After Tomorrow (Kingsley series Book 2)

by Haylee Thorne

  “We’ve waited this long. What do a few more months mean?” I hear a voice say.

  I’m not sure who she’s talking to, but if it is a patient, I don’t want to overhear personal things that aren’t any of my business. I once again raise my hand to knock when the cellphone in my hand starts ringing loudly.

  Crap.

  I knock anyway and step into Layla’s office.

  “Sorry to bother you, Dr. Hayes. I was wondering if you by any chance left this phone in Mr. King’s room?”

  I walk into the room and find Layla standing behind her desk. At first her eyes widen, as if she’s shocked to see me. Then she raises an eyebrow, and with her eyes glued to my person, she assesses me. Layla’s holding her office telephone in her hand. I scan the room and find that she’s by herself. I still take a few more steps and inch toward her desk, holding the phone out to her.

  “I’ll call you back,” she says to the person on the other end of the line.

  Layla places the horn back into its cradle on her desk, not once taking her wary eyes off me. In turn, I also eye her intently. Why does it feel as if I just walked in on something I wasn’t supposed to walk in on? She reaches for the phone in my hand.

  “Thank you for bringing that. I had no idea it was even missing yet.”

  I force a smile.

  “Sure, no problem,” I say as I place the phone into her hand.

  When I do, my eye falls on a folder on her desk. It has Mikaela’s name on it. Why does she have a folder with Mikaela’s name on it on her desk?

  “I better get back to work,” I say hurriedly.

  I turn on my heels and leave Layla’s office in a hurry. I hear her shout something after me, but I don’t even know what she said. And I don’t go back to find out. My suspicious mind is going a thousand miles a minute now. I don’t know what’s in that folder, but I know that I need to find out. The thing is, I am not sure if she noticed me seeing it lying on her desk. What I do know is I need a plan to get into her office tonight after she leaves.

  Do you ever watch something on television and a character in a movie or something is about to embark on something completely stupid, and you want to just yell at the TV, ‘Don’t do it, you stupid idiot!’? Yup, that is how I feel right now, only I am not watching television. Instead, I am creeping down the hallway towards Layla’s office at almost three in the morning. A little voice in my head is shouting at me to stop this madness and get back to the suite, but there is no denying that I am probably the most stubborn person that I know. If this woman has something on Mik, I need to know what it is so that I can help her or at least warn her. Not to mention that until I know what I am dealing with, I can’t tell anyone. If I tell anyone half-cocked stories, they might get the wrong idea, especially since everyone knows I dislike Layla. But that isn’t what this is about. There is absolutely no reason for her to have a file on Mikaela. After all, it’s been weeks since she has been a patient here, and all our charts are electronic, so it wouldn’t be that. I try to be as covert as possible, which is easier said than done, since I’m as graceful as a bull in a china shop at the moment. I’m stumbling over my own feet because I am barely able to see a thing in the dimly lit halls. I reach Layla’s office, and I scan the hall. Not a soul is walking around right now as far as I can tell. It’s so quiet right now, you could hear a pin drop. Or in this case, my pulse has accelerated so fast that I can’t only feel, but also hear, my heart beating against my chest cavity. My hand trembles as it reaches for the door handle. My digits wrap around the door handle and I’m not sure why, but I take a deep breath before I push down.

  Locked. Damn it.

  Disappointed and a little annoyed, I make my way back down the hall to Mr. King’s suite. Looks like plan A failed, but luckily there are plans B through Z. By the time 6:00 a.m. rolls around, I am thoroughly exhausted. All in all, it has been a pretty easy shift, but I cannot get the file with Mikaela’s name out of my head. I need to find a way into that office and take a gander at that file.

  “Do you want some coffee, Rae?”

  Ashley’s voice shocks me out of my thoughts. I smile at her.

  “Can you read minds? Cause I was just thinking how much I would love a cup,” I tell her.

