Chapter 316: The Game is Over

The rain starts to fall harder again, and the drops sound like little bullets against the glass. Andrew grabs Avery's wrist and stares deep into her eyes. Her face is expressionless, but he's learned to read the subtleties in her expressions. Now there's a slight crease above her eyebrow, and her jaw is clenched—she's worried.

He sighs. He knows she caught him cheating, and he knows she only stopped the game because she couldn't bear to watch Evan get hurt. His heart twists painfully in his chest, and he grips her delicate wrist tighter.

"Are you happy, Mrs. Clifford?" he asks. "The game is over, and Evan is safe from me. That's what you wanted all along, isn't it? You took the cup so I would lose and then when I still won some rounds, you volunteered to take the whippings. You forced us to stop the game."

Her eyes flash, and she tries to pull her wrist away, but he refuses to let go. He can feel her pulse through the soft skin of her wrist, and it increases. Her heart must be hammering in her chest.

"You started the game," she hisses. "You have no right to be angry about the consequences." 

"No right to be angry?" Andrew asks, unable to believe what he's hearing. "I traded my life for a chance with you, but you continue to flirt with your ex right in front of me. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Avery shakes her head and says, "Andrew, you forced me to give you my body and my heart, and I'm doing it. Apparently, I'm marrying you in a month. Why don't you just leave him alone and let the past stay in the past?"

Andrew groans and closes his eyes. Even when she's with him physically, it seems like her heart is always with Evan. No matter what he does for her, she never seems to see him—at least not as a serious option.

"You don't even try to hide your feelings for him," he says. "Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? Do you think I like watching my fiancé stare at another man? Do you think I'm okay with you sneaking around to meet him? My God, Avery—this is killing me." 

"Why do you have Charles' heart?" she asks. "Of all the hearts in the world, why do you have his?"

He drops her wrist, feeling his muscles tense and freeze. This isn't the response he was expecting at all, and he's not prepared to answer her question. He swallows and takes a deep breath. 

She rolls her eyes and continues, "You know, I don't owe either of you anything. If you were a decent person, you'd give Charles his heart back, but it shouldn't have anything to do with me. I'm sick of you using his heart as leverage to try to get what you want from me." 

"I've been very patient with you," Andrew whispers. "I've never asked for more than we agreed upon, and you've barely even given me that. You flinch when I touch you, and you try to get away from me whenever you can. Do you regret this deal?"

"I never regret any decision I make," Avery says, squaring her shoulders. "But, you deserve everything you've gotten and more."

She brushes past him and walks toward the door with long, graceful strides. He turns on his heel and grabs her wrist, pulling her back into the living room. She stumbles, and her body collides with his chest. 

"I deserve what I get?" he asks. "Do you have any idea what you're talking about? I woke up from surgery with a new heart beating in my chest, and on the first day, I was allowed to leave the hospital I ran into a strange woman in a bathroom. She made my heart pound so hard, I thought it might kill me. When she left, I couldn't stop thinking about her.

"I tried everything to get her off my mind, but nothing and no one could replace her. I'm not some naïve schoolboy, Avery—I've been with other women. But none of them have made me feel even a quarter of what I feel for you.

"Now imagine how I felt when I found out that you hated me all because I had Charles' heart? I'm willing to die to make you happy, Avery. Why can't you just give me these six months? Sometimes I wish they'd end. Surely when the doctors cut the heart out of my chest, they'll find your name scarred into it." 

Avery shivers against him and turns her head away. He can hear her breathing come in ragged little puffs, and he hopes he's finally made her understand the depth of his feeling. But then her breathing slows, and she pulls away.

"We should go to bed," she says. "And we need to tend to your wounds—I'm sure they're really bad."

Andrew glances at an owl-shaped clock on the wall: it's 2:00 in the morning, and the rain is falling in sheets. He has no idea if there's still a traffic jam or police blockade, but the pain in his back is unbearable. He nods and walks out of the living room, letting her chase after him.

