Now Open Your Eyes (Stay With Me series Book 3)

by Nicole Fiorina

  Ethan and I had barely spoken since. He’d taken me to an abandoned apartment and locked me away in a room. The room seemed commercial, and nothing to announce it had been lived in or cared for in a while. The only window in this room had been boarded up, leaving me with no landmarks to look at to know where we were, not that I would’ve known anyway. The only place I was familiar with was Dolor since arriving in the UK.

  The bed here was larger with burn holes in the mattress, and the ceiling was stained yellow above. It reeked of cigarette smoke, and I’d never seen Ethan smoke. I’d been tied to this chair, waiting patiently for Ethan to return.

  It had been three days since I’d seen the sun, and I’d forgotten how it felt on my skin. I wondered if I’d ever see or feel it again, but if it burned my skin as the fire had, I never wanted to be in it. Perhaps I was better off inside.

  I didn’t know what time it was, either.

  Ethan pushed through the door with bags lining his arms, rain dripping from his hair and leather jacket, and he paused as soon as our eyes locked. “This is only temporary,” he said, reading my thoughts and looking at me as if I was a huge mistake. A regret. Did he regret saving me too?

  He placed the bags over the dresser, and I tilted my head to see them filled with snacks for us to get through the evening. I snapped my head forward again as he walked toward me, crouched down between my thighs, and leaned forward to peel the tape from my mouth. “I’m not hungry,” I whispered low, and the muscles in his neck flexed in response.

  Ethan lifted his head, and his face was within inches of mine. His eyes darted back and forth, and he dragged in a breath. “You need to eat,” he said slowly with a delicate sincerity in his eyes, the kind mixed with longing. I had to remind myself he’d forced me in this position, and my heart was with someone I’d clearly imagined—so entirely stupid. How did I fall in love with a person who wasn’t even real? How on earth did I give a fictional character my heart?

  He stood, removed his leather jacket, and hung it on a hook beside the bedroom door before switching on the heater. “Listen, Mia. I know this past week hasn’t been easy, but you have to know I won’t let anything happen to you,” he turned to face me and placed a hand over his heart, “I’m not your enemy.”

  “Then let me go.” It was easy to say, and I already knew the answer, but I didn’t want him to think I wanted to be here with him, that I liked being held against my will—just in case the fire wasn’t proof enough.

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  The tone in his voice sounded as if he was talking down to me. We were back to the big brother and little sister. Out of all the roles we’d played, brother and sister was the worst. I didn’t like being told what to do. I didn’t like being talked down to as if I didn’t know any better. “And why not?” I leaned forward, and the ties dug into my flesh, but I didn’t care anymore. “I wanted to die! You took that away from me. All I wanted was to be with him!”

  Ethan stood over me, raising a brow. “With who?”

  Telling him would be stupid, but I had nothing left to lose at this point. He already believed I was crazy. “Ollie.”

  Ethan dropped to his knees before me and clutched my shoulders, his face red. “Masters doesn’t care about you. You want to know the truth, Jett?” he pulled his cellphone from the pocket of his jeans, and his fingers typed over the keypad. The light from the screen bounced off his dilated infuriated pupils. “Look! Tell me what you see! Because from the looks of it, your prince fucking charming looks like he’s having a grand ole time not looking for you.”

  He pressed a button, and the phone clicked to a black screen, but the image had already burned into my brain. Oliver Masters first book signing in London at Daunt Books. It was the man from my dreams, only different. He was the same yesterday’s child with the wayward brown hair and fierce green eyes, but he was dressed in a black button-up and tailored jeans with a forced smile. His height towered over two other women as he held up a book with his face on the cover. “He’s real.”

  “Yeah, a real liar if you ask me.” Ethan pocketed the cellphone and returned his eyes to mine. “Listen to me, Jett. He’s been lying to you and everyone else this entire time, making moves to build a life without you. I didn’t want to tell you this, especially now. But you needed to know.”

  I didn’t imagine him. He was real. He was mine.

  They weren’t dreams I was having. They were memories.

