by K. Webster
He hugs me to him. “I’m so sorry. Detective Stark told me. I fucking hate that for you.”
Our lips meet for a moment and he kisses me while his thumb swipes away my tears.
“Brandon told me you’d died,” I choke out. “I was dead inside. My heart died right along with you.”
My sobs overwhelm me and he holds me tight against his side.
“Shhh,” he coos. “I never went anywhere, Bay.”
“He’s not the same person,” I hiss out, my lip wobbling wildly. “I was happy when he saved me but then I wasn’t. I don’t love him. Not anymore. But it’s more than that, War, he’s unhinged. He has these elaborate ideas about us being together. I watched him shove Gabe to his death in that cellar. His eyes were hate-filled… I’m afraid he’ll never cope with you and I being together, which is why he lied. And I think he has something to with my dad being missing.”
His brows furrow together and he frowns. “Yeah, I started getting a feeling when talking to Stark and it wasn’t a good one. Jesus, Baylee,” he says and drops a kiss to the top of my head, his hands around my face trembling. “We’ll call her in the morning. She can deal with Brandon. You’re safe with me now.”
I want to believe him but fear still niggles inside of me.
“Go look in my bag,” he says with a smile. “I brought something of yours to have up here with me, but now you can have it back.” His fingers tenderly stroke along the outer shell of my ear and he touches my earring.
Nodding, I climb out of bed away from his warmth and dig in his bag. I find a Gala apple and jerk my gaze over to him. “Can I have this? I’m starving.”
“Yes, Jesus, please eat. I hate that you’ve been out there in survival mode. You can rest now. You’re free,” he tells me gruffly.
I take a bite of the apple and finally find what he wanted me to have. Chewing, I pull out my pretty pink watch and slide it on over my wrist. “I wish I had this on when I left,” I tell him sadly after I swallow. “The trunk was so dark…I didn’t know how many hours had passed. I had nothing but your shirt on my back to remember you by.”
He sits up in bed, eyes wide and furious. “Trunk?” I hear the beeps on the machines next to his bed speed up, an indicator of his anger. “I wish you had it too, believe me,” he says with a growl that I’ve missed so much. “Now get over here because I’m already missing you and you’re only five feet away.”
With my apple in hand, I bounce back over to him and then crawl back in beside him. His lips press a kiss to my forehead and then my nose. I let out a sigh when he trails kisses along my cheek and to my ear.
“I love you, Baylee.”
I shiver in his arms and let his touch soothe away all of the pain—the physical and emotional—that both Brandon and Gabe made me endure.
“Bay,” he murmurs, his hot breath against my ear, “I didn’t obsess or count while you were gone. If I had, it would have swallowed me up. It was you—always you. Every breath, every thought, every blink. You were in each and every one. When they had me drugged after my surgery, it was your light that shone in the darkness of my head. Had you not been there, I’d have lost you forever. The demons would have ruined me once and for all. They were there—always there, threatening me, but you saved me. Every time.”
I find his mouth with mine and kiss him hard. His mouth overtakes mine, his tongue lapping up the juicy remnants of the apple as we kiss. When I break away, I smile at him.
“You saved me too, War. When I was stuck in a nightmare, I dreamed about you. It was my heaven.”
He kisses me again and the apple slides from my grip. It hits the floor with a thud and rolls away until it thumps against the wall.
“Don’t eat that,” he chuckles against my lips. “I very much like kissing you, but so help me, if you pick that thing up…”
I giggle and look into his gorgeous, expressive eyes. “But I’m really hungry,” I say and then grow serious, “because I’m eating for two.”
TWO.
Two.
Two.
That number is quickly becoming my favorite and I count over and over again. One, two, one, two, one, two, one, two.
Black monsters run from my head as something beautiful fills the space. A woman and child. Beautiful. And mine. I’m blinded by the sweet, perfect light of it.
I blink at the sun, my Baylee, so radiant and blinding I almost have to look away. But I don’t. The brightness that shines from her is nourishment to my starved, black soul. I want to bask in all that’s her for eternity.
