by Olivia Evans
“Then how do I know he never wanted you to have an abortion? How do I know that you two fought about it more than once, including the night you tried to kill yourself? First, you killed his child, and then you tried to kill yourself. I might not like the kid, but at least he’s smart enough to know when to cut his losses.”
“Alexander!” Lilith cried as she hovered over Presley, her entire body trembling as she tried to create a barrier between Presley and her father’s angry words. Not that it mattered. His words had hit their mark. Presley groaned and folded into herself, the knowledge of how badly she hurt Dylan causing her physical pain.
For several minutes, the only sounds in the room were the soothing whispers of Lilith’s and Presley’s broken sobs. When her father cleared his throat and began to speak, his voice was much calmer, softer.
“Presley,” he began, moving to the other side of her bed. “You almost died. Do you understand that had your mother and I showed up five minutes later, we’d be leaning over your casket and not your hospital bed? To have the first words you speak after two days be you’re not sorry is terrifying. I might be mad as hell at you right now, but I never want to think of you dead. You need help, honey, the kind of help your mother and I can’t give you.”
Presley peeked up at her father. While his expression still had an edge to it, there was a flicker of something in his eyes that made his words sincere, genuine. It caused a wave of guilt to crash over her, but it also brought something else. Acceptance. “I hate myself,” she rasped.
Her father exhaled and gave her a solemn nod as her mother cried quietly behind her. “I won’t pretend to understand how things got so out of control, but I can offer you an opportunity to work through things at your own pace.”
Presley swallowed and licked her lips. “How?”
“Do you agree that you need help?”
Presley looked away. “Yes.”
“I found a place for you to stay for a while. Somewhere you can rest and take the time you need to work through all this. You’ll have the best doctors at your disposal.”
Presley’s eyes widened with realization. “Like a hospital? For crazy people?”
“Don’t be crass,” her father scolded. “It’s a place for people who make life-altering decisions because they’re unable to deal with the responsibilities in their lives.”
“Like people who try to kill themselves,” Presley murmured, feeling chastised.
“Yes.”
“How long will I be gone?”
Her father shrugged and stood. He walked to the other side of the room and opened his briefcase, pulling out a file before returning to her side. “That’s entirely up to you. It’ll take however long you want it to take.”
“What’s that?” Presley asked, her eyes flicking to the paper.
Her father pulled out a pen and handed it to her. “It’s a power of attorney. Since you’re eighteen, you will need to sign this in order for your mother and me to make decisions about your treatment on your behalf.”
“Can’t I do that?” Presley asked, a feeling of unease crawling across her skin.
Her father gave her a pointed stare before pushing the paper toward her. “I don’t think you’re in the best state for making rational decisions right now. Do you?”
A tear slipped down Presley’s cheek as her hand hovered over the document. “Can I call Dylan first? I need to talk to him. I need to tell him how sorry I am.”
“Do you really think that’s a good idea? He’s very angry at you. Whatever he says is only going to upset you. If he refuses to speak to you, you’ll be hurt. If he does talk to you and is cruel or even forgiving, are you really in a position to make him any promises? Take some time. Give yourself a chance to breathe. Then call him. Right now, you need to focus on you. Everything else will work itself out.”
Defeat and exhaustion caused her shoulders to sag as she scrawled her name across the paper. She dropped the pen to the bed and curled into a ball as her father stood once again. Leaning forward, he dropped a kiss to her forehead before returning the paper to his briefcase. “You’ve made the right decision. Now get some sleep. We’ll be back in a few hours. As soon as the doctor gives the okay, we’ll get you out of here.”
Presley only nodded as her mother kissed her cheek and whispered “I love you” before following behind her father. Alone once more, she tried to breathe through the panic constricting her chest. Not only was her father sending her away exactly as he’d warned he would do, but she’d signed the paper allowing him to do it. Beneath all the panic and uncertainty, one truth remained, Presley needed help. She needed to find a way to let go of all the pain and sadness. Only then would she be ready to fix things with Dylan. Only then would she be capable of loving him the way he deserved. The way she had before everything came crashing down.
