by SM Olivier
I screamed in a rasp. “No. No. No!”
How did they get me back? I was safe! That officer pulled me over!
“Peyton, Peyton. You’re safe. You’re in the hospital,” a soft masculine voice murmured repeatedly until, eventually, I stopped trying to get free.
It felt like someone had poured sand in my eyes and mouth as I slowly opened my gritty, dry eyes. My mouth was so parched. Kind, hazel eyes behind thin wire frames met my own green ones. He had dark blond hair that was a little too long to be considered professional. Slim, tall, attractive. He looked far too young to be a doctor.
A feeling of relief rushed through me. I knew him. “Dr. Baylor, we need to stop meeting like this,” I rasped with a crooked smile.
He let out a burst of surprised laughter. He smiled broadly at me and released my hands, perching himself on the edge of my bed. He was one of Grandpa’s personal physicians. He had put me at ease the last time I had seen him. He was my doctor when I landed in the hospital with the concussion, when my period had decided to hit the same night.
“I say, the next time we meet, it’s during one of your family meals,” he teased as one single dimple appeared in his left cheek. “I heard you make a mean biscuits and gravy.”
I heard a gasp and noticed a nurse standing by the foot of my bed. I realized she must have been the one restraining my legs. Her dark hair was disheveled, and she was holding her wrist as if it hurt.
“I’ll be right back, doctor,” she murmured before she turned and left.
I gave apologetic grimace before I looked back at Dr. Baylor. “I make my biscuits and gravy from scratch. None of that canned crap,” I joked.
I knew there were a thousand more things we should have been talking about, but I felt like I needed to brace myself. I yearned to see the men who’d mentally get me through all this, even without their physical presence. I needed to see my Grandpa. I wanted to know if they got Boyd, Coach, and Tormentor. There were so many more things clouding my head, but I just wanted to enjoy the peace for a few more minutes before the storm hit.
Dr. Baylor had this… calming aura about him. He wasn’t like any doctor I had ever met.
“Your Grandpa has my number. Let me know when you’re making it next, and I’ll make sure I take the time to swing by,” he said soothingly before adjusting the taped needle and tube in my hand.
I realized now that the pull and the feel of the tube must have made me feel like I had my restraints back on. I also noticed my right upper arm was covered in gauze, as well as my hands, knees, and feet. I gingerly lifted my arms and got a whiff of myself and grimaced. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d showered with soap and water. All I knew was that I felt like I had a year’s worth of grime and dirt embedded in my skin. I’d never be clean again.
“You’re a survivor, Peyton Delaney,” he murmured quietly, soothingly, as if he knew where my train of thought was going. “I don’t know how you got behind that wheel or how you saved all those people, but you shouldn’t have been able to. You have pneumonia, you’re severely dehydrated and emaciated, you have multiple bruises, burns, and lacerations. You shouldn’t have been coherent, let alone mobile enough to do what you did.”
He gently patted my hand and continued, his voice soft. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I can imagine. Grown men wouldn’t have been able to handle half the stuff you did tonight. After seeing how you came in and talked a little while with Claire, I know you’re a fighter, and you’ll survive this too. But if you ever need to talk to someone, I know a couple of people that can help you through this, okay?”
“What about my ribs? Every time I cough, it hurts.” I tried to deflect—my coping mechanism—and asked, “So I guess it might be a little while before Grandpa invites you over for biscuits and gravy?”
He gave me another crooked smile before reaching into his shirt pocket for two cards. “These are good friends of mine,” he explained gently. “They're excellent in their career fields.” I nodded, even though the thought of voicing what I lived through seemed almost too difficult to do. “We ran some tests, and I imagine you may be bruised, but nothing’s broken or fractured.”
I nodded once more. I knew locking my feelings in about my experience would be unhealthy. However, I didn’t want to relive those moments, even if it was just through talking about it with someone.
