by Anne Jolin
“Yes,” she huffs, seeming somewhat pissed off that she caved so quickly to my request.
When I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, her body quivers and I want to mentally high-five myself like some preteen loser.
“Then watch a movie with me?”
She seems hesitant, so I lift up the little finger of my right hand to her.
“Pinkie swear I won’t be a jackass this time.”
She steps forward, uncrossing her arms before linking her pinkie finger with mine. “Fine.”
“Not an enthusiastic response, sugar, but I’ll take it nonetheless,” I tease, stepping aside to allow her to move past me.
I want to pick her up and carry her to the goddamned couch so she won’t hurt herself, but I’m walking on thin ice with this alpha crap, so I stomach watching her move painfully into the living room. Positioning the pillows around her, I help her settle into the loveseat before passing her the remote to the Apple TV.
“Pick anything you want.”
“Anything?” She smirks up at me.
I hate chick flicks.
“Yeah, sugar.” I smile down at her. “Anything.”
If she wants to watch The fucking Notebook, I’d do it for her.
Leaving her to choose whatever movie she wants to torture me with, I head into the kitchen, returning five minutes later with a tray. “I have something for you,” I tell her.
She cocks an eyebrow at me and waits for me to continue.
Upon resting the tray on the table, I reach over and hand her two things. “Here’s your phone.”
“And what’s this for?” she inquires, holding up the bowl.
Picking up a bowl for myself, I wink at her. “The ice cream’s an apology for taking it in the first place.”
Looking down into the bowl, she grins. “It’s mint chip.”
“Your favorite,” I tell her, dropping down onto the couch beside her.
Licking her lips, she lifts the spoon to her mouth and makes the cutest noise in the fucking world. What’s my response? The need for another cold shower. Fuck.
Coming out of her food coma, she finally notices how close we’re sitting on the smaller of the two couches. “You can sit on the other couch,” she offers, fidgeting with her ice cream bowl.
“This couch has a better view of the TV,” I lie.
She eyes me suspiciously, and I pray to fuck that she doesn’t offer to switch couches. Truthfully, either would be perfectly fine to see the screen from, but I want to be next to her, and if this is the only way I’ll get it, I don’t give a flying fuck. I’ll take the crumbs she gives me—any of them.
“Are you sure?”
After grabbing the blanket off the armrest, I lay it across both of our laps. “I’m sure. Besides”—I nod towards the screen—“if we’re watching that”—I read the words Hope Floats—“I might need you to hold me when I cry.”
She laughs and my heart seizes painfully in my chest, a reminder of all the reasons I shouldn’t feel this way about her. But I do.
Halfway into the movie, sometime around when Sandra Bullock and Harry Connick Jr. finally get it on, Peyton falls asleep. She shuffles, and at the opportunity, I wrap my arm around her shoulder. Instinctively, she rests her head on my chest, not waking even the slightest from the movement. The painkillers, if I had to guess.
Jackson comes home while we’re still on the couch. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles weakly and goes straight into his room. I finish the movie by myself and the entire role of credits while cuddling a woman who has no knowledge I am doing so just to feel like I am close to her, but I don’t care.,
Regretfully, I turn the TV off and brush the hair off her face.
“Mmm,” she mumbles, burrowing deeper into my chest.
Fuck.
I’d sleep on the couch like this if it weren’t for the fact that I figure she’d freak out at waking up in my arms. I’ve hardly been a cordial roommate thus far, and her snuggle buddy I am not.
After lifting her into my lap, I stand with her in my arms. Then I shut off lights as I move my way down the hall and into her bedroom. I yank the covers back before lying her down and pulling them back up over her petite body.
She mumbles something incoherent and hugs her pillow tight, blissfully unaware of my presence.
So fucking cute.
Leaning down, I press a kiss to her forehead.
“The hells I would endure for you,” I whisper against her soft skin.
Or perhaps the hell I’m already enduring for not having her.