“I love you, Dylan,” she whispered. “I promise to fix this. I promise.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Dylan
Present Day
“I’m sorry,” Presley whispered, her face pressed into the fabric of the blanket. Dylan’s eyes fell shut as he released a long exhale. She’d been through so much; the last thing she needed was pressure from Dylan.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he answered, his body leaning into hers. Presley peeked up from the blanket, her hazel eyes glassy but clear. He felt trapped by her gaze, hypnotized.
“What’s your favorite book?” Dylan’s grandmother asked, her question breaking the spell around them. Presley and Dylan both looked at her, their expressions colored with confusion and surprise.
His grandmother wore a strained smile, and the look on her face told Dylan everything he needed to know. They were being watched. Before Dylan could speak, someone moved behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck rose when he saw Cody stiffen out of the corner of his eye.
“Well, hello there, Dr. Walker. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to steal my patients,” Dr. Sanders chuckled.
Dylan fixed his face with a fake smile and turned toward Dr. Sanders. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”
Dr. Sanders cocked his head to the side, a calculated smile stretched across his face. “I just find it odd that every time I come here, you are with my patients. Although I suppose your hovering can’t be all bad since you were with Presley last night during her episode.”
Presley pulled in a sharp breath as Dylan shot to his feet. Clearing his throat, he tried to keep his voice neutral. “I don’t know if you’d call it an episode. If anything, I’d check the prescription bottle to make sure the pills hadn’t been part of any recall.”
“That seems pretty unlikely since I have other patients on the same drug, and they had no trouble sleeping. No, I think it might be time for another adjustment. Presley has always had a way of defying her medication’s purpose.”
“Maybe it’s her body’s way of telling you she doesn’t need them.” Dylan spun to his grandmother, his eyes wide, his expression twisted with disbelief.
Dr. Sanders grinned. “And you are?”
Dylan’s grandmother seemed to realize her mistake as soon as she made it. She waved her hand in the air and shook her head, embarrassed. “An old woman who needs her afternoon nap. Forgive my rudeness.”
“Nonsense,” Dr. Sanders said, his smile in place. Stepping closer, he grabbed her hand and shook it gently. “You can’t be a day over thirty. Dr. Walker, who is this lovely lady?”
Dylan’s stomach did somersaults as he tried to keep his breathing even. “My grandmother. She’s here for a visit and wanted to see where I worked. Volunteer a little. She’s not a fan of modern medicine. As you can imagine, we’ve had quite a few disagreements over the years.”
Dr. Sanders laughed under his breath and released her hand. “I can only imagine. Nonetheless, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can see each other again before you fly back home to…” He trailed off, waiting for one of them to fill in the blank. D
ylan’s grandmother reacted first, her temporary lapse in judgment gone.
“Maine,” she answered before sighing. “It really is beautiful this time of year. Have you ever been, Doctor?”
“I can’t say that I have, but maybe I should look into it.” He studied Dylan’s grandmother for a few more seconds before turning toward Presley. “How are you feeling today, Presley?”
She stood and shuffled her feet, her eyes downcast. Dylan wanted nothing more than to step in front of her, to block her from Dr. Sanders’s intense gaze. When she remained silent, Dr. Sanders sighed. “Presley, we’ve talked about this. If you lie to me, I can’t help you.”
“I don’t know,” Presley whispered, her words broken and scared. “I just couldn’t fall asleep.”
Dr. Sanders hummed and pulled out a pad and pen from his pocket, jotting down a few things before returning his attention to her. “Well, it’s a good thing that Dr. Walker was there to take care of you.”
Dylan felt as though Dr. Sanders could see every secret he was hiding as he moved his gaze between Dylan and Presley. “I don’t know how much I helped. I was doing checks when I heard her. I don’t know if the pills had a delayed reaction or what, but it wasn’t long after I found her that she fell into a deep sleep. Maybe it was a fluke.”