“Your Grandpa pulled a lot of strings, and we’re gonna transfer you out of here so you can recover at home. I’ll still visit you once or twice a day until I feel like I can take these out.” He indicated my IV bag on the pole. “If that is okay with you?” I nodded again. “I have antibiotics running through here, too. That pneumonia should clear up soon, and you’ll start feeling better with time. Get plenty of sleep and fluids. Once you feel like you can handle it, broth, soup, nothing heavy, okay?
“I’m telling you all this now, Peyton, because you have a waiting room full of people wanting to see you. I wanted you to know what was going on before the welcoming committee comes in.” He smiled briefly, then grew serious again. “If you’re ready to see them, I’ll send them in, if not I’m more than happy to tell them you’re still sleeping.”
I took a deep breath. It was so bizarre. The whole time I was kept a prisoner, I longed to see them. I needed to see them. Now that the time was here, I was… afraid. I knew I looked like a mere shadow of my old self. I also knew I wouldn’t be better today, tomorrow, maybe not even next week, and I wasn’t just talking physically. I was a mental and emotional wreck right now. I was… okay right now, but I knew that I wouldn’t be for long. Once I was able to process everything, I was afraid of how I would react. Could they could handle it?
He paused for a second and shifted as if he felt slightly uncomfortable. “One more thing. We were also requested to do a SAK kit on you.” At my confused look, his cheeks turned a light pink. “Sexual Assault Kit.”
I stiffened and looked away. “They…they didn’t rape me,” I said hoarsely. Did they? Could they have touched me when I was… incoherent?
“It’s standard procedure in cases like this… however, you are eighteen, and you can refuse one.”
I nodded my head emphatically. “I’m refusing one.” I felt violated enough. I didn’t remember it happening. Why should I go through the arduous procedure if I didn’t believe it had happened?
“If you are certain,” he said hesitantly.
“I am.” My voice cracked. “They were still conditioning me with pain and comfort afterward.”
“Very well.” I could hear the sympathy and uncertainty in his voice.
“I’m ready to see them, Doc,” I said quietly, changing the subject.
“Bryce.” He nodded at me with encouragement and maybe even a little admiration. “You can call me Bryce.”
“Okay, Bryce,” I feigned a smile.
He patted my hand once more before turning to leave the room.
29
●
Time Marches On
The door opened, and the first person I saw was Grandpa. He looked… older, a lot older, smaller too, and his eyes were red-rimmed. He sobbed the moment he saw me and came stumbling forward. Kyler and Lochlann were there to scoop him up before he fell.
My eyes lit on them, and it felt like the first rays of the sun were gracing me with its presence after months of rain. I soaked in their appearance. They looked like they’d been through hell and back, but still looked damn good. Kyler was dressed in a pair of faded work jeans, a black Henley, work boots, and a baseball cap. While Lochlann wore a tailored, dark gray suit with a baby-blue shirt and silver tie. They were so different in looks and personality, in so many ways.
Paxton nearly pushed over Golden and Madison as he came stumbling in behind them. Paxton had tears in his hazel eyes. His light brown hair looked a little longer and very unkempt. He was dressed in a white thermal top and light jeans. On his feet were a pair of black boots. My eyes continued their inspection.
Gol
den was wearing a gray t-shirt with a button-down navy blue and gray flannel over it. He had on a pair of dark jeans and gray slip-on shoes.
Off to his right, holding his hand, was Madison. She was dressed… in a Spartan cheerleading outfit. Why was she wearing my school’s cheer uniform? Why was she holding Golden’s hand?
My thoughts were put on hold when Grandpa collapsed beside me on my bed. I bit my lip to keep from crying out, as his arms bumped into my ribs. Tears, real tears, flooded my eyes, and the metallic taste of my blood filled in my mouth.
“I thought I’d lost you! I thought I lost you before I could even make up for all the wrongs done to you… and you found my Ava,” he sobbed. “You brought Claire back and my grandkids! I have more grandkids!”
