Just Jayne

by Ripley Proserpina

  But I wasn’t going to walk anymore.

  I stuck my thumb out, and prayed.

  45

  Jayne

  By the time I reached Leeds, my throat was so dry I couldn’t speak. The woman who’d picked me up dropped me at the train station. She looked at me, a little worried. “Are you sure you’re okay, love?”

  I nodded and swallowed hard. “Thank you.” I opened my wallet to offer her something, but she waved me off.

  “Just travel safe.”

  Grateful for a little bit of human kindness, I nodded and blinked rapidly so I didn’t cry.

  Leeds Station was big and noisy, and in my current state, ridiculously difficult to navigate. It shouldn’t have been. There were clear signs, but my head was foggy.

  I found myself at the ticket booth, staring dumbly at the screen. Where did I want to go? London? And then where?

  I needed to get lost for a while, but London was familiar to the band. “Edinburgh Waverly, Departing.”

  Edinburgh.

  I bought the ticket, fingers fumbling to insert my credit card and then withdraw the ticket. I shoved everything back in my wallet and hurried to the platform, barely making it to the train in time.

  It wasn’t until I was seated that I let out a breath.

  I’d done it. I’d gotten away before Ten, Lee, Klaus, or Diego found me.

  But I wasn’t relieved, because this wasn’t what I wanted to do, it was what I had to do.

  I fell asleep and stayed asleep the entire trip. It wasn’t until one of the workers shook me awake, that I opened my eyes.

  “Edinburgh, ma’am. All passengers depart.” I gathered my meager belongings and put my arms through the straps of my backpack. My body ached like I’d run a marathon, and I was equally hot and cold.

  Teeth chattering, I made my way off the train and into the station.

  Now what?

  I didn’t have much money. The guys hadn’t paid me yet, so I was living off my savings.

  I needed to get a hotel room, hunker down, and then make decisions with a clear head. I let out a breath and swung my bag around to get my wallet.

  I opened the pouch where I’d placed it and stared dumbly at the empty pocket.

  Not panicked yet, I opened the other pockets. But all of them were empty. My wallet. My passport. It was gone.

  I had nothing. No money, and no identification.

  It was suddenly hard to breathe.

  Shaking, I zipped my bag and shrugged it over one shoulder. People walked by me, chatting on phones, going about their lives. But I stood still.

  If I could just catch my breath, I could figure something out. Go to the office, ask to borrow a phone. Tourists lost their wallets all the time. This wasn’t the worst thing in the world

  I took one wobbling step and heard someone giggle. The world spun, and I reached out a hand to steady myself. “Watch it. Fucking bitch.”

  A few yards away was a bench. One step. Two steps. The voices around me got louder and then softer, and then louder again like they were a radio being tuned.

  Three steps.

  I tripped but caught myself.

  “Are you okay?” a girl asked, her voice high and sweet. “Rivers!”

  My vision tunneled and my knees gave out. The last thing I remembered was my face lying against the cool concrete ground.

  An incessant beeping, like the alarm on my phone, woke me up. I took a breath, shifting beneath my blankets as I reached out a hand to shut it off.

  Something pulled at my hand, and I frowned, confused. When I opened my eyes, I stared at the room where I found myself.

  It was a hospital. There were machines and I had an IV in my hand.

  “Hello,” someone said and I gasped, whipping my head toward the voice. A girl, probably in her early twenties, sat next to my bed. “Sorry to have frightened you.”

  “Where—” I had to clear my throat and winced at the soreness. “Where am I?”

  “This is Western Hospital,” the girl said. “I’m Charlotte. We brought you because you were sick. What’s your name?”

  “Jayne,” I answered.

  She lifted delicately arched dark brows. “Just Jayne?”

  Something stopped me from telling her my real name. “Jayne… Rochester,” I said. “How long have I been here?”

  “About twelve hours,” she said. “You’re very sick. High temperature. My brother, Rivers, he’s a doctor, and he works here.”

