Episode 3
1430 Words
Michael's Pov
I've made terrible decisions in my life but this one tops the list — saving a bleeding stranger and bringing him home.
“You're looking at me again.”
I blinked. “What?”
The stranger was leaning against the wall. He was wearing Ethan's idiotic I LOVE MEN t-shirt, munching on dry cereal like he owned the place.
“I am not looking.” I snorted.
“You are.”
“Well, I'm observing.”
His lips quivered into an impossibly slow smile and dear God, that smile should be studied.
I tore my gaze away and returned to shoving shirts into another moving box.
The apartment was a wreck, barely half-packed and generally chaotic, a perfect match for the inside of my skull. And he, a man with amnesia who had just been shot and was likely wanted by a number of dangerous individuals, had imprinted himself onto me like a tiny lost duck.
He noticed. “You seem anxious.”
I sighed dramatically. “I wonder why.”
He tilted his head, a gesture that should have looked silly from a man of his size, but only seemed to make him more beautiful. The thought made me angry.
My cell phone rang shrilly from the kitchen counter, a welcome interruption. I grabbed it, my stomach instantly plummeting when I saw a hospital page flash on the screen.
“s**t,” I groaned.
He leaned away from the door and rushed to my side. “What is it?”
I fought a frustrated sigh and lost. “I've been called in at the hospital.”
His eyes widened. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I work there.”
His brow furrowed. “Work?”
“Yes. At the hospital,” I explained, scrabbling for my hoodie amongst the mess. “One of the nurses called out, and naturally, they expect me to be their hero for the rest of the night, because apparently, my need for rest is negotiable.”
He watched me intently. “Are you leaving?”
“Yes.” I said and regretted it instantly because his face fell. He was sad? “It's okay. I won't be gone for long. You just have to ….”
“I will come with you.” He blurted out.
I let out a single, dry laugh, then realized he wasn't kidding. “No, you can't.”
He pouted his lips. “I do not want to be left alone.”
What the —
“You can't go to a hospital!”
“Why?”
Well, because you're a giant hot mess who looks like the final boss in an action movie and will terrify every single person I encounter?!
But I don't say that. Instead, I point at him dramatically. “You look suspicious!”
He looked down at his t-shirt and shorts, then back at me. “...Because of my shirt?”
Despite everything, I snorted. “No, but it's definitely a crime scene.”
His gaze softened, and in that instant, he took a step closer. Too close. “I don't want you to leave me.”
The raw honesty of his words stunned me.
For a ridiculous, idiotic second, my heart skipped a beat.
Focus, Michael. This man could literally be a murderer. A very attractive, very confusing murderer, but a murderer nonetheless.
“You can't just cling to me forever,” I muttered, grabbing my bag.
“I can try.”
Jesus, he was infuriating. How could someone this dangerous be this... No. I cut that thought short.
“They will fire me if they see you,” I argued weakly.
“I will be a perfect guest.”
“That's what children say before they smash a valuable vase.”
He blinked slowly, then responded, “I committed no crimes today.”
“...That we know of.”
He actually smiled again, and against my better judgment, I sighed. Leaving him alone felt like a bad idea. A very bad idea, after what had just happened, and with whoever was looking for him still out there.
“Fine,” I mumbled.
His face lit up. “But,” I jabbed a finger at him, “you stick by my side, you don't say anything remotely questionable, and you most definitely do not kill anyone.”
“I would never intend to upset you.”
I froze. How could he say that so casually?! He looked perfectly earnest.
God help me.
The drive to the hospital was pure t*****e. Not the traffic but the way he kept staring at me as if I were his personal therapy dog. I even caught him watching my hands on the steering wheel.
“What now?” I asked.
“You tap your thumb when you're nervous.”
“Stop analyzing me!”
“You're breathing faster too.”
“I'm going to drive this car off a cliff if you don't stop talking.” That, at least, got me another low, amused chuckle. I hated that I liked hearing it.
We finally pulled into the hospital parking lot, and I immediately regretted every decision I'd ever made.
People were everywhere: doctors, nurses, patients, visitors. And standing next to me, a six-foot something stunning stranger with green eyes that could bore through steel. Definitely not suspicious in the slightest.
“Stay close,” I muttered.
“I intended to.” Of course he did.
The second we walked through the hospital doors, eyes fell on us. Not me. Him. Which, to be fair, was understandable.
Even injured and wearing Ethan's questionable taste in t-shirts, he was impossibly attractive.
One of the reception nurses almost fumbled her entire clipboard. He immediately drifted closer to me, protective, alert, as if crowds made him uneasy. Interesting.
“You okay?” I whispered.
He scanned the lobby briefly before his eyes returned to mine. “Too many exits.”
What the hell did that even mean?! Before I could question it, one of the nurses and my best friend, Diane, hurried over, her face a mask of exhaustion. She worked the morning shifts here.
“Mikey! Thank God you're here!” She sighed.
“I want to risk paying for this,” I grumbled.
“You want therapy,” she shot back immediately, then her eyes landed on the stranger behind me. Her brow furrowed. “... Who's the handsome fella?”
My soul briefly vacated my body. Think, Michael, think!
“Uh, that's…” I trailed off. He looked at me, completely calm, like he was entrusting me with his identity. That only made things worse.
“...My cousin,” I blurted out.
Diane looked at me with disbelief. “Your cousin? But you never mentioned you had one.”
“It skipped my mind. I do.”
“Hmm,” she narrowed her brown eyes. “You two don't look like each other at all.”
“Well, we have very different faces.” I nearly choked on the lie.
Diane was now scrutinizing me like she questioned our entire friendship.
The stranger suddenly moved behind me, possessively close.
“Do you need Michael’s help or not?” he asked quietly.
My eyes widened, along with Diane's. Why did that sound like a threat?!
“Okayyyy,” Diane drawled, “well, Mikey, ER needs you.”
“Be there in a minute.” She hurried away, glancing back at him with a bewildered look.
I turned back to him immediately. “What was that?”
“She was stressing you.”
“She's my co-worker and my bestfriend!”
“She was annoying.”
I stared at him, speechless.
Suddenly, a news report blared from the TV mounted over the waiting room. “...ongoing investigations into last night's violent g**g conflict.”
He froze. I froze.
The screen showed burning cars, police tape, blood on the pavement. My stomach churned.
“...Authorities suspect the violence may be linked to Russian organized crime,” the reporter stated. “Several bodies were recovered at the scene…”
His breathing became shallow, ragged.
Then the reporter spoke again. “One of the alleged ringleaders identified as Nikolai Sokolov.”
A photo flashed onto the screen. Dark hair, cold green eyes, sharp jawline.
My world stopped and my body went numb.
Very slowly, I turned to look at the man beside me. The man clutching my arm in a gay pride t-shirt. The incredibly beautiful stranger who couldn't even remember his own name.
I was looking directly at Nikolai Sokolov.
- Writer