I clumsily tried to pat my grandfather, but my limbs were too weak and sore. They felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each. “Shh, Grandpa,” I crooned as if talking to a child. I was so shocked at his breaking down like this. I never expected him to be so… vulnerable or emotional. “It’s okay. We’re all okay. We’re all fine.” Although, I had no clue if we were. Ava had been in bad shape when we left that cabin.
“The FBI agents want to talk to you as soon as we get you settled in at home,” Lochlann said quietly as he took a hesitant step towards me.
I met his eyes for just a second before I ducked my head. I didn’t know how to act, what to do. I wanted nothing more than to have them hold me. I wanted them to comfort me, but I didn’t want to see their pity.
“Oh, Peyton! What did they do to you?” Madison whispered, throwing herself on the other side of me.
This time I yelped in shock and pain. She had hit the tender, burnt, raw skin of my upper arms.
Grandpa and Madison quickly got up. When Madison hastily stepped back, Golden draped an arm over her shoulders. He pulled her in close. Were… were they together now? Was I gone too long?
White hot jealousy and regret speared through me, and I closed my eyes. I wanted to yell and ask what the hell was going on, but I couldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” Madison said, over and over again.
“It’s okay,” I tried to sound reassuring, then opened my eyes. “How… long was I gone?” my voice was almost emotionless as I found a spot on the wall that I could stare at. I didn’t know what to say, still not knowing how to act.
Their world had kept going while mine had stopped. I couldn’t expect everything to remain the same. Life went on, and I shouldn’t have expected anything different. For some reason, Madison was here. She was wearing my schools’ uniform while one of the men I thought was mine was holding her, comforting her.
I shouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t the first time I had been dumped by someone I showed interest in. Honestly, it was never through any fault of her own. She didn’t encourage them. It just never cut this deep before.
Madison was beautiful, funny, talented, and smart. Why wouldn’t the guys find comfort in her? It was bound to grow from there.
“Eighteen days.” Crew stepped forward. He was still wearing his football cleats and pants. They must have had a game tonight.
I looked up at the clock. It was a little past eleven right now. Friday night games generally ran to at least nine o’clock. When I had gotten in the car, it was a little after eight, according to the clock in the dash.
Had the guys just received word I that I have been found and then rushed over here? Were they in the middle of a game? All these inane thoughts were swarming in my head. I needed to keep my sanity somehow and ignore the way Madison leaned into Golden’s chest.
“Coach Carson?” I suddenly blurted out, repressing a shudder.
“What about him?” Kyler frowned.
I gaped at him and tensed. Did Claire not tell them? Did Ava?
I began to tremble. Was he still on the loose? Had that officer not understood me when I told him how to get back to the house? Was Tormentor still out there?
I finally looked up and met a lot of confused expressions.
“He,” I rasped as the walls closed in on me. All the air was leaving my lungs. I couldn’t breathe.
I can’t breathe!
“Peyton,” Paxton murmured. “Are you okay?”
“No, no, no,” I repeated over and over. “I’m not safe. He’s still out there. They’re still out there!” I began to cry, and the tremors were back, running through my body.
“What’s wrong?” I heard Dr. Baylor enter the room, his tone concerned.
I was trying to curl into a fetal position and cover my head, but I couldn’t. I was tethered to a machine, and each movement reminded me of somewhere else, another place that had hurt me.
“She’s having a panic attack,” Lochlann said almost soothingly. His hand grabbed mine, the one without the IV needle in it. “Peyton, name five things you can see,” he urged.
I couldn’t breathe, and he wanted me to figure out what I could see? Why? Was he crazy? Couldn’t he tell I couldn’t breathe? I can’t hide. I looked into his blue eyes, and I saw him silently urging me to do this.
“Your blue eyes,” I gasped. My gaze darted around, avoiding Golden and Madison. “The bed, the needle sticking out of my hand.” I looked up, desperately trying to breathe. It felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. My eyes found Crew’s concerned eyes. He was standing at the edge of my bed, wearing my ring on his pinky. He was wearing my ring! I woke up with none of my jewelry. I thought my captors took everything and disposed of it.
“Two more,” Lochlann quietly urged.
