Be with Me(Wait for You)

Fourteen





Erik bailed quickly, waiting for Debbie in the lobby below. He was lucky, because if I could walk like a normal person, I’d be kicking his ass across campus.

“I’m sorry,” Debbie said for the hundredth time as she helped me up on the bed. “I’m so—”

“Stop,” I snapped, taking a deep breath as my leg jerked from a painful spasm. “Stop apologizing. It wasn’t your fault.”

She backed away, hands clasped together. “He didn’t mean to do it.”

My mouth opened, but I sucked in a sharp breath as a slice of pain traveled up my leg.

“Do you need some ice?” she asked.

Grinding my teeth, I nodded. By the time she returned with a pillowcase wrapped around ice, I’d managed to straighten out my knee and roll up my pant leg. The skin around my knee looked puffy. Not good. I hissed as I placed the ice on it.

“Teresa . . .”

Taking another shallow breath, I looked at her. “He might not have really meant to do that, but he was pissed. He didn’t stop to think when he swung that bag around. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t care.”

Tears pooled in her eyes. “I know he didn’t mean to.”

Falling silent, I adjusted the ice. My head was numb. Too many things were running through my thoughts.

She hesitated near the bed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Several moments passed before she spoke. “Please . . . please don’t tell anyone.”

My head swung toward her sharply. I couldn’t believe she would ask that of me, and then my heart jumped. Hadn’t I asked the same of my mom and then Cam? Please don’t tell anyone? Because I had been afraid of how Jeremy would react.

The moment to confide in Debbie was here, but she rushed forward and hugged me around the arms and whispered, “Please.”

I didn’t say anything as she left because it was a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep. Lowering my gaze, I slowly eased up the makeshift bag. My skin was red from the cold.

My ringer on my cell phone went off an hour or so later, but I didn’t even look at it. Lying on my back, I’d shoved a pillow under my knee to keep it elevated. By the time I had to hobble down the hall for more ice, the pain had become a constant ache that spiked every so often, as if someone had placed a lit match against my skin.

My knee was swollen. The ice and elevation weren’t helping. I hadn’t heard a pop when I fell, but the swelling was bad news bears. And I knew I couldn’t test my weight on it. Not yet.

There were two more calls that night. Out of the three, two of them were from Jase, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer the phone. Last night . . . last night now felt like forever ago.
     



I stared at the phone, lip trembling as it signaled a message being left. As the screen blinked black, I reached for it, but drew up short. I couldn’t talk to him yet. If I did, there was a good chance I’d lose it.

Because if my knee was blown again, everything changed. This wouldn’t be temporary. There would be no going back to the studio. This . . . I looked around the dorm . . . this would truly be my life. This whole time I’d been faking it.

I pulled my hand back and rested my forehead against my palm. Another spasm rolled up my leg. I couldn’t deal with this again—the pain, the surgery, the rehab. But this time . . . I shuddered. This time would be different because the worst possible thing you could do to a torn ACL was to reinjure it. Doing so increased the chances of permanent instability.

And I wouldn’t be able to dance again.

When I finally slept, I don’t think I dreamed, and when I woke, the swelling had increased until my knee looked twice its size. I didn’t even consider getting more ice. I knew it wouldn’t do any damn good. I had no crutches, so there was no way I was walking to class. I stayed in my bed as acid churned in my stomach.

My cell went off a few minutes after music class would’ve started. Thinking it was Calla or Debbie—who’d sent me two texts checking in that I hadn’t responded to—I was surprised to see it was from Jase. I still hadn’t checked his message.

Where r u?

Squeezing my eyes shut until they burned, I sat up a little. He deserved a response, even after all those times he ignored me. This wasn’t about him. I sent him a quick message back.

Not feeling well.

His response was immediate.

R u ok?

Scrubbing my suddenly wet eyes, I texted back a quick yes, and then tossed the phone on the foot of the bed.

I knew I needed to call Dr. Morgan and Mom, but the mere thought of doing so caused my chest to seize. The pain and swelling—I already knew what it meant. My future and my dreams were over. I didn’t need a doctor to tell me that.

Another shudder worked its way through me. Curling onto my side, I wrapped my arm around my pillow and shoved my face in it. The soft material quickly became damp. They weren’t big tears. Just silent and unending. The hurt in the pit of my stomach was as strong as the pain in my knee.