  It’s not really a lie. I was thinking a bit ago that I could use a cup. I feel like I need to stretch my legs, so I offer to go get us some coffee. I walk to the break room where Carl the maintenance guy is talking to Marley, another nurse who works here. I smile and nod at them when I enter the room and walk straight to the coffee machine to fix some coffee for Ashley and myself.

  “It is really annoying when I cannot even get into the storage room at night, Carl. We needed several things last night, and I had to send the assistant to the store to buy them. I wouldn’t have to do that if you guys just left a key or something.”

  Needless to say, my attention is caught. I strain to listen to his response while feigning disinterest in their conversation.

  “Actually, there is a spare master key at the reception desk. Didn’t you know that?” he replies, a little disgruntled.

  And just like that, plan A has a part two. I almost want to hug the two of them. They unknowingly solved my dilemma of how to get into Layla’s office. Unfortunately, I won’t have time this morning to get in and out unseen. But I work again tonight, so hopefully it will still be in there.

  When I get to work that evening Lacy, the receptionist, is still at her post. I don’t want to have to explain why I need the key, or rather make up a lie as to why I need said key, so I decide to just wait a bit for her to leave. After all, I have all night. I make my way over to Mr. King’s suite and get on with my duties. Ashley is a lot of fun to work with. She is good at her job, and she is hilarious. We get along well, which makes the night so much more bearable. Ashley is in the middle of telling me a funny anecdote about her weekend exploits at some club when I look over at Mr. King, who has been sitting with us in the living area. I swear I saw him smile. In fact, his gaze met mine, and it wasn’t blank.

  “Mr. King?”

  No response.

  “You know by now that the man doesn’t speak, right? Jeez Rae, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one in the room. You know what catatonic means, right?” Ashley teases.

  “Pffft.”

  I roll my eyes, pretending to be insulted.

  “Seriously though, I saw him smile, like grin widely.”

  Mr. King is sitting in front of us, not moving a muscle and staring into the distance.

  “Are you sure? Maybe you just imagined it?”

  Am I losing my marbles?

  “Maybe…” I say, smiling weakly.

  I’m not convinced that I didn’t see what I saw, but then again, with all that has been going on lately, my paranoia level is through the roof. Maybe I did just imagine him doing that. The man is catatonic and has been for over a decade.

  “Hmmm, maybe we need to start early with the caffeine tonight,” Ashley says jokingly.

  I grin at her.

  “Are you offering to go make us some?”

  “I did kind of set myself up for that, didn’t I?” she says, laughing. “Sure, I’ll be right back.”

  Ashley heads to the breakroom, and I turn my attention to Mr. King. He’s staring into space, as he always does. I stand and pace in front of him, not once taking my eyes off him. His gaze doesn’t follow me. He’s sitting perfectly still, like one of those wax figures at Madame Tussauds.

  Maybe if I scare him, I think to myself.

  I continue to pace in front of him and suddenly clap my hands together as loudly as I can.

  Nothing.

  Damn it, maybe I am imagining things. I just stand here for a moment, shaking my head and chuckling to myself. I can’t believe I just did that. I think I really do need that cup of coffee. Ashley returns with our beverages only a minute or so later, thank God. After we drink our coffee, we get Mr. King ready for bed. The night goes smoothly again, and we orde
r some pizza. I manage to sneak to the front desk to borrow the master key. Step one can be crossed off my list, but when I try and sneak out at around 1:00 a.m., I have to abort my mission because there are still people walking around the halls. I try again a couple hours later, and this time the halls are deserted. Just like last night, my heart is beating fast, and my breaths are fast and shallow. The keys are clutched—so tightly and almost to the point of pain—inside my right hand, which is stuffed into my pocket. Layla’s office is only at the end of the hallway. Granted, the hallway is fairly long, but tonight the trip down the hall seems miles long. I’m acutely aware of my surroundings; every sound, every shadow, every smell. When I finally reach her office door, I pull my hand from my pocket. It takes a moment for me to steady my hand and stop the shaking. I slide the key into the lock and turn. Just as it unlocks, my phone vibrates in my pocket, almost giving me a coronary. I tell myself to stop being stupid and just get this over with. I push down on the door handle and slip into the office, gently shutting the door behind me. I don’t turn on any lights, just in case someone walks by and sees that the lights are on. I turn the flashlight on my phone on and quickly walk over to the desk. I expected it to not be on there anymore, but I am still disappointed when I don’t find the file lying on the desk where I saw it. My heart sinks. Did she take the file with her? I shine the flashlight around the room, squinting my eyes while I try and survey the room in the dim light. I notice a small file cabinet behind the desk. I circle around, praying to myself that the thing isn’t locked. I sink to my knees and attempt to pull the top drawer. The relief I feel when it slides open is borderline ridiculous.