Avery looks around the guest room that she's supposed to share with Andrew. She wonders if Rebecca and Evan are also sharing a room. Her heart twists as she imagines Rebecca tending to Evan's injured back. She's probably a great nurse too, Avery thinks.

There's a knock at the door, and a man wearing a stethoscope around his neck comes in. He looks slightly wrinkled and stressed. Avery stares at him in confusion until she hears an angry roar come from down the hall. The doctor must have come to tend to Evan, she thinks. Clearly, Evan is unhappy about that.

"Robert Tinder said I should come here, too," the doctor says. "He said there was a man in this room who's badly injured."

Avery nods and steps aside, allowing him to pass into the room. The doctor asks Andrew to undress and lie on the bed. Avery thinks about the bloody mess on his back on the cruise ship and decides to go downstairs for some water while the doctor examines Andrew. She doesn't want to feel sick again.

"Excuse me, Miss Peters," Robert says.

Avery finishes filling her glass at the tap and asks, "What is it?" 

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"Well, Mr. Howel's back is hurt, but he won't let the doctor apply the ointment."

"What does that have to do with me?" Avery asks. "If you think I can help you're barking up the wrong tree. Go find Rebecca."

Robert clears his throat and says, "He won't let her near him either. The doctor said the wounds would get infected if he doesn't apply the ointment." 

"He asked you to come here?" Avery asks, hating the hope that rises in her chest.

"Not exactly," Robert says. "I just thought I'd take the liberty of asking you to help because you've always been able to talk sense into him."

"That was in the past," she says. "Times have changed."

She walks past Robert and carries the water upstairs. By the time she gets to the room, the doctor is cleaning Andrew's back and applying ointment. She sips her water and watches the rain drip down the windowpane. By the time she's finished, the doctor is bandaging Andrew's back.

"You rest here, and I'll take the room next door," she says.

"Mrs. Clifford, that's very inhumane of you," Andrew flirts. "I've suffered so much already, and now you want to make me suffer the loss of your presence?" 

"You brought this whole mess upon yourself," she says.

"But what if I get worse in the night and need help?" he asks. "Please stay."

"We agreed that we wouldn't sleep in the same room before the baby was born," she says. "Please keep your promises."

"What are you afraid of?" he asks. "You're still pregnant, so I won't do anything. Besides, as much as I might want to, I can't try anything with you. Or have you forgotten that you kneed me in the groin and that my back is covered in open wounds?"

"I won't be able to sleep if you're in here moving about," she says.

Before she can argue, the runs to the door and turns off the light, she walks down the hall to another guest room and goes inside. She's sure Rebecca won't mind—there are plenty of guest rooms in the house.

The room is spotless and extravagant. There's a large French door that leads out onto a balcony lined with flower pots. The sheer curtain blows in the breeze, and Avery rushes to shut the door—someone must have left it open.

As she's shutting the door, she hears voices. Though the cold rain blows into her face, she leaves the door open a crack and listens.

"You're hurt, and you need the ointment to heal," Rebecca says, her voice calm and pleading. "Just let me put the ointment on for you. I promise I have very gentle fingers."

"Go away," Evan roars.

"Okay, but I'm leaving the ointment here," Rebecca says. "Please use it."

She hears a door open and close, and she closes the balcony door and locks it. She wants to go check on Evan, but she forces herself to pull back the duvet and slide into the bed instead. She tugs the down-filled blanket up to her chin, but she can't sleep. She tosses and turns for over half an hour before she finally falls asleep.

Avery wakes in the dark. The rain has stopped, but there's still a quiet dripping sound as it falls from the eaves onto the balcony. She turns on the bedside lamp and walks to the French doors. She pulls the curtain aside and sees that the light from Evan's room is still on.

The French doors from Evan's room open and Robert steps onto the balcony. He looks at her and mouths something, but she can't hear him. She shakes her head, and he mouths it again. She undoes the lock on the door and opens it.

"Are you still awake, Miss Peters?" Robert asks.

"I was sleeping," she says. "How' s—how's Evan?"

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