by S. E. Hall
“Has what?” I can’t contain it any longer, zero patience left, less-than-zero for dramatic fucking pauses — drama’s been well-covered for the night.
“I’m not sure what to call them. Panic attacks, I guess? Like I said, it’s only happened a few times before, three tops, and always at parties or similar type settings. She… uh… freaks out in crowds sometimes. But most times, she’s fine.”
“What?” A brittle, scoff of disbelief escapes me. “Presley? Presley Beckett? We talking about the same girl here? ‘Cause the Presley I know loves crowds, clubs, parties, concerts, or anything close. Not sure who the hell you’re talking about.”
“Does she though? Love them? Really?” Brynn cuts me a quick but sharp look of rhetorical question, then focuses back on the road. “Think about it. Yes, P’s always the life of the party, if it’s a party with her family, friends, or both, surrounding her, on her turf, her terms. But you tell me one time you’ve ever known her to party by herself, or outside those parameters?” She pauses, giving ample opening to be corrected… which isn’t possible. “Can’t think of one? That’s because it’s never happened. Take the night we all went to Lit, for example. P was all for it, her idea in fact, but not once did she even think about saying she needed to celebrate, maybe call some of her friends, bet you’ve never seen any of those either, to go out with her did she? Nope, she said ‘we were celebrating,’ an understood that we, her squad, family, safety net, were all going with her. So, is it that she likes crowds and parties, or that she likes spending time with family in places they enjoy?”
Now that she’s laid it out, in glaring black and white, I realize… she’s right. Presley is always with her family. Only. Or at work… for her family. Or at home. Alone. Called to try, I can’t think of a single time that I’ve known of, or been told about by JT, to the contrary. And the possible, almost impossible to acknowledge, reasons for that type of behavior hurl me right back into a nauseous panic.
Bellamy’s timid, wobbly whisper mirrors my thoughts. “Did… um… something bad happen to her?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that will block out the answer I’m afraid to hear.
“No, we don’t think so. Just can’t see how it would’ve been possible. She’s never by herself. And you’ve seen how protective Uncle Sawyer is over her. Now imagine what he was like when she was younger, which is when the signs started. No one thought much of them at the time, but in retrospect, P was… weird about certain stuff. Stuff she shouldn’t have been, and at an age where others are at their peak of wild, independence.”
“What kind of signs?” Bellamy again speaks for the both of us.
“Knew it, that’s the next logical question… that I really don’t want to answer,” Brynn sighs. “I’m only gonna tell y’all this to help you understand, because there’s not a doubt in my mind you both truly want to understand, out of sincere concern. But this is P’s business, which she likes kept that way, so I’d greatly appreciate it if you didn’t tell her I shared with you.”
“Of course not,” Bellamy readily assures her, but I…
“I won’t volunteer the information, but if she asks me directly, won’t outright lie to her either, Brynny. Sorry,” I don’t apologize, “but I won’t lie to her face. Ever.”
“And I respect that, very much so, but ‘outright’ has wiggle-room for cleverly-worded dodging. Just sayin’.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all I can ask for. Okay, since that’s settled… I’d say the first time anyone might’ve suspected something was off, was this dance, when she was in, must’ve been junior high. A boy asked her to the athletic banquet, you know, where all the popular jocks have an awards dinner and dance. The boys’ parents attend, school faculty, lots of people, adults, around, but Presley refused to go unless Uncle Sawyer did too. Well, he wasn’t invited, since he didn’t have a son athlete, so, Uncle Saw made a generous donation, and sure enough, got himself an honorary sponsor invitation… and went with her. And her date,” she snickers. “Couldn’t think of the guy’s name if I tried, but still feel sorry for him, to this day. I’m sure he spent the whole night wishing he’d of asked any other girl alive to be his date Anyway, it was odd, that she was so insistent about it. She’d never been alone for anything bad to have happened before then. Not even at school, Sky and Judd always went to the same one, and yet there it was… something.”