“Did you hear me?” A slow grin plays at her lips and her blue orbs shimmer with emotion, her eyes blinking. One, two. “War, I’m pregnant. We’re going to have a baby. It’ll be the three of us”—one, two, three—“Are you happy?”
Happy?
I’m fucking ecstatic.
Three’s my new favorite number because it includes me. Baylee, our baby, and me. One, two, three. Love doesn’t come in the shape of a heart, it clearly comes in triangles.
“I’m more than happy, Bay,” I murmur against her pouty lips. “I’m complete.”
One point two seconds later and I’m ravishing her. My teeth bite and nip at her lips as my hands roam over her perfect body. A baby. My woman is pregnant with our child. The ache in my chest is because the love inside of me is trying to claw its way out and envelop her in an everlasting embrace. The throbbing from my surgery is ever present, but it is nothing in comparison to the pain I felt when she wasn’t with me. With Baylee in my arms, the entire world fades to black while she shines brilliantly in the middle.
She’s my center.
My nucleus.
My only reason.
I can only exist fully with her.
And I am nothing without her.
“God, I love you,” I murmur as we kiss, “and this.” My fingers slide under her hoodie and I stroke her soft skin on her belly. “I love this too.”
She lets out a whimper when my fingers trail up her flesh and then I flutter them over one of her breasts. Her nipple hardens at my touch and I grin at her. “I even love this,” I assure her and pinch it between my thumb and finger.
“War,” she murmurs and straddles my waist. “I need you to make it all go away. Touch me all over. Please.”
She tugs her hoodie from her body and bares her full tits at me. Her nipples point right at me as if to accuse me for not saving her from Gabe. I tug her closer and put one in my mouth. My tongue teases the hardened peak and then I gently bite down on the tender flesh. A pleased gasp releases from her and my cock thickens between us. She seems to realize this at the same time and grinds herself against me. The groan that leaves my chest is one of pure bliss and it dizzies me.
“Shit,” I say as wave of darkness passes over my vision. “I need to lie back for a second.”
“Oh my God,” she hisses in horror. “I keep forgetting you’re hurt. I’m so sorry. I should—”
She starts to climb off of me but I grip on to her hips to keep her in place. “No, don’t leave me. I just need to catch my breath.”
Her lips pout into a small frown that does nothing to help my aching cock. “I just missed you so much.”
“Come here,” I say with a smile and tug her toward the crook of my arm. To my dismay, she shrugs the hoodie back on first before sliding back up against me. Her legs remain stretched across my thighs as if she’s attempting to latch onto me indefinitely. “Dad is going to be so fucking happy you’re back. I should text him and let him know you’re safe.”
She snuggles against me. “Text him in the morning. I’m so exhausted I can barely move.”
“Okay.” I stroke her hair. “And Bay, in the morning? After we call my dad and Stark, I want you to go down to the emergency department and get yourself checked out.” She stills against me. I don’t know the details, but I don’t need to. I know that monster violated her. Again. It’s written all over her face. And when she lifts her head to look at me, her watery eyes and the
shame in her expression is all the confirmation I need. She offers me the same silent, tentative nod that I offered her just moments ago when this topic came up, before putting her head back down on my chest. She doesn’t want to talk about it. Whether it’s that she doesn’t want to talk about it at all or that she doesn’t want to talk about it with me, I don’t know. But it will need to be dealt with. She may be safe now, physically. But emotionally, my Baylee is anything but okay.
I continue stroking her hair while my mind begins playing out a future for us. A future where Baylee wears more than the earrings and watch I gave to her, but also a ring.
“Quiet your mind, Warren McPherson,” she says thickly as sleep begins to steal her.
I smile, letting my thumb slide along her jaw and then rest it on her pulse point. “Shhh, quiet your mouth. I’m counting the beats of your heart against me.”
