She shrugged and then turned toward the closet and pulled down a skirt. “Ariel keeps harping on me about my wardrobe so…I don’t know. I thought I’d try it her way.”
That’s it, he thought. Jumping up from the bed, he stormed across the room and spun her around to face him. “Take it off,” he growled. Paige misunderstood him and gave him a playful shove. “I’m serious, Paige. You’re not changing who you are because of anyone. There isn’t a damn thing wrong with you and how you dress. You don’t need to be your sister’s freaking clone!”
“That’s not what—”
“It’s exactly what you’re doing!” he yelled. “Take the shoes off, take the skirt off and…and…get rid of them. Burn them. Throw them out. I don’t care. But don’t you dare change who you are because of some nonsense Ariel’s throwing at you.”
Her eyes were wide and her expression was…well, more than a little shocked. “Dylan, I…I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Say you’ll get rid of this stuff,” he spat.
“Dylan, please. Not now,” she said wearily. “I need to present a certain image if anyone’s going to take me seriously. So if I have to dress in a power suit and heels, then I’m willing to try.”
“Paige,” he began as he pinched the bridge of his nose and willed himself to calm down, “that is ridiculous. There isn’t anything wrong with your wardrobe that would make people not take you seriously.”
“Then why aren’t they?” she demanded. “I do everything right! I handle everything for everybody, and it’s not enough. So maybe, just maybe, I can try this and see if it works because I’m out of ideas, Dylan.”
He saw the tears in her eyes and cursed himself. Wrapping her in his arms, he held her tight and did his best to keep his opinion to himself. He hated this—hated what her family was doing to her. The way they made her doubt herself.
With a small shove, Paige stepped out of his embrace, and he saw the fire back in her expression. Fine. He’d take the heat. He’d be her sounding board or punching bag or whatever she wanted—after all, he’d opened Pandora’s box.
“Do you think I want to do this?” she said hotly as she rummaged around for a blouse. “I had to go shopping and have people tell me what to get and what goes with what because this isn’t my style!”
He was about to remind her—again—that she didn’t have to do this.
“The quality of my work isn’t getting me anywhere. My punctuality and never missing a day’s work isn’t getting me anywhere. I’ve yet to prove my leadership skills because no one will let me lead! So if a skirt and shoes makes people take me seriously, then it’s what I have to do!”
“Paige, you have great leadership skills and people know it. Every event I’ve gone to with you, people say it. Every meeting I’ve sat in on, people listen to you,” he said soothingly. “You are great at what you do.”
“All those things—the events and meetings—have not been within PRW,” she countered. “I’ve got an office because I’m Robert Walters’s daughter. And on top of that, I have Ariel to compete with, who manages to outdo me in everything. She’s never come up with a campaign idea on her own. Don’t get me wrong. She comes up with stuff—like the way she changed the Literacy Now lineup—but she doesn’t follow through on it. She tosses out ideas and sees if they stick. She doesn’t work. She makes everyone else do the grunt work.”
Okay, now he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “That’s because she knows you’re going to do it!” he yelled with frustration. “Ariel knows you’re always going to be there to do the grunt work because you want the approval, the attention, the pat on the fucking head! Dammit, Paige, don’t you get it? This is like a sick game now! She keeps holding up the hoop and you keep jumping through it. And no matter how many times you jump or how high you jump, no one’s going to congratulate you. So if you’re waiting for that, if you’re waiting for your sister or your coworkers or your father to pat you on the head and say it, you’re wasting your damn time!”
“You’re one to talk,” she spat.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re no different than I am. You were desperate for your parents’ approval too!”
“Not the same thing,” he argued. “And we’ve been over this already. We both know our need for approval is destructive. I chose to numb myself to it and not give a damn anymore. But you just keep going back for more!”
“Oh, please,” she said with annoyance. “Don’t try and play armchair psychologist. I’m trying to do my job. That’s all.”
The entire time he spoke, she dressed. Navy-blue pencil skirt and nude-colored shoes and blouse. She stormed past him into the bathroom, and when she came out, her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail in a silver clip.
The sight pissed him off.
Without uttering a single word to him, Paige moved around the room and collected her things. If she was leaving, he knew he needed to go too.
As it was, he was beyond ticked off and was ready to storm out right now.
So he quickly got dressed and was pulling his shoes on when she left the room. Before he could go after her, he heard the front door slam closed.
With a muttered curse, he walked out to the living room and found his keys. He had his hand on the front door handle when it opened and nearly hit him in the face. Paige strode by, mumbling under her breath. “Forget something?” he asked snidely, figuring maybe she’d come in to tell him to leave.
“My tire’s flat again,” she said without looking at him. “I have the card with the dealership’s number on it somewhere in here. I forgot to program it on my phone.”
When he saw her with the business card in her hand, he let out a huff. “You can call them from the car. I’ll drive you to work so you’re not late.” Because God forbid she be late on her first day of dressing like a freaking Ariel clone.
