I’m pulling my tennis shoes on when her response appears in my inbox.
I look at the address, grateful it’s not too far away.
I don’t remember grabbing my jacket or leaving the house.
I don’t remember racing through the busy Boston streets, pushing past people in my haste to get there.
I don’t feel the rain dropping on my head, dampening my cheeks, and blurring my eyes.
I don’t remember falling and cutting my hands or tearing a hole through one knee of my jeans.
I don’t remember the utter panic when I reach the place and no one is home or slumping against the glass-fronted entrance doors, plopping onto my butt, and burying my head in my hands.
I only have one repetitive thought that has been with me from the minute that monster appeared on that stage.
I need Keanu.
4
Keanu
Kent is relaying a very graphic account of his threesome from Saturday night as we walk from Harvard toward home after a long day of classes. All week I’ve shut him down when he’s attempted to explain, but I give up. He won’t relent until he tells me everything. I zone him out, nodding and smirking every so often so it appears like I’m listening.
But I’m preoccupied. With thoughts of Selena. Not that that’s anything unusual, but since that shit went down with Rivera and Travis last weekend, I’m fixated on finding a way to win back her heart. There’s got to be something I can do, to make her realize what we had was too good to throw away.
“Who is—Shit!”
Kent’s voice breaks through to me, and I flick my eyes to him. “What?”
He scrubs a hand over his prickly jaw. “Look.” He jerks his head toward the front door of our building, and I drop my bag, running toward her before I’ve even realized it.
I scale the steps two at a time, crouching down in front of my ex. My eyes run over her quickly, checking for obvious signs of injury. Her dirty, torn jean-clad knees are tucked into her chest, and her arms are wrapped around herself. Her head is resting on top of her knees, her white-blonde hair covering her face. But it doesn’t matter. I would know my love anywhere. “Selena. Baby,” I say in a soft tone. I want to reach out, to touch her, but I don’t want to startle her or freak her out.
She doesn’t hear me, mumbling to herself as she rocks back and forth. Pain slams into me like a freight train. I’d like to say this is the first time I’ve seen her like this, but that’d be a lie. It kills me to see her like this again, and I hate to think what has caused her to have such a break.
“What’s going on?” Kent asks in a deliberately low tone, looming over me, carrying both our bags on his shoulders, with a frown on his face.
Selena’s rocking picks up pace, and her mumbling grows louder. “I need Keanu. I need Keanu. I need Keanu.” She’s repeating it like a mantra, over and over again.
“Bro. What’s wrong with her?” Kent quietly asks.
I glare at my brother. “Nothing is wrong with her. She’s having a severe anxiety attack.” I know Kent didn’t mean anything by that, but I hate that’s a typical response when people encounter someone with a mental health issue.
There isn’t anything wrong.
She’s ill.
Traumatized by her past and for good reason.
“Do you want me to help you lift her inside?” he asks, ignoring my burst of anger.
I shake my head. “I can’t touch her.”
He looks at me like I’ve grown two heads, but I don’t elaborate. Mom is the only person in our family who knows about Selena’s background and her illness.
I know my brothers think I was deliberately secretive about Selena. And, I guess I was. But her story isn’t my story to tell, and she’s always been so embarrassed over her PTSD and anxiety, and I would never betray her confidence. I haven’t told anyone about her. Not even when I’ve been tempted to speak the truth in her defense anytime Kent spews vitriol about her.
And I get it. My brother thinks he’s supporting me. He hates what our breakup has done to me, and he’s put all the blame squarely on Sel’s shoulders, because he doesn’t know any differently. I’m the only one who knows the complexity of our relationship and how nothing is normal with us. Especially not our breakup.
“Selena. Baby. It’s me. It’s Keanu. I’m here.” I speak up this time, and she stops rocking. “Let me help, baby. What can I do?”
Slowly, she raises her head, pushing messy strands of hair out of her swollen, bloodshot eyes. My heart melts, reminding me how crazy in love I am with this woman. Although I hate that she’s clearly upset, I can’t deny how fucking fantastic it is to see her again.
No measure of time apart will ever erase my feelings for her. Or destroy the connection we share.
“K?” she whispers.
“It’s me. I’m here for you.” Unbridled emotion smacks into me as her familiar scent of lavender and vanilla swirls around me. Being this close to her is torture. She’s obviously in pain, and I just want to make it all go away. I want to hold her so badly, but I won’t spook her.
“Hand me my backpack.” I stretch my arm out toward my brother. Kent hands me my bag, his face neutral as he watches me remove the small vial of lavender from the side pocket.
It’s sad to admit, but I still keep supplies on me wherever I go. Sometimes, I dab it on my wrist, needing the smell to keep the memory of her alive. But mainly, I do it because I spent years making sure I had everything I might need whenever we ventured out of her mom’s house, and I kept it up because I’m a sad pathetic prick who can’t let the past go.
“Sel.” I peer into her beautiful hazel eyes, which look more like brown today. It’s always the same when her emotions are heightened, and the brown becomes more prominent than the green and amber specks surrounding her pupils. “I’m going to dab some lavender on your wrist. Would that be okay?”
