“I know.” I glance down and bury my hand in the sand, grab a fistful, and watch it falls grain by grain like an hourglass. In a way, I am waiting for time to pass. I want to be able to feel something other than this despair. I take another long swig of beer, find a seashell, and throw it in the water. “I just needed some headspace.”
“Well, I have some more bad news,” Owen says, dropping his arm from my shoulders. “You know how there has been a race for governor?” he takes a drink of his beer, side-eying me.
I don’t keep up with politics anymore. I stopped caring a long time ago. Politics turn people into assholes and I’m not about to go down that road again. I’ve learned no politician is as straight and narrow as they like to pretend to be.
Chuckling, I lift the bottle to my lips and scoff right before wrapping my lips around it, causing a whistling sound. “I don’t care, Owen. You seriously came all the way down to tell me about politics? Come on, man. I just learned the girl of my dreams sent me off to prison even though I didn’t deserve it. Let me lick my fucking wounds in peace.”
“It’s about Heather. I have kept you out of the election because I know how much you hate it and so does everyone else, but the winner was announced today.”
“Good for them. Maybe they do better than the last, I guess.”
“The winner is Timothy Thomas. You might know him.”
I drop the bottle and stare at him dumbfounded. “Heather’s father is the governor of California? How did that happen? When? How? Why? What?” I run my fingers through my hair and stand, then kick the water and scream at the top of my lungs until all the air is gone. “My dad has to be behind that. Him and Timothy go way back. Does he still run his business? When did this happen? How did you know? Are you sure it’s her father?” I spew questions left and right, wanting to make sure he knows because if this is true, this situation just got a lot worse.
“We didn’t know for sure until he was announced today, but the news said he would not be delivering a speech because him and his wife and mourning their daughter’s absence. That’s when Sebastian did a crosscheck. It’s him. He has announced he is getting the FBI involved.”
My stomach drops to the beach’s floor. “The first person they are going to look for is me.”
Owen nods and hands me another beer. “Yeah, that was my first thought too because of what happened with Grace. We might not have a choice. She might have to go back sooner than she wants, Heaven. If it means keeping you safe. Right now, I’m afraid they are going to charge you with kidnapping or holding her hostage or something.”
Could this day get any worse?
I hold my breath and wait for Owen to say something that makes me want to punch him in the face, but he stays quiet. I exhale, relieved, usually when I think that something worse always happens.
“I…uh…I need to go for a walk or something. I can’t be here right now. I need…” I spin my heels in the sand and lay my hands on top of my head as I stare at the ocean roaring. “I don’t know what I need. I’ve never felt this knotted up. Even when I was in prison, I had a positive spirit.” I kick the ground and sling sand across the water’s surface. “My dad had to have something to do with Timothy’s win. Timothy always said he never wanted to get too involved in politics, unless my dad wanted someone in his pocket. That sounds like that can be true. I bet he lined Timothy’s pockets with cash. Dad is good at bribing people.”
“Do you want to tell her, or do you want me to?” Owen asks.
“I’m not ready to talk to her yet.”
“Jolie told me everything. I understand if you need some space. You can go to my bunker if you want, do some fishing, make a fire—”
“Do I look like the kind of man that knows how to rub sticks together to create a flame? Look at me? I’m too damn pretty for the wilderness.”
“I have matches, smartass,” Owen chuckles around his drink before taking a sip.
“Whatever,” I wave away his rational idea and sit down next to him again. We lapse into silence, drinking beer, and it’s peaceful. We don’t do this enough. He is always so busy with Jolie, which makes complete sense, and I’m too busy getting hurt for us to hang out.
“You know,” he starts to say, “I’m not saying you forgive her because what she did was fucked up, but maybe try to see it from her point of view. No matter how hard and fucked up it may be, think about the pain she was in and all of that shit she felt.”
