Broken Submission

Worlds Collide

It had been three days since she left, and Amelia had actually managed to get a part time job as a waitress. There was a two-week trial period, but at least she would get her tips. She started tomorrow. In the meantime, she had drowned her apartment in lemon-scented ammonia and set up her meager belongings. She'd settled down for the night when there was a knock on the door.

She froze. This shitty apartment complex didn't have eye holes in the doors. There was no way to know who was there. But she hadn't ordered anything, and no one she knew knew she was here. She stayed silent, resolving to wait it out.

A crash brought her to her feet, and the door shuddered. Fear flooded through her veins. She ran to the window. There was no emergency exit. She was desperately trying to come up with an exit strategy when the door slammed open. And her worst nightmare walked through.

"Honey," he grinned. "I'm home."

Derek opened his laptop. He was a little sloppy with alcohol, but what was on the screen sobered him instantly. It was an application to an apartment complex. An approved application. He stared at the screen, blinking as though it would disappear.

Haywood Apartment Complexes. He clicked on the next tab, and his heart sank when he saw another application. But it rose again as he continued flicking through them, and he realized that that was the only one that had been approved. It had to be the one.

He glanced down at the glass next to the laptop. Shit, he couldn't drive. He cursed himself. He'd never been a day drinker; of course it would come back to bite him in the ass.

He picked up his phone. "Jack? I need a favor."

They were only thirty minutes into the drive, and Jack was already on his fifth Slim Jim.

"I hate to be the one to say it, boss, but what if she doesn't want to talk to you. Let alone come back to live with you? I mean," he glanced at Derek, "it was only supposed to be temporary, right?"

"Yeah." He stared out the window. "But it didn't feel that way. I thought—I thought that I might be able to get her to want to stay. Not necessarily at my apartment," he added, because social convention demanded it. "But in town at least."

Jack nodded. "I hear you. I just don't want you to get your heart handed to you on a platter because you came with unrealistic expectations."

Derek blew out a breath. "I don't know that I can do anything else. I really don't."

They drove the rest of the way in silence. When they pulled into the parking lot, they both winced at how decrepit the building was.

"Shit," Jack said.

Derek grimaced. "Her apartment before she came to live with me wasn't much better."

The clerk barely looked at them before giving them the number to her apartment. Derek felt a bit nauseous by the complete lack of security. As they neared her number, they heard a crash. Exchanging glances, they ran the rest of the way. Derek froze for a second at the sight before him.

Amelia was pinned against the wall by a large man, blood running down her face from her nose and a cut across her scalp. She was limp, held up by his grip on her throat.

Derek pushed past his shock and charged the man. He ripped him away from her before the man even knew he was in the room. The man squared against him. Four parallel scratches marred the left side of his face, narrowly missing his eye. He had a dark, aristocratic face, even now a kind of congenial charm about him. But all Derek saw was red.

He swung at the man's face, batting away the return swing. They continued to exchange blows while Jack ran to check on Amelia. Derek landed a kick to his opponent's abdomen, dropping him to his knees just as Jack called his name.

Derek turned, and the man shoved him away before bolting for the door. Torn between giving chase and checking on Amelia, a glance at Amelia's bloody face made his decision for him. He dropped to his knees.

"How is she?" he asked, breath ragged with adrenaline.

Jack shook his head. "She might be concussed from the blow to the head. The gash is the only open wound I see. Otherwise, I thing she's just bruised. But we should take her to the emergency room to be sure."

Derek nodded, lifting her into his arms. He cradled her close to his chest, emotion tightening his throat. "Please be okay," he murmured into her hair. "I've got you. Please come back to me."

Jack drove them to the ER, where Derek drove the staff crazy after they took Amelia from him. He wasn't family, so he wasn't allowed into her room. But when she awoke and asked for him, they finally let him through.

She sat on the bed in her hospital gown, looking tiny and frightened. Her forehead was cleaned up and stitched. He soaked in the sight of her before rushing over to sweep her into his arms.

But she pushed him away. "Derek, what are you doing here?"

He pulled back. "It's a damn good thing that I am, otherwise you might be dead right now." Concern for her health had repressed his anger; now it surged to the surface.

She shivered. "I know, and thank you—really—for what you did. But how did you even find me?"

"No." He took her chin and raised it so that she looked into his eyes. "It's my turn for answers. I need to know. Do you want to be with me?"

He tightened his grip on her chin. "Be very careful how you respond. Because I think you do. I think that you've been running for so long that you don't know how to stop, even when you have something good. But I warn you, I am pissed. I am pissed that you left without so much as a goodbye, and I'm pissed that you didn't talk to me. So think before you answer me."

Amelia stared at him. And she remembered all the things she had been deliberately avoiding for the past three days, his kindness and his intelligence, the quiet moments in the morning when they just enjoyed each other's company. She wanted it. She wanted him.

"I do." She touched his face. "I do—I want this, I want you."

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