by Olivia Evans
Clutching the back of his shirt, Presley melted against him. “I’m sorry,” she choked, her apology encompassing so much more than leaving him on the curb.
Dylan squeezed her tighter and shook his head. “I was so fucking worried about you.”
The sound of his voice caused guilt to hit her like a tidal wave. Her words were a jumbled mess, almost unintelligible. “I tried to stop, but it was too late. It was too late.”
Dylan cradled her face and tipped her chin. “What?” A chair scraped across the floor, the sound drawing Dylan’s attention away from Presley. He looked around the room and straightened his back. “Come on,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Let’s get you home.”
“Okay.”
With his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, Dylan led Presley to his waiting car. Helping her inside, he jogged around to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel. “Do we need to make any stops?”
Presley rested her head against the seat and looked out the window. “I just want to go home.”
After a long pause, Dylan sighed and pulled out of the parking lot. He tried several times to talk to her, but Presley’s silence remained. Defeated, he reached across the console and threaded their fingers together, the small gesture causing Presley’s chest to ache. When they arrived at her apartment building, he kept her tucked against his side as he led her to the elevator. The weight of the air surrounding them was nearly unbearable.
“Talk to me,” Dylan pleaded as Presley crawled into bed. “I was wrong to tell you not to do it. We’d made that decision, and I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I know you’re mad. You have every right to be. So just yell at me or something, anything.”
Presley met his worried gaze, her face etched in pain and regret. “You were right.”
Dylan blinked in surprise, his face drawn in confusion. “What? Right about what?”
Presley’s breath caught, and her stomach twisted as she relived the moment she had been rendered completely helpless. Her piercing cries for help held prisoner inside her mind, her body their tomb. “About not going through with it.”
The hope that peeked from under Dylan’s confusion was like a gunshot to her chest. He moved onto the bed and grabbed both her hands. She could feel the slight tremble of his clammy hands. “Presley, did you change your mind?”
“I did,” she whispered, her eyes wide, an almost manic look overtaking her features. “But I was too late. I tried, Dylan. I tried, but I was too late. Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I should have listened to you.” Her voice had taken on a hysterical tone, her words disjointed.
Dylan grabbed her arms and shook her once. “Presley,” he demanded. “I need you to calm down. You’re scaring me. I don’t understand what you’re telling me. What do you mean, you were too late? Please, help me understand.”
Presley’s shoulders slumped, and her head fell forward as fatigue and defeat washed over her. With a sadness she didn’t know existed, she explained what happened in the clinic. When she finished and exhaustion swept her into sleep, she felt no comfort in Dylan’s arms or the sweet words he whispered against her hair, not when she could feel the wetness of his tears burning into her skin.
Chapter Nineteen
Dylan
Present Day
Tears burned Dylan’s eyes as he rocked Presley in his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his words thick.
“Please,” Presley begged, her body limp. Each sob, each broken breath felt like a stake through Dylan’s chest. “I can’t lose him again, Dylan. I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”
“You are strong enough,” he argued, his jaw set and his eyes filled with determination. “I can’t lose you again. Do you understand me? I have lived without you for six long years. I won’t go another day.”
Presley’s brows dipped in confusion, and Dylan’s stomach bottomed out. He hadn’t meant to say that, but now that he had, there was no taking it back. “What do you mean, six years?”
“Fuck.” Dylan pulled in a deep breath and ground his teeth together.
“What do you mean six years, Dylan?” Her voice was edging toward hysterical as her breaths came in broken gasps.
“Presley, please. I need you to calm down. Here, take this.” Dylan reached into his pocket and pulled out a Xanax. Presley’s expression was a mixture of anger and horror as she slapped the pill from his hand.
“I don’t want drugs! I want answers!”
“And I’m going to give them to you, but I’m not going to get the chance if anyone comes in here and sees you like this. I’ve been slowly cutting your medications back, that’s why you’re remembering. If anyone finds out, we’re both screwed.”
Presley shook her head. “This is wrong. It’s all wrong. I’m not thinking clearly.”
“For the first time in years, that’s exactly what you’re doing. I know you’re scared and I know you’re confused, but I’m going to be here every step of the way. Do you hear me? I’m not going anywhere.”
Looking defeated and exhausted, Presley slumped against the wall. “I don’t remember anything. There’s just…gaps.”
Dylan sighed and offered her the Xanax once more. This time, she didn’t fight him. “It’s going to take time.”
“I feel like I’m losing him all over again,” she whimpered, her arms wrapping around her stomach.
Dylan moved to his knees, and after scooping Presley in his arms, rose to his feet. He placed her on the bed and pulled the sheets around her. “You need to rest.”
Presley grabbed two handfuls of his shirt and pulled him to her. “Please don’t leave me.”
Dylan smoothed her hair away from her face as he kneeled beside the bed. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to her cheek. “I’ll never leave you again, Elvis, but as much as I’d love to, I can’t stay here all night. This nightmare isn’t over yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t let on that you’re not taking your medications. The only pills I want you to keep taking are the one I gave you just now and the bright blue one. Don’t take the others. I don’t care how you get rid of them, just be careful.” Dylan pulled in a deep breath, and when he looked at Presley, he was certain she could feel the regret and sadness of his expression. “There’s something else you have to do.”