“A fluke,” Dr. Sanders echoed, his eyes burning into Presley. A sinking feeling washed over Dylan as Dr. Sanders’s expression cleared. “I guess we’ll see soon enough. Come with me, Presley. I’d like to talk with you for a bit.”
Presley hesitated, her eyes bouncing from her doctor to Dylan. Dr. Sanders’s brows dipped, and his lips curved into a frown. “Do we have a problem?”
“Don’t worry, Presley,” Dylan laughed, his voice filled with fake enthusiasm. “My grandmother and I are leaving. You won’t miss the rest of the book.”
“We have to wait on her?” Cody asked, his tone petulant. Dylan knew it was all for show. Reaching over, he ruffled Cody’s hair and smiled even though he felt as though his entire body was on fire. He hated the thought of Presley alone with Dr. Sanders. He hated the thought of her medication being adjusted. But most of all, he hated feeling like Dr. Sanders saw right through every one of them.
“You can wait.”
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Dylan’s grandmother echoed. “I like keeping an eye on him.”
“Something we have in common,” Dr. Sanders mumbled as he swept his arm toward the door, his eyes fixed on Presley. “Miss Cooper.”
With the blanket clutched to her chest, Presley dropped her chin, her eyes fixed on the floor as she walked out of the lounge. When they disappeared through the door, Dylan’s grandmother let out a worried sigh.
“This is bad.”
Dylan nodded. “I know. He doesn’t trust me.”
“It’s not that,” his grandmother said, her voice shaking.
A lump rose in Dylan’s throat when he caught the expression on his grandmother’s face. “What aren’t you saying?”
With a deep breath, she pulled Dylan’s hands into hers. “I recognized him. He was at a fundraiser for Presley’s father. If I recognized him, there’s a chance he recognized me too.”
Dread slammed into Dylan’s shoulders, pushing him to the floor as fear caused the room to swim. “Do you think he did?”
“I don’t think so, not yet anyway, but he might. We don’t have much time. If we don’t act fast, we could lose her all over again.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sweat beaded on Dylan’s temples as he paced the small space of Cody’s room. It had been four days since his grandmother had visited Hilltop. She’d decided not to come back, her fear of Dr. Sanders recognizing her taking precedence over her desire to spend time with Presley. It had been the right decision. Since that day, Dr. Sanders had become ubiquitous. He was at the hospital during every medication disbursement, and he took it upon himself to administer each one of Presley’s doses.
He knew something.
“When is your grandmother coming back? I like her.”
Dylan’s steps faltered, his head snapping to where Cody sat on his bed. It was the last place Dylan wanted to be. He wanted to be with Presley, but she was currently having yet another session with Dr. Sanders. Not to mention that when he could talk to Presley, Milly watched him like a hawk. “I need to talk to Zach.”
Cody dropped his eyes to his hands and shrugged. “He doesn’t want to talk.”
Dylan’s jaw tightened, his already fraying nerves on the verge of snapping. “I don’t think you understand what’s at stake here. Everything is on the verge of falling apart. It’s only a matter of time before Dr. Sanders remembers my grandmother, and once that happens, I’m done here. Dr. Edmonds wants to help you, but you have to talk to me. He’s your best chance.”
Cody kept his eyes down as he tugged the blanket over his lap. He looked so childlike and innocent that it almost caused Dylan to back off, but he wasn’t bluffing when he said they were running out of time. Dr. Edmonds had called earlier that morning to set up a meeting about Dylan’s progress with Zach. A part of him wondered if he was being set up, if the real reason for the meeting was to confront him about Presley. He had no idea what Dr. Sanders did and did not know, and that uncertainty put him on edge.
After several moments of silence, Dylan let out a disgusted laugh and shook his head. “I never pegged Zach for a coward. Of course, I never pegged him for a murderer either, but if I’m wrong about one, who’s to say I’m not wrong about the other?”