They walked out of the house together, Paige already calling the car dealership about the tire. Apparently, it was the one they had replaced only a few months ago, and she was demanding someone come to the house to replace it. She was direct, and if he hadn’t been so annoyed with her, he’d have been seriously impressed with how she was firm while still polite.
Clearly, it was only him she felt comfortable enough to get ugly with.
And yeah, her words damn near killed him.
Not only because they were mean, but also because they were right.
But what did he expect? He’d hit her below the belt and she was returning the favor.
He sped out of her driveway and neighborhood and onto the highway. She slipped her phone into her purse after confirming the tire would be replaced before lunch. Again, he had to give her props for getting them to come and make a house call like that.
Traffic was a bitch, but that wasn’t anything new. He wove around where he could and was doing his best to get her to work because he wanted to be alone. His emotions were too raw, too close to the surface, and it was normally when he was angry about something that he drank. So yeah, right now he was dealing with that demon as well.
“You might want to slow down,” she murmured. “There’s no prize for getting me to the office in record time.”
“Wanna bet?” he said under his own breath. The prize was he’d get to have time to calm down and not have to look at her after having lost some respect for her.
He pulled off the highway at the exit to PRW and went through the light as it was turning red. Hitting the gas, he wove around the slow-driving Honda in front of them and got behind a Dodge pickup. They were at least doing the speed limit now, he thought to himself. Their turn was up ahead, and he moved to the left to the turn lane as the arrow turned green.
Almost there, he chanted in his head. He cut the wheel and could see the PRW building when his head hit the driver’s side window and the sound of Paige’s scream filled the air.
And then everything went deadly silent.
Chapter 9
“I want answers, dammit!”
Dylan’s head was pounding, and he tried to move but he couldn’t. “Easy, Mr. Anders. Give us one more minute.”
Who was that?
“Test him! I want him tested for alcohol! He’s done this before!”
This time he tried harder to sit up. Who was yelling like that?
“Sir!” the nurse said firmly. “I’m not going to tell you again. You have to leave. You are not allowed in here!”
Whoever it was must have left because the yelling stopped, but Dylan could tell there were still a lot of people in the room. Opening his eyes hurt—the light was far too bright. Wait…where was he?
“What’s…what’s going on?”
An older man came up beside him and started shining a light in his eyes. “You were in an accident, Mr. Anders. You need some stitches in your head and we need to x-ray your arm.”
An accident?
“Where’s Paige?” he said frantically, trying to sit up and look around the room. “Where’s Paige? Is she all right?”
“We’re going to need you to calm down,” the nurse said from the other side of him. “Is Paige the woman who was in the car with you?”
“Yeah,” he said, feeling sick to his stomach. Oh God…what if something had happened to her? What if something bad had happened and the last things they’d said to each other were those snarky remarks? “You have to find her! You have to see if she’s okay!”
Nodding, the nurse walked away and was instantly replaced by another one. All around him, people were taking blood and checking his vitals while the doctor examined the cut on his head. Dylan blocked it all out. The only thing he could think about was Paige.
No, that wasn’t true, he was trying to remember what had happened. They were driving on the highway, and she’d snapped at him for going too fast. Was that what had happened? Had he been speeding and crashed? No, that wasn’t it, because he remembered getting off the exit ramp and getting to the light to turn onto the street where PRW was located. He was turning and then…nothing.
“Is he awake? Is that son of a bitch awake now?”
Great. Yelling guy was back.
But why is he looking to yell at me? Dylan wondered. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Someone must have hit them. That was the only explanation he could think of.
“Sir, we have asked you repeatedly. Please don’t make us call security,” one of the nurses said, and Dylan wished he could turn his head and see who she was talking to.
There was more yelling, and from where Dylan was, he figured security had indeed been called. Good. The last thing he needed was some crazy person yelling at him when his head already felt ready to explode.
“We’ve got someone coming to do your stitches, Mr. Anders,” the doctor said. “Once that’s done, someone will take you down to radiology so we can look at your arm. In the meantime, try to relax. Do you need anything for the pain?”
“No,” he said emphatically. The last thing he needed right now was anything to dull his senses. He could deal with the headache, and the pain in his arm was tolerable. “Can someone please tell me where Paige is and if she’s all right?”
The doctor looked across the bed to the nurse who, in turn, looked toward another.
Unease began to trickle down his spine. Why wouldn’t anyone tell him anything?
“Mr. Anders, as soon as we know something, someone will come in and talk to you,” the nurse beside him said. And there was something in her tone. Something…very sterile—almost void of emotion.
Oh God. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong!
“I’m going to be sick,” he said as he turned and retched.
It was an hour before the doctor showed up to stitch up his head, and then he was immediately taken to radiology. His left wrist was fractured and he was going to need a cast. He nodded and let them do whatever they needed to do, but still no one came to talk to him about Paige.
