The Sound of Salvation (Deliverance Book 1)

by I. A. Dice

  “Don’t touch me,” she pleaded. “I told you not to speak to Adrian. He’s so fragile. God, it’s all my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault. If you want, I’ll book you a seat on the next flight to New York so you can see him, but please stop crying! Just calm down. Take the pills!”

  Nadia curled into a ball and knotted her fingers at the top of her head, her face hidden behind her arms and a curtain of dark hair.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I snapped. “You think screaming will calm her down? You’re just scaring her more.”

  At the sound of my voice, Nadia looked up and her brown eyes said everything I wanted to know—she waited for me to take her pain away.

  “What the hell are you doing here?!” Nick bellowed. “Get the fuck out of my house!”

  “Not without her.”

  He scoffed, shaking his head. “And you think she’ll go with you? Look at her! She’s having a fucking meltdown! You think it’s the first panic attack I have seen? She needs to take this,” he shoved an orange prescription bottle into my chest. “Or we’re going to the hospital.”

  The label read Alprazolam. Like hell I would force Nadia to take it. James considered Diazepam a better fit, and that was all I would offer her.

  I left the pills on the countertop and ignored Nick’s mocking sneer, when I took the first step toward my girl. She scrambled to her feet, and tears came on stronger, dropping down from her chin onto the white blouse she wore.

  Powerful shudders shook her small frame; the dame broke, and she no longer fought the pain. She let it consume her because she knew that the negative emotions would subside once she was in my arms

  I stopped two steps away to leave her in control of the situation, to let her make a choice—let go of the helplessness or drown in it.

  “Come here,” I held my hand out.

  She didn’t hesitate as if all she waited for was permission, a confirmation that I would calm her down regardless of who was watching. I hugged her tight, and she first rested her forehead on my chest, then fisted my shirt and inhaled uneven, shallow breaths, regaining control of her own mind.

  “Do you need diazepam?” I whispered when the tears stopped.

  She shook her head. “Don’t let go of me.”

  “I won’t.” My hands slid down to her bum, and I lifted her up then turned around, aiming for the living room. “Mel, can you get her a cup of peppermint tea?”

  She stood in the doorway; her eyes wide. “Yes, sure,” she muttered, and rushed to put the kettle on.

  Nick watched me, a puzzled expression on his face. He moved when I carried Nadia out of the kitchen. She held onto me like a frightened, defenceless child when I sat down in the armchair. She hid her face in my neck, knotting her fingers behind my head.

  “How did you…” Nick began, but I didn’t let him finish.

  “Shut up for five minutes.”

  He crossed his hands, swallowed his pride and watched the most important woman in our lives in my arms. The sound of the water boiling in the kitchen grew louder at a turtle’s pace while my fingers ghosted up and down Nadia’s spine. Her pulse slowed down, and before the kettle clicked, she sat up and wiped the last tears away.

  “Thank you.” She pressed her cool lips to my cheekbone.

  The worst was over, but she was nowhere near as calm as I would like to see her. She bit on the inside of her lip, and I almost heard the screams in her head.

  “Don’t thank me for doing my job.” I caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I’m proud of you, baby. A month ago, you would have swallowed five pills and washed them down with tequila.”

  Mel entered the room and handed a cup of steaming tea to Nadia, concern on her freckled face. She was always the one to see the positive side of things, besides anything related to her wedding. Watching Nadia, Mel looked powerless, and so did Nick. I expected them to deal with it better: to have a plan of action, to know what to do.

  After all, they had seen it before. They witnessed Nadia’s meltdowns, her panic attacks and cries, yet they acted ignorant.

  “How are you feeling?” Mel took a seat on the far end of the couch and placed her palm on Nick’s neck, stroking him in a soothing manner. “You need something else? Wine maybe?”

  Nadia shook her head, her body jolted by the remnants of sobs. “Tea is fine.” She turned to Nick. “You’re right. It’s not my fault Adrian overdosed. I can’t help but feel guilty. I left him when he needed me most.” She took my hand and laced our fingers. “The psychiatrist at the rehab facility told me to leave. He said Adrian was a lost cause, and I believed him. I have watched Adrian hit the bottom time and time again. When I thought he couldn’t sink any lower, he proved me wrong.”

