Justus (In Safe Hands Book 3)

by S. M. Shade

“You’re going to find yourself unemployed. Do you want to flip burgers your whole life?”

  “Well, which one is it? Am I going to be unemployed or flip burgers?” she shoots back.

  “Dare, now isn’t the time,” Ayda warns while Zoe, Frannie, and I watch silently.

  Nodding his agreement, he leaves the room to join the other guys in his basement man cave. “Sorry,” Leah says, handing me a glass of wine. “I just told him I’m not going to continue pursuing a doctorate after all. And I have to point out I have a degree in social work, so I will not be flipping burgers.”

  Laughing, I tap my glass to hers. “Do what you got to do, girl. Here is to not letting men fuck with our lives.”

  Zoe eyes Ayda with a knowing smile, and Ayda beams back.

  I’m just about to ask what that’s about when Frannie pipes up. “Okay, what did we miss? You bitches are hiding something.” I don’t know Frannie very well. She’s Zoe’s best friend, and she and Jeremy have an on again off again relationship.

  A grin remains plastered to Ayda’s face while she takes a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’m pregnant.”

  I take a step back and my eyes drop to her flat belly. “You’re pregnant?”

  “Yes,” she replies laughing.

  “You bitch! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” I throw my arms around her and hug her tight.

  “I just found out today. Zoe went with me.”

  “I’m going to be an aunt!” Leah squeals.

  “What did Dare say?” I ask.

  “He doesn’t know yet. I—

  “I don’t know what?” Dare asks, stepping in and blocking out half the light in the room. The man is humongous.

  Ayda’s eyes widen and she swallows hard. I know she’s worried about his reaction, but with the way Dare dotes on her, she has nothing to worry about.

  “I-I went to the doctor today.”

  His dark brows furrow. “Are you okay? What kind of doctor?”

  “My gyno. I’m fine, but I’m just…I’m a little…pregnant.”

  The words take a few moments to register, but the second they do, Ayda is swept up in his arms, her laughter filling the kitchen. Dare kisses every inch of her face.

  “I’m the happiest man on the fucking planet right now, darlin’. And you’re okay? The baby’s okay? How far along are you?”

  Giggling, she brushes back his hair. “We’re both fine. And I’m not sure exactly how far along yet. Probably six weeks or so. I have another appointment next week.”

  Placing her back on her feet, he gives her a passionate kiss, then bounds down the basement stairs. “Hey, assholes! I’m going to be a dad!”

  We all break into laughter at his response, but a lump forms in my throat, and I excuse myself, hurrying to the bathroom before anyone can see the tears in my eyes. I’m so incredibly happy for Ayda. She’s been through hell, and she deserves to be happy.

  I am happy for her, but it also triggers something in me. For the last two weeks I’ve been trying to tell myself that I don’t care that Justus stopped calling. I’ve been trying to pretend that it doesn’t hurt that the first man I’ve actually fallen in love with, didn’t even think I was worth a goodbye text. I’ve repeated the mantra I’ve always sworn by. I don’t need a man to be happy.

  It’s true that I don’t need a man, but I need him. I love him. I didn’t know what real heartbreak felt like until now. And it royally sucks. Swallowing back the rest of my tears, I promise myself that I can cry all night when I get home if that’s what I need, but right now, I need to smile and put on a happy face for my friend.

  We spend the next few hours laughing and drinking too much—except for Ayda, of course. “Nine months without alcohol,” she groans.

  “You’ll survive,” Dare teases.

  Somehow, we’ve all ended up down in Dare’s man cave; a large basement room with couches lining the walls. A huge TV takes up one wall and a line of gaming systems sit beneath it. Jeremy and Frannie are upstairs arguing about something. I tuned them out after I heard Frannie scream something at him that sounded like “I hope you get crabs!”

  Zoe sighs. “I swear those two are never going to get it together. Too damn stubborn to admit they’re in love.”

  “It’s a hard truth to accept.” It’s not until everyone turns to look at me, that I realize I said it out loud. Damned alcohol. “Yeah, I might be drunk. I’m going to grab a cab and head home.”

