She curled tighter into herself and whimpered. The response was enough to make me pause. Did she want me to leave? Did she blame me for this? My heart broke that she would have such a negative reaction to me. I forced myself to picture the photos from the house—proof of the atrocities performed on her—and tried to remember that she’d likely react negatively to any touch.
I started with the cuff on her leg. Ever so gently, so as not to hurt the broken ankle any further, I slotted the key into the lock and released the shackle. Instead of lookin’ at me, or thankin’ me in any way, she tugged her leg away from my hold, lettin’ it fall to the floor with a sickenin’ thud.
The way she was curled in on herself made it impossible for me to reach the cuffs on her wrists without forcin’ her to roll over, and with everything she’d been through, there was no way I was forcin’ her to do nothin’ she didn’t wanna do.
“Darlin’, can ya roll over so I can unshackle your wrists?”
Instead of agreein’, her sobs grew louder and her body curled tighter.
“Here, let me.” One of Declan’s hands closed around my shoulder and he held the other out for the key.
As soon as he’d spoken, she unfurled a little. I fell backward until I was sittin’ on the floor. It wasn’t any touch that she was frightened of. It was mine.
“Sweetheart, Daddy’s here. You’re going to be okay.”
Keepin’ her eyes firmly closed, she twisted a little to offer him her joined hands. He made short work of the cuffs and then stood to gather her in his arms. She clasped tightly to him, as if lettin’ go even a little would see her chained up again. He carried her away from the bed, away from Xavier’s body, away from the nightmarish conditions that had been her home for almost three months.
“I’m just going to pass you to Beau so I can climb the ladder to get out, and then he’ll give you right back to me, okay?” Declan was no doubt signalin’ his intention to me as well as Phoebe.
Only, the words sent her clutchin’ at his neck tighter than ever.
“Please don’t let me go, Daddy.” Her voice was almost silent, but it seemed to echo around the enclosed space—mostly because of the implications for me.
She didn’t want to be in my arms, not even for a moment.
Before I left the space, I took a last glance around the place that I could only imagine was Phoebe’s prison for the last twelve weeks. It was bare except for the metal-framed single bed—topped with a thin foam mattress—and a vanity with a sink and mirror. By far the most sinister item in the whole room, the one that made my heart break for Phoebe the most, was the hook suspended from the ceiling in front of a closet. I knew without a shadow of a doubt I didn’t wanna know what that wardrobe contained.
I tried not to let my thoughts break me as I trailed behind the pair. My fingers curled into fists at my side; it was the only way I could force myself to not reach for her. To not stroke my hands through her hair, or caress her face and let her know I’d be there for her. That I’d always be there for her.
“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll do what I can for you.”
“Don’t let me go,” she repeated over and over as he carried her away.
There were police near the entrance and Phoebe allowed Declan to pass her into the arms of one of the officers just long enough for him to get up out of the storm cellar without riskin’ droppin’ her. It was enough to confirm for me that it wasn’t that she didn’t wanna leave Declan’s arms—she just didn’t wanna be in mine.
She blamed me for it all, just as I blamed myself. I failed her, and we both knew it. The thought was nearly enough to send me to my knees. To make me wanna stay in the cellar that had been her home until I’d served every day of the sentence she’d faced.
When the officer placed her back in Declan’s arms, Phoebe’s sobbin’ came in earnest as she buried her head against Declan’s neck. Despite that, she lifted her head a little. Just enough to tip her face into the wind. I wondered if anyone else noticed the deep breath of fresh air she took before her sobbin’ continued or whether I was the only one to notice all those little things about her.
It was then it all became clear in a way that had only danced ’round my mind before. The broken girl in her daddy’s arms—the one coated in blood with the haunted look in her eyes—wasn’t the same girl I’d fallen in love with. She was changed, and she might never be the same again.
And yet, I still loved her. Or at least, I wanted to give her all the love in my heart.
An ache ran through me; my arms burned with the need to hold her.
