Chapter 148

~ Clinton ~

The doctor spoke up again, his voice steady but laced with the gravity of the situation. "He lost a lot of blood and went into shock. He almost died on the table."

The words landed like a punch to the gut. Franklin’s face went pale, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he fought to keep his composure.

"We used CPR and, luckily, we managed to resuscitate him," the doctor continued. "He’s stable for now."

We both breathed a heavy sigh of relief, the tension in the air easing just a fraction.

"But the thing is," the doctor added carefully, "he has fallen into a coma. The wound was deep. We’ve cleaned and bandaged it, but for someone his age, healing will take time and a lot of rest. I have to be honest—I doubt he’ll wake up anytime soon."

"Why is that?" Franklin asked, his voice cracking with barely contained emotion.

"Because the gunshot needs time to heal properly, and at his age, the body requires significant recovery. But I will say this—he’s a fighter. His vital signs are holding better than expected."

Franklin looked devastated, his shoulders slumping as the weight of the news settled over him. For a long moment, silence filled the corridor, broken only by the distant beep of monitors and the soft shuffle of nurses’ shoes.

"Can I see him?" Franklin asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Not yet," the doctor replied. "We need to wheel him to the recovery room first."

"No," Franklin said firmly. "He needs to be moved to a private ward on the tenth floor."

The tenth floor was where Octavia’s private ward was located. Franklin clearly wanted them close—so he could keep a closer eye on both of them, protect what little family he had left.

"Okay," the doctor agreed without argument, then turned and disappeared back into the ER.

"Your grandfather is indeed a fighter," I said quietly, trying to offer some comfort.

"I’ll believe he’s a fighter after he wakes up," Franklin replied sadly, his eyes distant.

"Don’t sound like a pessimist, Flemington," I told him gently. "You just heard what the doctor said. He almost died, but he cheated death to come back—for you. Be hopeful. With time, he will wake up."

Franklin didn’t respond. He simply stood there, silent, staring at the closed ER doors as if willing them to open and bring good news.

A few minutes later, Frederick was wheeled out of the ER on a gurney. An oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth, and his face looked frighteningly pale and still. Franklin’s eyes locked onto him immediately, and he began following the team down the hallway.

"I wish him a quick recovery," I called after them.

Franklin gave me only a solemn nod before stepping into the elevator with his grandfather, the doors sliding shut and leaving me alone in the corridor.

When I finally drove back to my apartment, the weight of the day still pressed heavily on my shoulders. I was surprised to find Annie waiting outside my door, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, looking both nervous and determined.

"Annie? What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?" I asked, genuinely caught off guard.

"My mother gave me your address," she explained. "I didn’t want to call and ask because I thought you might be busy at work."

"I came so we could talk," she added softly.

"Okay...but I hope everything is all right," I said, unlocking the door and gesturing for her to come inside.

"Not really," she shrugged, stepping in behind me.

I dropped my keys on the coffee table and shrugged off my suit jacket, the fabric feeling suffocating after the long, chaotic day. Annie gazed around the living room, taking in the simple but modern space.

"You have a lovely apartment," she said. "I see why you left the estate."

I managed a tired smile and headed to the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Everything okay at work?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah," I lied, returning to the living room. "Want to join me for a glass of wine?"

"Sure," she nodded.

"Okay. Feel free in my domain," I told her as I sank onto the couch.

She smiled and sat beside me. I poured the wine and handed her a glass. We sipped in silence for a moment before she spoke again.

"You really don’t look okay, Clint."

"You have no idea," I mumbled, taking another sip.

"Everything okay at work?" she asked again, tilting her head.

"Everything in general has been shitty today," I admitted, the images of the day flashing through my mind—Octavia’s kidnapping, Frederick Flemington being shot, the blood on Franklin’s hands, the fear in everyone’s eyes.

She looked beautiful tonight—dressed in a simple black dress with a denim jacket and black boots, her hair falling loosely around her shoulders. I was attracted to her; I could admit that. But admitting deeper feelings felt wrong, because my heart was still tangled with someone else.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked gently.

"I’d rather not," I shrugged.

She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head slightly.

"What?" I asked.

"I don’t know...it’s just that I feel like you’re hiding something from me," she said. "And I don’t know what it is."

"What do you mean I’m hiding something?" I frowned.

"You talk in such a cryptic way sometimes. It makes me feel like there’s something important you’re not telling me—something I need to know."

"Something like what?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Like maybe you have a woman in your life and you don’t want to tell me because you don’t want to hurt my feelings. But you can just tell me. I won’t bother you or her. I just need the truth and I don’t understand—"

"Whoa, Annie, calm down," I interrupted, setting my glass down.

