Flutter

by Olivia Evans

  “How long have you known that the girl I love more than anything in this world has been wasting away in a hospital? She doesn’t even know who I am,” he whispered, his chest tight.

  “I will tell you everything I know, but let me remind you of something, young man,” his grandmother said, her voice taking on a no-nonsense tone that had the ability to make even the strongest man pause. “I am not the enemy here. I’m the one who set you on the path to find Presley, and even if you don’t agree with the way I went about it, you need to remember that. I did what I thought was best for you. I did what I could to ensure you had every opportunity to get her back. Now, you will listen to what I have to say, and you will not interrupt me. You can be as angry as you’d like, but you will show me the respect I deserve. Is that understood?”

  Dylan felt like he had when he was five years old and lied about breaking her favorite vase. As much as he wanted to scream and yell, he wanted answers more. The only way that would happen was if he played by her rules. With gritted teeth, he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  His grandmother sighed again, and when she spoke this time, her voice was softer, tired, aged. “When you came back to New York after news of her death, I knew you were never going to be the same. I could see it in your eyes, the way they had dimmed. You lost your light that day, and it broke my heart. Up until then, even though you’d shut out the world and lost yourself in your studies, you still carried a spark of hope with you. But something else took over after her funeral. It was like you’d finally found a semblance of peace, closure. Determination like I’d never witnessed in another human being consumed you. Your desire to help others almost made you seem like the old you again. It wasn’t the same as before, but I wasn’t fool enough to believe you would ever be the same again. Not after losing her.

  “The way I found out was pure dumb luck. I’d been coerced to attend a benefit held by Governor Cooper. It was getting late, and most of the people in attendance were embarrassingly drunk. Someone had approached Governor Cooper to offer their condolences…” Her voice trailed off, and Dylan had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep his rage under control. Her parents’ announcement that Presley had died in a car accident in Italy came just before her father revealed his intentions to run for a second term. Dylan wanted to kill him.

  “Go on,” Dylan urged, wanting to move past the painful memory and on to how his grandmother learned Presley was alive.

  She cleared her throat and continued. “I was just about to slip away when I heard his assistant speak to the gentlemen next to him. I believe he, too, worked closely with the governor. His words didn’t make sense at the time. Both men were clearly inebriated, but something about their exchange left me unsettled.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said, ‘I hope when I die, I have a setup as nice as that girl. You wouldn’t believe the money Alexander forks out to keep her dead.’ The men laughed as they walked to the bar, but I stood there replaying their words. I understood their implication, but I just couldn’t believe it was true. Could she really be alive? Would Alexander and Lilith do something that cruel?” His grandmother sighed. “I tried to let it go, but I couldn’t. Eventually, I hired a private detective and explained who I was looking for. I paid him a handsome penny to do whatever he must to find answers. It took him nearly eight months to find her. I don’t want to think about how many laws he broke to do so. When he told me, I had to see for myself. I had to be certain before I told you, so I boarded a plane and flew out there. I met with Dr. Burton and explained that my grandson would be graduating soon, and I wanted to do everything I could to help find the best job possible. He put me in touch with Dr. Edmonds, and together we chatted and toured the hospital. I asked him about Hilltop. He seemed a bit wary, but after expressing my interest in donating to the hospital you chose to work for, he was all smiles. He walked me through the common areas and the grounds. When I saw her, my heart nearly stopped.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Dylan asked, his jaw tight.

  “What would you have done if I had?”

  “I would have gotten her out of there!” he shouted, his breaths coming out in short, broken pants.

  “No, you wouldn’t have,” she whispered. “You wouldn’t have made it past the front door. And once her parents were alerted, they would have moved her, and you would have lost her all over again. Don’t you see this is the only way? If you knew she was alive, you would have left school and gone in with guns blazing. You were in your final year of school. I love Presley, but you will always come first to me. I needed you to graduate, and you needed to be in a position where you could actually get to her.”

  Dylan blew out a frustrated breath and raked his hand through his hair. He understood her reasoning. He would have done exactly what she said. He would have left school and thrown everything away. He would have lost Presley all over again.

  “I might not like it, but I understand why you kept it from me. What I don’t understand is why you continued to keep it from me. Once I’d graduated, why didn’t you tell me then?”

  “For the same reason, Dylan. Tell me something. After you got a good look at her, what was your first thought?”

  Dylan closed his eyes at the memory. “That something was very wrong.”

  “Did you tell anyone?”

  Dylan shook his head even though she couldn’t see him. He knew where she was going with her questions, and he hated that, once again, she was right. “No.”

  “If I had waited until you graduated, would you have acted any differently than if I had told you the moment I found out?”

  “No,” he whispered again.

  “You needed to see her, Dylan. You needed to see what they’ve done to her. Now, you need to help her in a way that only you can. Carrying her out of there over your shoulder is not what Presley needs. What they’ve done to her…” His grandmother’s voice caught. The sound caused Dylan’s throat to tighten.

  “I know, Grandmother.”

  “I want you to bring our girl back, Dylan. I want you two to have the life you deserve, but it's going to take time. She doesn’t need her long-lost love, she needs a doctor.”

