The Lover's Surrender (No Exceptions) by J.C. Reed

someone actually tried that, I can’t
guarantee that I wouldn’t do things I might come to regret later.”
    I had no
idea what to say. My thoughts scattered, and I swallowed the lump in my throat.
    “I’m
against any form of violence, you know that,” I whispered.
    “Me too,
but sometimes you have to solve problems fists on.”
    He
retrieved his phone from his pocket, then pointed to the ‘NO PHONES. Please
take your calls outside’ sign on the wall. “I need to make a reservation for
us. They’re serving coffee and smoothies outside. Can I bring you something on
my way back?”
    “Coffee
would be great. Thanks,” I said, squeezing into my jeans.
    “All
right.” Jett closed the curtains to give me privacy. “I’ll be right back.”
    Something
in his voice made me look up. Or maybe it was the fact that he didn’t kiss me
on his way out, which he never missed, even if it was just a five-minute trip.
But I didn’t press the issue. I finished dressing and grabbed my shoulder bag
from a nearby chair to make my way out to the private hospital restroom to
apply some lipstick and retouch my makeup. But then I stopped. My hand hovered
over the handle as I tuned in to Jett’s familiar voice carrying over from
outside the door.
    “You’re
sure this isn’t a mistake?” Jett asked.
    I stared at
the door.
    Hundreds of
thoughts raced through my mind, and once more I was reminded of the strange
look Sam had shot Jett before he left. It dawned on me that his look hadn’t
been meaningless. It was a clue he wanted to speak with him alone. As was
Jett’s excuse to make a reservation. Maybe not an excuse, but he sure had
wanted to leave the room.
    I pressed
my ear against the door as unease washed over me.
    Were they
talking about me?
    I had to
know, so I held my breath and listened.
    “I did the
blood test twice to check Brooke’s story,” a male voice said. Even though the
words were slightly muffled, I recognized Sam’s grave tone. “I can confirm that
there were traces of drugs found in her system.”
    A light
pause before Jett’s voice cut through the silence. “Drugs? I thought there was
just one substance.”
    Someone,
probably Sam, cleared his throat. Then the answer came, “No, we found traces of
two.”
    I stared at
the door, suddenly faint. My heart felt as though it might jump out of my chest
and hide from me. Someone cursed—I assumed Jett—his voice
incoherent.
    More out of
need than want, my hand grabbed the handle, and as quietly as I could, I opened
the door and peeked out. Jett was standing with Sam at the end of the private
hall, a few feet away from me.
    Both their
backs were turned to me, their body postures rigid, betraying their worry.
Engrossed in their conversation as they were, they didn’t notice me, and I
couldn’t blame them. I was as shocked as Jett to hear about the test results.
    “Which
drugs were found?” Jett asked, his voice clear now that the door was open.
    “One is
known as a date rape substance,” Sam said. “The other was the same high-quality
drug Brooke was injected with during her abduction. But in a lower quantity.
Whoever tried to drug her wanted to make sure she was unable to defend herself
and had no recollection.”
    My heart
skipped a beat. I bit my lip hard until I drew blood.
    “They used
the same drug?” Jett asked hesitantly.
    “I think
so, yes.” Sam’s voice carried over in his usual calm and measured tone, as if
he was used to giving people bad news. “I’m sorry. I would even go so far as to
say it’s identical—the same manufacturer. Again, I can only say she’s
lucky she didn’t drink much of it. The combination of alcohol with twice the
amount of the drug previously given to her could have killed her this time. She’s
lucky you were with her. From what you told me, if Brooke had drunk the rest,
she might not be where she is now.”
    “Fuck.”
Jett raked a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumped, angry. His hand
punched the