  I vaguely remembered someone calling for Rivers before I passed out. “He was at the station?”

  “Yes,” she said. “We all were. Me, my sister, Ann, and Rivers.”

  “What’s wrong with me?” I asked. I was feeling better, but still weak, and my throat hurt.

  “Influenza,” Charlotte answered. “Do you have family here, Jayne? Someone I can call?”

  I shook my head. The light in the room was making my head pound. “No one.”

  She sighed. “You don’t have any identification. From your accent, I know you’re American, but you didn’t have a passport.”

  “I lost it,” I answered, lifting my hand to rub my forehead. “Or it was stolen. I feel asleep on the train and when I got to Edinburgh it was gone.”

  “You’re lucky,” a deep voice said, and I opened my eyes.

  At the door stood a man in a doctor’s coat. He had messy blond hair that fell in waves across his forehead, and bright blue—disapproving—eyes.

  “Thank you for helping me,” I said.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, opening the laptop he held in his hands. “We have you as Jane Doe.”

  “Jayne Rochester,” I answered and he glanced up. “You had the first name right.”

  He smiled tightly and sat on a stool. Rolling toward me, he snapped the laptop shut. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “My head and throat hurt, but otherwise fine.”

  He grunted noncommittally as he lifted the stethoscope from around his neck. Placing it on my chest, he lifted his gaze to mine. “Deep breath.”

  I did, but immediately began to cough.

  “Again.”

  The same thing happened. He sighed, taking it out of his ears. “Your lungs are clear, and the hospital has no reason to keep you.”

  “Rivers,” Charlotte said. “She has nothing. No money. No passport. Where can she go?”

  “She can stay with us,” he said, and then, “My sisters and I share a flat. I’m not in the habit of bringing home patients, but my sister is attached to you. And Ann, if she ever shows herself. She’s a nurse here.”

  “Stay with you?” I asked. I couldn’t. They were strangers and I’d be intruding.

  “It’s fine,” Charlotte said. “I know you want to argue because we don’t know each other, but there’s something about you. Please Jayne. We’ll call the consulate later and your bank, and get you squared away. How’s that sound?”

  “I—”

  “Ohhh!” A voice cried. “She’s awake! Hello! I’m Ann!” An equally pretty girl, hair a little darker than mine, walked in wearing hospital scrubs. “How are you?”

  “Fine,” I answered. “Thank you so much for helping me.”

  She waved my thanks aside. “I’m glad you’re awake. Did Rivers tell you the plan?”

  I didn’t understand why they were helping me. It would be easy enough for them to wish me well as they saw me out the door, so why were they going out of their way for me?

  “Yes,” I said. “I can’t impose.”

  “Do you have a place to stay we don’t know about?” Rivers asked, impatiently. “Family? Friends?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then it’s settled. When you’re discharged, you’ll stay with us.”

  My illness was the only reason why I’d given in to Charlotte, Ann, and Rivers Cynjin. I was weak, and tired, and all of them had a way of speaking as if their suggestions made perfect sense.

  And I would be a fool not to listen.

 
; Rivers didn’t like me. I could tell.

  But his sisters, I’d never met anyone like them. Charlotte had stayed with me while Ann and Rivers went to work, and when I was discharged, all three of them helped me into a taxi.

  We rode through the city to their flat, but I kept my eyes shut. The motion lulling me to sleep, while simultaneously making me car sick.

  When the taxi stopped, I opened my eyes. We were in front of a gray brick building. “This is us,” Ann said. “We have the garden apartment.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “It means basement,” Rivers said, dashing the images I had of roses and grass.

  Rather than go to the entrance, he walked around the side of the house and led us down a set of stairs. I held tight to the rail, and tried to hide how out of breath I was.

  “These old houses are broken into flats. Garden. Ground floor. Second floor. Third floor,” Charlotte told me as Rivers unlocked another door.

  “Third floor is worse than garden,” Anne said. “The windows are tiny and it’s stuffy.”

