"Did I hurt you?"
"No, but I could use some more ice and something for the pain."
"You got it, baby." He got up to leave the room.
"And maybe something to eat?" I asked him.
"Anything you want, Sydney," he answered from the doorway, his eyes warm with affection. "Anything."
A little while later, Jensen returned to my room with an ice pack and a bowl of chicken soup. "I'm not sick," I said with a smile of amusement as I took the bowl from him.
"No, but head injuries can make you nauseous," he said, returning my smile and sitting on the bed next to me. "You'll thank me later if that happens." He took the bowl back and switched it with the ice pack. "Put this on your face," I complied, sighing at the cold relief on my cheek. He took a spoonful of soup and held it up to my mouth.
"I'm not an invalid," I complained.
"Just let me do this, okay?" he pleaded, his eyes begging me to understand. "I need it."
I nodded in understanding, realizing this was his way of coping with his guilt over not being able to protect me. I let him feed me, and I didn't mind at all. His care didn't make me feel helpless; it made me feel special and loved.
When I finished my soup, he set the bowl down on the nightstand and stood. "Where do you keep your pain medicine?" he asked.
"There should be something in the bathroom."
He nodded and walked out of the room again. He returned a few moments later with a glass of water and two small pill bottles. "Pick your poison. Naproxen or Vicodin?"
"Oh God, Vicodin, please," I whispered, the pain getting stronger after eating. They must have been left over from Lauren's wisdom teeth being pulled last January. Thank God, they were still there. He handed me the water and opened one of the bottles, then gave me a pill. I swallowed it down gratefully. "Thank you, baby." He nodded and took the glass back, setting it on the nightstand.
He helped me take my jeans off, and I crawled under my blankets. He climbed up next to me on top of the comforter and sat leaning back against the headboard. "Mind if I watch TV?" he asked as he grabbed the remote off the nightstand. I shook my head and curled up to him, laying my head on his thigh. He turned on the small TV on top of my dresser, and I sighed, happy he was here. After a while, I started to feel fuzzy all over and the pain just seemed to drift away. I giggled at the giddy sensation. "You okay?" he asked with a snort.
"I. Like. Vicodin," I announced with a slight slur in my voice as I smiled up at him.
"Apparently," he said as he looked down at me with a smirk. I snuggled closer to him and shut my eyes. I drifted off to sleep to the feel of his fingers brushing through my hair and the background noise of the television humming inside my head.
In my dream, I was fifteen again as I sneaked across the grass toward the back door of my house. I had sneaked out to go to a party that they had told me I couldn't go to, and it was late enough now that I was fairly sure I could get back into my room without my parents realizing I had been gone for hours. I stopped a few feet from the door as I noticed that it was open a few inches. For a moment, I thought maybe I had accidentally left the door open, until I saw the splintered wood of the door frame by the deadbolt. Sudden dread surged through my body like ice as I pushed the door open the rest of the way.
"Mom? Dad?" I called out into the silence as I walked into the house, my voice quavering. I heard no reply as I moved further into the kitchen. The room was dark, and I could just make out the outline of the cupboards and appliances. I walked across the room and looked toward the kitchen table. Strangely, two of the chairs were sitting side by side several feet from the table. Both chairs were occupied and facing away from me. It was darker in this part of the room, and I could only make out the vague shapes of two people sitting there. I walked around them toward the light switch, my hand shaking as I reached toward it. I suddenly heard this voice screaming inside my head telling me not to look, to run away, but I had to know. I had to. My fingers touched the plastic of the switch, and I flipped it up.
I turned, some part of my brain expecting to see Mom and Dad, and instead looked at the lifeless eyes of Lauren and Jensen staring back at me, their faces so damaged I almost didn't recognize them. They were tied to the chairs and covered in their own blood, both beaten to death, just like my parents all those years ago. I heard amused laughter behind me and turned seeing Clay; his face twisted with maniacal glee, right behind me. His hands were covered in Jensen's and my sister's blood as he grabbed my arm. I saw the flash of silver as he raised a knife and plunged it into my chest, still laughing the entire time.
