The Navigator (Mountains Series Book 5)

by Phoebe Alexander

  “I really need to go to the hospital first to see if Garrett is okay, honey. I am so sorry!” She pulled her daughter back into her arms and kissed the top of her head. “I promise we will have the rest of the weekend together, okay? I don’t know what’s going to happen with the other performances.”

  Mishti pulled away from her mother and back to her boyfriend’s side. “Okay, that’s fine. I hope he’ll be okay.” Anjuli knew her daughter well enough to know she was putting on a brave face, hiding her true disappointment that she wasn’t going to be meeting them at home.

  “I won’t be long, okay?” She turned to the young man again. “It was great to meet you, Jensen. You two make yourselves at home, and I’ll be there as soon as I can be, alright?

  Anjuli, dressed again in her street clothes, made her way from the nurse’s station down to Garrett’s room. He’d been admitted for observation. The nurses weren’t thrilled about her going back, but since no other family members had come to inquire about Mr. Stone’s condition, they acquiesced when she noted that his only family was 3000 miles away.

  The doctor was leaving Garrett’s room as Anjuli arrived at the doorstep. She looked young, probably in her early thirties, with pixie-cut brown hair and delicate features. “Hello, are you Mr. Stone’s relative?” she asked in a smooth, high-pitched voice that matched her size.

  “I’m Dr. Anjuli Raina,” she said, extending her hand. She always used her title when meeting medical doctors. It seemed to garner her more respect than if she didn’t. “I’m a close friend. Mr. Stone doesn’t have any immediate family members in the area.”

  She nodded. “He had a nasty fall. And a BAL of .17,” she noted. “I understand he passed out backstage during a theatre performance?”

  Anjuli nodded. “Yes, I’m his castmate.”

  “The director of your show was here earlier; apparently he witnessed Mr. Stone’s fall. We’re monitoring his head injury, and he’s been in and out, but we don’t expect he’ll be here long. A few more hours, probably. It’s not serious; he just needs to dry himself out.”

  Anjuli suppressed an eyeroll. So this is what happens when I’m not around? He drinks himself to death. Almost literally.

  “I thought I heard your voice,” she heard from behind her. It was Nigel, who had come from the direction of the waiting room down the hall. “Was it the gunshot that triggered it? He just fucking fell out of his chair and hit the floor like he’d been shot.”

  In the bed, Garrett stirred, mumbling something incoherently. The doctor shook her head, clearly unimpressed with her patient, and took off down the hall, her stiletto heels clacking on the tile.

  “My daughter is waiting for me at home,” Anjuli told Nigel as she headed in to Garrett’s side, her heart sinking at the sight of him with wires and tubes connected to his body. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, and his fire-red hair flamed brightly against the stark white bedsheet and light blue gown he wore.

  Nigel ignored her statement and scrubbed his hands down his face, smashing his features in succession from his forehead to his lips. “Fuck, Juli. What are we going to do now?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’d tried to keep him away from the booze, but—”

  “You can’t blame yourself,” Nigel fired back, nearly laughing at the insinuation she could be to blame for Garrett’s issues.

  “I pulled the trigger,” she reminded him. She exhaled a long, frazzled breath. “He has PTSD, I’m sure of it. Maybe it had something to do with a gunshot?”

  “You think? It’s not like we haven’t used fake gunshots in that scene this whole time, though,” Nigel reminded her.

  She nodded. “I know, but there is a big difference between a recorded sound effect and the real thing. Besides, he’s been really stressed with some family stuff lately. Plus the drinking...” She shook her head and let out another breath. “Perfect storm for a PTSD flare-up.”

  “So, what does he need, a service animal or something?” Nigel asked, rolling his eyes. “He’s always been such a drama queen. And I didn’t think he had any family, anyway. That’s what he always told me. Said he’d grown up in foster care.”

  Her brows squeezed together as she tried to reconcile that with what he’d told her. She knew his father walked out when he was young, then went on to get married and have kids, Lilly and Jackson. But she’d always thought he’d grown up with his mother. She’d never heard foster care mentioned, but depending on his experience, that could be where his PTSD stemmed from.