“Be patient with me, Pey,” I say, cupping her cheek with my hand. “Don’t give up on me just yet.”
“QUIT MANHANDLING ME!” I snarl just as Beth yanks the front door to Braxton’s house open.
“It takes twice as long for you to walk as it does for me to carry you,” Jayden laughs, setting me down on my feet in front of him.
It’s been two weeks since I was released from the hospital. My bruises have healed enough that I can almost cover them with makeup now, but my arm is still in a pink cast and my ribs still limit my movement, although they’re substantially less painful.
“It’s not my problem you have no patience,” I smart off, pressing my yellow sundress down where it feels like he wrinkled it.
I look up to see Lennon and Beth watching us bicker on the front stoop of the most gorgeous house I’ve ever laid eyes on, neither one of them wanting to break up what I gather was the free entertainment.
“I’m all set to go, babe. Do you have everything you need?” Braxton asks, wrapping his arms around Beth’s bare shoulders from behind.
She snuggles into him and nods. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
It is perfect. Today is Hannah’s baby shower. The one we were supposed to have at our condo prior to the attack, but Braxton so graciously offered to let us host it here instead. The long driveway up to the house has been lined with pots of yellow flowers as a tribute to the fact that Hannah and Greyson have chosen not to find out the sex of the baby, and the entire house has been transformed into something from a magazine. It is remarkably stunning.
“Frank will be here the whole time if you need anything, and I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he says, turning her around in his arms.
“Have fun,” she grins, pushing up on her wedges to kiss him.
While Braxton can be intense, the two of them are adorable as all heck together. Frank, Braxton’s head of security, has taken his job of protecting Beth very seriously, and it appears as though it has paid off. There have been no further threats from her psychotic ex-boyfriend. I silently pray that that means her living hell has come to an end. As someone who knows what it feels like to have fear constantly breeding in your soul, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy, and definitely not on someone I care about deeply.
My eyes drift to Jayden as the rest of our group exchange goodbyes. He’s become quite the enigma in the last two weeks. While his pinkie promise has remained true—he hasn’t been a complete jackass and seems to tolerate my presence without needing to escape—he still seems uptight around me. Or at the very least like he can’t seem to relax. We’ve fallen into a routine of watching movies at night when he gets home from work. Other than that, it’s as if he’s avoiding me. Perhaps that’s my imagination. He is always disappearing to work early and coming home late, only in time for our movies.
He texts me periodically throughout the day to make sure I am okay, and on occasion, if he catches me exerting myself too much, like moments ago, he will pick me up and carry me to a place he deems more suitable for my safety. We’ve established a “no baths while the house is empty” policy, and aside from the afternoon Colt came over to visit for coffee, everything has been well, pretty hunky-dory for the most part.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say that it saddens me a little that he doesn’t want more from me than friendship or another roommate to take care of. Most nights, I fall asleep on his shoulder while we watch TV. It
has become rather pathetic how much I crave those moments between us, ones I doubt he even considers times of value, yet they’ve become my favorite part of every day.
Jayden looks hot today, in a way he doesn’t usually. He traded the denim for black golf pants and the T-shirt for a white golf polo. Sitting on the brim of his nose are classic Ray-Bans, and he’s done the five-o’clock shadow proud as always.
Resting his hand on the small of my back, he dips down, brushing the scruff on his face across my cheek. “Bye, sugar,” he whispers before I feel the heat of his lips against my skin for only a moment.
The goodbye I mean to say gets caught in my throat as I drag my eyes over his backside while he walks away from me.
Why does it seem like he’s always walking away from me?
The boys are going golfing in an attempt to allow the women to enjoy their baby-filled afternoon. They all climb into Braxton’s black Dodge pickup and wave goodbye before pulling out of the driveway. Lord have mercy on the women working at the Falls Links Country Club today, because the men in that truck are hotter than hell.
I am deeply “in like” with my roommate and I haven’t a fucking clue what to do about.