Only, it wasn’t my place.
She didn’t want me.
Keeping my mouth shut so no one asked the question of whether I should still be there, I followed Declan and watched as she was loaded into the ambulance. When he went to leave her, she screamed and begged for him to stay at her side.
Once again, certainty smashed against my skull. It wasn’t me she was begging for. I had no idea what part I had left in her life, if there was any. All I knew was I wouldn’t abandon her. At least, not until I’d apologized for the ways I’d let her down. But I wouldn’t push her into anythin’ she wasn’t ready for either.
Not much later, the paramedics shut the doors to the ambulance and both Declan and Phoebe disappeared down the driveway. As I was watchin’ them go, a pack of wild coyotes circled my heart like they had when I’d first found out she was missin’. They bared their teeth and snapped their jaws, each waitin’ to attack.
One of the police officers on the scene introduced herself to me and asked me to tell her what I knew. With a sigh, I started my tale.
ALMOST THREE HOURS later, I was finally able to find my way to the hospital. Although I wanted to charge in and demand to be shown to Phoebe’s bedside, it wasn’t my place. I had to be invited in. I sent Declan a text to let him know I was in the hospital, and then one to Angel to tell her Phoebe was safe. I probably shoulda waited until her mama knew, but I needed to do somethin’.
When I’d arrived, I’d expected one of two outcomes—either to be asked to leave or to be rushed to her room. Part of me thought—hoped—that maybe she’d have realized I didn’t mean her harm, and she’d be willin’ to see me again. Instead of anythin’ I thought might happen though, I was shown to a waiting room.
Angel tried to call, but I ignored it. Declan texted back to let me know he’d meet me in the waitin’ room when he could. There wasn’t much more I could do but wait.
It was almost another two hours before he found his way to me. In that time, I’d let Angel know I couldn’t talk, but that yes I was certain Phoebe was safe. It mighta been the coward’s way out, but I knew I wouldn’ta been able to keep it together long enough to talk to Angel. Especially not if she started askin’ any questions I didn’t have the answers too.
Declan wrung his hands as he slunk into the room. I stood to greet him.
“H-how is she?” I was almost afraid to ask. With the amount of blood that covered her when we’d found her, I was certain she must have been severely injured.
“She’s sedated.” He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “And not good.”
My stomach churned as I heard the tremor in his voice.
“She’s been talking to the police about everything they did to her. She’s had all manner of tests and examinations done. God, the things . . .” He panted and tugged at his hair again. “He’s here, you know? Hunter. He’s in this fucking hospital. They’re trying to save his life right now.”
My hands twisted into fists at the thought they’d try to save that asshole, but I couldn’t devote more than a few seconds of attention to him because there was somethin’ more important. Someone. “Will she be all right?” I squeezed my eyes closed as I asked the question, unable to look at him if the answer was no.
“Only time will tell. But right now, she’s being as strong as we can expect.”
She’s bein’ strong. I repeated the words in my head. Over and over, lettin’ th
em spin a story where things would be okay. She was strong. She had her sass, her sense of humor, her family—me—so many things that would see her through. She’d be all right. Eventually.
“Physically, she’s doing as well as can be expected. The biggest concerns are dehydration, her broken ankle, and whether . . .” His Adam’s apple bobbed in time with his breath, as though he was swallowing down great gasps that he wouldn’t allow to escape. “Whether she’s contracted anything.”
My heart stopped in my chest at the reminder of the content of the photos on the bed. I wanted to hunt down which bed Bee was in and make him pay for what he did to her. To force the doctors to stop tryin’ to save the life of a monster.
I only hoped that if he survived there was enough evidence against him. Between the photos, the situation, and everything else, there had to be. Surely. I needed him to be dead or locked away for the rest of his life.
As my thoughts turned murderous, Declan listed the injuries she’d endured. When things grew more intimate, his voice lowered and I had to strain to hear his final words.