  “My mum once told me that people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Masters was only a season, a way to pass the time to make his bearable. You’re with me for a reason.”

  “No, you’re wrong.”

  “Did that look like someone who fucking loves you?” Ethan shook his head and wrapped his fingers around the sides of my thighs. “I’m sorry, Jett. No one is looking for you. No one else gives a fuck about you. To everyone else, you. Are. No. One. Rubbish. It’s you and me now. We need to stick together. I’ll take care of you.”

  Each word was a knife to the chest. I dug my teeth into my bottom lip to rob the pain from inside and stop my lip from trembling. I’d heard Ethan, loud and clear. The words registered, but I still couldn’t understand. Ollie wasn’t looking for me. No one cared I was gone. “My dad isn’t looking for me?”

  Ethan let out a disheartened chuckle. “Which one?”

  I dipped my head back and blinked the tears from my eyes. “What do you mean.”

  “Lynch or Bruce? Your biological dad or your fake one? And no, neither one of them are looking for you.”

  “You’re lying.”

  Ethan raised a brow. “You didn’t know?”

  “This is too much.” I pulled on the restraints again, begging to be out of them. The chair wobbled, and Ethan held down my arms to keep me still. Narrowing my eyes, I looked straight into his and screamed through the uncontrollable tears, “You mean to tell me you knew this entire time Lynch was my dad, and you didn’t say anything? You’re just as much of a liar as everyone else!” The chair rocked back and forth as I thrashed.

  “You need to calm down, Jett! You’re going to hurt yourself,” his grip tightened, trying to keep me still until finally, he leaned over and cut my hands loose, then my ankles, “It wasn’t my place! I thought Masters told you, he said he should be the one, and that Lynch lost his chance.”

  I froze, and a lump made of deceit lodged in my throat. “Ollie knew?”

  “I’m sorry.” Ethan’s strong hands moved up and down my heavy arms, and he shook his head. “God, I’m so fucking sorry. I thought you knew.”

  Nausea churned in my stomach, and my heart felt as if it were trying to claw its way out of my chest. A fury came over me, controlling my next moves, and I punched him in the chest. “You’re the liar!” I screamed. “You’re the one filling my head! Get out of my head!” Over and over, my fist landed into his hard chest, releasing wrath far overdue. “I hate you,” I cried.

  Something came over me at that moment, like an atomic bomb went off inside my head, reminding me of my circumstances. Ollie and I were engaged. I was supposed to meet him. We were going to take off together and get married. I had a court date, did it pass? Were the last two years for nothing? Too many thoughts, each one driving my hand into his chest, shoulders, stomach, anything I could get my hands on, and Ethan hadn’t moved or stopped me.

  The beating went on until I crumbled in his arms, and he cradled me on the floor of the dark room, tasting my own salty tears and smelling his cologne mixed with the cigarette smoke. For a second, I wished the entire world would stop so I could have longer than a heartbeat to put these pieces back together inside my head.

  “I missed us, Jett,” he whispered. “We need each other.”

  “Everyone’s a liar,” I cried. “Even I’ve been lying to myself this entire time, believing he couldn’t be real. That if he was, he would have rescued me.”

  “Rescued you from what? I told you, I’m never letting anything happen to
you. You’re safe with me. I promise. The only reason I kept you tied up, kept putting you out every time you ran away was because you’re a little fucked up in the head if you haven’t noticed, but you’re my kind of fucked up. I’m afraid without me, you’re going to get yourself killed, or worse.”

  “What’s worse than death?” I cried out, looking up at him.

  Ethan’s chest caved beneath my head, and his fingers pushed wet strands from my face. “I’ll show you tomorrow,” he said, then removed his shirt, exposing his carved chest. “Tonight, I’m here, Mia. I’m the only one here for you.” He grabbed a quilt he’d brought in earlier along with our bags, wrapped it around us, laid me over his chest, and took us across the floor.

  I cried myself to sleep, wrapped inside the arms of my security blanket.

