Zoey 101: An Unexpected Encounter

Chapter 18

It took nearly four hours before Chase was finally able to leave the hospital, though if it were up to Zoey he wouldn’t have left at all. Why did men always have to play the tough guy? Chase’s concussion worried her, but apparently to him it was no biggie.

Sitting in the backseat of Detective Michael Barret’s unmarked sedan, Zoey’s gaze wandered over Chase’s face. His eyes were closed, but she knew he was awake. She wished he would open his eyes and look at her, but he’d barely spared her a glance since all the chaos.

Since her house was officially a crime scene, Detective Barrett was taking them to Chase’s apartment. Rocky was going to spend the night at the vet, and Zoey knew the dog would be getting the royal treatment over there. Back at her house, she’d never seen so many people fawning over an injured animal. The paramedics had fawned over her, too, as had the doctors who’d stitched her up in the hospital. But it was Chase she worried about. He’d lost a lot of blood, not to mention taken a hard knock to the head.

But he insisted he was okay. Of course.

"Make sure to wake him up every hour or so," Detective Barrett said when he pulled up in front of Chase’s low-rise building. "If he’s slow to wake, throwing up or seems confused, call me and I’ll bring him back to the hospital."

Zoey nodded. "I’ll take care of him."

The detective rounded the vehicle and opened Chase’s door, rolling his eyes when his partner began to complain about not needing help. "I’m helping you upstairs whether you like it or not, macho man," Michael said.

In Chase’s apartment, after she and Michael had gotten him settled in bed, Zoey stood in Chase’s living room frowning at the bare walls and sparse furniture. The room needed color. Life. Chase needed it.

Frown deepening, she limped down the narrow hallway. Her ankle still throbbed, now even more after her struggle with Kuyper. Slowly she entered Chase’s bedroom and, like every other room in the house, this one was as cozy as a jail cell.

Chase’s eyes flickered open at the sound of her footsteps. He tried to sit up, then groaned and touched the bandage at his side.

"Don’t move," she said in irritation.

"But—"

"In fact, don’t even talk." She tightly crossed her arms over chest. "I want you to listen to me, okay?"

"Okay," he said roughly.

She paused for a moment, searching for the right words, but there was only one way to say it so she blurted out, "You need me."

Surprise filled his gorgeous green eyes.

Zoey drew in a breath and continued. "You need me, Chase. You need me to fix up this boring, empty apartment, and you need me to make you smile—you really don’t smile enough—and you definitely need me to love you. There, I said it. I love you. I always have, and I always will, and I’m getting damn tired of you telling me you don’t have anything to give. Because that’s bull. You give me joy and comfort and love and—damn it, why are you looking at me like that?"