Page 89 of Wild Devotion
I cried out before I could stop myself, a wounded, startled sound that had Caleb on his feet.
“Sean?” Chantel moved to the other side of his bed. She took his bruised and swollen hand, hovering over him, murmuring his name.
But his unfocused gaze never left me. “What the hell happened?” he croaked.
“I don’t know yet,” I told him. “Chantel hasn’t gotten to that part of her confession.”
He tried to move his head and winced. Chantel pressed his shoulder down with one hand and hit the nurse call button with the other.
“Don’t move,” she ordered, full doctor mode. “You’ve had a major blow to the head. Your doctor will want to see you now that you’re awake.”
“Fuck.” He groaned. “Feels like I got run over.”
“That’s because you did,” she said without humor. “Some idiot in a stolen Camaro ran a red and T-boned you. Dylan saw the aftermath. He thinks you’re lucky to be alive.”
“Don’t feel lucky.”
A nurse hurried in, followed by a doctor. The already tight room became suffocating.
Caleb’s hand found my arm, and he pulled me into the hallway.
“Can you believe it?” My back hit the wall and I leaned into it, needing something solid.
“Yeah, actually.” His voice was calm. “It all makes a lot of sense.”
“Really? You obviously know them better than I do.” Had I ever actually known either of them? “How have I been so naïve? Or was I just too focused on my own mess to notice what was going on around me?”
His hands found my waist and pulled me off the cold wall, into his arms. I gave in, resting my head against his chest.
“Merde. Why do I keep walking in on this?” Chantel appeared in the hallway, her arms crossed, mascara streaked to her chin. “You two should get a room.”
Caleb turned on her. “Watch your mouth. Not everything’s about sex.”
“Things between me and Cal are none of your business,” I added without looking at her.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was strained. “I’m deflecting again.”
I made myself turn to face her. “I need to know why, Chantel. Why did you make him leave?”
Her brow furrowed. “He’s an addict, Zadie. You must know this. You lived with him. He was drunk or high, or both, practically every day.”
“He wasn’t that bad.” Even as I said it, I knew it was a lie.
“Yes, he was. You know he was.”
She was right. I’d known all along and chosen to look away. Like every other mistake, it had been easier to ignore the problem than confront it.
“I sent him to rehab,” she continued. “He left treatment early the first time, thought he could handle it. He relapsed. So I sent him back.”
“Is that why he’s been ignoring me?”
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask him. I’ve told you everything I know.”
“I think you did the right thing, sending him to get help. I just don’t understand why you’d lie about it,” Caleb said, his body close to mine.
“I do.” The clarity arrived like a wave breaking. “Chantel thought she was protecting me.”
“Protecting you how?” Caleb’s tone was skeptical.