  Then it hit her what Nigel had said. “Fuck, can you be a little more respectful?” She glared at him, her arms flying up to cross over her chest. She had no tolerance for mental health-shaming. None whatsoever. “There’s obviously something deeper going on with him, and we don’t know what it is. We shouldn’t assume, either.”

  Nigel rolled his eyes. “I should have known you were going to ride in here on your white horse and try to rescue him. For fuck’s sake, Juli, don’t you know what kind of man Garrett is?”

  The rage began to bubble up inside her the more Nigel spoke. “Yeah, a hurting one,” she fired back.

  “Wrong.” Now Nigel was face-to-face with her, mere inches away. In the bed, Garrett moaned a little, but his eyes never opened. There were a few muscle twitches, but that was it beyond the slow, steady beep of his monitor.

  “Garrett Stone is a user, Juli. He’s nothing but a fucking user. He uses people and throws them away like trash. He doesn’t need to be saved or rescued; he’s just a selfish little boy in a man’s body. And yeah, he has a big cock and knows how to use it—but that is pretty much the only goddamn thing he’s worth.”

  And with that, Nigel stormed out, leaving Anjuli gasping for a comeback.

  Nineteen

  She couldn’t get Nigel’s voice out of her head as she drove back to her apartment. She reminded herself multiple times that Nigel was jealous of her; his opinion was biased. And what did it matter anyway? They weren’t together, together. They were just fucking.

  I just need to focus on Mishti, she told herself, pulling into her parking space in the garage. She took a deep breath, trying to clear that vision of Garrett lying in the hospital bed from her mind. If I can just ditch that image and Nigel’s voice, I’ll be fine.

  She unlocked her door, rushing in to find Mishti and Jensen curled up on the sofa with the TV playing something on Netflix, both sound asleep. She glanced up at the clock in the kitchen. It was after ten by now. Wow, it’s gotten late, and they’re probably exhausted from the long drive.

  When Mishti told her mother she may bring her boyfriend for the weekend, Anjuli was left scrambling for a decision on sleeping arrangements. In the end, Anjuli didn’t see the point of making them sleep in separate beds. After all, they probably slept together at college. Jensen lived in a frat house; she couldn’t imagine there wasn’t copious copulation going down within those four walls at any given time.

  My parents would flip out if they knew I let her stay in the same room as her boyfriend. When Anjuli was growing up, there were so many rules about dating and courtship and chaperones. She was never left alone with a young man. And where did it leave her? Exploring her sexuality and making up for lost time when she was in her forties.

  Jensen’s eyes flickered open while Anjuli stood there surveying the scene. “We fell asleep,” he said, a defeated tone in his voice.

  “It’s okay,” she assured him. “I am sorry it took me so long. I don’t know what’s going to happen with the show—our lead hasn’t even been discharged from the hospital yet.”

  Mishti began to stir, stretching her arms over her head as she yawned. When her eyes popped open, she seemed embarrassed that her mother had found her in her boyfriend’s lap. She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Ugh, Mom, what took so long?”

  Anjuli apologized again, “I’m so sorry. I don’t really know what the rest of the weekend is going to look like now, but maybe we can go to brunch tomorrow? Does that sound okay
?”

  Mishti nodded. “Good, ‘cause we still need to talk to you.”

  Anjuli’s brows tacked together as she studied her daughter’s face. She had creases on her cheeks from sleep and looked exhausted. It had been a rough semester for her so far; almost all of her texts were complaints about biochem. How did you pass this class, anyway? she had asked her mom.

  Her maternal mind invented a list of about fifteen things her daughter could possibly need to talk to her about in person, and at least two-thirds of them were very bad things. And most of the rest weren’t exactly good things. Anjuli felt her blood pressure rising; her heart began to flutter erratically. She had been doing so good at taking care of herself, and then this week happened. Between Garrett, the show, and now this, she wasn’t sure how she was going to make it.