  Their flat was small. And that, for someone who’d lived in New York, was saying something. The door opened into their kitchen, which contained a sink, stove, and a tiny under-the-counter refrigerator. Beyond that was a small living space and a set of doors. “Ann and I share a room,” Charlotte said. “Rivers has the other one.” She pointed. “That’s the bathroom. We’ll get you set up on the sofa and you can relax.”

  “I’ll call the consulate,” I said. “If I could borrow one of your phones.”

  “You must be the only twenty-something American without a phone,” Rivers observed. “How is such a thing possible?”

  “I didn’t need one,” I replied, sinking onto the sofa. “I had one, but I didn’t carry it everywhere with me, I mean.”

  “How interesting.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “I’m going to bed. I have to go back to the hospital in a couple of hours. Miss Rochester.” He ducked his head at me and went into his room, closing it with a soft, but decisive, click.

  “Do you need anything?” Ann asked. “The remote is right there, feel free to watch whatever you want. I’m going to bed since I’m working first shift tomorrow.”

  “I have homework,” Charlotte said. “Otherwise I’d stay out here, too.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I was beyond grateful. They didn’t have to do any of these things for me. But if they hadn’t, I’d have been spending the night in a park, or a shelter if I was lucky. “I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you.”

  “Just get better,” Charlotte said. “Don’t worry about anything else. Goodnight, Jayne.”

  Ann waved, and they went into their room.

  “Goodnight,” I said as they closed the door. I leaned back on the sofa and pulled the blanket from the back over me.

  I tried to fall asleep. My body was tired, weary and aching down to my bones, but sleep wouldn’t come.

  All I could think about were Ten, Lee, Klaus, and Diego. By now, they knew I was gone.

  I used my credit card to get to Edinburgh, but they wouldn’t find me here. They wouldn’t be able to trace me to the hospital, and they certainly wouldn’t be able to trace me to the Cynjins.

  As soon as I could make it there, I’d go to the US consulate and report my lost passport. That might make a blip on the guys’ radar, but maybe not. This was a government entity and probably wouldn’t alert them.

  I didn’t think.

  And that left me torn, because now that I was here, I had no idea what I would do next. I had a visa that allowed me to work in the UK, but I had no job.

  I had to go back to the US and start again. Maybe by the time I got there, I’d know what the hell I was doing, but I wouldn’t be over them.

  I’d never be over them.

  46

  Jayne

  I slept like the dead that night. At some point, Rivers and Ann left, but I didn’t hear them. It wasn’t until Charlotte touched my arm to tell me she was going out that I opened my eyes.

  “I didn’t want you to wonder where everyone was,” she whispered, her damp blonde hair tied up in a bun. “I left numbers on the table, and Ann left her cell phone.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, pushing myself up. “I appreciate it. Is there anything I can do while you’re gone?”

  “Just relax,” Charlotte said. “Get better. Help yourself to food or whatever you need. Your backpack is in the bathroom, but if you need to borrow clothes, feel free to raid our closet.” She gave me a finger wave and left, locking the door behind her.

  I leaned back against the arm of the sofa. The quiet of the room was too much. It left my head too clear, and even though I still had the remnants of a headache, it was much less worse than it was yesterday.

  Reaching for Ann’s phone, I considered what calls I needed to make. The embassy was one, for sure. I was in a foreign country with nothing.

  And when I got to the US, I’d still have nothing.

  I looked up the number to the embassy and after navigating through menu options, finally spoke to a real person. There was nothing I could do over the phone. Everything had to happen in person, and when I stood up to go to the bathroom, I was hit with a wave of nausea. So that wasn’t happening.

  Ann’s phone pinged a text alert, and I picked it up before realizing that it probably wasn’t for me. I was wrong. It was. It was Rivers asking if I had a fever and reminding me to take a fever reducer and go back to sleep. “You can’t do anything about your passport today, so rest.”

