Nash (Marked Men #4)(16)

“What are you doing down here? Your dad is on the top floor.” I saw him wince when I used the word dad, but I refused to feel bad about it. I had trouble with tripping over words and saying what I really meant with people, but for some reason none of that was a problem when I spoke to him.

I tossed the paperwork I was holding to the admitting nurse and crossed my arms over my chest as he turned so that he was facing me. The baseball hat he was wearing cast the top part of his face in shadow, but I could see he had dark circles under each eye and that there were fine white lines of tension bracketing each side of his mouth. All in all he looked a lot better than the last time I had seen him. Well, better, minus the fact he was fully clothed, and even though I didn’t want to, I could still picture him half naked in vivid detail. I really did want to know what the front part of that massive tattoo was attached to on the backside.

“Do you have a minute?” His voice was kind of gruff but he softened the question with a half grin that made my heart trip.

“Not really. We’re pretty hectic today. The weather makes people go nuts, so we’re extra busy.”

He sighed and shifted so that he could shove his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the other nurses floating in and around the desk watching us with open curiosity.

“It’ll just take a second, please, Saint.”

I didn’t really think big, tough, tattooed guys used words like please, not that it was going to sway me. He had an unwanted effect on me and I knew it was a good idea to keep my distance from him. Just as I was about to refuse, the other nurse behind the desk, the one that was clearly smitten with his handsome face, offered up, “I’ll take the next room that just came in. You go ahead and take a breather for five minutes.”

I wanted to shift my glare to her, but she was just trying to be helpful, so I bit my lip and tilted my head toward the waiting room. There were more private places in the hospital I could have led him to, but being alone with him made me nervous and anxious.

“Follow me over there.”

He nodded and did as I asked. I felt the way his gaze burned into my back, and had to take several calming breaths and make sure I schooled my face into an impassive mask before I turned around to face him again. He sighed and used one broad shoulder to prop himself up against the coffee vending machine I had stopped by. We just stared at each other for a long moment. I was about to throw my hands up and walk away because the silence and his intense gaze gave me anxiety, when his quiet words surprised me.

“Phil’s condition is really bad. He told me there isn’t anything they can do. He’s dying and he just seems to be rolling with it, I don’t know how. I should have been here sooner.”

His tone was somber and his eyes under the dark bill of his hat had lightened to the shade of lilac. I could see how glassy they were, how much emotion he was trying to swallow down, and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to reach out and touch him, to try and soothe him. He wasn’t a wild animal that needed to be gentled … even if he kind of emanated that vibe.

“I’m sorry. Stage four is ugly and has a terrible prognosis no matter what kind of cancer it is.”

He nodded jerkily and tossed his head back on his neck so that he was peering down at me from under the brim of his ball cap.

“I’m sorry about the other night. I was really drunk, my shit was all over the place, and I swear I’m not usually that kind of guy. It was very nice of you to come over and check on me, and I acted like a dipshit. I just wanted to apologize, to tell you thanks.”

I was dumbfounded. That wasn’t what I was expecting from him, so I just stared up at him like a moron. He must have taken my silence as a rebuff because he pulled his hat off and scraped one of his hands roughly over the top of his shaved head. His dark eyebrows dipped down low over those fabulous eyes and his nostrils flared out a little. With that piercing he had in the center of his nose, it kind of made him look like an angry bull.

“Cut me some slack here, Saint. My life went sideways and this shit has been hard to deal with. I know you don’t like me, so it was extra nice of you to swing by. What I don’t know is why you don’t like me.”

I jolted back and dropped my defensive stance. Sure, I had my reasons for being standoffish and keeping my distance from him, but I had never meant to make my discomfort and unease around him totally palpable to others, especially to him. The last thing I wanted was to relive that moment, either of them. There was no way I was ever going to tell him that his dismissal, his harsh words, had forever changed me, forever changed how I looked at the opposite sex. It was humiliating and obviously way more memorable to me than it was to anyone else. If he had no recollection of it, I wasn’t going to remind him. He gave his head a shake and put his hat back on his head. He pushed off the vending machine and shrugged the wide expanse of his shoulders.

“All righty, then. I’ll steer clear of the ER if I can avoid it because clearly I make you really uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know that I appreciated you reaching out when obviously you would rather poke your own eye out with a dull spoon. You’re a really nice girl, Saint. I’ve always thought you were.”

He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his hat and turned around and walked away from me. Once he was out of sight, I had to put a hand on my pounding heart inside my chest and concentrate on not hyperventilating. He always thought I was nice? Then how could he have encouraged me, urged me to go out of my comfort zone, and then act as though I didn’t exist? Heck, kiss another girl right in front of me when I thought he was there for me? How could he say those hateful things that made me feel ugly and worthless to this day? Pretty boys shouldn’t try to hurt nice girls … at least in a perfect world they shouldn’t.