  “She doesn’t even know who I am.”

  “Which is why you need to take things slow. You need to be discreet. No one can know your relationship with her. You must tread carefully.”

  “I’m sorry I was so angry with you. I’m still angry, but I understand now.”

  “Be angry all you like. All that matters now is that you use all those years of school and training to find a way to bring her back.”

  “I will.”

  “Damn right, you will,” she huffed into the phone. “Now, go back to bed. It’s too early for you to be up. We’ll talk soon. I love you, kid.”

  “Love you, too.” The phone went silent a second later. Dylan fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes. He was still so angry with his grandmother, but if he knew anything, it was that his grandmother loved Presley like she was part of the family. It didn’t give her a full pass, but it counted for something.

  Chapter Five

  September 2010

  A soft breeze swirled the sweet smell of gardenias in the air as Dylan, Presley, and his grandmother sat on the terrace drinking tea and looking at pictures from their childhood. His grandmother’s smile and laughter were infectious as she told stories about the past. It was the happiest he’d seen her in a long time. Not that he was surprised; Presley had that effect on people.

  “Oh! Do you remember this one?” Dylan’s grandmother asked, pointing to a photo in the album in her lap.

  Presley covered her mouth and giggled as she leaned it for a closer look. Dylan didn’t need to look; he’d seen the picture a hundred times. “Look at my knees,” Presley laughed, running her hands over her currently cleaner, longer, and smoother legs. Dylan looked away. Thinking about Presley’s legs wasn’t the best idea with his grandmother sitting so close. Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t f
ollow her lead. Slipping his hand over her bare knee, he squeezed. She cut her eyes in his direction, a coy smile on her lips as she turned back to his grandmother.

  “Your mother almost had a heart attack when she came out to the patio and found half my garden dug up, with you standing in the middle of it, covered in dirt and holding a shovel!”

  “I was looking for worms,” Presley mumbled, her cheeks tinted pink as she took a bite from her cucumber sandwich.

  Dylan shook his head as he looked to where Presley had destroyed his grandmother’s flowers when they were kids. “You’d likely scream bloody murder and hit someone with a shovel if worms came within ten feet of you now.”

  Presley chuckled and nodded. “You’re probably right. Although looking back, I wish I’d hated worms then as much as I do now.” A hush fell over the room as everyone remembered what else happened that day. Presley’s father did not find the humor in the situation that Dylan’s grandmother had. He’d been furious, and his verbal lashing and rough grip when he’d yanked Presley out of the garden still made Dylan’s blood boil.

  “It wasn’t that big of a deal. They were only flowers. Your dad’s just a dick.”

  “Dylan!” his grandmother scolded. “Watch your language.”

  “Yes, Grandmother,” Dylan mumbled, not wanting to ruin the afternoon. His grandmother had invited Presley to lunch to spend time with her, not to listen to him complain about her shitty parents.

  A grin stretched across his face when Presley covered his hand with hers and whispered, “He really is.”

  “Yes, well, there’s no denying he has a bit of a temper…” Dylan’s grandmother trailed off, her lips pursing when she caught Dylan’s raised brow. “Fine. He’s insufferable, but there’s no reason to be crude.”

  Dylan’s grandmother turned to the next page and pointed out one of many pictures she’d snapped of Dylan and Presley when they were younger, the subject closed. In the early years, when her father had worked for Dylan’s family’s company, the two had spent most of their weekends together. Once Alexander branched out and formed his own business, the visits became less frequent until they stopped altogether. It wasn’t until Presley was older and could venture out on her own that she started coming around again. By then, they’d drifted apart, and Presley’s visits had more to do with seeing his grandmother than him. Still, he never gave up hope that one day they’d get things right, and apparently, neither had his grandmother.

  “My father looks so much younger,” Presley whispered, trailing her finger over a photo. Dylan leaned in closer for a look and shook his head.

  “He might look older now, but he was just as self-absorbed then as he is now,” he said, referring to the phone her father held tightly to his ear. Everyone else in the picture was smiling at the camera, but not Alexander, never Alexander. It was business first, business always.

  “Dylan, I won’t warn you again. You’re being rude. No matter how you feel about that man, he’s Presley's father, and you need to be respectful of that.”

  “It’s okay,” Presley said with a smile aimed at his grandmother. “Dylan’s just stressed because we still haven’t told my parents we’re dating.”

  “And why is that?” Dylan’s grandmother asked.

  Presley sighed. “Because I’m dreading it. I know exactly how he’s going to react, and it fits into all the adjectives Dylan has used to describe him today. Besides, it’s still early, anything could happen.”

  Dylan stiffened at her words. Tension rolled off him as he tried to get a look at her face, but she had her head turned, her hair shielding her from view. Her position felt intentional. Dylan’s grandmother patted Presley’s knee and leaned in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek before standing.

  “Everything will be as it should,” she said before giving Dylan a pointed look as she walked past them and back into the house. He knew she was telling him with her expression not to freak out, but that was easier said than done.

  “Hey,” Dylan whispered once they were alone. “I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to offend your father.”

