Chapter 317: Why Is It So Difficult to Walk Away?

"He's not well," Robert whispers across space between the balconies. "He refused to apply for medicine."

"Did you call a doctor?" Avery asks.

Robert shakes his head and answers, "Mr. Howel wouldn't let me call a doctor before. Now he's unconscious, so I don't have a choice. Let's hope he doesn't wake up before the doctor comes."

Avery bites her lip and says, "Okay, I'll come to have a look now. But you have to swear to me that he's really unconscious. He can't even know I was there."

Robert nods, and Avery slips back into her room. She tiptoes across the floor and slips into the hallway. She crosses the cool marble floor barefoot and waits outside Evan's door. After a moment, the door slides open, and Avery enters the room. Robert shuts and locks the door behind her.

The room is dark and hot, and the heavy smell of spilled medicine hangs in the air. Evan is lying on his stomach, wearing a pair of white silk pajamas. The back of the pajama shirt is stained with a shocking amount of blood—most of it looks fresh.

The dim light from the streetlamps outside illuminates his face. His skin is deathly pale and covered in sweat. His hair sticks to his forehead in small, sweaty clumps, and his eyes dart back and forth under his bruised looking eyelids. His breathing is shallow and uneven.

She groans and looks at Robert. She knows the doctor is on the way, but she can't bear to leave Evan like this. Robert rushes across the room and returns, carrying a stool from the dressing room. He places it next to Evan's bed, and Avery sits down and watches her ex struggle to breathe.

No matter what, he always finds some way to pull me back, she thinks. I've tried everything I can to get away, but I just can't say no to him. Why is it so difficult to walk away? Why does it feel like my life is completely tangled up with his?

The doctor comes and examines Evan. He clicks his tongue against his teeth and shakes his head as he looks at the wounds on Evan's back and takes his temperature. He rushes downstairs to his car with Robert, and the men return a few minutes later, carrying a heavy-looking medical case.

"He didn't apply for the medicine as I advised," the doctor says. "Sweat has made the wound deteriorate, and he's in terrible condition. I'm going to give him an IV, but then the wounds need to be dealt with."

The doctor slides the IV needle under the skin near Evan's wrist. Avery sighs and grabs the antiseptic wash and the antibiotic ointment. She asks the doctor to cut Evan's shirt away, and she gasps at the sight of Evan's back. It's covered in angry red welts, and each welt oozes a mixture of blood and pus.

She pours the antiseptic wash onto a clean cotton cloth and starts to wipe his back. She begins on the bloodied skin between the welts, slowly working up the courage to touch the actual wounds. The smell of blood fills her nose and makes her stomach churn, and she asks Robert to go get her a glass of water. 

After the wounds are clean, she applies the antibiotics. She wants to bandage his back like she saw the doctor do for Andrew, but she doubts she has enough strength to lift him up. The ointment will have to do.

She takes a step back and looks down at Evan. He's calmer and less fitful; his eyes are still under his eyelids, and his long dark lashes brush the tops of his cheekbones. She slips into the bathroom and runs a washcloth under the tap. She wipes his forehead, and then the bridge of his nose and the tops of his cheeks, keeping her touch as light as possible.

He twitches in his sleep, and his arm moves. She freezes. The turquoise tattoo on his arm is still there—he must have lied when he said he got it removed. She leans down and gently traces her initials with the tip of her finger, and her eyes fill with hot tears.

A strong hand closes around her wrist. She panics and looks at his face, but his eyes are still closed. His breathing is heavy and even. She tries to pull away, but even in his weakened state, he's shockingly strong.

"Avery, Avery," he murmurs.

She sighs with relief and tries to pry his fingers open, but she's helpless against his strength. Robert returns to the room, and she points at her hand and then holds her finger to her lips. Robert understands and rushes across the room to help her. 

The harder they try to get her hand free, the harder Evan seems to hold her. By the time they get it away from him, her wrist is bruised. Dark purple and blue fingers encircle her wrist like a bracelet.

"Robert, please don't tell him I was here," she whispers.

Robert nods, and she runs back to her own room and slides into the bed.

There's a constant dripping sound coming from outside the window. Something cold and wet touches his forehead, and Evan reaches up and grabs a small wrist in his hand. He opens his eyes and frowns—Rebecca is staring down at him. 

"Oh, it's you," he says.

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He looks at her wrist and then grabs her other hand and checks that wrist. The light olive skin is smooth and unmarked. He groans and closes his eyes. His headaches and he can't think straight, but he's sure he smelled Avery last night. He's sure he felt her light touch on his skin, and he's positive she held her small wrist in his hand.

He drops Rebecca's hands and asks, "Were you here last night?"

She says, "Your injury was very serious and I—"

"Yes or no?" he asks.

"Yes, I came last night," she whispers.

Evan throws the quilt aside and climbs out of bed. Rebecca reaches for him, but he pushes her hands away and storms into the hall. He looks around the deserted hallway and then rushes down the long passage, opening door after door. Finally, he finds the maid cleaning one of the guest rooms.

"Where are they?" he asks.

The maid stares at him in confusion. He feels a light tap on his shoulder and turns around to see Rebecca.

Her eyes are wide and slightly sad as she says, "Mr. and Mrs. Clifford left early this morning."

Evan lifts his hand to his face and smells his palm. Avery's scent seems to linger on his skin, taunting him. He rushes back down the hall and grabs Robert by the shoulders, pushing the butter into the wall.

"Who came to my room last night?" Evan asks.

Robert's face flushes, and he says, "Both Rebecca and the doctor came to see you last night."

Evan lifts Robert the collar of his shirt and asks, "Tell me one more time—who came to see me?"

"Rebecca did," Robert gasps.

Evan lets go of the shirt, letting Robert fall to the ground. He turns on his heel and marches out of the room and into the dressing room. He hears Robert struggle to his feet and chases after him.

"Mr. Howel, where are you going?" Robert calls.

"Do me a favor and just check her schedule for me," he says.

"Whose schedule?" Robert asks. "Rebecca's?"

"No, you know whose," Evan hisses.

Robert returns as Evan is fastening the watch around his wrist, "Mr. Howel, the servant said that Avery would go to D.O. today."

"Let's go," he says.

"Where are we going?" Robert asks.

Evan balls his hand into a fist and asks, "Do I have to explain everything to you the hard way?"

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