Tears brimmed in Declan’s eyes as he continued. “She suffered at their hands. So much. The things Hunter did to her—” His voice broke. No doubt as he silently blamed himself for the things that had been done to her. I mighta pushed her into Xavier’s arms, but she’d been hurt because of Bee’s vendetta against Declan too. “There are things you and I can probably never fully comprehend. And something tells me we’ve barely scratched the surface.”
He lifted his gaze to meet mine.
“Apparently the arseholes stopped giving her her birth control medication right from day one. Xavier told her she didn’t need it because she wasn’t going to be a ‘bad girl’ down there.” He squeezed his eyes closed and then added words I almost couldn’t comprehend. One stood out among all the others.
Miscarriage.
“She told me that despite everything he did to her, the baby wasn’t Hunter’s. That he hadn’t done anything with her until after it happened.”
Somethin’ didn’t add up. The fact Declan was even broachin’ the subject with me and the fact he’d gone to lengths to point out she’d had her last dose of birth control the day we made love.
Flashes came to me. I tried to ignore them, but they wouldn’t relent.
The last time we were together . . .
Lust and love overtakin’ me so that we were skin to skin . . .
Losin’ control and her ankles lockin’ around my back as I came . . .
Not Hunter’s baby.
“But—” Reality hit me like a punch in the gut. My baby.
It was my baby.
I formed a fist against my stomach, like I was trying to protect myself from any further blows—as if the ones I’d faced weren’t enough to slay me already. As if her turnin’ away from me hadn’t been the end of the world for me.
I couldn’t breathe and my knees buckled. I had to reach for the back of one of the chairs to stop myself from collapsin’.
Another life flashed before my eyes. One where Phoebe had returned to me the next day like we’d arranged. Where we’d been together and in loved-up bliss leadin’ up to the races. Where she’d discovered our happy accident a few weeks later. Who knows how she would have felt, but I woulda been over the moon. Terrified, but over the moon. I wouldn’t have acted like Cash and told her to get rid of our child. We’d have had questions, and difficulties to face, but her smile would still be fixed on her lips. The laughter would still dance in her eyes.
We mighta been a family.
Maybe that life was a lie. Maybe if she’d stayed on the pill it wouldn’ta happened, but that logic seemed too far away for me to grasp as I heard about her loss. My loss.
Our loss.
“Can—” My mouth wouldn’t work. I couldn’t form words or thoughts. I could barely even breathe. “Can I see her?”
I needed to comfort her. To tell her it was gonna be okay, that I wasn’t ever gonna let anyone hurt her again. That I wanted to understand and help her through everythin’ she was gonna go through as she settled back into normal livin’.
Declan pressed his lips together and genuine sorrow was in his eyes as he shook his head. “She doesn’t want to see you.”
His words, the way he said them, all made one thing clear. It wasn’t that I wasn’t family or any hospital policy that stopped me from enterin’ her room. It was her decision.
Her choice. And she chose not to see me.
My knees gave way.
The coyotes in my heart that had been circlin’ since she was pulled from that dungeon leapt. Their teeth gnashed at my heart, tearin’ into it until there was nothin’ left. The air in my lungs turned to lead. My arms fell to my side, useless and impotent—unable to hold on to the one I wanted more than anythin’.
“I’m sorry,” Declan added, as if those two words could reduce the ache racin’ through me or stop the tears from fillin’ my eyes. He squeezed my shoulder, but didn’t try to force me to stand. “I’ll see if I can get her to change her mind, but for now . . .” He trailed off, but it wasn’t necessary for him to finish.
Go.
Leave.
She don’t want you here.
The ground beneath my knees was cold and hard. My body protested the position I’d landed in, but I couldn’t move. Not until Phoebe breathed life into me again. “Can—can ya tell her I’ll be there for her when she does. It don’t matter if it’s a week, or a year. I’ll be here.”
He squeezed my shoulder once more before movin’ away. He was out of my line of sight when he said, “I’m sure she knows, but I’ll make sure I tell her again when she’s ready.”