“Maybe it really is panic attacks. Lots of people have them, sporadically, no idea when they’re coming, the exact cause, or why they even have them at all. It’s just something they were born with and don’t even know it until the first one hits.” Bellamy gushes in what sounds like relief. Or hope.
“Yeah, that’s what we think too. Gotta be it.” Brynn nods, her tone optimistic as well. “Regardless, she’s adamant that her parents never find out.”
I hear what they’re saying, and should feel a little better, but I don’t. All I keep thinking about is how I left her alone. In the dark. At a crowded party. Basically… I single-handedly pulled every single one of her possible, likely, triggers. For some dumbass bullshit that meant nothing to me. Left the one who means everything.
“Sutton, stop it right now. You didn’t know about any of this, and JT called for your help,” Brynn, apparently a mind-reader, scolds me.
“Shoulda made her come with me. Thought she’d be safer away from the commotion,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head.
“Totally understandable, the same deduction anyone would’ve made. So quit beating yourself up, I mean it.”
“I sh-”
“You did nothing wrong. You didn’t leave her in a back-alley in the hood, you left her out of harm’s way, under a light, armed with pepper spray. Seriously, knock it off.”
“I just-”
“I know you don’t hear it often, if ever, but this is my end-of-discussion voice,” sweet Brynny bows up on me. “Look in front of you, we’re here. No tellin’ how she’ll be when we walk in, but all focus will be on taking care of P, not on your guilt or anger. Got it?”
“Absolutely.” I couldn’t agree more, wanting nothing but to care for Presley. In fact, if I had things my way, I’d be doing so alone. Just me, fixing what I broke, and then some. Any and every thing it takes to bring my Hot Shot back to me. Whole. My job.
Despite the overwhelming urge to dart inside, I keep pace with the girls, who… could they be walking any damn slower? “Ladies, can we at least try to beat that damn worm to the door?” I snarl, pointing out the indeed real turbo-worm on the ground, currently gaining on us.
“Sutton…” Oh, just fucking fabulous, Brynn has stopped walking altogether now. “They left at the same time we did, so they haven’t been inside long. We’re not racing, or forfeiting too the freakin’ worm. We’re giving JT a chance to try and get her nice and settled before we go barging in, possibly upsetting her all over again.” She steps closer, laying a hand on my arm. “I understand that you’re a big, bad dude with more testosterone pumping through your body than good sense, but I’m gonna need you to dial it down a notch. Or fifty. P will feed off the vibe around her. Which do you think would be the most helpful, suffocating male adrenaline, or smooth and steady support?”
Who knew… we’re all a bunch of damn fools, been underestimating little Brynny, and the many sides to her. She is indeed a genuine Kendrick… in sheep’s clothing.
“Smooth and steady,” I obediently respond.
“Bell-”
“Don’t even think about talking down to me, Miss Feeling Herself,” Bellamy takes a different, easy-on-the-obedience approach. “I’ve said a whoppin’ total of maybe ten words since we got in the truck. My timing and input are already on point, thank you.”
“So long as we’re on the same page,” Brynn huffs, clinging to superiority and leads the way… perhaps even fucking slower than before.
Chapter 16
Sutton
The instant we’re inside, all bets are off
and I rush down the hallway as though being chased by the Hounds of Hell. Her gut-wrenching sobs my guide, I burst into what I assume is the spare bedroom… and freeze in place. For less than a moment, I can’t move, the sight before me knocking the breath out of me and scripting itself as the nightmares I’ve yet to have.
JT’s got his arms wrapped around my girl, rocking her back and forth as she cries into his chest. His head jerks up as I move further into the room and he pins me with a deadly glower. ‘Stop,’ he mouths, denying me my every arguing instinct. “P, Sutton’s here,” he coos to her. “That okay? You want Sutton?”
“H… he… didn’t k… kill him?” She stutters, slowly lifting her head to look at me, that sweet, beautiful face instantly welding one of the cracks in me back together. “I… I thought you’d be in jail.”