A scream of anger bounced around the room as a book slammed into the wall, narrowly missing Dylan’s head. He whipped around, fighting to keep his expression neutral when he realized it was Zach standing in front of the bed, his hands balled into fists and his eyes filled with hate as his gaze burned into Dylan. “You don’t know shit.”
Dylan crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. It had been a gamble to provoke Zach into appearing, but it had worked. “Then you need to tell me what happened.”
“Did you know Presley’s not tonguing her meds?” Zach asked, a satisfied smile stretching across his face when Dylan’s hard exterior faltered. “She’s going right back to la-la land. It doesn’t seem like she has a whole lot of confidence in you to make things right, so why should I?”
Dylan bit the inside of his cheek and counted to ten. He couldn’t let Zach get under his skin. The truth was, Dylan already knew Presley wasn’t tonguing her meds. It wasn’t obvious the first day or the next, but the last two days, she’d had a glazed look over her eyes that he hadn’t seen in weeks. Immediately, he’d known she was back on the drugs. She was self-medicating again. Just like last time. The thought of her falling into old habits terrified Dylan. It kept him awake at night. It ate at him from the inside out.
“You shouldn’t,” Dylan answered with a shrug, a self-deprecating expression on his face. “If you think about it, credential-wise, I’m probably the least qualified person in the building to help either one of you. Why should you trust me to fix anything?” Taking three long strides, Dylan moved in front of Zach and leaned down until their noses nearly touched. “Compared to Dr. Sanders, I’m the equivalent of a wet blanket. A newborn baby. Yet, you came to me. Why would you do that? Is it my judgment that should really be in question right now?” When Zach remained silent, his face stoic, Dylan straightened his back and released a heavy sigh.
“You came to me because I care, because, for some reason, you trust me,” Dylan said, his voice softer. “I care about Presley, and I care about you. Think what you will of me, but when I first saw Presley here, there was nothing in this world I cared about more than saving her. She’s the love of my life.” A half smile quirked the side of Dylan’s mouth. “Then I met you and realized I wanted to do more. I wanted to help you too. Not because I felt sorry for you or because you were helping me with Presley, but because I could never shake the feeling that there was more to your story than what was printed in the papers. I need you to believ
e in me like I believe in you. Let me help you. Please.”
An invisible weight settled over the room, finally draining the fight from both of them. Just as Dylan turned to leave, Zach’s voice broke the silence. “I didn’t kill my mother.”
Dylan nodded and moved to Zach’s bed. Easing onto the mattress, he tilted his head toward Zach, an invitation to join him. Once both were seated, Dylan leaned against the wall and turned his head toward Zach. “Then tell me what happened. Whatever you say, I promise to believe you.”
Zach’s eyes shimmered as his lips pressed into a thin line. He wanted so much to appear unaffected, but Dylan knew he was nothing more than a terrified child who’d been accused of a horrible crime.
“I have no idea when I came to be,” Zach whispered, mirroring Dylan’s position. “One day there was nothing, and the next I woke to the sound of crunching bones and the smell of blood. My blood. I knew my name, my age, everything, but at the same time, nothing. I knew I wasn’t alone, that I was there with Cody, but whenever I tried to talk to him, he never answered.”
Dylan swallowed hard, his mouth dry. He knew the most common reason for alter personalities was due to trauma, and suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he was prepared to hear what Zach was about to tell him. “Why were you bleeding?”
Zach smirked and shook his head. “Because our father punched me in the face. Cody couldn’t handle it anymore, so…” Zach swept his arms wide with a flourish of jazz hands. “Ta-da!”
“I’m so sorry,” Dylan whispered.
Zach shrugged, his hard exterior firmly in place. “I’m tough. I can handle it. Cody needed me.” For a moment, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall. Zach was motionless, his unfocused gaze staring off into nothingness. When Dylan shifted his weight, Zach cleared his throat and continued.
“In the beginning, I only ever came out when the beatings happened. I tried to stay in control, but Cody was so much stronger than me then. It wasn’t until…until it happened to her that things changed.”