It was a little after twelve thirty when there was a sharp rap on the door. I had no idea who it could be. Maybe my yet-to-be-seen suitemates? Frowning, I hastily wiped my cheeks as I sat up, and then cleared my throat. “Come in.”

I tugged the quilt over my right leg. I don’t know why I wanted to hide it. Maybe it was like if no one else saw it, then it wasn’t true. Sort of a stupid mentality, but I was barely holding myself together. I was seconds away from throwing myself to the floor and flailing.

The door opened, and I blinked once and then twice, thinking I was seeing things, but the person before me didn’t vanish.

Jase strolled into my room, like he’d done it a million times. He was dressed in jeans and a black, long-sleeved shirt, and a plastic bag dangled from his long fingertips. He drew up short when he spotted me.

Concern filled his gray eyes. “Wow. You do look rough.”

I cringed. Must’ve been the puffy eyes. “Thanks.”

A small smile crossed his lips as he came forward. “You don’t look that bad.” He sat on the edge of the bed, placing the bag on the floor between his feet. “Should I be worried?”

My brows rose. I was still too stunned by seeing him to understand where he was going with that statement.

“Is whatever you have contagious?” he clarified.

“Oh. No.” I paused, peeking up at him through damp lashes. “Why are you here?”

“Why?” He coughed out a laugh. “Seems pretty obvious.” Bending over, he picked up the bag and pulled out a plastic container. “Chicken noodle soup. Not for the soul. But for your hopefully not contagious disease.”

That damn fluttering feeling was back with a vengeance. I took the warm container and plastic spoon. A ginger ale bottle appeared next, and he placed that on the nightstand, then a pink box. A cupcake. I wanted to cry. “If you are so worried about getting sick, why did you come?”

One side of his lips curved up again. “Well, considering what we did Saturday night, I think that concern is beside the point.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, flushing at the reminder.

“And I figured you were worth the risk,” he added, rolling the bag up and tossing it in the wastebasket by the desk. “Knowing that should make you already feel better.”

I laughed, but the smile slipped off my face as I peeled the lid off the soup. What he’d done had rocked me straight to the center of my chest. I wasn’t sick, but there was no way I was going to deny this feeling. In spite of the dull ache in my leg and what it meant, warmth bubbled up my chest.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice hoarse. “This . . . this was really nice of you.”

He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

Dipping the spoon into the noodle heavy soup, I took a healthy swallow to help ease the lump in my throat. What he’d done was a big deal. Tears burned my eyes again. I was turning into a big crybaby, but these tears were different. I wanted to tackle-hug him. I wanted to rain kisses all over his beautiful face. I wanted to be able to get up and do those things without hobbling through it. Him being here wasn’t the equivalent of him professing his undying love for me, but it meant something—something more than stolen kisses.

When I looked at him, he was studying me closely—too closely. I averted my attention to the soup.

“I was worried last night,” he admitted quietly. “When you didn’t answer, I thought . . . well, I thought you were ignoring me.”

Holding the container close, I gathered up some noodles. “I wasn’t.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you had, especially when I’ve done the same to you.” He thrust his fingers through his hair, and as soon as he dropped his hand, his hair flopped back over his forehead. “I don’t think I ever apologized for that.”

My heart rate picked up. Where was all this coming from? And why right now, when it felt like my kneecap was about to jump out of my leg totally alien-monster style.

“So I’m sorry about that. And when I made the comment about you just wanting to get laid. I know that’s not what you want. You’re better than that and you deserve more than that. I know that doesn’t mean a lot, but it wasn’t the right way, and in the end, it was f*cking pointless because here you are and I can’t stay away from you.” He twisted toward me, leaning his upper body over my legs. “You know about Jack, but—”
     



His hip pressed into my knee, and I jerked. My body jackknifed as the slicing pain traveled up my leg. His hand snatched out lightning quick, catching the container of soup before it spilled all over me. Blood drained from my face as I slammed my hands into the bed, clutching the sheets.

“Jesus! What happened?” He jumped up like the bed had bitten his ass. “Are you okay?”

Reeling from the sharpness, I could only nod. Breathe in. Breathe out. Slowly, after several moments, the pain dulled back to a throb. My fingers eased off the sheets, and I forced my gaze up.