  “I’ll take you,” Ayda volunteers, accompanying me upstairs.

  We both turn to look at each other when we reach the kitchen. Judging by the noises coming from the guest bedroom, Frannie and Jeremy are fucking out their differences. Our eyes meet and we both dissolve into giggles.

  “Guess he doesn’t have crabs, then,” I remark.

  “I’ll never understand those two,” Ayda says, as we walk to the car.

  The first few minutes of the drive are quiet until Ayda says, “You didn’t tell me you were in love with Justus.”

  “I don’t want to be,” I answer honestly. “Especially now that I know he doesn’t feel the same.” Gazing out the window, I shrug. “He said he did.” Pictures of him looking down at me in bed, murmuring that he was falling in love raise the lump in my throat again.

  Ayda’s hair swishes around her face as she turns her head to look at me. “He said he loved you?”

  “Yes, and I know I was stupid to believe it. The guy has women drooling over him for a living. I should’ve known those words wouldn’t mean anything to him.”

  “Bullshit! This isn’t your fault. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but the next time I see him, he’s getting my foot shoved up his ass. I warned him when you started dating that if he screwed you over, I’d neuter him.”

  Silence descends until I start giggling. I can’t help it. “You said you’d neuter him?”

  “Like a leg humping dog.”

  Both of us laugh and I wipe my eyes. “Take a video when you do.”

  “Oh, he’ll be a Youtube sensation.”

  * * * *

  The next week drags by. I don’t know what I did or why he has ditched me without a word of explanation, but it’s been three weeks so I’m trying to move on. Ayda keeps trying to convince me that he’s working, that there may be some explanation. I know that most of what In Safe Hands does has to be kept secret, but that doesn’t mean he can’t pick up a fucking phone, does it?

  I’m just getting home after work when my phone rings, and the sight of my brother’s name on the screen sends a spike of panic through me. He never calls unless something is wrong.

  “Doug?”

  “Sade, you need to get to the hospital. Now. Mom’s really bad. She had a heart attack, and they’ve got her on a respirator.”

  It’s the call I always knew I’d get, but now that it’s here, I’m not ready. “I’ll be on the first plane out.” He promises to keep me updated before hanging up, and I rush around packing my suitcase, throwing in odds and ends I’ll probably regret later.

  My gaze falls to the diamond engagement ring sitting on my dresser. I haven’t seen or heard from Justus, and I’ve started to give the ring to Ayda to give back to him a few times now, but I just couldn’t seem to do it. I guess it’s a good thing. If Mom is conscious, she needs to see me still wearing it. With a sigh, I slide it back onto my finger, grab my suitcase, purse, and phone, and rush out the door.

  After hours at the airport, I luck out with a standby ticket and end up sandwiched between two elderly ladies who sleep through the whole flight. It’s fine by me, since the last thing I want to do is make small talk right now.

  I grab a cab straight to the hospital from the airport, and find Doug pacing the waiting room. “Sadie,” he sighs, relief clear in his voice.

  “How is she?”

  “About the same. She opens her eyes every now and then, but with the respirator, she can’t speak.”

  “What did the doctor say?”

  “He doesn’
t know if she’ll recover from the attack, and even if she does, without a transplant.” He wipes his face with his palm. “He says we’re coming to the end of it now. That we should start making…preparations.”

  My legs feel weak as I slide into a chair.

  “She was doing okay until yesterday when she said she was nauseous. I tried to get her to go to the doctor, but she refused, said it was probably something she ate. Then I heard her call my name, and by the time I got to her room, she was unconscious. Barely breathing.”

  Squeezing his hand, I reassure him. “You did everything you could. There was no way you could know she was having a heart attack.”

  “They’ve moved her to the top of the transplant list, but it’s a long shot.”

  “Always has been,” I sigh. “Will they let me in to see her?”

  “Only once per hour for fifteen minutes at a time. It’s been long enough. Go ahead,” he says, gesturing toward the door. “The nurse at the desk will let you in.”