  The next morning, I quickly showered in the bathroom connected to the bedroom. In the mirror, my puffy eyes showed proof of my long night of crying, but I didn’t have the space to care. I stood, water dripping over the tile, waiting for Ethan to bring me my clothes he’d washed.

  Ethan pushed open the door and rested a neatly folded stack of clothes and a towel over the bathroom counter before he looked up at me. “You have five minutes. There’s one last stop before we head to the airport.”

  “The airport?” I asked, taking the towel to dry off. Where were we going? This news was bitter but sweet. It meant flying possibly farther than wherever Ollie was, but also farther from a place without lies and deception.

  “I have a plan. There’s a boat waiting for us back in the states,” he explained, eyes following my every move.

  I slipped on my panties. “A boat?”

  “Yeah, now come on. We haven’t got much time.”

  After getting dressed and towel drying my hair, I helped Ethan pack the car and waited in the passenger seat as he went back inside the apartment to finish up some last-minute things. The sun was out, penetrating through the car window and caressing over my sensitive skin. If I wanted to run, now would be the time. Ethan fully trusted me, leaving me abandoned with opportunity. But I had nowhere to go, and no one to go home to. Ollie was doing just fine without me, living out his dream as a poet, meeting people, taking pictures, and signing books. Bruce, my fake father, had Diane, my stepmother, and I was nothing but a burden in their life. A complication. Lynch never bothered to tell me. It made sense now, why Bruce sent me overseas into the hands of my real dad, thinking I was Lynch’s problem to deal with and not his problem anymore.

  Though I’d caught Ethan murdering the boy back at Dolor, I was a murderer too.

  Maybe he had a good reason—a reason I was determined to learn more about.

  Ethan was my safest bet for now until I could figure all this out.

  He got into the car, not the least bit surprised I was still sitting here, waiting for him, and cranked the heat. “Are you cold?” he asked, leaning behind the backseat. “Here.”

  My hoodie dropped into my lap—my POETIC hoodie. “Where are we going?” I asked, slipping it over my head.

  “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

  The ride to Wirral was about forty-minutes. Ethan had spilled all his truths, starting with Livy being his sister and ending with the answer to my last question: what day was it?

  “April seventeenth. Release day was two weeks ago.”

  Two weeks. I’d officially missed my court date and couldn’t go back home now even if I wanted to.

  Two weeks. It seemed like decades ago when I’d made love to Ollie, feeling his touch, hearing his voice, smelling his scent.

  Two weeks since anyone had lied to me, too. Had I crossed Ollie’s mind since? Was he thinking about me? Did he worry something terrible happened to me? I forced out those thoughts. Of course, he wasn’t thinking about me. Oliver Masters was too busy enjoying his new life. One he never mentioned before because he never planned to share it.

  Ethan lied to me too, but for a good reason. He’d told me what happened to his sister, Livy. The four guys at Dolor had murdered her, and he was carrying out justice in her name, taking matters into his own hands. On some sadistic level, I understood Ethan.

  “Do you remember when you and I sat under that tree, and we swore we’d always be there for one another even though I was leaving the country? A pinky promise?” Ethan turned to face me, a small smile lighting up his face at the memory. I nodded, pulling the sleeves over my hands for warmth. “These are the circumstances we’re in, Jett, whether you like them or not. I never planned to take you with me, but we’re going to make the most of it. I can make you happy. I know it. You just have to meet me halfway. You’re my family, remember?”

  I looked out the window. It was foggy, the heat from inside the car competing against the cold rain pressing from the outside. “Just don’t lie to me. I can’t take any more lies.”

  Ethan pulled into a parking lot, passing a brown curved sign, reading, “Birch Tree Manor.” The large brick building reminded me of a school back in the states, yellow brick on the top, orange on the bottom, with white windows. The car came to a stop, and Ethan turned to face me. “From this point on, no more lies. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, and it’s going to be a lot to take in, but all you have to do is ask,” he held out his pinky, “I swear, Jett. And you swear to meet me halfway.”

  Our pinky’s linked, but I didn’t like it. Not like I did before.