I didn’t look to see if he’d gone. Didn’t need to. I knew he would be. I’d already taken up so much of his time already, and Phoebe needed him.
Him. Not me.
EVERY DAY, I stayed at the hospital, waitin’ and hopeful that it might be the day she’d let me in. Hour by hour, I drove myself slowly around the track of insanity. I needed to talk to Phoebe the same way I needed to breathe.
The sorrow-filled eyes of the nurses as they passed by the doorway, always glancin’ in to see if I was there, followed my days and haunted my dreams. Only at night, they became Phoebe’s seafoam irises, peerin’ in at me through a glass case I could never escape, no matter how hard I beat at it with my fists.
I could never find the strength to break through. Not even when Xavier approached her with a knife in his hand, strippin’ her clothes away and leaving her bloodied. Her eyes would turn accusin’, lookin’ through me—unseein’ with the unfocused stare of death.
Every mornin’, I would wake from the dreams, shakin’ and terrified for her even though she was safe. I only knew what was happenin’ at work because of updates from Cash, but I did discover I wouldn’t be required to drive no more because Emmanuel Racing was suing Dale for not providin’ a safe environment for Phoebe, and the company was foldin’.
It left me jobless, but I didn’t care.
I had no idea if I could find somethin’ else. Or if I even wanted to. Until I could speak to Phoebe, my life would be on hold. Not even Angel or Cass could break through my holdin’ pattern.
Four days in, I found out the hospital’s rush to save Bee had failed. He’d spent three days in a coma before slippin’ away. Part of me was mad he’d never have to face justice for what he’d done, but mostly I was happy that Phoebe wouldn’t be required to stand in court and testify against him. She wouldn’t need to look over her shoulder for him at every turn.
Six days after Phoebe’s rescue, Declan came to sit beside me in the hospital waitin’ room.
“They’re letting Phoebe go home today. And they’ve given her clearance to fly. She wants to get out of the States as soon as possible.”
I nodded, unable to look away from my hands and into his eyes. Somehow, I knew what he was gonna say, even as hope inflated my heart that maybe—just maybe—today would be the day she’d let me se
e her.
“She’s asked me to make sure you’re not here when it comes time for her to go.”
I wanted to ask him why she hated me, but I couldn’t force myself to form the words. After all, he mighta had a response. “Don’t ask questions ya don’t want the answer to.” That was always Mabel’s advice.
“I won’t say nothin’ to her, sir, but I ain’t gonna leave until she’s gone.”
“I can’t control whether you stay or go, I can only convey her wishes.”
It meant he wasn’t gonna insist that I leave. “I understand.”
“There’s something else—” He cut off and breathed deeply, as though tryin’ to stow away his tears. “I don’t know how much you know about . . . her situation.”
I turned to watch him as I tried to figure out which situation he meant.
“I really shouldn’t be telling you this—she doesn’t want me to—but I think you have a right to know. It might just be what you need to hear to walk away.”
“What is it?” I asked, doubtin’ that anythin’ would be enough to make it easier to walk away.
“When Phoebe was born, her kidneys didn’t work properly.”
“She tol’ me that. And that her brother passed and they transplanted his kidney to make her healthy ag’in.”
“Do you know what being a transplant recipient means for her?”
“We hadn’t really discussed it. I only found out the details a few days before . . . But I know she keeps herself healthy.”
He cradled his head between his hands. “So you don’t know the statistics?”
“What statistics?”
“The chance of her making it into her twenties was always around the 60 percent mark. That her kidney would last that long was only around 20 percent. She’s been lucky.”
There was more, that much was clear, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it.
“Some of the things she’s suffered, the same things that made her miscarry the baby, have left Emmanuel’s donated kidney damaged. It’s not life-threatening, yet, and there is a possibility the damage can be reversed, but I think that news, on top of everything else, has been a bit of a sharp reminder to her about her reality.”
Beastly (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #3) Page 26