  I take a deep breath outside her door, steeling myself for what I know won’t be an easy sight. The wheeze of the respirator and steady beeping of the monitoring equipment fill the room where Mom lies, hooked up to so many wires and tubes I can’t tell which is connected to what machine.

  Her mouth is open, the tube disappearing into it, tape covering her cheeks to hold it in place. Tears fill my eyes as I approach and as much as I don’t want to cause her pain by waking her, I want her to know I’m here. “Mom, can you hear me?”

  Her eyes flutter open and I see the recognition in them as she squeezes my hand. “I’m right here. I’m staying until you’re better.”

  Her eyelids fall shut again, and I spend the next fifteen minutes just sitting beside her while she sleeps. There’s nothing else I can do. It’s the most helpless I’ve ever felt.

  * * * *

  The next few days drag by in a blur. Doug and I take turns staying at the hospital, and finally, on the third day, there’s some improvement. She’s breathing on her own, and they can remove the breathing tube.

  I make a call to my employer, who agrees to put me on a leave of absence until further notice. Mom may not want me to, but I don’t care. There’s no way I’m leaving now.

  “Sadie,” Mom whispers as I take a seat beside her. A slight smile tilts her lips. “I’m sorry to make you come back here.”

  “Don’t be silly, Mom. Nobody made me do anything. How are you feeling?”

  “Better, but a bit weak. Where is your fiancé?” Mom smiles at the nurse who is changing her IV bag. “You should see the guy my daughter is marrying. Whew. Hotter than the devil’s armpit.”

  “Mom,” I laugh, glad to see she’s feeling better. The nurse laughs with us, then excuses herself.

  “He couldn’t get off work,” I reply, sure she can see through my lie.

  I was tempted to call Justus. Truthfully, it was my first instinct when Doug called, but after not hearing from him for so long, I just couldn’t. Even if he agreed to go with me, it would be out of pity, and I don’t want that. It’s not like there’s anything he could do anyway.

  Dr. Lawrence enters with my brother right behind him. The strange expressions on both of their faces sends my heart racing. “What’s wrong?” I demand.

  “S-Sade…” Doug stammers.

  “What is it?” I repeat, my body feeling strangely light.

  “Doctor Lawrence says he…” Doug shakes his head, tears filling his eyes.

  “We found a heart,” Dr. Lawrence announces. “We need to prep Amber for surgery immediately.”

  Chapter Ten

  Justus

  Hannah is home with me, but not for much longer. The rehab facility promised to have a place for her in a few days. Zoe and Ayda have spent a lot of time with us as well, helping out and trying to distract her from the torture of withdrawal. I’ve never had much sympathy for addicts, considering they caused the damage to themselves, but I wouldn’t wish Hannah’s pain on anyone.

  It’s sleep that’s the most difficult for her, and I don’t think she’s gotten five hours since she came home from the hospital three days ago. According to the doctor, that’s normal for someone withdrawing from opiates. The lecture and literature I was given on opiate dependence and recovery is heartbreaking.

  Depending on how long she’s been using, the after effects could last for years. The initial withdrawal is only a week or so, and some of her symptoms are starting to fade. The muscle cramps and jitteriness, nausea and headaches have lessened, but she has a long way to go.

  Insomnia, anxiety, depression, trouble with cognition and thinking. All of these are long term symptoms of Post Acute Withdrawal Syndrome, a condition that can take years to resolve after the patient is clean.

  Every time I think of what they did to her, what she went through, anger fills me to the point where I’m afraid of what I might do. I’ve done terrible things in the past, but only to terrible people. I don’t get any joy out of it, the killing. It’s done only to end a threat to someone weaker who can’t protect themselves…children. And I don’t regret a second of it.

  I don’t have a driving need to hurt or kill, but right now, if I could get my hands on the people who did this to her, I’d rip them apart without a second thought.

  “Come running with me tonight,” Landon says, when I tell him I feel like I’m losing it. “It helps with the rage. Trust me, I know.”

