"She's scared of hospitals. Just let her rest for a minute. If she doesn't get to feeling better, I'll call my dad. He's a doctor," Clara murmurs softly.

He curls up next to me and kisses my forehead.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

I snuggle into his arms and ignore the crowded assembly.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Jerry asks.

"He's Devin," Clara replies smugly.

"Go. I'm fine. Finish your rehearsal. Don't hang out with me. I promise I'm fine," I say, desperate to be out of the spotlight.

"I don't want to leave you like this," Clara sighs.

"Please do. I don't want you ruining your time because of me. I promise I'm fine. I'm already feeling a little better."

She sighs louder, reluctance dragging her breaths out to a heavier flow.

"Okay, but I'll be back in a little while to check on you."

"Okay."

"Don't leave her," Clara instructs to Devin while pointing a threatening finger at him.

"I have no intentions of leaving. I promise she's in good hands," Devin says gently, his eyes breaking away from her threatening promise and rejoining mine.

"Thanks," she murmurs hesitantly.

"No thanks necessary. She's the reason I'm here. I'll let you know if anything happens."

I snuggle in closer, and his arms tighten in response. I hear the people slowly filtering out, and the relentless tone of Jerry in the hallway.

"Someone please tell me who that guy is."

"It's Devin," Henry chuckles.

I want to laugh, but it hurts too badly. What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I feel as if I've been flattened by a truck, re-inflated, and flattened again?

"I can't believe you've never been sick before," Devin whispers.

"I can't believe you're staying at the inn my father manages."

He laughs a little at my disgruntled, playful remark. Rain starts tapping lightly outside to distract me from his delicious chuckles. It sounds so close right now. It's as if my hearing has somehow become overly sensitive.

"I need something to drink," I mumble with closed eyes.

A breeze of wind blows, and I feel him helping me up as he hands me an open bottle of water. My eyes try to focus, but everything is almost a blur.

"Wow. You had that handy."

He smirks at me cockily, but it fades as my body starts shaking. What's happening to me?

"What's wrong?" he asks with more horror tainting his perfect face.

"I don't know," I shakily release through my almost chattering teeth.

"I'm taking you to a hospital," he says adamantly.

I jerk free from his grip. "No! If you take me there I'll never speak to you again," I yelp, tears springing to my eyes instantly.

He tightens his lips.

"What happened to make you loathe hospitals so passionately?"

I shake my head to dismiss the question I really do not feel like answering.

"Please tell me. I'm trying to understand," he comforts.

He doesn't understand the time I spent in the hospital hell. It's pretty traumatic for a five-year-old to be in a cold, dank, and terrifyingly dark room where not even the bugs are brave enough to venture out for very long.

"Because that's where my mother dumped me," I whimper, instantly regretting such a ridiculous over-sharing.

He exhales heavily, and then he pulls me closer to him. The pity in his eyes makes me all the sicker. I hate pity, and it's all I get when people find out.

"I'm sorry, but you really need to be in a hospital. This could be serious."

I pull back and shake my head, the tears in my eyes dripping out my humiliation and pain.

"Devin, you don't get it. I spent five days locked in a basement where no one knew I was. It took them weeks to nurse me back to health - mentally and physically. I was fortunate that anyone found me at all, but they didn't find me before I envisioned every shadow on the wall to be a monster. I was starving, cold, weak, and talking to death's angel due to severe dehydration. Then my birthmother strolled in and walked out with me once more.

"Why they let her have me back is beyond me. Thankfully, she handed me over to people who wanted to care for a child instead of dumping me in another basement. The point is, I can't even think about a hospital without feeling the weight of the world crushing on my chest. Please... just drop it."

He tightens his lips, letting my heavy bomb settle in. I shouldn't have told him that. That was so stupid.

"I'm sorry. That's horrible," he says through his own emotional rattle.

More pity falls free from his swirling blues, and I do my best to pull myself together before continuing.

"It's just the way things are. I learned to cope with the reality a long time ago. I don't remember her or even what she looked like. All I remember is being cold, hungry, and absolutely terrified for what seemed like much longer than five days. The whispering pipes of a basement along with the building groans can offer quite the nightmarish terrors to a child. I won't step into a hospital, at least not willingly," I murmur.

He hugs me tighter. His velvety soft lips stroke my forehead to bring my anxiety down just slightly.

I feel so inexplicably connected to him. His lips find mine once more in a soft, reassuring manner. The kiss deepens, and currents crash through me as though I've just stepped in water while holding a live wire.

I jerk back, grabbing my throbbing lips while my wide eyes stare into his. He touches his as well with curiosity plaguing his face.