  Side by side, we walked through the doors of Birch Tree Manor, unsure of what was waiting for us. The inside smelled like a daycare dipped in mothballs, and the lady working the front desk greeted the two of us with a skeptical smile, her brown hair neatly parted down the middle and flattened behind her shoulders. “I wondered if I’d ever see you in here again,” she said to Ethan, eyes moving from him to me, deciding whether I was a threat or not. “And who is this?”

  “This is my girlfriend, Rebecca,” Ethan introduced me, throwing an arm around my shoulder and looking down at me with a proud smile, “How has my mum been?”

  The girl frowned, pushing a clipboard forward. “Oh, you know …” She waved her hand in front of her, trying to mask the disappointment over her face. It had been a long time since I was around strangers, and luckily, I hadn’t lost my ability to read body language entirely. “Not much has changed since you were last here. But, I suppose a lot has changed for you this past year.”

  I idled in my spot, looking over the colorful interior as the two continued with small talk, then Ethan grabbed my hand as the receptionist lead us down a hall. “Your mum has taken a liking to the media room lately,” she continued to say, and each hall we passed through had different colored walls, doors, and themes. Finally, we entered a room with yellow sunflower wallpaper, matching yellow curtains, and a collection of elderly people. A large window brightened the entire room, where the sun shone after the rain, casting rays over the souls who were on the brink of death.

  “Ah, there she is,” the receptionist gestured over to a red-headed lady sitting with a group, playing a game of checkers, “she’ll be so happy to see you.”

  Ethan’s hand squeezed mine. “Really?”

  “Well, we’ve had some good days this past year. She’s asked about you a time or two. Let’s see if we caught her on a good day.”

  It dawned on me the redhead was Ethan’s mom, which he hasn’t seen in over a year, and the entire situation seemed too personal for me to be involved with. I was intruding and shouldn’t be here. Ethan’s palm sweat in mine as he walked toward her, and I turned to stop him. “I can wait in the car. You need this time alone with her.”

  “I need you, Jett,” he whispered, eyes forward, admiring the woman who gave him life. We walked closer until we stopped before the table. No one looked up from the table to acknowledge us.

  The receptionist tapped the older woman on the shoulder and pointed toward Ethan and me. “Mary, look who came to visit you,” she said gingerly with an even amount of excitement as if talking to a young child. “It’s Ethan,
your son.”

  Mary had the same red hair as Ethan, though hers was wispy and dulled. Her eyes were a pale blue against her even paler skin, and her thin lips opened into a big smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she admired the man standing beside me. “Ethan?” Mary’s voice came out tired and ragged, and Ethan clutched my hand tighter. “I have a son?”

  “Hi, Mum.”

  I’d never seen Ethan so nervous. He was usually put together, composed and unbreakable. But as his eyes hit his mum, he instantly became vulnerable to the woman sitting before him.

  “Would you look at that, Ellen,” Mary clapped her hands together, “I have a son, and he’s so handsome.”

  “I’ll be back at the desk if you need me,” the receptionist stated as the older ladies around the table agreed before she slipped away.

  Ethan let go of my hand, and I awkwardly stood as he took an empty chair beside Mary. “How have you been?” His eyes beamed at the woman as he rubbed his palms down the front of his jeans. “Is this place treating you well?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s like one big holiday here, though George is probably somewhere sleeping. Have you met George, my husband? I can go wake him up. He should meet you and your beautiful—”

  “Mia,” Ethan quickly said, waving me over. “This is Mia, Mum.”

  I walked closer, and Mary held out her hand. “Well, nice to meet you, dear. Aren’t you just the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” her cold hand patted the top of mine, “Ellen would you look at her. Natural beauty right there, I’ll tell ya. Nowadays, girls cover their beauty with makeup and nonsense. However, you should visit the salon we have here. They could doll-up that hair of yours, make it look posh.”

  “Yeah, real posh.” Ellen nodded with a trembling hand, reaching for a black checker on the table.

  Mary smacked Ellen’s hand. “Don’t think I’m not watching you, this boy may be blinding my vision, but not my senses. You can’t pass one by me.”

  I laughed, something I haven’t been able to do in a long time.