Rancorous

Chapter 18

PRESENT

Herlina

I clutch the warm cloth closer and move on my side, getting more comfortable. The dense material of whatever I have been lying on makes it impossible to find the perfect position to fall back asleep on.

I open my eyes, sensing unfamiliarity all around me. Stiffening, I sit up straight. The sweater I've been using as a blanket plops on the floor.

The black leather interior reminds me that I'm in Brevin's car. Glancing to my left, the driver's seat is vacant, but the car is still on. The AC is blowing warm air lightly.

Rubbing my eyes, the bright white letters of the hospital stand out in the night.

I search around for Brevin, feeling my heart beating faster.

Where could he be?

Gathering the sweater, I fold it and place it in the driver's seat. Opening the car door, I shiver as the wind grazes my bare skin. The parking lot had a few littered cars, but I don't see Brevin anywhere.

Rubbing my hands on my arms, I reach back in the car and slip Brevin's beige sweater on. It's large on me, falling to my thighs which is a blessing because it swallows my body in warmth.

Reaching for my phone, I realize I don't have any pockets. My muscles relax as soon as I see it in one of the cup holders. Tucking it in the pocket of Brevin's sweater, I ungracefully hobble my way toward the entrance of the hospital. I exhale deeply, turning a corner when I suddenly hear a familiar deep voice.

Standing a few feet away, I watch Brevin's back as he walks with short languid steps.

"I know." Brevin's tone is curt. He sounds like he doesn't want to talk to whoever he's on the phone with.

I quietly edge closer, but I still can't distinguish what the person on the other side of the line is saying. All I know is that it's a male voice by the deep and gruff nature of it.

"Yeah, they are." As he hears the person respond on the phone, he stops pacing. The muscles on his broad back flex through his white shirt. His left hand fisting tight. Whatever the person said, he must've hit a nerve in Brevin.

"I'm well aware." His voice is polite, but to me it's as if he was pushing his true feelings down his throat. Refraining from sounding or saying what he truly feels.

He tucks his phone in the front of his jeans. No words of departure from either party. That's strange.

Brevin's wide shoulders visibly slack. Walking closer, I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. "Brevin?"

His shoulders go taut as he turns around. The light from a nearby lamppost allowing me to detail his face. His cheeks and nose are flushed from the cold against his pale skin. His eyes have shadows underneath, like he hasn't been getting enough sleep lately.

He looks drained, depleted, completely worn out.

How die I not notice this? It makes my heart painfully beat. I want to take his worries away, or ease them as much as I can.

"When did you get here?" His posture is casual, cool. But the small crease in between his brows is deceptive.

"A couple seconds ago. I just got out of the car." My mouth wants to wander and ask him who he was talking to. But, something tells me he will shut me out and reply bitterly without telling me who.

I'm walking on egg shells around a dragon. One wrong move and he'll bathe me in fire.

Brevin's eyes wander to his jacket that I'm wearing. His lips separate ever so slightly as he looks at me from head to toe.