He was in the triage room when two police officers came in.
It was like he was in that hospital in Vegas all over again. Panic threatened to overwhelm him as he had a flashback.
Were they here to arrest him?
Had he killed someone?
Even though there was no alcohol or any narcotics in his system, Dylan still had no recollection of what had happened that morning. With no other choice, he sat and waited, willing to accept his fate.
“Mr. Anders,” the first officer said as he stepped forward, “the doctors said they’re going to release you soon. Can we ask you some questions?”
Dylan nodded, too afraid to speak.
He sat back and listened as the officer described the accident to him—someone had run the light. They had been speeding and hit the passenger side of Dylan’s car, which had caused it to spin and hit a light pole.
He hadn’t been at fault.
He hadn’t caused the accident.
Tears stung in his eyes. “Paige,” he said, his voice gruff and cracking. He looked up at the officer pleadingly. “No one will tell me what happened to her. Is she all right? How badly was she hurt?”
The officers looked at one another before facing him. “Um…last we heard, she was in surgery.”
For a minute, Dylan thought he was going to be sick again. “Does… Did anyone call her family?”
The second officer nodded. “They’re here. We had to escort her father out a little while ago.”
Ah. So it was Robert Walters who had been yelling earlier.
“Mr. Anders, I’m sorry but…we have to ask—were you under the influence of any drugs or alcohol at the time of the accident?”
“No,” he said firmly as it all started to make sense—why Robert was yelling and what he was trying to prove. “The doctors and nurses took my blood. I’m sure they can verify that. I’ve been clean and sober for six months.”
And what killed him was how neither looked like they believed him. It didn’t matter that the other guy had run the light—once an addict, always an addict.
“Will you need a ride home? Your car was towed,” the first officer said.
“No, but thanks. I’ll call a friend to come and get me.”
Once they were gone, Dylan found his phone and immediately called Riley—the first person he thought of. It didn’t take long for him to explain the situation before Riley said he was on his way.
That left Dylan with nothing to do but wait.
And wait.
And wait.
A nurse came in with his discharge papers and explained to him the importance of not being left alone tonight with his head injury and instructions to follow up with his doctor as soon as possible. When she turned to leave, he reached out and touched her arm and said the only thing he could. “Please.”
“She was taken to surgery for internal bleeding,” the nurse said. “Beyond that, I don’t know. I don’t have any updates.”
Emotion clogged his throat as he nodded and fought back the tears. “Thank you,” he whispered.
With his discharge papers in hand, he walked to the waiting area to wait for Riley. His head was pounding, his wrist was throbbing, but more than anything, his heart ached. Paige was somewhere in this hospital, and he had no idea where. And what was worse, knowing it had been her father carrying on and making a scene earlier, Dylan doubted that he’d be welcome even if he found out what floor she was on.
Carefully, he walked to the corner of the large sitting area and took a seat. His whole body hurt now that he thought about it, and he knew it would only get worse over the next few days. He’d survive, he knew he would, but the temptation to swallow something to take the edge off was strong. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head and prayed Riley would get there soon.
* * *
>
“Dylan?” Riley said as he touched Dylan’s shoulder.
Slowly, Dylan opened his eyes and his friend came into focus. “Oh. Hey. I must have fallen asleep. Sorry.”
Riley smiled sympathetically and sat beside him. “I would have gotten here sooner, but you know LA traffic.”
“I do, I do. I’m just glad you’re here.”
“Any update on Paige?”
Dylan told him what the nurse had shared with him. “I have no idea how she is, Ry. They’re not going to get updates down here and—I hate to admit it—but I’m afraid to go upstairs.”
“Why?”
“Her father was down here making a scene earlier, demanding I be tested for alcohol since I’ve done this before.”
“Holy crap.”
“Yeah, I know. So I think the last thing anyone wants is for me to go up to wherever she is and create a scene.”
“Dylan, you have every right to see her. You weren’t drinking. Someone ran a red light. I’m sure by now he knows that. He’s upset. Any parent would be in that type of situation.”
“I guess, but…” He looked at Riley helplessly. “I hate this. I hate that even when something’s not my fault, I’m the first one everyone looks to blame.”
“It’s not like that, Dylan. This was a bad situation. Come on. Let’s go find Paige and see what’s going on.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
Riley stood. “Then stay here and feel sorry for yourself. I’m going to find out what’s going on. If her old man wants to start a fight, I’ll gladly fight with him. You were hurt too, Dylan. You’re a freaking mess, and there’s nothing Robert Walters can do or say to keep you away from Paige. She’s a grown woman and you’re involved with her.”
Gingerly, Dylan rose to his feet. The room began to spin, and he immediately reached out for Riley.
“Whoa. You okay?”
“I need a minute,” Dylan admitted.
“They must have given you some strong stuff.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t let them give me anything.”
“Are you crazy? You’ve got about fifteen stitches in your head and a broken wrist!”
One More Promise Page 23