  Presley twisted toward him and shook her head. “No. It’s not that. It’s just…we’ve only been dating for three weeks. And it’s been wonderful. I’m just… I don’t know. Waiting for the other shoe to drop? I sound like a lunatic.”

  Dylan leaned forward and covered her mouth with his, if for no other reason than to shut her up. Plus, kissing her had become one of his favorite pastimes. “You do sound like a lunatic,” he whispered, his lips still brushing against hers. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me until you tell me to leave, and even then, I might not go away.”

  Presley sighed, a sweet smile on her lips. “Look at you, romancing the shit out of me.”

  Dylan laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her flush against him. “Locked down, baby. I’m in my zone.”

  Presley hummed before falling quiet. She tugged at a loose thread on the end of his shirt for a few moments before speaking. “We should probably tell my father about us sooner rather than later. After the way you manhandled me at school during lunch, it wouldn’t be a stretch to worry we might be sent home from school for indecent exposure.”

  Dylan smirked. “It’s not my fault. I called your name three times. I don’t know what you were thinking about, but the look on your face…” Dylan pressed a soft kiss on Presley’s cheek before lowering his mouth and tugging gently on the lobe of her ear. “Let’s put it this way, if I hadn’t stopped you when I did, I might have gotten us both expelled.”

  Presley shivered as her hand found the top of Dylan’s thigh and squeezed. “Dylan behave,” Presley exhaled, her smile almost as mischievous as the one Dylan wore.

  “What fun is that?”

  Presley shook her head. “No fun at all. But let’s not piss him off just yet. At least give him a chance to build up a tolerance.”

  Dylan sighed in defeat and withdrew his hand from her thigh. “Fine. What do you have in mind?”

  “How about this weekend? He received some positive feedback yesterday about his chances to become governor, so he’s in an especially chipper mood.”

  Dylan’s eyes brightened. After her earlier comment, he wondered if she was putting off telling her parents because she had no intention of their relationship going anywhere. To know that wasn’t the case caused something to settle in his chest. Leaning forward, he kissed her lips with a smile.

  “Sounds good. Should I plan to come over for dinner?”

  “How about lunch on Saturday? Then we’ll have the rest of the day to hang out.”

  Dylan nodded. “Lunch is good. That gives us more time together.”

  “I’ve never seen anyone so eager to meet a girl’s parents. Especially not you. And here I thought I had you all figured out.”

  Dylan smirked as he stood and pulled Presley with him. “Obviously not. You didn’t know how I felt about you.”

  Presley blinked, her breath catching. “I’m still not sure that I do.”

  Dylan shook his head and licked his lips. “You’ll figure it out, Elvis.”

  “Is it weird that I still love that nickname?” Presley asked, lacing her fingers together around Dylan’s waist. The contact caused his heart to pound in his chest.

  “I’d be heartbroken if you didn’t.”

  “Well, we can’t have that,” she whispered, her hazel eyes burning a hole into him. “So, this weekend. My parents. Yes?”

  Dylan nodded and cleared his throat, overcome with emotion. “Yeah. We’ve got this.”

  “How long has this been going on?” Presley’s father asked, his eyes hard.

  Dylan took a sip of his water and smiled. Presley had blindsided her parents. As much as he wanted to be pissed, he understood. He pulled in a deep breath and tried to think of how his grandmother would handle a situation like this. Polite and at ease. At least until someone acted like an asshole. His eyes scanned the large ebony dining table. White ser
ving dishes and plates were accompanied by sparkling silverware, and white linen napkins lay across their laps. Sterile. He wondered once again how Presley could stand to live in a world of black and white with only the smallest splashes of color. Even the centerpiece of flowers was white.

  “Since school started back,” Dylan answered, shooting a warm smile toward Presley as Judith moved around the table filling their plates with salmon and greens and every other bland food he could think of. Presley’s mother, Lilith, made a sound of surprise. Presley groaned and rolled her eyes. Clearly, she hadn’t mastered Grandmother Ann’s tactic.

  “It’s really not that big of a deal. I don’t understand why you guys are being so weird,” Presley complained.

  “It most certainly is a big deal, young lady. I will soon be under constant scrutiny from the public, which means you will as well, along with anyone with whom you associate. The Walkers are a well-respected family, but it's a well-known fact that the younger generation,” he said, his eyes locked on Dylan, “tends to flaunt their not-so-gentlemanly behavior with little concern for their public image.”

  “Dad,” Presley hissed, her face red with embarrassment.

  Under the table, Dylan slipped his hand over the top of her thigh and squeezed. “It’s fine,” he whispered before turning his attention to her father. “I understand your concerns, Mr. Cooper. I promise I won’t do anything to jeopardize your upcoming campaign. As a matter of fact, when Grandmother found out Presley and I were dating, she inquired about how she could possibly contribute to your cause.”

  Presley’s father’s eyes widened then narrowed with displeasure. Beside him, Presley smirked. They’d have to talk about her poker face. Regardless, everyone at the table understood Dylan’s implication. Dylan’s grandmother had more money than God, and more often than not, any political candidate she backed found themselves in office. It was the exact reason Dylan dropped that bit of information. Her father knew exactly what it would mean for his candidacy.