Black Heart (Cursed Hearts #1)(52)

"Nothing," she told him. "I want you to go the hospital and get that thing checked out."

What if he’d really damaged his arm? He could have torn something or aggravated his still healing wound. Ignoring it wasn't an option, but apparently that's exactly what Tristan planned on doing.

"Coke it is," he said, grabbing two Cokes with his right hand and placing them on the counter. He managed to open his Coke with his right hand before he grabbed the ice pack and placed it back against his chest. Then as if to prove that he really wasn't hurt, he picked up his soda with his left hand and proceeded to drink it while she glared at him.

"Get your butt back in the car, Tristan. We're going to the hospital," she said, deciding that she'd see if she could manage to get him there by herself before she called in the big guns.

"No," he simply said as he walked past her. He placed his soda on the table and pulled out a chair, trying to hide his grimace as he sat down.

"I'm not kidding, Tristan. Get your butt in that car, now," she said firmly, hoping that would be enough to get him to move his ass. Apparently it wasn't, because he only chuckled as he leaned back in his chair, careful of his shoulder.

"Or what?" he asked with a slow sexy smile that made her mouth go dry and made it difficult to think, never mind do what needed to be done.

"If you don't want barbeque, then we could always order in," Tristan suggested, giving her the distraction that she needed.

"We're not ordering in, Tristan," she said with a sigh as she unzipped her purse and grabbed her phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling your father and brother, because clearly I'm in over my head here and you're an idiot. I'm going to call them and let them drag you to the hosp-hey!" she gasped as he plucked the phone out of her hands and placed it in his pocket.

"Give that back," she said, holding her hand out expectantly.

"Sorry. Can't do that, Marty," he said, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed over his impressive chest.

"You're going to the hospital," she informed him as she considered the odds of being able to steal the phone away from him.

"No, I'm not so let it go," he warned with a hard glint in his eyes. It was the same look he’d used to get when he was a child and someone mentioned a hospital to him.

"Please tell me that you're not still afraid of hospitals," she said with a heavy sigh.

"I'm not afraid of anything," he said evenly. "I'm just not going to waste my time going for something that a little ice and a few aspirins can handle."

"Okay, sure whatever," she said, having had more than enough for one day. If he was going to be stubborn then that was fine with her. She had better things to do with her time than to waste it by arguing. "I'm going home. See you in the morning," she said, moving to walk out of the kitchen when he stepped in front of her and blocked her path.

"We need to talk, Marty," he said, once again looking nervous.

She shook her head as she moved to step around him. "Whatever it is will have to wait until tomorrow."

"It can't," he said, moving to block her, again.

"It can," she said, managing to step past him and once she did she kept going.

"Marty, wait!" he said, following after her. "We really need to talk."

"No, we don't. What we need to do is stop playing these games. You don't want to work with me and that's fine, because we won't be working together for much longer anyway," she said, reaching for the door, but once again Tristan managed to cut her off.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded as he maneuvered her away from the door.

"As soon as I get my degree, I'm going to be looking for a job far away from here. So as you can see there's no need to give me a pointless lecture or try to drive me off. Consider the message well received, Tristan. I'll be out of your hair in a matter of months," she said, forcing herself to sound firm when grief slammed into her at the thought of never seeing him again.

"You're leaving?" he asked in a hollow voice.            

"Yes," she snapped as she moved past him and once again reached for the door, more than ready to end this conversation and go home and enjoy a hot bubble bath with a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream while she did her best to forget that this day ever happened.

"Marty, you can't leave."

She snorted at that. "Watch me."

He placed his hand on the door just as she managed to open it and slammed it shut. "We really have to talk."

"No, we don't," she said, trying to open the door, but he was clearly a heck of a lot stronger than her. "Let me go, Tristan."

"Never."

"Why the hell not?" she snapped, whirling around to face him. She was sick of his games, sick of the way he made her feel and most of all she was sick of being in love with him. She wished she had never-

"Because I'm in love with you." The words rushed out of his mouth, clearly taking them both by surprise.

He looked stunned by the admission, which probably matched her own expression, but she was also pissed. Something snapped, something she'd held back all these years and once she opened her mouth she couldn't hold it back any longer.