  “For crying out loud, Raeva, get it together,” I whisper to myself.

  I go through the filing cabinet and search for Mikaela’s name. As I slide my fingers across the files to see the labels, I note that they are in alphabetical order, and I know that Mikaela’s file must be in the bottom drawer. I am about to shut the drawer when my eyes land on another file. My heart skips a beat. I pull it out and read again, as if I must have read it wrong. Nope, I sure didn’t. It says Clayton, Sam. Why the hell does she have a file on Jasper? I flip it open. I quickly scan the contents, and it doesn’t take me long to realize that he had been her patient. For years. Why the hell would she have a file on him here, though? I put the file back in its place and shut the drawer. I pull on the second drawer and go through the files in there. There is no file with Mikaela’s name in the cabinet. Disappointed, I close the file cabinet. There are about a million questions floating through my head. I know I have been in here a while now, and I need to make my way back before Ashley starts to wonder where I am. I look to make sure I have properly closed the cabinet and make my way to the door. In my haste and because I barely have any light, I trip over a messenger back that apparently was leaning against the desk.

  “Crap,” I mutter angrily to myself.

  I pick up the bag, and just as I reach to put it where it was sitting before it almost broke my neck, I decide that since I have already broken into to Layla’s office and riffled through her files, I might as well have a look in here as well.

  “In for a penny, in for a pound,” I tell myself out loud.

  I open the bag, and I have never been grateful to trip and fall, but by golly right now I want to do a happy dance. The file is in the bag! I flip through it for a little bit. When I realize what the content of the file is, I immediately stuff it back into the bag. I put the bag back in its place and walk as fast as my legs can carry me to the door. I stand for a moment and listen. When I think it’s safe, I open the door and peek out. I slip out of Layla’s office, making sure to lock the door behind me. I quickly make my way to the front desk to return the master key and then head to the breakroom to make Ashley and myself a cup of coffee. Just in case she wonders what took me so long, I can say that I was making us a fresh batch. My fingers are unsteady, and I am quite literally all over the place. What am I supposed to make of all this? Jasper was Layla’s patient, and so was Mikaela. Is this a coincidence? And why hasn’t Mikaela said anything about this? The other night at the opening, she acted like she never met Layla before. I flinch when I bite the inside of my cheek a little too hard. On the other hand, maybe she was just embarrassed to see her shrink out in public? How am I supposed to ask Mikaela without telling her what I did?

  “Good God Rae, what is taking so long?” Ashley says as she walks into the breakroom.

  “Hey Ash!” I say, plastering a huge smile on my face.

  “I needed to do some charting, and then I thought I’d brew us a cup of coffee. I figured you’d be as ready for a cup as I am. My eyes are as heavy as rocks,” I lie smoothly.

  There isn’t any amount of sleeping pills that could knock me out right now. I have so many more questions than I did at the beginning of the night. She seems to buy it though, smiling gratefully as she takes the cup I hand to her. I follow her out of the break room and back to Mr. King’s suite, all the while hoping that I can make it through the rest of my shift.