Presley’s brows furrowed, and Dylan felt like the lowest piece of scum on the planet. “You can’t act like anything has changed.” When Presley’s expression remained one of confusion, Dylan swallowed around the lump in his throat and gripped her hands. “You have to keep pretending. You have to keep the blanket.”
Presley opened and closed her mouth several times, her eyes searching as she tried to understand. “What blanket?”
“Jesus,” he exhaled. It was still so hard for him to reconcile that, for her, it was never just a blanket. It was a baby. Their baby. “The blanket you always have with you.”
Presley shook her head, and Dylan knew she still didn’t get it. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s—” Her eyes widened suddenly as realization set in. “The baby…” She covered her mouth with her hand as she recoiled from him. “No,” she groaned, her eyes filling with tears. “Dylan, I can’t. Please don’t make me do it. Please, I’m begging you.”
“I’m so sorry, baby. If there were another way, I would never ask you to do something like this, but until I figure a way out of this, you have to. If Dr. Sanders finds out, he’ll tell your parents, and they could move you somewhere else. They have your power of attorney. There’s not a damn thing I can do to stop them.” By the time he finished speaking, Presley was openly sobbing.
“I can’t. Dylan, please.”
A tear slipped down Dylan’s cheek, and he had to look away to keep from picking her up and running out of the hospital with her in his arms. “I’m sorry.”
Presley covered her face with her hands as she continued to cry. With every sob, Dylan’s heart broke a little more. She was in no condition to
leave, not yet, but he couldn’t help but worry about the repercussions of keeping her there. He had to say something to remind her what they were fighting for.
“Do you remember the necklace I gave you?” he asked, his eyes pleading. “The butterfly? Do you remember?”
Presley pulled in several gasping breaths before her sadness turned from confusion to curiosity. After a moment, she moved wordlessly to her bed and reached under the mattress, pulling the necklace free. “What does it mean?”
Dylan smiled. “I gave it to you. You used to tell me that I gave you butterflies, that I made everything flutter. I gave you that so you’d never forget.” Dylan looked toward the door and took a deep breath, letting his eyes fall shut. He had already broken every rule he could; one more couldn’t possibly make things worse. With that thought, he stretched the material of his shirt collar, revealing the red and black butterfly tattoo over his chest. “I never forgot,” he whispered. Presley gasped, her red-rimmed eyes wide as she stared at the ink marring his chest. She reached out, the tips of her fingers tracing the angry, broken lines.
“Is this me?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“I thought it was,” he whispered, releasing the material of his shirt. “I was wrong. This is why I need you to fight. Do it for us, Presley.
After several moments, Presley’s tears began to ebb, and her body relaxed into the bed. Whether it was the medication or exhaustion, resignation finally won out.
“Promise me?” he whispered.
She answered with the slightest dip of her chin before rolling to her side away from him. With a tentative touch, he pulled her tear-soaked hair from her face before standing. Her breaths had evened out, and her face, although blotchy and red, looked almost peaceful. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek before stepping away from the bed. “I won’t let you down.”
Heavy steps carried Dylan out of the room and into the open hall. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he pulled in a deep breath and turned toward the lounge. His steps faltered, and his eyes widened when he saw he wasn’t alone.
Milly stood with her arms crossed over her chest, an expression on her face that Dylan couldn’t decipher. “Care to explain what I just saw?”
In the nurse's lounge behind the Plexiglass wall, Dylan and Milly sat on either side of a long white table. It was the same table where, an hour earlier, they’d shared a lighthearted dinner. This time, however, the tension in the air was suffocating. Dylan had no idea how much she’d heard, but having heard any of the conversation with Presley was far too much. He didn’t know what to say. Luckily for Dylan, Milly wasn’t interested in waiting for him to come up with an excuse.
“She’s a patient, Dr. Walker.”
“I know.” He nodded, his eyes downcast.
“She’s sick.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because if I’m not mistaken, I just saw you kiss a sleeping patient.”
There was a pause before a look of horror crossed Dylan’s face as he understood Milly’s implication. “Oh God, Milly. It wasn’t like that. She’d had a nightmare. When you walked in, I had just gotten her back into bed.”
“She’d been awake? How on earth is that possible? She takes enough medication at night to knock out an elephant.”
Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you kissed her. I know she’s fond of you, but Presley isn’t in any shape to deal with that kind of attention. And even if she were, you’re a doctor. You know better.”
Dylan leaned forward and clasped his hands, his expression pained. “Most of the patients here haven’t had any type of human contact in years. It’s a scientific fact that touch is crucial to human’s well-being. I shouldn’t have done it, but she’d been crying. I only wanted to comfort her. I would never take advantage of her or any patient like that. You have to believe me.”
Milly stared at him for several moments before releasing a tired sigh. “You can’t do anything like that again. Your career will be over before it even begins.”