Jase stared at me. He glanced at my leg, and then my face. “You aren’t sick, are you? You’ve been crying. That’s why you look that way.” Before I could respond, he snatched the quilt and flipped it over. “Shit, Tess, your knee. F*ck. I didn’t know. I’m—”

“Don’t,” I said, voice hoarse. “You didn’t know. It’s okay.”

He raised wide eyes to mine. “How did this happen?”

“I came down on it wrong Sunday night.” The lie came out easier than the truth. Guilt immediately settled like a stone in my stomach. Hand shaking, I brushed my hair out of my face. “I think I’ve really messed it up.”

“You think?” He put the container of soup on the nightstand. “How much pain are you in?”

I watched him gingerly sit on the edge of the bed. “It comes and goes.”

“Me sitting on it didn’t help, huh?”

A weak smile appeared on my lips. “It’s okay.”

Jase reached over, catching the strand of hair that kept falling in my face. He tucked it back. “Have you told Cam? Your mom?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t want them to worry.”

“Want more soup?” When I nodded, he handed it off. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon, so this was doing my tummy good. “But sitting here with your leg like this isn’t helping anyone, Tess.”

“I know,” I whispered, ducking my gaze. I focused on his jaw as I scooped up noodles. Nice area to stare at. There was a thin blanket of stubble covering his lower cheek, giving him a rough, sexy look.

Jase ran a hand through his hair. “Then I’m guessing you haven’t called your doctor?”

Swallowing a mouthful of chicken noodle soup, I shook my head again.

“Okay. Then that’s the first thing we need—hold up.” He reached over, sweeping his thumb along my chin, catching the broth and causing me to flush. “We need to call your doctor. And don’t give me any shit. We need to do that. And we need to do that now.”

He let me finish my soup before he retrieved my cell from the foot of the bed. Handing it over, he waited, arms crossed, until I found my doctor’s contact. I had to leave a message, but the call was returned quickly. An appointment was set up for tomorrow morning, and my heart was already pounding with the ugliness of it all.

“I’ll take you,” Jase announced after returning from the hall, where he’d disposed of the soup container.

“What?” I pushed myself up against the headboard.

He was matter-of-fact. “I’ll take you tomorrow. He’s at WVU, right?”

“Around there, but—”

“But you haven’t even told Cam yet or your mom, so how do you expect to get there? Hitch a ride?” His grin was full of arrogance. “I can miss my classes tomorrow. It won’t be a big deal. And if I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t offer. So don’t argue with me.”

“I know,” I said. “But why would you want to do that? Sitting in class is better than leaving at butt crack in the morning and driving for hours. I mean, I’d rather sit through music class.”

He laughed as he sat back down, placing one hand on the other side of my hip. “You must really hate the drive and the doctor to prefer sitting in that class. You missed it today. Your friend Calla’s head fell all the way back. She snored.”

I laughed. “She doesn’t snore. And I know because she sleeps through that class almost every time.”

His thick lashes lowered, shielding his startling eyes. “I want to be there for you. Let me.”

My mouth opened and the proverbial why formed on the tip of my tongue. Did the why matter? The way things were between Jase and me at this moment confused the ever-loving crap out of me. Something had changed Saturday night, shifted. He was doing the exact opposite of pushing me away and running. Was I that good at giving head? I almost laughed because that was just stupid.

“Okay,” I said finally.

Jase smiled, and suddenly, it felt like I’d agreed to much more than a ride.


I hated the whole atmosphere of doctors’ offices—the white paint, the tacky decorations, and the smell of disinfectant. It didn’t matter what kind of doctor you were seeing; the offices were all the same.

An x-ray had been done before I even saw the middle-aged doctor. My butt had been planted in the dreaded wheelchair, and I’d been rolled away, leaving Jase in the main waiting room. Once I was deposited in the room where the doctor would see me, I hobbled out of the chair and sat on one of the plastic ones. I was glaring at the wheelchair when the door opened, and one of the blushing front desk nurses ushered Jase inside.

“We thought you could use the company,” she said, smoothing a hand over her blond head.

Jase winked as he sauntered in. “She was probably beside herself without me.”

I snorted.

The nurse giggled and then hastily backed out of the room. I arched a brow at him. “How did you manage to get yourself back here considering you’re not family?”

