'd buy him designer sneakers and expensive hoodies just to smooth things over.

Not today. I didn't care anymore.

I bit the inside of my cheek, swallowing down the thick lump of betrayal in my throat.

"Good. I hope you keep your word."

Blake's eyes darkened. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me forward so violently that my shin smashed into the edge of the glass coffee table. A sharp gasp tore from my lips.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? You breaking up with me?"

"Yeah. We're done."

It was the first time I had ever said those words to him.

He stared at me, his face turning an ugly shade of purple. When he realized I wasn't going to take it back, he lashed out, kicking the coffee table with brutal force.

The glass top shattered.

"Fuck you." He spat. "Don't come crying to me when you want to get back together. You're too much drama."

Flying shards of glass sliced into my calves and toes. I bit down hard on my lip to keep from screaming, collapsing onto the sofa as I gasped for air.

He walked out, slamming the door behind him.

My phone buzzed on the cushions. A text.

It was the guy who had tipped me off earlier today.

[I saw him leave. Are you... okay?]

A cold sweat broke out across my spine.

Whoever this was didn't just know where I was going. They were sitting outside my apartment building right now, watching.

My fingers trembled as I deleted the message and blocked the number.

But he wasn't going to give up that easily. A minute later, a text popped up from a completely different number.

[He threw the jacket you bought into the dumpster. Can I have it?]

[I'm sorry. I don't mean to be creepy. I just think it's a waste.]

The room started to spin. The pain in my leg was making me nauseous. I managed to call my roommate, Lexi, before the darkness swallowed me whole.

When I opened my eyes again, the harsh white lights of a hospital room blinded me.

"How are you feeling?"

The voice was low, smooth, and oddly familiar.

I followed the line of a warm hand resting lightly against my fingertips. My gaze traveled up an immaculate suit to a devastatingly handsome face.

Silver wire-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his perfect nose, hiding the dark, swirling emotions in his eyes.

Rowan.

Lexi's older brother.

What was he doing here?

"Lexi went back to grab you some clean clothes. She asked me to keep an eye on you."

"Oh. Then I..."

"The doctor said you'll be fine. You caught a fever from the rain." His tone was professional, yet strangely gentle. "The cuts on your leg and foot have been cleaned and stitched. Keep them dry."

"Okay. Thank you." I murmured, shrinking back a little.

Rowan and I weren't exactly close. My only interactions with him consisted of passing along stuff Lexi forgot to bring to campus. To say thanks, he'd occasionally send over premium pastries or expensive little gifts, always making sure there was a portion for me.

The silence in the room was suffocating. Desperate for a distraction, I unlocked my phone, only to be hit with another wave of absolute dread.

[Did he hurt you?]

[Do you want me to teach him a lesson?]

Terrified that this lunatic might actually do something violent, I hammered my thumbs against the screen.

[Stay away from the people in my life. Stop stalking me.]

[You're sick.]

A loud clatter made me jump.

Rowan's phone had slipped from his grip, hitting the linoleum floor.

"Rowan? Is everything okay?"

He picked it up, the corners of his mouth twitching into a forced, rigid smile.

"It's nothing. Just a little tired, I guess."

He did look exhausted. The edges of his eyes were faintly red. I felt a pang of guilt. He was a busy CEO, and I was just his sister's roommate. I shouldn't be wasting his time.

"You should head home and get some rest. I can manage on my own."

He didn't argue. He picked up his leather duffel bag from the floor and headed for the door.

Just as he reached the handle, I called out. The bag looked bulky, sitting awkwardly against his broad shoulder.

"Hey, do you need a shopping bag for whatever's in there? It looks heavy."

His broad shoulders went rigid. He didn't turn around.

"It's just company files. I don't need a bag. Thanks."

The next text came the following morning.

[I'm sorry.]

Just that. No context.

I felt suffocated in that sterile room, so I decided to take a slow walk down the hall to clear my head.

And of course, my luck was garbage. I ran straight into Blake.

He was leaning heavily on a crutch, his face bruised in shades of purple and blue, one leg encased in a thick white cast. He was practically hanging off Ivy's shoulder.

Ivy was struggling to support his weight. She looked up, making dead eye contact with me standing right in the middle of the corridor.

She raised a single, perfectly plucked eyebrow. Her grip on Blake's waist tightened.

Then, with Oscar-worthy precision, she twisted her ankle and collapsed, dragging Blake down with her.

Blake crashed right on top of her, groaning in pain.

I dug my nails so hard into my palms that they left crescent-moon indentations. I took a deep, shaky breath, forcing myself to stand my ground.