  “Can you just tell me tonight?” She hated the weariness in her voice, but she was at her wit’s end, unsure if she could handle a single other thing on her plate. She thought of her most resilient clients and tried to channel their inner strength. They’d been through so much worse. She couldn’t even imagine how horrifying it must be for them.

  Okay, whatever this is, I can handle it, she told herself.

  Mishti yawned again and looked from her mother to Jensen and back again. The young man looked positively terrified but seemed to nod, either that or it was just a gigantic gulp, Anjuli noted.

  “You might want to sit down for this, Mom,” Mishti warned, reaching over to enclose her boyfriend’s hand in hers.

  Now her heart was thundering all over again, trying to take flight and break free from her chest. “Just spit it out, honey. I’ve had a long day, and I want to get some sleep.”

  Her daughter’s dark eyes narrowed. “We’re getting married,” she blurted out.

  Well, that was one of my guesses, Anjuli noted, scrambling for a reaction. She settled on a sigh, and it was not a particularly happy sigh. “Don’t you think you guys are a little young to do that? Maybe you can wait until you at least have your bachelor’s degrees?”

  “Mom,” Mishti said, and though her eyes were wide, Anjuli could tell her daughter was trying to hide her smile.

  And that’s when she knew. She knew what was about to come out of her daughter’s mouth. Despite knowing, it wasn’t one bit easier when she finally announced, “Mom, I’m pregnant.”

  He felt her presence. Her hand enveloping his, skin warm, soft. But every time he strained to see her face, the darkness shifted, and he saw scenes of horror instead. Heaving chests, gasping for a last breath of air. Blood-streaked chin. The silvery woods, bathed in moonlight, casting shadows all around. Searching for a place to hide.

  But he could never hide. That was the problem.

  “Anjuli?” he called out. There was something safe in her. Something he wanted to trust. Even if she wasn’t explicitly offering—she insisted on no strings—she was so open, so generous. Her fruit was ripe and there for the picking.

  Anjuli? He couldn’t tell if the voice was coming from inside his head or produced by his own two lips. He cried out into the darkness, trying to shatter those images, those ghosts. Their vapory tentacles wrapped around him...vises...chains. Squeezing his lungs, his guts. Twisting. Stabbing.

  “Hey, Nav?” The voice came from far away, so distant he’d have to crawl over a thousand mountains to respond. His body was shaking. Being shook. A firm hand on his shoulder.

  And then everything went from a giant movie screen in his mind to a tiny pinpoint of light right behind his retina, so close, he could reach out and grab it. Squash it. His eyes flicked open, his chest still heaving. Chase’s hand was on his arm.

  “Fuck, lindo, you’ve been freaking me out all night,” came his roommate’s voice. And it sounded real, not distorted like he was underwater. Not like the voices he’d been hearing.

  “Anjuli?” Her name was still on his lips.

  “She went home, lindo. Her daughter is here for the weekend, remember? Do you know what happened?”

  Garrett glanced around the room. He was in his bed, but he had no clue how he had gotten there. As soon as his last real memory gripped him, his whole body stiffened. A gunshot. He was in the dressing room talking to Nigel and then...bang! That was the last thing he remembered.

  He shook his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what the gunshot meant, why it had affected him, but it wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. Could talk about. He never had. Never. Not once. Not despite a dozen experts and professionals trying to wrangle it out of him. In the case of Garrett Stone versus the 9mm, he pleaded the fifth. Except for that brief flash of a moment he tried to protect himself, assert his innocence. And that one solitary time had been a watery vomit of fragmented memories.

  “Can I get you something? Water? Anything?” Those angelic blue eyes were pulling him back to the bedroom, back to reality. There was an even thinner line between real and ghosts than ever before, and Garrett kept dancing back and forth right over it.

  “My phone?” he questioned, searching Chase’s eyes for some reason why he was being so kind. What does he want from me?

  Chase reached behind him to a plastic bag and pulled out Garrett’s phone and wallet. “They gave these to me in the hospital when they discharged you.”

  “You brought me home?” He accepted the phone from his roommate but didn’t open it yet.