“No, P, he’s fine, right here with us,” JT speaks with purpose, to me, his stare doing the same — he’s telling me to listen; he’s about to fill me in on what happened via talking to her. “Sutton knew you needed him here with you, so he didn’t beat up that drunk guy who cornered you at the party. Yet.”
And now I know.
Some drunk fucking bastard backed her into a corner, while my back was turned. Scared her. Made her feel threatened, when she already doesn’t like being alone in crowds; again, how I left her. Two wrongs. He used mine as his window to make it worse.
I’m gonna need a name.
His.
May God help him.
But for now…
“I’m so damn sorry I left you alone. I sh-” I amaze myself with how well I cover my murderous, scarily psychopathic anger.
“She knows that was my fault,” JT interrupts. “I yelled for your help, and the punk who pushed in on her is the only one to blame for his bad fucking choice. You’re not responsible for other people’s behavior, Sutton, we all know that. Right, P?”
She nods, swollen, teary eyes still on me. “I shoulda screamed. Used my spray. I froze. I just… I froze.”
“Shhh, nothing’s your fault. Nothing.” My first steps forward are measured, giving her the time to protest if she’s not ready for me yet.
“J, how ‘bout you go talk to the girls? I’m sure they’re gettin’ antsy for an update. I’ll take care of Presley.”
I watch her closely, for the smallest signal she wants him to stay, but she doesn’t give one.
What she does give — in that exact glimpse of time, a mere pinpoint in the grand scheme, monumental in mine — changes me forever.
She shifts her body… and holds out her arms. To me. Asking, for me.
Damn if my heart doesn’t just about pound out of my chest, a primitive call within me screaming to haul her against me and never let go, but I tamp it down, forcing myself to be the man she needs me to be right now.
Stable.
Safe.
Sutton.
“Ah, come ‘ere to me, Sugar. I got you.” I gently take her from JT, lifting her in a cradle hold, then sit back down on the bed, keeping her flush, but non-constricting, against my chest. After a kiss on the top of her head, I lay my cheek there, watching as JT quietly leaves the room and pulls the door closed behind him.
I wait several long minutes before daring to breach the silence, mindful to speak soft and evenly. “You wanna talk about it?”
“No big deal,” she whispers. “I overreacted.”
It’s a true act of God, has to be, that keeps me from flying off the fucking rails and telling her again, how very wrong she is to blame herself in any way. Instead, I hear myself say, “we won’t make it any bigger of a deal than you’re comfortable with, especially not tonight, but please keep this in mind. Your feelings and reactions, right or wrong, and they’re not wrong, are your own. Therefore, they’re always valid. If he,” I stop, reining in the anger trying to find volume, “no one has the right to make you feel unsafe. No one. Never again, Sugar, I swear it on my life. I will never leave you alone like that again. No matter what anyone else has going on. You have my word.”
“I believe you.” Her lifeless, defeated whisper is so unlike the Presley I know, it cuts into me, yet I want to keep her talking.
“Are you up to a few questions?”
“We’ll see. Ask.”
The corner of my mouth twitches with slight reassurance — that sounded a little more like my Hot Shot — but turns down just as fast when I start forming my question. Clearing my throat and counting to five in my head, I remind myself to be her rock, and use such wording. “Did this guy, did he touch you?”
She buries her face in my shirt and mumbles, “only with… with his body at first.” I hug around the shiver that runs through her. “He stood so close, and his breath, I knew he was drunk. When I… tried to walk away, that’s when he grabbed my arm.” She starts crying, shaking in my arms.
“Okay, it’s okay.” I rub her back. “I’m right here. You’re safe, sweet girl.”
“I know,” she sniffles. “I just, I felt…”
“Felt what? Please tell me. You can always tell me anything, Sugar. It might even make you feel better to get it out.”
With a long sigh that seems to come from her toes, she bares her soul. “Helpless. I felt absolutely helpless. My entire life, I’ve been warned about every possible situation not to put myself in. I still kick open the doors to public restrooms for Christ’s sake, but there I was, at a party I never should’ve been, cornered by a drunk guy five-times my size who could’ve done anything he wanted to me and no one would’ve heard me scream. Too much noise, drinking, chaos… no one would’ve heard. Not that I did scream. Or run. Anything. I just stood there. Played right into his hands. Played… the victim. I… I know better, dammit.”