She nods, painstakingly stretching out her slim arm.
“I’m going to touch you now. Okay?” I look to her for permission, and she nods again, her eyes welling up. Very carefully, I drop a couple drops onto her wrist, massaging the oil in soft, slow circles. Then I lift her wrist to her face, positioning it under her nose. “Breathe in, baby.”
She moves her wrist flush against her nose, audibly inhaling.
“That’s it,” I encourage. “Breathe in and out. Slow and deep. I’ll do it with you.”
Kent hasn’t said a word, and his expression is giving nothing away, but he’s got to be wondering what the ever-loving fuck is going on.
But I ignore my brother, focusing on the vulnerable, broken girl in front of me, inhaling and exhaling with her, as she gradually calms down. When she seems a little more settled, I wet my lips and smile softly. “Do you want to come up to our place?”
Her big, beautiful eyes latch onto mine, and she nods. It’s like being sucker-punched in the nuts. This girl owns every part of me, and despite the pain, I wouldn’t have it any other way. “Can you walk or should I carry you?”
“I can walk,” she whispers, clambering awkwardly to her feet.
Kent opens the door, stepping inside and walking toward the elevator. Selena puts one foot in front of the other, swaying unsteadily, her long legs looking like they can’t hold her up. She grabs onto my arm, surprising me. “Can you…”
She doesn’t need to continue that sentiment because I know what she needs. My heart gallops around my chest, and I struggle to breathe over the massive ball of emotion lodged in my throat as I gently lift her up into my arms. Her arms encircle my neck and she rests her head on my shoulder, her breath puffing out against my skin, eliciting a rake of goose bumps.
Kent is miraculously quiet as we ride the elevator to the top. He shoots me an inquisitive look when we step out on our level, and I know he’ll need some answers. He opens our front door, holding it back as I step inside with the love of my life cradled in my arms, exactly where she belongs.
“Can I help?” he asks, as I mov
e toward the couch.
“Could you make her some hot sweet tea? And bring me the first aid kit.” She must have taken a fall on her way here, because her hands are scratched and dirty and one knee is bloody and torn with bits of debris embedded in her tender flesh. If anyone was chasing her or anyone forced her to fall, God help them. Because I will fucking hunt them down and make them pay for hurting my girl.
He nods, shutting the front door before making himself scarce in the kitchen.
The main space on this floor is an open-plan living room, dining room, and kitchen. We also have a separate bathroom and game room on this level.
I move to place Selena beside me on the couch, but she clings onto me harder, and my heart swells to bursting point. I can’t deny how good it is to feel wanted. Needed. To know she came to me for help. I don’t like the fact something bad must have happened to propel her here, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth even if I’ll pay for this later.
I lean back in the couch, closing my eyes and committing the feel of her in my lap, with her face pressed into my neck, into my memory.
Everything about her screams home. From her smell to her soft touch and the feel of her in my arms.
Kent returns with the first aid box and the tea. “What about something to eat?” he asks, setting the tea down on the end table beside us.
“Sel.” Gingerly, I reach out, cupping one side of her face. “Do you want something to eat?” She shakes her head, pinning me with those gorgeous eyes. “Kent made you some tea. Let’s sit up so you can drink it.” At the mention of Kent, she clings to me even harder. I glance at my brother, communicating with my eyes.
He nods, instantly understanding. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, brother.”
He slants a concerned glance in Selena’s direction, and a pained look shimmers in his eyes for a brief second before he turns and climbs the stairs to his bedroom.
I maneuver us into a seated position, tending to her injuries first before holding the mug of steaming tea to Selena’s lips, helping her drink it. I’ve got it so bad because I can’t tear my gaze away from her plump lips as she sips from the mug, remembering how amazing it felt to kiss her.
“Thank you,” she whispers when she’s finished.
I take the empty mug and place it back on the table. “Does your mom know where you are?” I ask, because it’s dark out now and I’m sure Sandrine is expecting her to be home. I know she often used to work late, but I don’t know if she still does that now I’m not there to keep Selena company on those nights.
The thoughts that someone else might have stepped into my shoes twist and turn in my gut, but I can’t be selfish. Whatever is going on in her life, she needs me now, and I’m going to support her the best way I can.
“I…” She chews on the corner of her mouth and her brow puckers. “I don’t know,” she admits, her gaze raking over my face. “I don’t even know how I got here.”
That’s worrying, but there’s nothing I can do to change that now. “Let me send her a message so she knows you are okay.” I pull my cell from my pocket and tap out a quick message to her mom. The phone pings almost straightaway with a response. I lift my head. “She’s coming over. She was worried.”
“I didn’t mean to worry her. I just…” She trails off, snuggling back into me, her face pressing against the other side of my neck.
“It’s okay, baby.” I press a soft kiss to her temple, relieved when she doesn’t push me away.
Touch has always been difficult for Sel, but when we became a couple, she grew comfortable with my touch, and I didn’t have to be so careful. But it’s been almost two years since we were together, and I don’t know if things have regressed or if they are the same. I’m not taking any chances though, because she’s calm now, and I don’t want to do or say anything to send her spiraling again.
