He’d wrapped my wet locks up off my neck, tucked me into bed, spoon-fed me children’s acetaminophen, and even retrieved the bucket to set on my nightstand. I’d watched him the entire time, wondering what his ulterior motives were. If he had any.
I couldn’t help it; I’d never had a man dote on me without expecting something in return. But he’d never hinted at anything or acted put out even though he had to have missed work today. If fact, he’d almost seemed to grow irritated each time he caught my wide-eyed stare, as if my disbelief irked him.
I sat all the way up, leaning against my pillows and looking across the room only to jolt back when I noticed the hunched figure sitting at the end of my bed. I pressed a hand to my heart, hoping to keep it where it belonged.
“God, you scared me.”
His shoulders tightened at the sound of my voice, but he didn’t raise his head. He was sitting at the edge with his hands dangling between his knees, his neck lowered and eyes closed.
“Garrett? What’s wrong?”
He laughed then, or what might be called a laugh. It was more like an angry huff. He rolled his neck, cracking it, and I realized he held something in his hands. I couldn’t see much past his legs, but it looked like a stack of papers.
“Layla swung by to check on you. She was heading to pick up Jamie and take him to grab some dinner. How are you feeling?” He still hadn’t looked at me.
I’d slept all day? No wonder I felt rested. “I feel better. Pretty sure my fever broke.”
Why wasn’t he looking at me? Hell, who was I kidding, he’d missed an entire day of work because he was afraid to leave me alone. Of course, he was irritated.
“I’m sorry you had to see all that and be here.”
The pages in his hand crinkled, accompanying a heavy exhale. “You know, I thought about going home earlier, but I was afraid you’d get sick again. So, I left you to rest, and I watched a movie in the living room. I found your phone sitting on the floor next to the couch. I’m guessing you dropped it when I showed up.”
He crunched the papers farther. “I brought it in here so you’d have it when you woke up, but I couldn’t find your charger.”
I stared at his lap, brow creased, trying to figure out what he was holding and why he was upset. “I keep it in my nightstand when I’m not using it because I have to use the same outlet for my laptop.”
“I know,” he snapped, “I found it.”
Why was he so angry…oh. Oh. I looked at the pages in his hands again, at the stack containing the screenshots and messages, photos and medical visits.
The blood drained from my body as ice filled my veins instead. “Garrett—”
“What the fuck are these, Madison?”
Oh God. I was going to hyperventilate. He should never have seen those. God, why did I even still have them? I should have thrown them away the day I’d realized I no longer needed them.
“They’re records.”
He heaved a breath as if he was in physical pain. “Madison Walsh,” he spit, and I flinched like he’d struck me. “That’s the bastard’s name. Aaron Walsh.” The words were laced with so much hatred, I was sure if words could kill, Aaron would be bleeding out somewhere.
“Yes.”
“Explain to me why some of these are from the time you were together, and some are only a few fucking years old. Because I’m really struggling to wrap my fucking brain around it.”
I crossed my legs, tucking the comforter around me as a makeshift shield. Not from Garrett, but from the topic. I knew Garrett’s anger was directed at my history and not myself, but uncovering my past was agonizing.