When I turn my attention back towards the girls, they are eyeing me with questions written all over their faces. It’s hardly gone unnoticed by our friends that the behavior between Jayden and I has been changing drastically. Shaking my head, I sigh. I’m not much of a sharer on a good day, but given that I don’t even know what’s happening myself, I can’t find the words to relay my situation to them.
As we walk inside, I opt that changing the subject is my best course of action. “How’s Hannah getting here?” I ask, knowing that the boys’ tee time meant Greyson wouldn’t be able to drive her today. The man was completely obsessed with shuttling his pregnant girlfriend around, insisting that her belly was far too large for her to be driving safely.
“Brax ordered a car to pick her up. She should be here in about an hour.” Beth fidgets as she closes the door behind us. “He’d have sent Frank to do it, but since the break-in, Frank hasn’t been allowed to leave me when Brax isn’t around . . .” She trails off.
She looks ashamed, so I reach out to squeeze her shoulder. “He’s just keeping you safe. There’s no need to feel bad about it.” I smile reassuringly at her.
I won’t tell her how lucky she is to have someone fighting in her corner. It won’t change how she feels, but it will make all the difference in keeping her safe.
Beth gives us a tour of the house, and even I must admit that I’m sensationally jealous of her new living quarters. The inside of the house is even more extraordinary than the outside, and I smile at the thought of her building a family in this home—a family she deserves.
The rest of the guests arrive staggered over the next hour, and before long, the party is in full swing. Well, as full swing as a baby shower gets, I suppose. I’d hardly say that it’s wild and crazy, but all that is left is for our girl of the hour, our baby-mama-to-be, to arrive.
The party is going so well until one of Beth’s aunts spills her drink all over her niece’s dress. Holding back a laugh, I watch my friend keep her cool as she disappears into the kitchen. I suppose she’s lucky it had been champagne and not red wine.
While getting lost in conversation with one of the many women I don’t know from a hole in the wall, I briefly look around for one of the girls to come rescue me. In my pursuit, I notice that Beth isn’t anywhere to be seen. That’s odd. Champagne hardly takes more than a few minutes to dab off a dress. Walking into the kitchen, I look around. Satisfied that she’s not there, I’m turning to step back towards the living room when I hear the sound of a phone’s dial tone.
Searching the area, I finally see it lying on the floor amidst the chaos.
Someone used it and didn’t hang it back up.
When I pick it up, my hands begin to shake and a familiar, uneasy feeling starts to settle in the pit of my stomach. Turning wildly to the kitchen staff, I point at the phone.
“Who answered the last call to come in on this phone?” I ask them, the screech in my voice drawing their attention.
“Ma’am.” Frank steps beside me, seeming concerned at the way my crazed demands have halted production in the kitchen.
Reaching out my wobbling arm, I show him the phone, the sound still blaring from the never ended call. “I can’t find Beth,” I cry. “She came in here to wipe champagne off her dress nearly fifteen minutes ago.” I feel the lump start to form in my throat. “Frank, Hannah should have been here by now.”
The stern Irishman grabs the head caterer and growls in his face. “Who the fuck was on this phone in the last few minutes?”
The man’s eyes go wide at the rough questioning. “Mr. Bennett’s girlfriend, sir,” he answers quickly, tripping over his words.
“Fuck!” the head of security roars, taking off throughout the house while simultaneously dialing numbers into his cell phone.
I rush on weak knees to find Lennon and the girls’ mother. Then I drag them with me, working tirelessly to keep my emotions in check until we are a safe distance from the rest of the crowd. My composure, along with the other womens,’ rattles to the floor in a fit of tears when Frank returns to us.
“Beth is gone,” he says into the receiver, “and the driver of Hannah’s car was assaulted outside his house forty minutes ago and his vehicle stolen.”
The voice on the other end of the receiver barrels through the air, spitting out demands, before Frank finally answers him.