  “Yeah, I got there not long after Anjuli did. The director—Nigel was his name, I think? He was there when they admitted you, but he apparently left. Anjuli was relieved to see me because she needed to get home to her daughter. I guess being your roommate, I’m the one responsible for your ass, eh, lindo?” He laughed and patted Garrett’s leg. “I’m just teasing you. I’m sure you’d do the same for me.”

  Garrett tried to force his lips into a smile, but they stubbornly denied the command. His face hurt. His whole body hurt. “What the fuck did they give me in there?”

  Chase shrugged. “No clue. I just know you hit your head when you fell. They were worried about a concussion, but they released you a few hours later and said you were fine. They just wanted me to keep an eye on you.”

  His phone said 9 AM. He’d slept through the night, but he didn’t feel rested. He felt like he’d wrestled with ghosts the entire time he’d been out.

  “Okay, lindo, I need to hit the gym, then get ready for work tonight. Are you gonna be okay?”

  Garrett nodded. “Yeah, of course. Thank you for everything, man. I owe you.”

  Chase grinned as his eyebrows waggled. “I can think of some favors you could do...” He laughed and patted Garrett’s knee again. “When you’re up for it, I mean.”

  Garrett’s lips finally cracked a smile, even though it sent a shot of pain right through him. They were dry. He watched his roommate saunter out of the room before he brought his phone to life, looking for missed calls and messages.

  There was nothing from Anjuli, but he did have an email back from James McAllister. He opened it, and the faster his eyes scanned the text, the more rapidly his heart began to beat.

  She woke up feeling like she’d been hit by a truck, every fiber of her being aching with the weight bearing down on her. After her daughter’s announcement last night, she’d stood there in the living room, too stunned to speak.

  “Aren’t you going to say something, Mom?” Mishti had finally pressed. Her eyes were wide and scared, and as much as Anjuli wanted to empathize—having been in practically the exact same position—the feeling dominating her was anger.

  We had this discussion so many times. I’d even asked her to go on The Pill. She refused.

  Anjuli’s heart ached knowing what her daughter was up against. And she wasn’t in grad school like Anjuli had been when she got pregnant. She was only a sophomore. She had two and three-quarters years to finish her bachelor’s degree. And Jensen was only one year older.

  They’re children! her mind screamed out.

  She had scrambled for that professional face she used at
work, the one that dealt with hurting soldiers, with veterans recovering from wounds both inside and out. “Honey, it is late, and this is a lot for me to process. Let’s talk about all this in the morning, alright?”

  Mishti’s face had turned cold, her eyes narrowing. “You’re the one who said to tell you now.”

  Anjuli had taken a deep breath as if that would keep her from collapsing under the weight. “I needed to know so I can start to process things. I’m sure I’ll be much more capable of wrapping my head around this in the morning after some sleep.”

  She stepped over to her daughter and offered her a hand, summoning every ounce of strength she could muster to bring the slight girl to her feet. She wrapped her arms around this body, this beautiful masterpiece of human flesh she had created and nourished and nurtured, and held her tightly. “Get some rest,” she advised, then retreated to her bedroom, leaving her daughter with a tear glistening in her eyes.

  Morning hadn’t erased the anger dominating her heart, though. She hoped to warm to the idea, but she just kept coming back to the fear her daughter was ruining her life.

  What the fuck is wrong with you? another voice inside her called out. You were so hurt by your own parents’ rejection of you and your choices, and now you’re going to do the same to your own daughter?

  No, she wasn’t going to disown Mishti. That had never been on the table. But what about her education? Her career? What happened to those things?

  And maybe, there was a part of her, one she didn’t want to acknowledge existed, that was jealous Jensen was still in the picture. He hadn’t walked away. He had proposed. He wanted to have a family with her daughter and their child. That is something that Mishti’s father never wanted. Anjuli had been left to deal with it alone.

  She sighed, hating that her mind even went there. But at least I acknowledged it, right? she told herself as she splashed cold water on her face while she waited for the water in the shower to heat. Blowing out a breath of frustration, she stretched down to reach her toes. I’ll do a few yoga poses, she decided. And then some meditation.