  For a girl like me, getting used to the media attention that has come my way since dating Mika is next to impossible. To say I dislike it would be the understatement of the century, which of course isn’t helping the situation any. When I got home early this morning, Mika was in the shower getting ready to leave for work. Although I was dirt tired, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep, so I slipped into the shower with him instead of slipping into bed. What was supposed to be a quick shower turned into a very long, very satisfying round of lovemaking all over the bathroom, and we ended up having to take another shower. Mika was running late, and I was beyond exhausted. After everything that I found out last night, I needed the extra exhaustion to be able to get some sleep, and it certainly did the trick. I was out before my head even hit the pillow. I am sure I would have slept a lot longer were it not for the thirty-seven text messages that started to flood my cellphone. Back-to-back messages from pretty much every immediate family member I have, asking if I am okay, asking if I need anything, or asking me to call. I groan loudly. What the heck is going on? I look at the time and see that I have only slept about four hours. When my phone rings again, I answer.

  “Oh sweetheart, are you alright?” my mother wails from the other end.

  “Mom? What is going on?” I grumble sleepily.

  “I just knew that man was no good. I hope you have ended it for good now.”

  I sit up in bed, her words as effective as a bucket of ice water. I’m wide awake and ready to explode.

  “Mom, I just worked a night shift, and I am exhausted. What the heck are you talking about?” I say with a little more sass than I usually would.

  For a moment, there is just silence on the other end of the line. I sigh.

  “I’m sorry for snapping at you, Mom. I’m just very tired.”

  “Raeva, have you not seen the TMZ this morning?”

  Did she just seriously call it the TMZ?

  “Mom, I don’t watch stuff like that, and neither should you.”

  I slide out of bed and walk to the chest at the foot of it to collect my robe that I draped over it last night. I shrug it on and start walking to the kitchen. Something tells me that I am going to need coffee for this conversation.

  “That man you are dating, he’s been seeing all these women behind your back, honey. They have pictures and everything!”

  I make it to the kitchen, and I am incredibly grateful that Mika has one of those Keurig machines. I pop in a pod and place the cup in the machine.

  “Mom, most of these things are grossly exaggerated, if not blatant lies. Didn’t we go through this last month when they were claiming I was pregnant to entrap Mika?” I say, teetering on the edge of losing my patience.

  I grab the cup of coffee from the Keurig and place it on the counter so that I can add heavy cream and copious amount of sugar.

  “Sweetie, there are pictures. Pictures of him with some blonde bimbo and footage of some redhead
leaving his office looking disheveled. They have proof.”

  I take a seat on one of the high bar seats at the breakfast counter and close my eyes. I inhale deeply to let the aroma caress my senses, and I almost moan as the very hot liquid slides down my throat. I really needed that.

  “Mom…”

  Before I can even say another word, Mika storms into the kitchen. He takes big strides toward me. The look on his face is one of pure panic: eyes wide, shallow breaths, pale face. It doesn’t exactly inspire good vibes in me.

  “Let me call you back, Mom.”

  “Everything okay, honey? You sound upset.”

  No shit, Mom, this is the perfect way to wake up, I think to myself. I don’t say that out loud to her though.

  “I’m fine, Mom, I promise. I will call you back in a little bit, okay?”

  We say goodbye, and I push the red button. After placing my phone on the counter, I take a deep breath and look up. My eyes meet Mika’s. I really don’t like the expression on his face right now; it looks eerily similar to guilty.

  “So, do you have something to tell me, or should I just listen to my mother and turn on TMZ?”

  Mika takes a step toward me, still choosing to keep his distance.

  “Maybe we should look at it together,” he says, eyes still glued to mine.

  He’s assessing the situation, my mood, and my reactions like he always does.

  “Am I going to need something stronger than coffee?” I ask, only half-joking.

  Mika gives me a half-smile before he turns, picks my iPad up off the table, and seconds later slides it in front of me. He steps back and stands at a short distance from me, his stoic mask securely put into place. He has loaded a video, so I press play and watch as they launch into the story about how Mika Kingsley was caught making out with some blonde bimbo in a restaurant.