“I understand.” The look on Milly’s face told Dylan she wasn’t one hundred percent convinced of his intentions. He hated that Milly thought he was some kind of creepy predator, but telling her the truth wasn’t an option. Not yet. “I guess I’ll start on the round charts.”
Milly nodded. “Be sure to leave a note for Dr. Sanders about Presley’s nightmare. He’ll want to know.” Dylan knew Milly was only doing her job, but if he didn’t hurry up and find a way out of this mess, everything would be ruined.
The rest of the night passed quietly. A few times Dylan caught Milly watching him, a hint of suspicion on her face. The entire atmosphere surrounding them had changed. He hoped once everything was out in the open, she would forgive him for keeping her in the dark.
By the time shift change rolled around, Dylan was a knot of anxiety. He exchanged hellos with Katherine, his eyes fixed on Joel as he put his things away. When Katherine and Milly started chatting, Dylan walked to Joel and pulled him to the side. “Hey, man, can you do me a favor?”
Joel grinned. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Presley had a rough night last night. Would you just keep an eye on her? I’m sure Dr. Sanders will adjust her medication when he hears about it, but until then, I’d appreciate it if you could watch her a little closer.”
Joel’s smile slipped and his brows dipped. “Man, she’s had it rough. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on her.” He paused for a second then leaned closer. “How is it? Working here almost exclusively?”
Dylan sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Proving to be much more difficult than expected. It’s good, but also taxing.”
Joel clapped Dylan on the shoulder. “Well, if you need a break, I’d be happy to pick up some of your hours. Sure beats the hell out of Grace.”
“Thanks.”
Waving goodbye to Katherine, Dylan made his way out of the building. His grandmother’s flight was scheduled to arrive in a few hours, which didn’t leave him much time to rest. After straightening up a bit and making sure the guest room was set up, Dylan crawled into bed and closed his eyes. As tired as he was, his mind refused to shut down. Over and over, the night before played on a loop. He had to figure a way out of the situation, but there seemed to be a roadblock at every turn. With a groan, Dylan rolled off the bed and walked into the bathroom, having given up on sleep. After a quick shower and a bite to eat, he drove to the airport.
He was hit by a wave of emotion when he saw his grandmother, quickly followed by a burst of laughter as she not so gently elbowed her way through the crowds of people heading toward baggage claim. “Dylan!”
“Hi, Grandmother,” he said with a smile as he pulled her into a hug. “How was your flight?”
“Long.” She scanned his face and shook her head. “You look awful.” She pulled away and pinched his side. “You’ve lost weight. You’re not doing anyone any good if you’re not taking care of yourself.”
Dylan shook his head. “I haven’t lost any weight. And I look like shit because I worked last night and haven’t slept yet.”
“Language,” she scolded before narrowing her eyes. “I don’t think I believe you one bit.”
“Of course you don’t,” Dylan chuckled, moving to the luggage carousel. Lifting the bag, Dylan let out a grunt. “What did you pack in here?”
“Hush. I’m an old woman. Half that bag is full of medication.”
Dylan shook his head. “You take vitamins.”
“Your point?”
It was a complete waste of time to argue with her, so Dylan said nothing else as he hauled her massive suitcase to his car. “Are you hungry? Tired? We can grab something to eat or go back to my place if you’d like to rest.”
His grandmother shook her head and smoothed her hands over her pants as she looked at him from the passenger seat. “I’d like to see Presley.”
Dylan sighed. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea today. Last night
was…rough.”
“What happened?”
The front seat of his car wasn’t the ideal place for the conversation they were about to have, but he knew his grandmother wasn’t one to be deterred. Pulling onto the freeway, Dylan explained everything that happened over the last few days, as well as the previous night. He didn’t look in her direction as he recounted the night before, but her quiet sniffles and broken breaths let Dylan know she was crying.
“Oh, Dylan. I’m so sorry. This has to be so difficult for you both.”
“I just don’t know what to do now. She’s not in any mental state to be removed from the hospital, but every day I leave her there, the risk becomes greater that her doctor or, worse, her parents find out. Until she can verbalize for herself what she wants, I just have to wait.”
For several moments, there was only silence. “Dylan,” she began. “You’re not going to want to hear it, but the only way out of this is to confront her doctor. You can’t sneak her out of there like a thief. A confrontation is the only way.”
“And say what? Dr. Sanders, you’ve been drugging my not-so-dead girlfriend for the last six years, and I’d like you to stop?”
“Don’t be a smartass,” she bristled. “You might not want to admit it, but that’s exactly what you’re going to have to do. You’re going to have to call him out, let him know you’re onto him, and inform him that if he stands in your way, you’ll go to the authorities.”
“It’s not that simple.” Dylan exhaled and ran his hand through his hair. “But you’re right, I’ll have to confront him eventually. It’s her parents I’m worried about.”
Dylan’s grandmother laughed. “Oh, I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about them at all. They have far more to lose if they try to fight you.”
“I just want her to be ready,” he whispered. “There’s still so much she doesn’t remember.”
“Then let’s help her remember. Take me to the hospital. I have something for her that I think will help.”