He hopped up on the table I should’ve been sitting on. From there, he swung his long legs like a mischievous boy. “I have considerable charm, Tess.”

“That’s true.” I cracked a grin.

“And with said charm comes great responsibility to use it wisely,” he continued, eyes dancing. “I only break it out when necessary.”

“Good to hear.” I shifted my weight on the uncomfortable plastic. Having him back here was good because my nerves were stretched tight. “Thank you again. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. Just remember your promise.”

I laughed as I shook my head. “How can I forget?”

“You’re going to love it.” He dipped his chin, and messy waves tumbled forward. “And you have nothing to fear. I’ll be right there with you.”
     



My stomach still lurched at the thought of being on a horse. Jase had spent the drive to the doctor’s convincing me to agree to doing a little more than a horsey meet and greet. As in getting on top of one. Jase would be with me, and I agreed because I trusted him. And because it gave me something other than my leg to fret over.

“Cam texted me earlier,” Jase announced.

I jerked my gaze to him. His expression was unreadable. “Did you tell him that you were with me?”

“Did you tell him?”

“No. He still thinks I’m sick.” I wrapped the edge of my ponytail around my fingers. “Did you?”

He shook his head. “I figured he’d ask why I was with you and not him. And then that would lead to other questions, and well, I figured they’d best be answered not over the phone.”

“You think answering some of the questions would be best face-to-face?” Doubt colored my tone. Considering what Jase would tell him, I easily foresaw that conversation ending with a fist to a face.

Jase laughed. “I’d have to deploy my charm again.”

“I don’t think that kind of charm will work on my brother.”

“Ye of little faith,” he said, and his lips hitched up on one side. The devilish look caused my heart to skip a beat.

I pressed my lips together, wondering what would even be said to Cam. Less would be better I supposed, no matter what happened between Jase and me going forward. My gaze glided over the near perfect contours of his face and then down, over his broad shoulders. When I looked up, he caught my gaze and he smiled reassuringly.

My breath caught on the realization that I could easily fall in love with him.

That was if I hadn’t already.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, biting down on that delicious lower lip.

Tension coiled low in my stomach. Oh, I was so screwed. I looked away, feeling my cheeks flood with color. “Yeah, I’m not caring and sharing that.”

A deep, husky chuckle came from him. “That’s no fun.”

“Sorry.”

Thank God, the door opened and Dr. Morgan stepped into the room. At the moment, I’d rather focus on my knee than pay too much attention to what was going on inside my heart and head.

White lab coat swinging about his knees, Dr. Morgan had close-cut curls that were sprinkled with gray. He smiled as he walked in, eyeing where I was and where Jase was. “Do I have a new patient today?”

Trying not to get too hopeful over the smile, I cleared my throat. “That’s Jase. He’s, um . . . he’s my friend. He came with me.”

“Nice to meet you.” The good doc walked over and shook his hand. When Jase started to get up, Dr. Morgan waved him off. “No need to move. We’re all good this way.” Sitting in one of the rolling chairs, he dropped the file with my x-rays on the counter. He toed his way to me, grabbed ahold of another chair, and slid it around. Gently, he lifted my leg up and placed it on the chair. “Let’s get a look at this.”

I rolled up the hem of my jeans, wincing as it revealed my oversized knee. Sexy.

He drew in a low whistle. “You know the drill.”

I did. Closing my eyes, I clapped my hands together and pressed them against my stomach. Dr. Morgan’s fingers were cool as they pressed against my knee. The touch didn’t hurt. Not yet. He applied a little more pressure, checking the stabilization. Pain flared, and I gritted my teeth.

“Pain on a one to ten scale?” he asked quietly.

“Um.” I sucked at these things. Like who knew the pain scale? I needed one of those funny stick people pictures to use as a guide. “Six?”

“Okay.” He pushed a little harder, and I jumped. “How about now?”

“Seven?” I squeaked.

He continued to torture me, and my eyes snapped open when I felt a hand wrap around mine. I hadn’t even heard him move. Jase was kneeling beside me, and the moment my eyes locked with his gray ones, I couldn’t look away.

“And this?” Dr. Morgan asked. At the sound of my harsh hiss, he removed his hands. “No need to answer.” He smiled gently as he rolled my pants leg down. “Okay. You iced and elevated?”