We don’t talk for ten minutes, but it’s not in any way awkward. Selena’s not a big talker, and I’m used to comfortable silences. Getting to hold her is like a dream come true, so I’m not going to push it. But I don’t need to.
“Keanu,” she whispers a minute later.
“Yes, babe.” I press another kiss to her temple.
“I’m scared.”
“You’re safe, Selena. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
A single tear trickles out of the corner of one eye. “He’s here,” she whispers, her voice cracking at the end.
Blood turns to ice in my veins, and I work hard to keep the panic off my face and from my tone. “Who’s here?”
“The man who bought me.” Her breath oozes out in panicked spurts. “The one I escaped from.”
My lungs constrict, and I can’t get enough air into my body. I stare at her, this time unable to keep the horror off my face.
“Don’t let him take me, Keanu,” she whimpers, curling into me and clinging to me so hard it’s borderline painful. “Don’t let him hurt me again.”
I press a fierce kiss to the top of her head. “No one is taking you from me, and I would die before I’ll let anyone hurt you like that again.”
5
Selena
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asks, failing to disguise the terror in his eyes. But there is determination there too, and although it feels weak to run straight back into his arms, I can’t deny how much calmer I feel around him. I’d like to say I believe him. That he can keep me safe, but that’s a stretch too far.
A shiver works its way through me, and I shake all over. He wraps his arms around me, holding me more closely but never too tight. Tears stab the back of my eyes, but these ones aren’t unhappy tears.
I don’t know any other guy our age who would’ve gone to so much trouble to learn how best to support his sick girlfriend. Keanu did everything he possibly could to learn about my condition so he could help me.
And I repaid him by cutting him loose and breaking his heart.
I shove that thought aside the instant it lands in my mind. Unable to deal with that guilt right now. My mind is too unstable and I need to get these words out. To tell him what went down today before I lose the courage.
I ease out of his arms, still sitting on his lap but putting a little bit of space between us. I draw a brave breath and summon the last vestiges of my strength. “My friend Kelly convinced me to attend a casting call for extras for that new show everyone is talking about,” I start explaining in a wobbly voice, reaching under my sweater and clasping my fingers around the sapphire claddagh necklace I never take off.
Keanu bought it for me one Christmas. It was after I’d told him how it was the last gift I’d received from my birth parents.
Mom was of Irish descent, and she wore a similar necklace except hers had an emerald birthstone. She bought me one for my tenth birthday, and I never took it off. I don’t know what happened to it after I was taken. All I knew was when I woke up in a strange room, and I’d reached up to my neck for it, it was no longer there.
A deep pain slices across my chest, like it does anytime I think of my family. Of my little sister. I gulp painfully, clasping the necklace tighter, fighting a fresh wave of tears. Keanu nods, his eyes dropping briefly to my necklace, before he gives me his full attention, his gaze locked on mine, encouraging me to continue.
I push back tears and clear my throat. “It was in a hotel in town. The director came onto the stage to address the crowd and … it was him.”
I had no clue it was him because all the clients used false names on the island. To me, he has always been Cassius because that’s the name he chose to go by. It was only much later that I learned the significance of that name and how apt it was.
“You’re one hundred percent sure?” A muscle ticks in his jaw.
I nod my head vigorously, as my fingers rub back and forth along my jewelry. “There’s no doubt.”
“We need to call the cops.”
“And say what?” I softly ask. “That a well-
respected film director, a man who has just established a new production studio and brought tons of new jobs to Boston, is a sick pedophile who buys little girls to torture and abuse?”
“Yes,” he grits out. “We tell them exactly that.”
I haven’t been lucid long enough to think this all through, but I already know that kind of approach will not work in my favor. “I have no proof, K. It would be my word against his. And all it would accomplish is letting him know where I am. Giving him the means to take back what he believes he owns.” I rub the necklace more vigorously, counting to ten in my head, working hard to keep myself calm.
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and his brow creases as he considers my words. “Fuck it. There has got to be something we can do. There are others who can confirm the condition you were found in. Maybe the timelines will stack up and they can place him in Texas at the same time as you. There are medical reports, and Denise can testify to your trauma as can your mom. Both are highly respected in their field. And you gave a statement back then. All of that has got to count for something.”
“Maybe,” I admit, because that will help corroborate my claims, but I know that’s not going to be enough. He used condoms when he violated me, and he was careful not to leave any semen or DNA that could tie to him. “But without proof, the authorities can do nothing.”
He peers deep into my eyes. “But if we put him on their radar, maybe they can uncover enough to make an arrest. Your case can’t be an isolated one.”
I wince as guilt blankets me. It’s not like I haven’t thought about the other victims over the years. About what happened to my best friend Juanita, kidnapped with me that day, and whether she is still alive or buried in an unmarked grave on the island. Or worse, whether that bastard sold her to the highest bidder too.
“I’m betting it’s not,” I admit in a whisper. “But if we go to the authorities, he will know where I live, Keanu. Where I go to school. Which modeling agency I’m assigned to and what shoots I’m booked for.”
Releasing Keanu Page 4