"That was odd," he mumbles with a hint of a distracted tone.

"Yeah," I whisper, but then I feel my body weakening again.

I feel the sickness overwhelming me, and I can't hold my heavy eyes open another moment.

Chapter 4.

A Damn Boyfriend I wake up to the odd, floral room with scratched antique furniture I instantly recognize. Shit. I can't believe he's staying here. He lives in a frigging penthouse. Why is he staying in a heinously decorated room at the local inn?

Though the sickness I suffered the night before has passed, now I feel sick for a whole new set of reasons.

He had to take care of me all night. This is humiliating.

"Hey," his soft voice whispers as my groggy eyes finally find his alert ones.

"Hey," I return with a parched, throaty rasp.

He quickly hands me a bottle of water, and I begin to sip it slowly while looking away from him. I clutch my aching head, and he sits up to join me.

"What time is it?" I mumble.

"You've got plenty of time before the wedding. How do you feel?"

"Like hell met ice," I jokingly interject. "I need to... oh no. It's eight o' clock," I panic out loud when I see the woodland inspired theme clock.

His look is puzzled. "The wedding isn't until two. You don't have to go to work do you?"

I start scrambling to situate my wrinkled dress that I ended up sleeping in, and Devin casually climbs free from the bed to join me at my side.

"No. I don't have work. I have a father who's going to kill me if he sees me staying in a room with a guy he's never met. He'll be here any minute now."

Devin starts laughing, his worry completely replaced by humor, as he grabs my purse and hands it to me. "We can hide out in here until the wedding, and then you can make your father think you showed up with the rest of the guests."

I roll my eyes at his scandalous offer - though it would be nice to just curl up in bed with him all day as opposed to dealing with all the craziness today has in store.

"My dress, makeup, hair supplies... everything I need is at my apartment."

"Then I'll drive you there."

His soft smile is so enticing. How does he look this good when he first wakes up? That's so not fair.

"Thanks, but you don't have to," I mumble with a touch of embarrassment.

I've spent the night curled up in his arms like a sick child, and I barely know him. He drove all the way from New York to enjoy my company in a far different way. I feel so stupid.

"You rode with Clara yesterday. You need a ride," he murmurs while putting all of his stuff in his pockets.

"Are you going back to New York today?" I ask timidly.

"No. I'm going to a wedding, and then I'm going to spend the rest of the day with you."

I grin like a girl and quickly cover it. "Oh. I just didn't think you'd want to hang around after last night."

"I don't see why not. I came to see you, and I've spent every second with you since I got here. I sat up worrying all night, but I got to hold you."

Aw.

I'd kiss him right now if my breath wasn't rancid. Oh, the inn keeps complimentary toiletries in the bottom cabinets.

My blushing hue stains my cheeks, and I look out from under my lashes to see his smile only growing. I have to kiss him, but not yet.

I casually stroll into the bathroom, and as soon as the door closes behind me, I start savagely ripping it apart to find a toothbrush. I smile as I open the pack, and then grab the toothpaste he has in his bag.

My vigorous brushing rids my mouth of the disgusting thing that has curled up and died in it, and then I start scrambling to finger-comb my hair.

Yep. I've got to get a slut bag.

I walk back out just as he's pulling on a shirt. Mmm. Why does he have to be so insanely hot?

The soft threads slowly cover up his rippling abs, and I almost feel the need to wipe a dollop of drool from my mouth.

"Thank you for last night."

"You're welcome," he murmurs so softly it's almost a whisper, but I hear it with such perfect clarity - as though he was right beside my ear when he said it.

I feel oddly in tune with everything. I can see, hear, and smell so acutely - it's rather distracting.

A bird's flapping wings almost seems to rattle against my eardrum as it flutters around the tree outside. I have to shake my head just to rid myself of the nuisance.

"What's wrong?" he asks with worry.

"Nothing. Just a little off today."

"Are you ready?"

I nod and he takes my hand my hand in his to lead me out. The touch of his smooth skin feels so much different today. It feels so... intimate.

I quickly snap out of my momentary hypnosis, and then the sick pang of dread stings me.

Oh, please don't be here yet, Daddy.

I creep behind Devin like a child afraid of the dark as we walk down the stairs. Each creak ringing out beneath our feet makes me cringe, and my stomach only knots all the more.

He's doing his best not to laugh at me. I'm sure he's not used to being around someone still afraid of their dad. I'm actually not afraid of him. I'm terrified of the mortifying scene he'll cause if he witnesses what will appear to be a walk of shame.