I woke up screaming and flailing against the arms that were holding on to me. I fought against them in a panic, but the arms tightened around me and wouldn't let go.
"Sydney!" I heard a male voice yelling. "Sydney, wake up. It's me."
The room was dark and the familiar scent that was Jensen registered in my brain. My body went slack as I realized I was safe in my own bed with Jensen. I started sobbing immediately, partly from my nightmare itself and partly because of the possibility of it really happening.
"Shh, baby. It was just a nightmare," he said soothingly as he started rocking me in his lap. "You're safe."
"He...he...killed you. He killed Lauren," I mumbled through my tears.
"No baby, I'm fine," he reassured me, his fingers running through my hair gently. "Lauren is fine, too. She's at Adam's place. She sent you a text a while ago, but you were asleep."
"There was so much blood," I whispered, my mind still not all the way back to reality. Jensen kept rocking me, whispering reassurances to me for several long moments until I settled down and came back to myself. The warmth of Jensen's skin was like a lifeline as I pressed myself against his bare chest desperately. I hadn't had a nightmare like that in a long time, and I had forgotten how disorienting waking up from it was. It took another few minutes to get my breathing under control again.
"Are you with me now, baby?" Jensen asked me, his voice strained and fearful. I nodded against him, the motion causing my face to start throbbing where Clay had hit me.
"My face hurts," I whispered pathetically, tears coursing down my cheeks.
"I'll get you another pain pill," he said and attempted to let go of me, but I latched onto him with a whimper. "I'll be right back. Don't worry, baby," he reassured me, and I let him go.
A few moments later, he came back into the room with my pill, and I sat up. He looked anguished as he got close enough for me to make out his face in the dim light. He picked up the glass of water off the nightstand and put the pill in my mouth and helped me drink some water to wash it down.
"What time is it?" I asked him as he put the glass back down.
"Almost three, I think," he answered me as he crawled back under the blankets next to me. "Those pills knocked you out for a long time." He pulled me back down into his arms. "Go to sleep, baby. I'm here, and you're safe. Okay?"
"Alright." I nodded and settled into his arms with a deep sigh, thankful that he was here for me when I needed him most. I fell back to sleep almost immediately.
I was woken again by a vague sense of dread. I opened my eyes in the darkness and realized I was alone in the bed. I reached over and found that the other side of the bed was cold. "Jensen?" I called out as I sat up, but no one answered. I called his name again with the same results. Where the hell are you? Then a cold wash of fear hit me as I realized where he had gone. He'd gone after Clay. In a panic, I flipped on the lamp on the nightstand and found my phone sitting there. I called Jensen and held my breath as the call connected. As it started to ring, my eyes were drawn to the other nightstand where the screen of Jensen's phone lit up. I swore, ended the call, and flung my phone onto the bed. Fuck, I had no way of contacting him.
I crawled over to the other side of the bed and grabbed his phone, not really sure what I was going to do with it. The clock on his phone said it was almost four, so he could have been gone about an hour now. Then I noticed multipl
e missed calls from Andy from last night, but Jensen had silenced his phone so he must not have realized he'd missed them. I decided to call Andy, thinking he was my best shot to stop Jensen from getting hurt or killed. I shuddered at that thought as I waited for the call to connect.
"What the fuck, man? It's four in the goddamn morning," Andy mumbled sleepily.
"Andy?" I asked. "It's Sydney. I need your help."
"Sydney?" His voice changed to concern. "What's going on?"
"It's Jensen," I explained. "I...I think he's gone after Clay again."
Andy let out an exasperated sigh. "That fucking idiot," he mumbled under his breath. "I tried to get a hold of him about that douche last night, but he never took the damn calls. Why the hell did he go after him this time?"
I told Andy everything, babbling it out as fast as I could, about Clay attacking me and his threat against my sister. "It's a trap Andy. I don't know what Clay has planned, but it's nothing good. What if he hurts Jensen or...or worse?"
"Goddamn it!" Andy swore loudly. "If he had just answered his fucking phone we wouldn't be in this mess. The cops found street cam footage of Clay assaulting Denny, and they're arresting him later this morning. That idiot's going to get himself hurt or arrested for no fucking reason!"