"I don’t have any woman in my life," I told her.

_But then I have someone I’m in love with,_ I thought silently.

"Don’t say that just because you don’t want to hurt my feelings," she said.

"I’m not saying it to spare your feelings, Annie. I’m saying it because it’s true. I don’t have any woman in my life right now."

From confusion to a bright smile, her expression shifted. "Really?"

"Yes, really," I nodded, then sighed.

"I’m extremely happy to hear that," she said softly.

"Obviously, I can see that," I replied, taking another sip.

"I love you, Clint," she said suddenly.

I almost choked on my wine.

"Are you okay?" she asked when I coughed.

"Yeah, I’m fine," I managed.

"Okay." We sat in silence for a moment before she spoke again. "I was hoping to hear that you love me too."

"I love you, but—"

"But it’s not in the way I love you," she finished for me, her voice quiet.

"If that’s what you want to say," she added, looking down.

"That’s not what I wanted to say, Annie. It’s just—"

"Whatever you want to say, just save it," she frowned, standing up and placing her glass on the coffee table. "I think coming here to see you was a mistake from the start."

"Goodnight, Clint," she said sadly, grabbing her purse and denim jacket and heading for the door.

"Annie, wait," I said, getting up quickly and stopping her before she could turn the knob. I wrapped my arms around her from behind in a gentle hug. "Don’t leave."

I had a shitty day, and having someone like Annie here—warm, caring, present—was exactly what I needed in that moment. She paused, her shoulders tensing at first, but then slowly relaxing.

She turned in my arms and looked up at me. "Clint," she whispered.

"Stay with me for the night, please," I told her.

"Are you sure?" she asked, searching my eyes for reassurance.

"Yes, I’m sure," I said, taking her hand and leading her back to the couch.

We sat down again. "I love you, Annie. It’s just that I’m going through a phase right now that I don’t know when I’ll come out of," I sighed.

"Talk to me about it, Clint. Maybe you’ll feel relieved if you share what’s going on," she coaxed gently.

"I doubt it," I mumbled.

"Try me," she insisted softly.

I stared at her. She stared back. Without overthinking it, I leaned in and kissed her. When I pulled back, she looked surprised for a second, then shook it off and kissed me back. The kiss quickly grew intense. Her lips moved against mine with growing hunger. She shifted, climbing onto my lap as I cradled the back of her head, deepening the kiss.

It became so intense that she moaned softly, the sound sending heat straight to my groin. I stood up slowly, still holding her, and carried her to my bedroom, gently laying her on the bed.

I pulled back just long enough to remove my clothes while she watched. When I was left in only my briefs, I reached for her dress, sliding it off, then her bra and panties, leaving her beautifully naked. She didn’t look ashamed—she looked trusting, desired.

Seeing her like that, I whispered, "You look beautiful, Annie."

"Thank you, Clint," she replied softly.

We continued making out, the heat between us building. Annie reached down and removed my briefs, her hand wrapping around me. I moaned softly as she stroked me. She broke the kiss, then took me into her mouth, her tongue swirling, licking, sucking with surprising skill.

"Fuck, Annie," I groaned, holding her face gently as pleasure surged through me.

I pulled her up for another deep kiss, then moved down to kiss her breasts, her stomach, and finally between her thighs. The moment my tongue touched her, she let out a loud moan, her hips jerking as her fingers twisted in the sheets.

"Fuck, Clint! Yes! Yes! Ugh!" she cried out, her body trembling.

I continued until she was writhing, then reached for a condom from the drawer and sheathed myself. When I entered her, she welcomed me with warm, wet heat. I began thrusting slowly at first, then deeper, our moans filling the room.

"Fuck," I groaned, looking down at how wet she was. "Damn, Annie... you’re so fucking wet."

"Because... I was too excited to see you," she gasped between thrusts.

In a matter of minutes, we reached climax together. I released into the condom and collapsed beside her, both of us panting heavily.

When our breathing finally slowed, she propped herself up on one elbow and grinned at me. "That was amazing."

"Indeed," I agreed, turning to face her. "It’s probably the best sex I’ve had in a while."

She rested her head on my bare chest. "In case you haven’t noticed, this is our first time as adults."

"I know," I said softly, stroking her back as she settled comfortably against me.

"Mmm... I wish this could last," she whispered.

I didn’t reply.

"Would it?" she asked, looking up at me.

"Yeah," I said simply.

She grinned, content, and we stayed like that until sleep finally claimed us both. For the first time that day, I let myself stop thinking about how bad everything had been.