  Nick looked from the hand I held on Nadia’s back to her face. “Will you ever tell me what he did?”

  She dug her nails into my hand and shook her head. “Is his addiction dragging us both down not enough? That was the root of every problem we had. The cause of every fight. It lasted for months, and you know I’m not the strongest person.”

  “You shouldn’t protect him.”

  Nick knew there was more to the story. We all did but pushing her for answers didn’t do her any good. I couldn’t blame him for trying though. The scenarios that played in my head turned worse: they were more sinister every day, and Nick must have had similar ideas.

  “It’s not him I’m trying to protect.”

  Nick squeezed the bridge of his nose, and shook his head, letting out a long breath. “I’m sorry that I shouted at you, I just… I hate seeing you like this. I wish I knew how to help you.”

  “You can’t. No one can.”

  He crossed his arms, motioning his chin to me. “He can.”

  “He numbs the pain and fear, but the bruises remain. Don’t be mad at him, Nick. Be mad at me. I’m the one using him here.”

  She slid off my lap, and stood, setting the half-empty cup of tea on the coffee table. “I need a cigarette. You two,” she pointed to Nick, then to me, “need to talk. Come on, Mel. Keep me company.”

  They left the room, and I braced myself for a fair dose of venom. My fists balled when he got up. I let him hit me once, and once was enough. My muscles turned to stone; the atmosphere felt heavy, but it relaxed when Nick crossed the room, took two crystal glasses from the liquor cabinet, and filled them with whiskey.

  “I was six when Nadia was born,” Nick gave me one glass, sat on the couch and drank half of his drink. “My father always told me that nothing matters more than family, and that one day it’ll just be me and Nadia. He said that I should take care of her the best I can.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “God, I hated that annoying little girl for years.”

  My eyes snapped to him. I hadn’t expected that. Nick never told me why he loved Nadia so much, but I assumed he was always over-the-top protective of his sister.

  “She was always in the way, messing with my stuff, breaking my toys and asking more questions than there were answers. She giggled all the time and clung to me as if I were her security blanket. All I wanted was for her to leave me alone.” He rested his elbows on his knees. “Dad kept telling me to be patient, to play with her and loved her, but I used to lock the door to my room so she couldn’t come in.”

  He raked his hand through his hair, shame crossing his face.

  “When I was eleven, Nadia caught the flu. I was happy that she wasn’t well, because she didn’t bother me for once,” his voice trembled, but he took a deep breath to calm down. “Two days later, Nadia ended up in the hospital with a bad case of pneumonia. She was hooked to IV’s, couldn’t eat or drink and every time she coughed, she turned blue.”

  He paused for a minute, staring at the floor as if relieving that day, and I could tell by the look on his face that he hated himself for treating Nadia like a burden when she was little.

  “She was too weak to speak for the first two days. She slept most of the time, and I sat by her bed, read her stories an
d prayed that she would smile and ask stupid questions. She spent a week in the hospital, and the lesson my father tried to teach me since she was born finally sunk in. Family comes first, and Nadia is the most important part of my family.”

  That explained why he loved her more than any normal brother loves his sister. Nick crashed with reality when he saw Nadia in the hospital bed. Even if he pushed those thoughts away, even if he didn’t acknowledge them, at some point he had to fear that he would lose her, and there’s no better wake-up call than that.

  “I’m not here to take her from you, Nick.”

  He sat straight with his eyes trained on me. “I know. I’m sorry I hit you, and I’m sorry for how I handled the situation. I pretended not to see, but I knew there was something going on between you two. You’re a completely different guy when she’s around. We both know how you treated women, so don’t blame me for freaking out. She’s my sister. The last thing I want is to see her get hurt.”

  “Your reaction didn’t surprise me. I didn’t expect a blessing, and I still don’t. You need time to understand that I love her.”