She lets out a small sigh and soon breathes in a soft, rhythmic way that lulls the monsters inside me right to sleep. But there, in the darkness of that hospital room, I resolve to help Baylee fight her demons, just like she helped me fight mine.
I won’t let her exist in the darkness. I’ll bring her into the light.
With a yawn, I hug her to me and follow quickly behind.
I’ve finally found Peace again.
I wake with a start.
Cold, bitter, emptiness threatens to swallow me whole.
My warmth—my radiant, brilliant sun—has vanished and thrown me back into the darkness.
“Breakfast, Mr. McPherson?” Cathy chirps as she waltzes into the room, carrying a tray of food she and I both know I won’t eat.
I’m already climbing out of bed. “Where is she? Where the fuck is Baylee?”
Her eyes widen and she sets the tray on the table beside the bed. “Who? Are you feeling okay, Warren?
“She was here. Baylee came into my room last night. She got away from him—both of them actually—and I held her in my arms. So where the fuck is she? Call hospital security! Have them look over the security footage! We need to call Detective Stark!”
She frowns at me and then looks down at the floor. Her features quickly morph into one of shock as she bends over to pick something up. “This her shoe?”
I nod and once again the world spins.
“Sit down before you faint, Warren. I’ll call security.” She rushes out the door and I pick up my phone as I sit on the edge of the bed. I call and leave a message for Dad, telling him to hurry up with a change of clothes. Then, I phone Stark next.
“Stark,” she barks out.
I launch into a crazy man’s babble. “He took her. I think Brandon took her. She was here last night—said she got away from him. But her shoes are still here. Stark, she wouldn’t leave without her shoes. Not to mention, she wouldn’t leave me. Goddammit she’s pregnant with my baby! You have to fucking find her!”
She lets out a string of expletives that would make a sailor blush. “We’re on it. I already issued an APB on Brandon’s truck after I spoke with Miss Winston last night. We’d pinpointed the location of the hotel she called from and his credit card activity matched, but when we arrived, they were both gone. I have no doubts Brandon is looking for her. Unfortunately, Baylee isn’t my only concern right now.”
I brutally grip the phone and clench my teeth. “What the fuck is your concern besides finding my goddamned fiancée?”
She huffs, clearly frustrated with my tone. “The cabin was empty. There was no body. No sign of Mr. Sharpe.”
The room spins again and I lie back against the pillows for a minute. “What do you mean there was no body? You mean to tell me that bastard could be the one who took her?”
Jesus Christ.
This can’t be fucking happening.
Again.
There’s only so much that girl can bear. And why the fuck did I not hear her leave last night? We’d both fallen asleep and I didn’t wake to her struggling or screaming. No way would she have left willingly.
Not my girl.
“His car was gone too. We’ve put out an APB on his vehicle as well. Stay put, Mr. McPherson,” she commands. “We’re on it. Find out what you can on Edgar Finn, will you? That’ll keep your mind occupied while we locate Miss Winston.”
She hangs up on me and I scrub my face in frustration.
Like fuck I will.
I am stuck here until Dad shows up with clothes. I can’t exactly take to the streets barefoot. I feel like a prisoner in this fucking room. Crawling back out of the bed, I pull up the app on my phone that I’d installed awhile back. The green flashing ping gives me a false sense of security—I know it doesn’t tell me if she’s hurt—but it at least tells me where she is. I keep it open and under my watchful eye while I take a quick piss. By the time I’ve splashed water on my face, Cathy shows up with my dad and a security officer.
Everyone has somber looks on their faces and I think I might snap. “Someone please talk to me.”
“This is really against hospital protocol, but since MPE is such a generous benefactor—” the security guard stammers but is interrupted by my father.
“And we appreciate that. Can you please just tell us what was on the footage?”
“Of course,” he says, clearing his throat. “About an hour ago, a man in scrubs was seen entering this room pushing a wheelchair,” the security officer tells me, his breath heaving. “Several minutes later, he came back out with a young woman in the chair. She appeared to be awake. Didn’t look to be injured on the footage. The man’s face was covered. They’re still sorting through the parking lot footage.”