I nodded, still looking at Jase. “Yeah.”

“But it didn’t help?”

“No.” I wet my lips, and Jase smiled. Tearing my gaze away from him so I didn’t look like too much of a doofus, I faced the doctor. As I spoke, Jase managed to ease my hands apart and thread his fingers through my left hand. “It’s not as painful as the first time, and I didn’t hear any pops, but I’m afraid I really screwed it up.”

“I need to know exactly what you were doing when you hurt your knee Sunday,” he said, dropping his hands on his knees. “Were you walking? Did you lose your balance?”

My gaze dropped to the doctor’s long fingers. They were slender, but the knuckles were surprisingly big and round. My throat closed off.

“She said she just lost her balance,” Jase said, and my free hand closed into a fist.

“Were you walking when it happened? Getting out of bed or off a chair?” Dr. Morgan paused. “It’s really important to know exactly what you were doing.”

Blood pounded in my ears as I slowly lifted my gaze. The truth. Damnit, the truth was always a pesky, nosy bitch. I shook my head as I bit down on my lip. “I . . . I was in my dorm room and my roommate’s boyfriend had a bag in his hand. Like a weekender bag. Anyway, I was standing too close when he swung it around. It hit my hip and I stumbled back, putting my weight on my right leg.”

Jase’s fingers tightened until I could feel the bones in my hand starting to grind, and then he eased off, slipping his hand free. I couldn’t look at him, but I could feel him staring.

“So it was an unplanned action. Not a major misstep. That gives me a really clear picture of what’s going on.” Dr. Morgan reached for my file, flipping it open. “Well, bad or good news first?”

My heart jumped, and I glanced at Jase. His eyes were sharp, expression stony. “Good? I guess?”

“The good news is that the x-rays do not show any additional tears,” he said, and my shoulders immediately relaxed. “I know that was your biggest fear. The original tear is healing.”

I took a deep breath. “So what’s the bad news?”

Dr. Morgan smiled tightly. “What this injury shows is a destabilization of the ACL. And with the kind of tear you suffered, there was a forty to sixty percent chance of reinjury. Now, like I said, the tear doesn’t appear to be reinjured. So no surgery, and I really do think this will heal if you go back to the brace and use the crutches over the next couple of days.”
     



Instead of feeling better, the walls started to close in around me. “But?”

“But . . .” He smiled, but I tensed. The smile didn’t reach his dark eyes. It was the kind of smiles doctors made when they were about to deliver a death blow. “This injury shows that there is a destabilization there and that is what concerns me, Teresa. When you first injured your ACL, we talked about the possibility—although slim at that time—of continuous destabilization and . . .”

My brain cut him off right there, but I nodded and I stared at him, barely aware of the way Jase was stiffening with every word spoken. I even smiled when Dr. Morgan patted my hand and told me it was going to be okay. I agreed. Everything would be f*cking perfect. And then I said nothing when the nurse came in, and the dreaded blue brace was returned to my knee. I took the crutches with grace. And I kept breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

Somehow I ended up outside, in Jase’s Jeep, staring out the windshield.

“Tess . . .”

I looked over at him, and he shook his head as our gazes locked. His face was pale. “I’m so f*cking sorry.”

Drawing in a deep breath, I shuddered as it got stuck. The destabilization was a bad, bad thing. It was worse than having surgery because it meant one thing. My knee would always be wicked weak. I would always have problems with it, even after the tear was completely healed. The chance of getting arthritis in the knee earlier than most had nearly doubled.

Professional dancing was out of the picture. No more. Done. There was no returning to the studio, no more lessons or recitals or competitions. I’d be stupid to even attempt it. And my instructors wouldn’t allow it. Neither would the Joffrey School.

College was no longer temporary. Teaching was no longer plan B. It was the only plan.

Oh my God.

I shook my head, opened my mouth, but there were no words.

Jase cursed, and I . . . I cracked wide open. Like a well deep inside me had burst.

The tears came, spilling down my cheeks, and once they started, there was no stopping them. The interior blurred—Jase disappeared in the haze.

A deep sound came from him, and then his arms were around me. One second I was sitting there by myself, my world crumbling apart, and the next moment, he was holding me against him—holding me together.