  He frowned and stared at me for three seconds before his eyebrows rose and his lips parted. “What did you say?”

  “I love her.”

  I didn’t plan the confession. It came out spontaneously but felt right, and defined the feelings I felt for Nadia and showed me just how pure they were. I was lost in that girl, buried in her mindset, beauty and personality—and her strength. She had more of it than Nick and me combined.

  Nick exhaled again, but this time easier, as if relieved. His expression changed from annoyance and reserve to poorly concealed satisfaction.

  We were close friends for two years, and if it weren’t for my lifestyle, Nick wouldn’t mind me dating his sister. Hell, he might be the one to set us up in the first place, but my fucking-and-firing the blondes didn’t put me high on the list of guys worthy of Nadia.

  He thought I wanted to get in her pants. But since I didn’t…

  Okay, fine—but since that wasn’t all I wanted, he couldn’t object.

  “If you love her, why the big secret? Amelia said you were sneaking around since the day Nadia came back.”

  “You don’t want the details,” I said. “Let’s say she had me at an arm’s length this whole time.”

  I would never admit that I slept with the light of his world a few hours after we met. There was no rational way of explaining how, since the first time Nadia looked at me, I had no fucking idea where was up and where was down and that I wanted her for myself then and there.

  Nick wouldn’t understand that something drew us to each other; that we felt better when we were close. He would just think I exploited her weaknesses.

  “I don’t want details. Definitely not but tell me why you didn’t say anything. You should have come to me.”

  My mind drew a blank. There was no easy way around this apart from making up a lame excuse, but I had lied enough the past weeks, and Nick deserved the truth. A mellowed version of it at least.

  “We weren’t dating until a few days ago. I told you she kept me at a distance. She only caved when I came back early from Madrid. Before that we were just…”

  “Sleeping around?” Nick fumed; his nostrils flared.

  “Kind of. I calm her down and she used that to work through her issues. She didn’t want much from me, but I think after a while she realised I wouldn’t give up. As unbelievable as that sounds, she was the one to dictate the terms.”

  He didn’t look like he believed me, but he didn’t look ready to tear me apart either. I took it as a good sign.

  “I know I’m the last guy you would like to see with her …”

  “It’s not that. I had it in my head that Adrian was the one, and I can’t seem to shake the idea. Maybe because he was her first serious boyfriend, or maybe because they worked so fucking well together.”

  Kick me, why don’t you.

  He finished his drink and crossed the room again for a refill. “Jesus, I can’t believe you love her.”

  Neither could I. It felt good to admit it and even better to feel it, but Nadia had to deal with her past before she could hear it. She cared about Adrian too much, and I had a feeling that if it weren’t for me, she would pack her bags and fly over to New York just to hold his hand.

  “You’ve been whining at me for two years to settle down,” I said.

  He chuckled. “If I knew you would have picked my sister, I wouldn’t have let her leave for New York two years ago.”

  That was more than I ever hoped to hear from him. It was an approval, the blessing I didn’t expect, the trust I thought I broke.

  Nick was smarter than most and knew my asshole persona was just a front. He saw the way I acted around Nadia, the way I looked at her, and after two years of friendship, he knew she wasn’t just any other girl.

  She was the girl.

  CHAPTER 27

  NADIA

  Lesser evil

  Adrian’s lifeless body woke me up time after time for three nights in a row. Thomas stayed at my apartment, but his proximity failed to keep the nightmares at bay.

  Or maybe it did—maybe I wouldn’t sleep at all if he weren’t there.

  Kelly, Adrian’s mom, called the morning after my meltdown, sounding as if the weight of the world sat on her shoulders. She cried, pleaded, then begged me to take Adrian back. I understood why she changed her mind, but I couldn’t help but feel betrayed and abandoned.

  The doctor flashed a light into my eyes. “Can you see okay? No double or blurred vision?”

  “No,” I slurred, and closed my eyes. “Just dizziness and nausea. It hurts like no headache I’ve ever had.”

