Chapter 20 20
Blair’s breath caught.
Her fingers trembled on the doorknob.
“I… I—” she started, but words failed her.
Her heart lurched painfully, but before she could even force an answer, Lucas’s expression shifted.
His brows pulled together.
He inhaled sharply—
Then—
“Hh’tch—!”
He sneezed so hard he stumbled forward.
“Mr. Brooks!” Blair gasped, instinct taking over as she darted toward him just in time to catch his arm before he fell against the desk.
He was burning up. His skin felt like fire beneath her palm.
“Sir— you’re hot,” she blurted, panicked. “I mean— your temperature— Mr. Brooks, are you okay?”
He swayed again, blinking slow. “I’m… fine,” he muttered, even though his knees said otherwise.
“No, you’re not,” Blair breathed, lowering him carefully into the nearest chair. Her pulse was racing. “Stay still, okay? I’ll call the emergency line.”
Her hands shook as she grabbed the office phone.
She dialed—
But the line gave nothing but a dead static buzz.
“What—?” She tried again.
And again.
Still nothing.
Blair’s throat tightened. She snatched her cellphone instead.
Dialed the company’s emergency line.
Call failed.
“No, no, no…” She tapped again, harder. “Come on—!”
Call failed.
Her stomach twisted painfully.
It was past nine… security shifts changed… the network in the upper floors was always unstable at night…
Of all days— why now?
She glanced at Lucas, who was slumped forward, breathing unevenly, his hand still wrapped with the torn strip of her dress.
“Mr. Brooks— please stay awake,” she said, kneeling beside him.
But she didn’t realize her voice had softened into what it had sounded like five years ago.
And he heard it too.
His eyes lifted sluggishly.
“…you sound… familiar,” he murmured, barely conscious.
Blair’s breath stopped .
Her fingers tightened around her useless phone.
Blair had barely taken two steps back when Lucas jerked upright in the chair—
His eyes were unfocused, his breaths sharp.
“Stay… stay away from me,” he muttered under his breath, voice trembling. “Stop— just stop— don’t… don’t touch me—”
Blair froze.
Not because he was threatening her, but because he wasn’t talking to her at all.
He wasn’t even seeing her.
His hand shot out blindly, knocking over a stack of files.
A flash of fear rippled through her.
“Mr. Brooks,” she whispered, keeping her voice small, careful. “It’s okay… you’re safe. No one is touching you.”
But he stumbled backward, knocking into the shelf as if fighting someone only he could see.
“Don’t— don’t come closer,” he muttered, clutching the back of his head. “Please… please, not again—”
Blair’s throat tightened painfully.
She knew what this was.
She had seen this before.
Five years ago.
The same trembling hands.
The same desperate, terrified tone.
Her instinct told her to run.
Her fear begged her to.
And she actually turned—one foot already stepping toward the door—
Until she heard it.
A choked sound.
Like a hurt child.
Lucas slid down the wall and collapsed onto the floor, chest rising too fast, too uneven, his eyes squeezed shut.
Something inside Blair cracked open.
“…oh God…” she whispered, her heart twisting painfully. “Lucas…”
She knelt before she could stop herself, hands hovering uncertainly in the air.
“Sir… it’s just me,” she whispered shakily. “It’s Blair. No one is hurting you.”
For a moment, he didn’t react.
Then he leaned forward—too suddenly—his weight collapsing into her.
Blair gasped as his head dropped against her lap, his body shaking with exhaustion and fever.
Her hands lifted instinctively—then froze in midair.
She didn’t want to touch him.
She shouldn’t touch him.
Slowly… trembling… she lowered her hand to his hair.
Her fingers brushed through it gently, her touch light as air.
And immediately—
His breathing softened.
His body eased.
The tremor in his hands calmed.
Blair felt her chest ache.
“Why… why do you always end up like this?” she whispered before she could stop herself. “Why do I always have to be the one to see you like this…”
He didn’t answer.
He had already drifted into a heavy, exhausted sleep, curled against her like someone finally safe.
Blair swallowed hard and tightened her arms around herself so she wouldn’t give in to the memory of five years ago.
She didn’t notice the door opening until a soft gasp filled the office.
A nurse stood there—middle-aged, calm, professional—holding a small medical kit.
“Ma’am,” the nurse whispered, stepping inside quietly, “it’s alright. I’ll take over from here.”
Blair snapped out of whatever trance she’d fallen into and gently lifted Lucas’s head off her lap.
The nurse knelt immediately, checking his pulse and his temperature.
“You did well,” she told Blair kindly. “He just needs to sleep and be monitored.”
Blair nodded, standing quickly, wiping her palms on her skirt, her heart hammering uncontrollably.
She backed away from the sight—
Lucas asleep on the floor, breathing softly, finally at peace—
Blair stepped out of Lucas’s office the moment the nurse took over.
She pushed the door shut behind her, her breath already shaking.
She pressed her back to the wall, sliding down until she sat on the cold floor.
Her hands shook uncontrollably.
The moment she closed her eyes—
His weight returned.
His face on her lap.
His fingers gripping her wrist like she was the only solid thing in the world.
Her chest tightened so painfully she gasped.
“No… no, no, no…” she whispered, grabbing both sides of her head.
That was all her brain needed to crack open.
The voices came fast—
You let him touch you again.
“No—” she shook her head violently. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to—”
You always break your own rules, Blair.
You said you’d never let him close.
You lied.
Her breath stuttered, her vision blurring.
“He wasn’t well,” she whispered, hugging her knees. “He needed help— I just— he needed help…”
And you gave it.
Just like that night.
Just like before.
Did you forget how it ended?
Blair covered her ears harder.
“Stop… please stop…”
But the voice didn’t stop.
It grew sharper, crueler, like the part of her that never healed:
You remember, don’t you?
The floor.
The pain.
The crying.
Him trembling on top of you.
Her stomach lurched violently.
“Please,” she choked, digging her nails into her arms, “don’t— don’t make me remember—”
And yet you let him sleep on your lap.
Again.
What do you think will happen next, Blair?
When he remembers?
When he finds out about Maverick?
She felt sick.
Cold sweat drenched her palms.
Her breathing turned shallow, desperate, as if the air itself had shrunk around her.
You should’ve walked away.
But you stayed.
You always stay.
That’s why you ruin everything.
“Stop,” she whispered, voice breaking, “stop… please…”