"Oh my God, Andy," I said starting to panic. "What the fuck are we going to do?"
"You're not doing anything, Sydney," he said with resignation. " I am. I'm going after him. If I can get there in time, maybe I can stop this cluster-fuck."
"Okay." I felt a wave of relief. If anyone could figure this out, it was Andy.
"You stay put," he told me. "I'll call you when I get this mess cleaned up."
"Alright," I whispered.
"And Sydney? Don't worry, I got this," he said with confidence. God, I hoped Andy wasn't deluding himself.
"Be careful," I told him in a worried voice.
"I always am, don't worry. I'll talk to you soon." He ended the call, and I was left alone and afraid for the life of the man I loved. The man I knew I didn't want to live without.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jensen
Sydney's nightmare was my undoing. When she had finally fallen back to sleep, I hadn't been able to join her. All I could think about was what that bastard had done to her, and not just physically, but emotionally. To see her wrecked and screaming in her sleep had been like a knife in my chest, and I knew I wouldn't be able to keep my promise to her and stay away from Clay. I couldn't just lie here and do nothing. God only knew what he'd do to her next. Even if it was a trap, I still had to do something. If anything happened to her again, I didn't think I could live with myself if I didn't try to stop it. I sneaked out of her apartment after the pain pill had taken effect, and I was sure she would stay asleep, taking her keys, so I could get back in and to keep her from following me if she woke up before I got back. So here I was, driving to that bastard's house in the middle of the night, my only real plan to fucking hurt him like he hurt her.
I parked the truck several blocks away and climbed out to stand on the sidewalk that was dimly lit by street lamps. I reached back into the truck and grabbed the crowbar I had left on the passenger seat when I left Sydney's apartment. I figured I'd better be armed since I didn't know what I was walking into. No one was in sight as I walked toward Clay's house with long purposeful strides, ready to end this once and for all. No matter the outcome, Sydney needed to be safe.
I slowed my steps as I neared his house, looking around to make sure no one saw me approaching, then veered onto the grass and headed toward the side door of the house. His white Jeep was parked in the driveway next to the door, partially blocking the area from the sight of anyone on the street or sidewalk. I paused in front of the door and considered my options. I could knock on the door or break the door down. I stared at the crowbar in my hand for a moment, thinking how satisfying breaking in would be.
"Really?" a familiar male voice asked quietly. "You're going to add breaking and entering to the list of stupid things you've done?" I whirled around to find Andy standing just a few feet away, wearing a dark sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. "What are going to do, break the door down and beat him to death with a fucking crowbar?"
"I...I'm not..." I stammered in surprise as he stepped closer to me. I unconsciously moved the crowbar in my right hand behind my back.
"Then why the fuck did you bring the damn thing? Is this your first day at life?" Andy said with exasperation. "Give me that, you idiot," he said as he pointed to my right side.
"Andy..." I started explaining.
"Shut up and give me that damn thing," he whispered harshly. He was getting angry now as he pushed the hood of his sweatshirt down. "How the fuck is all of this supposed to help anyway?"
"He hit her, Andy," I said my voice starting to rise. "He fucking punched her in the face."
"I know, and how is being arrested going to help Sydney?"
"I...I didn't think..."
"You didn't think at all did you? God, you're a fucking idiot right now, you know that?" He stepped forward and took the crowbar out of my hand, and I let him. He shoved the crowbar up under the back of his sweatshirt, tucking it into his waistband then covering it when he pulled his shirt back down. "Let's get the fuck out of here before that douche finds us out here." He grabbed my arm and started dragging me along behind him up the driveway toward the street. We both whirled around as the side door opened behind us.
"This isn't over, Hayes," a low threatening voice. Andy cursed under his breath, his grip on my arm tightening as I unconsciously started back toward the door. Clay stood in the partly open doorway, his hand on the door frame. "I'm not going to stop until you've all paid for what you've done." My forward motion stopped abruptly as Andy grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me backward.