  His terse, straight-to-point message gave me the permission I needed to sink back onto the sofa and draw the blanket over me. It would be nice to sleep.

  Sleep was safe. As long as I didn’t have nightmares, I could spend the rest of my life asleep.

  Before I could do any of that, however, I needed a shower. My skin felt dry and dirty, like I’d sweated through my clothes and then it had dried. Standing slowly, I held onto the couch to make sure I wouldn’t throw up or lose my balance. There wasn’t much space between me and the bathroom, but it felt like there were miles. Each step I took was deliberate, and I held onto the sofa, a chair, the wall, the door frame until I could sit on the edge of their tub.

  Out of breath, I turned on the water and undressed. Shivering, I waited for the water to warm before sliding from the lip of the tub to the bottom.

  Water pounded on my head and back and I wrapped my arms around my knees. As I sat there, utterly alone and without hope, I thought about the men I loved.

  They’d lied to me. In every aspect of our relationship, they’d lied to me. From the very first moment I applied for the tutoring job and didn’t learn about who they were until I reached London, they’d hidden things from me.

  But they weren’t just lying to me, they were lying to everyone. They lied to the world about Bree. They hid what happened to her. Mrs. Foster’s warning came back to me with a vengeance. She’d been sworn to secrecy, probably like I was when I signed all those non-disclosure agreements, but she’d tried, as best she could, to put me on guard.

  No. I had to be honest with myself. Mrs. Foster had begged me to reconsider marrying them, and what had I done? I’d barreled ahead, uncaring. I thought love was enough.

  I was so stupid.

  No wonder Warner had wanted me gone. He knew about Bree, and he was watching the guys fall for me in the exact same way they had for her. He must have known what would happen. His hurtful comments, the way he glared at me, it all seemed so much more meaningful now.

  Sure, he’d been trying to protect Rochester’s Pathos; they were his priority. And as unintentional as it was, he’d protected me, too.

  I reached up with one hand to grab a bottle of body wash and poured some into my hand. I’d forgotten about my hand, and so I studied it. The skin near my fingers was blistered, and the skin of my palm felt tight. But it was manageable. Sitting on the tub floor, I washed my body and hair and watched the suds swirl down the
drain.

  The water was cooler now, and I shut it off. Someone had left a towel on the sink, and I used it to dry myself, a task that left me breathless and near collapse.

  I made my way back to the sofa the same way I’d made it to the bathroom. I wasn’t hungry, food held no appeal for me, but my headache was back and I was warm and cold, so I knew I had to take a fever reducer.

  Luckily, there was a glass of room temperature water and the bottle of pills on the coffee table.

  After taking my medicine, I wrapped the blanket around me again.

  So many lies.

  I enumerated them.

  And what about how they lied to themselves? That was what made lying to me so easy. They didn’t even want to know which of them was Sophie’s father. Why had I accepted that? I got they all felt responsible for her, but at a most basic level, that was something they should know. What if Sophie had some sort of illness? What if they had to figure out if it was genetic or something else? Then what?

  I stuffed a pillow behind my back. This wasn’t fixable, was it? It wasn’t like they needed me. I was just an accessory, something they wanted.

  But what if I got sick? I had no idea what my family was like. I knew what my aunt and cousins were like; they were horrible, messed-up people. My cousin had killed himself, so it was possible depression ran in my family.

  There wasn’t much distance between myself and Bree. My brain could be a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode. I could easily be her.

  What would they do with me if I ended up like her? Would we be roommates? Would they hire me a Grace, too? Or would they cut their losses and leave me on my own. Was it my fate to die, homeless and unloved?

  A sudden thought occurred to me. Even without them, that might be what awaited me. I meant, look at me. I had no home. No money. No identification. I was ill. It was only by the grace of god and the Cynjins that I wasn’t in the exact position I’d just imagined.

  A steady thumping in my brain made me close my eyes and push my fingers against my temples. Everything on me hurt: my head, my stomach, my heart.