  “I can’t leave her.”

  “Zoe will stay with Hannah. Just for a couple of hours. We’ll get Dare to go, too.”

  So now we’re running down a path that leads to the river. My feet slam into the concrete harder and faster, but the guys never falter, keeping in step with me until we all fall onto the riverbank. Expending some energy has helped, but all I can see when I close my eyes are the assholes responsible for destroying my sister.

  “I want to kill them. Feed them to the pigs. If anyone ever deserved it…”

  “I know. But you can’t. The cops are involved. You touch any of them and you’ll only be locked up along with them,” Landon says.

  “Make it easier to take them out.”

  “And then you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison,” Dare adds. He gets to his feet and stares down at me. “I won’t say I know how you feel, but when Ayda was being threatened by the man who threw acid in her face, all I could think about was ending him and the judge who let him off. But it would’ve hurt her worse. And the same goes for Hannah. How do you think she’d feel if you went to prison for her? She needs you here, helping her heal and recover.”

  “When did you get so fucking knowledgeable?” I grumble, standing up and brushing the dry grass from my pants.

  “It’s a gift, just like my big cock.”

  “Too bad it’s always flaccid. Ayda told everyone. Like a deflated balloon animal.”

  Laughing, we start a slow jog back. “I have to take her to the rehab center in the morning. The last thing I want to do is leave her there. They won’t even let her have any phone calls or visitors the first two weeks.”

  “It’ll be hard, but they’ll take care of her. I researched the place. It’s one of the best in the country. They only treat trauma survivors and sex crime victims. They’ll be kind to her,” Landon tells me.

  “Let’s talk about something else. Have you seen Jeremy lately?”

  “A few days ago. He’s turning into a real man whore. That woman has him out of his mind,” Landon replies. Great, now we’re gossiping like chicks.

  “Frannie?”

  “Who else? I don’t know why they keep up that on again off again shit. It would drive me crazy.”

  I stop as we approach our cars and stretch out my legs. I’m not a runner and I know I’ll feel this shit later.

  Dare shakes his head, wiping sweat from his brow. “Are you still stringing Sadie along?”

  What the fuck? “I’m not stringing her along!”

  “So, you’ve talked to her since the bust?”


  Jerking my car door open, I glare at him. “I’ve been a little fucking busy.”

  “So, you haven’t set a date, then?” Landon teases, grinning. They have had too much fun with my fake engagement.

  “If we have a wedding, I’ll make sure it’s in the middle of summer at noon in the desert.”

  Dare and Landon laugh, and Dare smacks the hood of my car as he heads to his. “Don’t be stupid and fuck it up, Lovely Locks.”

  Why do I hang out with these assholes again?

  * * * *

  “I’ll be fine, Justus,” Hannah assures me, when she finds me standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the wall. Her arms wrap around me. “I’ve been through way worse than a rehab center.”

  We haven’t talked about her life much. She explained that she ran away from the last foster home because her foster father kept trying to put his hand down her pants. She was only on the street for a few days before she was drugged and kidnapped, held prisoner and forced into prostitution. Eight years. They had her for eight years.

  “I don’t want to let you go again,” I confess, holding her tight.

  “It’s only temporary this time. A couple of months at most.” I should be comforting her, but she always was the strong one.

  “I’ll be at family therapy in two weeks,” I assure her. The car from the rehab center pulls up out front and she gives me another squeeze before picking up her suitcase.

  “Go after that woman who has you so tied up in knots.”

  Shocked, I gape at her. I’ve never even mentioned Sadie. “Ayda has a big mouth,” I growl.

  “You keep saying her name in your sleep, so I asked Ayda about her. She sounds like a good one. Don’t fuck it up on my account.” Her eyes are wise beyond her years. “This is going to be a marathon, not a sprint, and I won’t let you put your life on hold for mine.”

  Without looking back, she walks out to the waiting car. Tears fill my eyes as I watch the taillights disappear. I don’t even notice when Ayda pulls into the driveway.

  “Justus? Are you okay?”