  He pressed his thumb to my wrist to check my pulse. “I’ll give you codeine for the ribs, and it should help with the head pain too, although they might not work for the concussion. Depends on how bad it is.” He handed me a paper cup with four pills. “That’s for pain and nausea. There’s a prescription waiting for you in the pharmacy downstairs.”

  Over the course of six months, I had been a regular visitor in the Accident and Emergency Department, and most of the doctors knew me by name. At first, they believed the stories about my clumsiness, but since I arrived with a black eye and a split lip that required two stitches, they tried to convince me to press charges. After that, Adrian learnt to watch where he hit me so I wouldn’t walk around campus with a bruised face. Instead of closing his fingers around my neck, he gripped my arms to push me against the wall. Instead of hitting my face, he threw me on the floor, and I would hurt my knees or hands.

  The physical pain was nothing in comparison to the fear he could evoke just by looking at me with dilated pupils.

  The fear of pain is worse than pain itself.

  “You need anything else?” the doctor asked, his hand on the handle.

  I dropped my gaze to the floor, tears in the corners of my eyes. My heart thudded against my broken ribs each breath more painful than the previous. I shuddered and caught onto my side, doubling over, my mouth parted in a silent scream.

  “Can I,” I whispered, too afraid that nothing but a high-pitched sob would leave my lips if I tried to speak up. “Can I stay here for a while?”

  The door opened, but no footsteps followed, and I brought my head up to meet the piercing gaze of the doctor’s blue eyes.

  “Let me call the police, Nadia.”

  I shook my head no, and I regretted it when the nausea intensified.

  “Please. How much more can you take?”

  “No, he needs help, not police. He needs a doctor, but he’s not ready yet,” I muttered and wiped away the single tear that dared to roll down my cheek. “You’re right. I can’t take any more. I can’t watch him destroy everything he ever cared for.”

  Adrian’s boxing career was no longer an option; his grades were slipping, and he was on the verge of being kicked out of school. All his friends turned their backs on him. Ty lasted longest—three
months before he packed his bags and moved back home to New Jersey after pleading, threatening and bargaining with me proved fruitless.

  He tried every trick in the book to make me leave Adrian.

  How could I? I was ashamed, scared and weak. I had no strength left to save Adrian, let alone myself, but I still hoped for better days. I hoped that one day Adrian would realise how much he lost, and it would push him to seek help.

  I was done hoping.

  Something broke inside me while I lay on that hospital bed. Whatever it was, it hit me hard, and every ounce of rage that Adrian took out on me, every bruise, cut and tear resurfaced.

  I couldn’t take any more.

  I called Ty and asked him to meet me in Washington where Adrian’s mother, Kelly lived, oblivious to her son’s addiction.

  When she found out about everything Adrian did to me, she cried for hours. Afterwards, she organised the rehab, paid off a few doctors to have Adrian admitted against his will, and made me swear to leave and never come back to New York.

  “I won’t come,” I told her, breaking through her pleading. “Please don’t ask me to go through this again. Ty said Adrian is doing better, and that the anti-depressants are working.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “He needs to get better for himself, not for me, Kelly, or else he’ll relapse a few weeks or months down the line. I’ll stay in touch with Ty, and call Adrian when he can take phone calls again.”

  I cut the call and switched the cell phone off just in case she would try again. My resolution not to visit Adrian hung by a thread. I reached for my suitcase ten times over the past three days, but Thomas’s voice sounded in my head every time.

  “I’ve got you. I won’t let go.”

  He said that when he witnessed my first meltdown after the housewarming party. He sounded like salvation.

  ***

  Thomas stopped in front of his bedroom door later that evening, holding my hand and acting self-conscious.

  He positioned me in front of him before he pushed the door open, his hands wrapped around my stomach.

  The bed was set with snow-white sheets and half-a-dozen matching pillows. Two bouquets of red roses stood on the night tables; petals littered the floor. The whole room was candle lit, soft romantic music played from the speaker on the windowsill. Two glasses along with a bottle of champagne sat next to the third and largest bouquet on the ottoman. It was perfect and breath-taking, like a set of a romantic movie.