Ivy poked Blake in the ribs, playing the flustered angel.

"Blake, get up. Look, it's Sierra."

Blake froze. He pushed Ivy's hands away and awkwardly scrambled to his feet, leaning heavily on his crutch.

"What happened to you? Why are you hooked up to an IV?" He demanded, looking me up and down. "Who brought you here? Why didn't you call me?"

Then his eyes fell on the thick gauze wrapped around my leg. He instantly looked away, running a hand through his hair, shifting his weight guiltily.

I bit down on the soft inside of my cheek, refusing to let my voice shake.

"Since when is my life any of your business?"

His fleeting moment of guilt vanished, replaced by that familiar, arrogant irritation. He scowled.

"Look, you're sick. I'll let your little attitude slide." He sighed like he was doing me a massive favor. "Just apologize to Ivy, and we'll pretend the breakup never happened. Then I can focus on taking care of you."

I didn't even want to waste my breath. I grabbed my IV pole, turned my back on them, and started walking away.

Suddenly, Ivy lunged forward and grabbed the clear plastic tubing of my IV.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped, trying to swat her hand away.

But before I even touched her, she threw herself backward onto the floor, taking the tube with her.

The needle was violently ripped out of my vein, tearing the medical tape right off my skin. Blood spurted instantly, hot and fast, running over my knuckles.

I pressed my hospital gown against the wound, but the crimson stain just kept spreading. My teeth clamped down on my bottom lip, but hot, angry tears finally spilled over my cheeks.

Ivy looked up from the floor, crying beautifully, like a fragile porcelain doll.

"I'm so sorry, Sierra. I swear I didn't mean to!" She sobbed. "I just wanted to explain that Blake and I aren't doing anything behind your back! I know I was jealous of you. I know I did awful things, and I'm sorry."

She choked out a perfectly timed gasp. "But I paid for it! I got suspended. I lost my scholarship. Can't we just... call it even?"

Blake didn't even notice the blood dripping from my hand. He dropped his crutch and pulled Ivy into a protective embrace.

"Sierra, stop being such a vindictive bitch!"

I had heard those words so many times before, but it still felt like a knife twisting in my ribs.

When someone stole my project credit and I fought back, he told me to 'be the bigger person'.

When I was bullied out of my dorm room, he said I just needed to 'learn how to fit in'.

He would always look at me with that disappointed sneer and say, Why do they only pick on you? You must be doing something wrong.

Every single time, I had backed down.

"I know you care about me, Sierra, but your paranoid delusions aren't an excuse to hurt people." Blake sneered. "I'm drawing the line right now. If you want us to work, you apologize to Ivy right this second. Then we drop it."

He reached out and grabbed my bleeding hand, squeezing it so hard that the blinding pain paralyzed me. I couldn't pull away.

"No." I hissed, glaring at the floor, my vision blurring.

Just as my knees were about to buckle, a warm, solid chest pressed against my back. Strong arms wrapped around my shoulders, shielding me completely.

A familiar, deep voice vibrated right next to my ear.

"I'm sorry. Am I late?"

Rowan's assistant was efficient. Within minutes, the hospital security footage was playing on a tablet in my room.

It showed Ivy lunging to grab my IV line in high definition, followed by her pathetic, theatrical dive to the floor.

Blake couldn't defend her anymore. Under Rowan's icy glare, he was forced to choke out an apology.

"You think that's enough?"

Rowan was sitting on the edge of my bed. He placed a hot water bottle on his right palm and raised an eyebrow at me, silently telling me to put my hand on it.

I froze, unsure of what to do.

He didn't wait. He just took my uninjured hand and sandwiched it between the warm rubber and his own large, incredibly warm palm.

Maybe it was the blood loss. My brain short-circuited, and I completely forgot to pull away.

"Sierra..." Blake started, taking a step toward the bed.

"Mr. Blake," Rowan's voice was soft, but it carried the lethal edge of a loaded gun. "You're already injured. I suggest you tread carefully. It would be a real shame if you accidentally tripped and shattered every bone in your body. Don't you agree?"

Blake deflated like a popped balloon. He hung his head, awkwardly shuffling toward the door on his single crutch.

As he hobbled past Rowan, Rowan's foot shifted just an inch.

A loud thud echoed through the room. Blake hit the floor face-first.

I tugged nervously at the hem of Rowan's immaculate blazer.

"Rowan..." I whispered.

Rowan let out a low, breathless chuckle. He leaned in, shifting his broad shoulders to block my view of Blake groveling on the floor. His face was mere inches from mine, his warm breath ghosting over my lips.

"Can't I do this, little Sierra?"