"What we've done?" I asked as rage turned my vision red. "You attack Sydney twice, beat up my friend, and then fuck with my job? I'll fucking kill you," I growled as I fought against Andy's hold on me, desperately wanting to pound my fists into his face.
"I know you're both fucking that whore," Clay continued as he stepped through the doorway toward us. "You fuck with what's mine; I fuck with what's yours."
"She is not a fucking whore!" I snarled and started dragging Andy with me to get to Clay. Somehow Andy managed to get in front of me and slow my forward momentum, which was quite a feat considering he was shorter and smaller than me.
"Jensen," he said catching my gaze with his. "She's not worth it." His words stopped me in my tracks, and I stared back at him in shock. What the fuck? "One hot piece of ass is not worth all this trouble, and you know it," he continued, heedless of the fury building inside me as I glared at him. "We got what we wanted from her. It's time to hit it and quit it, brother."
"What the...?" I began, my anger turning to confusion.
"We need to leave," Andy enunciated each word slowly, raising his eyebrows and staring back pointedly at me. Realization dawned on me. Andy was trying to get us the hell out of here for a reason. I trusted him, so I went along with it.
"Um...Yeah," I said. "That bitch is not worth this much bullshit." My voice came out forced and not very convincing at all. Andy rolled his eyes at me with annoyance before we started walking away again. Luckily, Clay didn't seem to notice my terrible acting.
"Where the fuck are you going?" he snarled. "Didn't you hear me? This isn't fucking over! I won't stop until I've destroyed everything you care about, especially that slut, Sydney, and her bitch sister!"
That stopped me in my tracks, the fury inside me blazing back to life. Andy felt my body tense up as he was pushing me forward with his hands on my back. "We need to leave, now," Andy said again, this time with more force to his words. I tried to turn around, wanting to lay my hands on that psycho and strangle the life out of him. "Now!" Andy repeated, anger coloring his tone as he kept me moving away from Clay's house by force. The little fucker was stronger than he looked. With an enormous effort of will I let t
he anger go and allowed Andy to push me all the way up the driveway until we were on the sidewalk. We hadn't realized Clay had followed us until we heard his footsteps behind us.
"Get the fuck back here!" he growled at us as we turned to face him again. Andy and I froze as we realized Clay was in the middle of his driveway pointing a handgun at us. "I told you this wasn't over. You don't get to walk away!" he snarled as he shifted the barrel of the gun back and forth between us. His face was twisted into a mask of rage and insanity in the light from the nearby street lamp. Icy tendrils of fear leaped up inside me as I moved my gaze back to the revolver in Clay's hand. We were going to fucking die, and I'd never see Sydney again.
Clay opened his mouth to speak again just as two police cars pulled up in front of his house. In a panic, Clay pointed his gun toward the police as they exited their patrol cars. The officers both drew their sidearms and pointed them back at Clay. "Drop your weapon!" One of them yelled at Clay, who ignored them. "Drop it now!" he repeated before Clay finally lowered the gun. "Put the gun on the ground and put your hands on your head," The officer demanded. Clay just looked at me again; the gun still clutched in his right hand, and his face twisted with utter hatred for me. I swear to God; I saw my death in his eyes.
I watched him raise the gun up again and aim it at my chest as if it was in slow motion, my brain in such shock that I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing. Suddenly, the world tilted on its axis as the sound of multiple gunshots shattered the early-morning stillness, and I found myself tumbling to the ground. I landed hard, the air in my lungs forced out with the impact. I felt Andy land on top of me with a grunt, and then everything was startlingly silent except for the ringing in my ears from the gunfire.
When my ears recovered enough to register sound again, Andy was cursing repeatedly on top of me. I felt around my chest and belly looking for blood, but felt nothing. I sighed with relief when I didn't feel any pain anywhere either. I looked toward Clay to see him crumpled on the ground and the two officers approaching him with guns drawn. One of them started calling for an ambulance on his radio. Clay wasn't moving at all. I looked at Andy as he rolled off of me to sit on the ground.
Let Me Love You: Beautifully Broken Book 1 Page 26