“Yes, sir. The Rhodes sisters are missing.”
My friends are missing.
“Peyton!”
“Lennon!”
At the base of the staircase, I lift my head up from its spot between my knees to see Jayden and Jami come barreling through the front door of Braxton’s house. Lennon and I spent the first thirty minutes of their disappearance giving our statements to the cops, which included no useful information whatsoever. The subsequent hour was spent ushering women from the house with the promise that we’d keep them updated when we had any information at all.
As I look down at the screen of my cell phone, tears cascade down my cheeks once again.
They’ve been missing for two hours.
Upon realizing Beth was gone, Frank checked every available avenue within his reach. Eventually, they located GPS coordinates on a watch Frank had given Braxton as part of a new security protocol to be able to track his whereabouts without having to be next to the millionaire at all times. From what I’ve gathered, the watch was missing and they believed Beth had taken the watch in an attempt to save her life and the life of her sister.
That was the last update we’ve received.
We are now alone, in our missing friend’s house, surrounded by police.
Coming to sit beside me, Jayden lifts my shivering body into his arms, holding me as the tears I cry bleed onto his shirt. “They’ll find them Pey,” he whispers into my ear. He shifts, and I panic at the thought that he might leave, fisting my hands in his shirt.
“Don’t go,” I plead.
The fear that, for so long, has plagued my soul crawls up inside me as the familiarity of the situation assaults me with rich and forceful memories. It’s almost more than I can bear to not be able to tell the difference between my nightmares and my reality—it’s brutally terrifying.
Tilting my chin up, he places a soft kiss on my forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.” He cups my cheek with his other hand. “You’re not alone.”
Letting the comfort of his arms envelope me, I find solace in another person for the first time in what seems like an eternity.
“I came as quickly as I could,” he assures me, lovingly stroking my hair. “I tried to get to you sooner, Pey, but they kept us for questioning.”
I hear the crack in his voice. It’s the same one he had in the hospital two weeks ago—the one that signifies some level of guilt that haunts him.
Aft
er lifting my head from its place on his chest, I rest my forehead against his and wrap my arms, cast and all, around his neck. “You’re here now, Jayden,” I breathe out on a whisper against his lips. “It doesn’t matter where you were before.”
Sighing, he closes his eyes, and I can feel him breathing against me as we sit wrapped up in each other. For once, the gap between us seems smaller, both figuratively and literally.
No one I loved has ever come for me before. I was only ever a ghost in the darkness, trying desperately to blend in somewhere out of a craving for normalcy. The lost soul that has seen and felt hell but still yearns for the light at all costs.
Eventually, they do find them. Thirty minutes later, Frank, Braxton, Greyson, and a team of security men locate them inside a boathouse on Sea Sechelt Island.
I hear the call come through the police radio.
One fatality.
We pray in silence that the name carved in stone will not be that of someone we love.
Hannah is currently en route to Vancouver General Hospital by medevac. We haven’t been told much other than that her water broke from the stress of the kidnapping, and once they land, she will immediately be taken for an emergency C-section.
No update on the baby.
No information on Beth.
We arrive at the hospital an hour later in Jami’s jeep. The drive felt like it had taken twice that. I sat tucked under Jayden’s arm while Lennon and Jami held hands in the front of the vehicle. Now that we’re here, the events of the day are recounted to us by a local detective at the hospital.
As it turns out, not only was Beth’s ex stalking her, but his father was too. Unbeknownst to Beth, Braxton and Frank had been looking into the Davis family in an attempt to find proof that would keep Beth’s ex behind bars for the stalking habit he’d developed. What they didn’t know was that the man’s father had been using his investment company to siphon money from his clients. When he was alerted to the men’s poking around in his financials, he panicked. He had been working under some deranged conclusion that Beth had a personal vendetta against his family and was working in cahoots with a local millionaire to bring him down. That, coupled with his already unstable mental capacity, is what led him to the kidnapping.