“Shit,” I hiss out and then run my fingers through my messy hair. “I’m leaving. I have to find her.”
She shakes her head. “Sir! You’ve just had surgery to repair a pneumothorax. You can barely walk without getting winded. I strongly advise against that.”
I toss my phone onto the bed so Dad can see and he nods, passing me a bag of clothes. “Cathy, will he be okay if he stays put in the car? Once we get Baylee, we’ll come back. Just tell me he’ll be okay to leave for a short while.”
She frowns and waves her head in a disproving way. “Sir, he has a chest tube in place and a wound vac. Even if he wants to leave against medical advice, I need a doctor here to D/C the tube, get prescriptions for antibiotics—because he will probably get an infection if the chest tube is discontinued early—and provide me with discharge orders. These things will take me some time.”
The mention of antibiotics makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand. I try to fight the black that threatens to consume me at the mention of the risks involved with leaving the hospital early. The fact that my lung, according to Cathy, will likely fill with infectious pathogens.
My breathing grows shallow. It’s an involuntary response.
But I remember the look in Baylee’s eyes last night—the one that she was trying so desperately to keep from me that spoke of pain, and humiliation, and sadness.
I remember that she needs me.
And I remember that it’s my turn to fight for her, like she fought for me. To bring my queen into the light.
“Just do what you can, please,” I beg. “My fiancée is in grave danger.”
Nurse Cathy looks between my father and I and nods. “I’ll see what I can do,” she says, making her way out of the room.
I work to take a few more calming deep breaths, but I sense my dad approaching and open my eyes to find him in front of me. One side of his mouth lifts into a small smile.
“I’m proud of you, son.”
“ARE WE ALMOST there?” she asks, a cold bite to her voice. Her arms are crossed over her chest as she glares straight ahead of her.
I grit my teeth and give her a one word answer. “Almost.”
Her mouth sets into a thin line and I let my anger fill me up and fuel me on. She acts like she’s the one who was put out for having to leave the hospital. Not once did she consider how I’d feel. How I’d feel when I came back
ready to spoil her with flowers and dinner only to find out she’d bailed on me. It didn’t take rocket science to figure out she’d gone to see him. And sure as fuck, I found her wrapped around him. Like she belonged to him.
I deserve her love.
It gutted me.
Fucking gutted me.
She’s lucky I didn’t end him right there once and for all. I craved to yank out the knife I’d bought, after returning to an empty hotel suite, and slash his throat. To watch it spray the ceiling and shower down around her. He deserved to drown in his own goddamned blood. The rage fights to consume me as I grip the steering wheel tighter, so I don’t do anything stupid like turn around. If I turned around and went back, I’d surely kill him. And if I killed him, she’d never forgive me. Her attention would be on him, not me.
I deserve her attention.
We’re walking a fine fucking line here.
Between right and wrong.
Love and hate.
Black and white.
The lines are becoming blurred and I’m tired of playing Mr. Nice Guy.
“Here we are,” I say as I pull down a long driveway that leads to a little house by the beach. “Home sweet home.”
She huffs at me and is already wrenching the door open before I have the damned truck turned off. I watch her run toward the house. It was easy getting her here. All it took was telling her the one thing she so desperately needed to hear. Come with me if you want to see your dad.
She’ll be so disappointed.
I’d hated the look of regret she’d shot over at that freak when she crawled out from under his heavy arm. I’d nearly gone mad with blinding rage when she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. And I’d wanted to punish her—punish my sweet, sweet Baylee—for willingly cheating on me with that motherfucker.
I deserve her apologies.
But instead, I’d put on a brave face and wheeled her right out of that hospital. Helped her into my truck and drove her straight here. My girl had gone without a fight because she wanted to see her precious daddy. The same daddy who didn’t give two shits whether or not she got raped by men more than twice her age. It was just one more deep cut she wounded me with.