I clutch her tight enough to break her; I need her to feel me, everywhere — I need her to know there isn’t a single part of her I can’t protect. “God, baby, I’m so sorry I left you. So fucking sorry. You did nothing wrong, and I-” no, we’ve already covered this, and I have to try and keep her moving forward. “Presley, do you know who he was?”
She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t tell you even if I did. You’re not going to prison for manslaughter over this. I’ll be fine, I just had one of my spells. It’s over, I’m not hurt, just shook-up. Let’s forget it. And Sutton, stop blaming yourself. I don’t blame you for any of this, at all. I begged you to go help. I expect you to go help when my family asks. If you want me to listen when you say it wasn’t my fault, then… then you do the same.”
I’m unsure what I should say to that, so I chose nothing. Her thought process is all over the map one minute she’s trembling, barely able to articulate her trauma, down-playing the whole thing the next. So, I merely hold her, in silence, breathing on her count.
She’s almost asleep, her body finally relaxed, when a soft knock on the door has her jolting upright as if it was a boom of thunder. “Hey, I’m right here, you’re okay.” My arms tighten around her, words of assurance kissed upon her temple. “Who is it?” I ask.
“Brynn. Can I-”
“Of course you can, Brynny. Come on in,” Presley calls out in a sleepy voice. So damn cute.
“How you doing?” She enters gradually, worry hedging her tone.
“I’m fine, come sit down. Sutton, scoot us over. You and your big ass body, I swear.”
“You know, as much as you talk about it, I’m starting to think you might like it,” I tease, lips still at her temple, then move us over as told.
“Anyway,” Brynn clears her throat. “I came to check on P, of course, happy to see she’s in good hands, but I also wanted to let you both know, Ryder and Camden have been dealt with.”
“Ryder? What’s he got to do with anything? And dealt with for what?” Presley snaps her head back and forth as she questions us.
“Crap,” Brynn mutters guiltily, biting the corners of her lip… having just realized, Presley doesn’t know what else was happening tonight — clueless as to the start of her horrifying ending.
&nbs
p; “Um, nothing, no biggie. Forget-”
“I’m not broken, stupid, or deaf, so quit with the talking like I am. Please,” Presley tacks on a lowly grated cushion. “What’d I miss?”
Obviously not wanting to, Brynn starts filling her in, my anger spiking with every word of the reminder. Until Presley laughs that is… the beautiful, highly-unexpected sound an instant antidote.
“I’ve always liked Ryder, I’m definitely rootin’ for his spunky ass over…”
“Camden! His name is Camden! Jesus, it’s not that hard.” Brynn shakes her head while I take my turn to laugh. And then, she calms, plot brewing in her eyes. “Reminds me of that girl, you know, the one from like… his sixth-grade year, weird left eye, had the big crush on J-”
“Gretchen Holloway? What reminds you of her?”
“Nothing, Presley,” Brynn snickers, giving me a smirk that I return with a knowing, pleased wink of thanks.
Weird-eye girl from sixth grade? Spouted off her name like a spicket. But Camden? My girl cannot remember his to save her own ass. And confirmation of that fact never gets old.
“Wrong person, or bad example. Not sure where I was going with that,” Brynn covers.
“Umm, nobody is. But, at least I’m not the only one to lose their damn mind tonight, so thanks for that. Now, back to what I was saying, before the random-ass detour,” Presley’s spunk and spirit start to make a comeback. “Sounds like this night wasn’t a total wash. You go on with your sweet lil’ self, Brynny girl. Two guys fighting over you? Pretty hot. Enjoy it.”
“I’m not going to enjoy it! And I know you didn’t really mean that, just talkin’ crazy after your ordeal.”
“I did mean it. What’s wrong with that?”
“Where should I start? P, fighting’s not okay, they could’ve gotten badly hurt. Or arrested. And… it was kinda my fault.”