“My…ring, Crew’s bruised knuckles,” I wheezed out.
Why were Crew’s knuckles bruised? Did he get hurt? Was he okay?
Crew rounded the bed and removed my ring− the one Madison had given me− off his finger and slid it onto mine. When he went to withdraw his hand, I squeezed his fingers. Silently begging him not to leave me.
“Good. Can you tell me four things you can feel?” Lochlann soothed.
“Rough,” I rasped, talking about Crew’s hands. His calluses from working with his brother and working out were comforting in all their coarseness. “Softer.” I felt Lochlann’s hand. He wore gloves when he lifted. “Clothes.” I thought about how the hospital gown felt surprisingly soft, considering the fact I had been naked for so long. “Sheets.” They were coarse, but I would never complain again, not after spending most nights in a wooden box on a basement floor with nothing to cover up with.
“Perfect. Give me three things you can hear,” Lochlann commanded.
I closed my eyes, feeling some of the tightness leave my chest. “The clock,” I said. “The fan. The machine.”
“Great, now two things you can smell.”
I inhaled gently. “Your cologne.” It was a soothing scent of sandalwood and leather, combined with the… earthiness of Crew’s smell. He smelled like hard-working-man and was comforting combined with the body spray he used. “Earth.” I sighed.
“Tell me one thing good about yourself.” Lochlann’s voice was closer.
My brows crinkled. I didn’t know. I used to know. Who am I? It was as if my identity had been stripped while in captivity. The panic came back.
“You’re a beautiful dancer,” Zane commented softly after several moments of silence. “You have a huge heart. You put others before yourself, all the time. You’re incredibly smart. You excel at things even when you don’t care for them, like cheerleading. You get back up every time you’re knocked down. You have the cutest laugh when something truly makes you happy.”
“You have the ability to see what another person needs and then you just… fix it,” Paxton added. “You have this awesome but funny quirk of dancing when you’re in a good mood, and I don’t even think you realize you do it half the time.”
I had caught myself doing it before. It was like a reflexive action within me. Music and dance were always in my thoughts.
“Your single-mindedness when you want something is… admirable,” Crew murmured. “You don’t let any obs
tacles get in your way, and you work harder at it.”
“Your smell,” Kyler commented. “You can work out for hours in the studio, just get off the field from cheering, or work on the house, and you always smell like honey and vanilla.”
I crinkled my nose, thinking how much I didn’t smell like honey and vanilla right then.
I had opened my eyes by the time they got halfway through their list. I could breathe again. I was thankful for Zane’s help in getting me focused when I couldn’t find those things about myself that were good. I saw the love and vulnerability in his eyes, and I knew we were okay. Life did go on, and he had remained loving me. I longed to blurt out that I loved him, but I looked over at Crew and Lochlann, instead. I squeezed their hands.
“Coach Carson took me,” I rasped. “He was the man in the gray sedan. Principal Boyd took Claire. Tormentor—” I bit my lip and hastily said, “I mean Pearce…” I frowned. I didn’t even know his last name or what he did. “Pearce was there, too. They called each other brothers.”
Just then, Grandpa made a gasping noise, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Zane and Paxton caught him before he fell to the floor.
●
“How’s Grandpa?” I asked the next time I saw Dr. Baylor.
They had moved me to my old apartment in the Isaacs’ house. It was so bittersweet to walk—well, be carried—back into their house.
As of five days ago, Maisie and Clay were officially Lochlann’s on paper. No one could take them away, and, in the event that something were to happen to him, Golden and Paxton were listed as their guardians.
“He’s going to be okay.” Dr. Baylor injected my antibiotics into my IV bag.
I saw how Dr. Baylor wouldn’t meet my eyes; he knew something. He just wouldn’t share.
“Secrets don’t make friends,” I muttered to him.
He let out a chuckle. I liked surprising the somewhat serious doctor.
“True,” he said, “but some secrets aren’t for me to tell. He’s been through a lot of stress lately, and since he’s still in remission, he hasn’t been taking it as easy as he should.”