“I know, but it doesn’t excuse her. I don’t know, Owen. I don’t think I can get past this. I understand what you’re saying, but this…this is vindictive. I knew she didn’t like me, but the level of hate she must have felt for me to be okay with sending me behind bars, that’s hard to comprehend when I’ve always had feelings for her. I’m not used to being rejected at such a horrible level.” I start hysterically laughing and Owen stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. The stitches in my chest pull from the jiggle in my chest. “God, I can’t believe I couldn’t catch a hint. A woman literally sent me to prison. To prison, Owen!” this time as I laugh, I clutch my stomach and fall to my side. The sand digs into my cheek and then Owen flips me over on my back and slaps me across the face.
I stop the hysterics immediately and lay a hand on my cheek. “What the fuck?”
“You need to snap out of it. She didn’t send you to prison because she didn’t want to date you, stupid fuck. She testified against you because you were the only person there to take the fall. She was mad. Angry. Sad. She just lost her sister. Was it right? No, but get it out of your head that she sent you to prison because she rejected you. Grow up. Not everything is about getting in your pants, Heaven. It wasn’t about you, it was about her, and unfortunately, you were there to take the fall.” He slaps me on the head and my temper starts to raise. “Wake up.” He slaps me again, but this time I grab his wrist before his palm can make contact with my cheek.
“Slap me one more time and I’m going to drown you in this ocean.”
“You wouldn’t do that to Jolie,” he grins, tugging against my hand, telling me to free his wrist.
“I don’t trust you not to hit me again.” I give him a skeptical glance, lifting my brow, and turning my chin to the left giving me the view of his jaw.
“Truce. I won’t hit you again. I promise. I wanted to wake you up.”
“I’m awake but I still need time to process, Owen. It isn’t as easy as just forgiving her. I need time to wrap my head around what she said. I need to figure out what to do about her father. Fuck. Her parents will ruin me if they find out she’s been here, Owen. They will make sure I never see the light of day again and he will have that power.”
“Under what grounds? He can’t sentence you to death row. There isn’t evidence.”
“Politicians create evidence.”
“You’re so cynical when it comes to issues like this,” Owen states, tossing back the rest of his beer.
“You would be too if you grew up in the same house as I did. The truth isn’t grown on lies and that’s all politics is, a bunch of liars deciding what’s best for their bank accounts instead of the people.”
Owen lets out a long whistle. “Damn, your parents fucked you up.”
“No, I’m a happy guy, you know that. It’s just how I feel about politics. Things get messy. Maybe sending her on her way is best, Owen. I think it’s better for all of us if she leaves. She’ll be happier, her parents will be happy, and I’ll be able to go back to my carefree life.” I stand, toss the empty beer bottle on the ground, and tuck my hands in my pockets. The waves are getting bigger and the clouds are getting darker. It’s about to storm and if we don’t head back into the house, we will probably drown from the tide rising.
“You really believe that, don’t you?” Owen asks, pushing himself to his feet. He wipes off the sand from his jeans.
“What?” I ask and pick up the beer bottles and place them in the holder before grabbing the handle. “That I’ll be carefree?”
�
�Yes. You can’t really think that your life is going to go back to normal after this, do you? The girl of your dreams is here and when she is gone, she’s all you’re going to think about. There is no going back to what life used to be like, Heaven. That chapter is done.”
“I don’t believe that. I think I can go back any time I want and live how I want. She’s a bump in the road.” The problem with Heather is she’s always been a damn bump in my road. I’m getting fucking tired of driving down it.
“You’re not as smart as it thought you were, then.”
“I never said I was smart. You decided I was. There’s a difference.” We make our way up the natural stone staircase and leave the sea behind. The waves sound as they hit the shore and the further away we get, the more they sound like static.
“You’re only as smart as the decisions you make, Heaven.”
I hold a hand to my chest when the pain starts to become too much since I’ve overdone it today. “You were right. I shouldn’t have done so much today.”
Owen growls, clearly frustrated with my stubbornness. He wraps an arm around me to help take some of my weight. I can breathe easier. “Can’t you just carry me?” I whine.
“Don’t push it. The only people I’m ever going to carry are Jolie and my daughter.”
I’m thankful to get to talk about something other than the situation with Heather. “You deserve all the happiness, Owen. I can’t wait to meet your daughter.”
“Yeah, I can’t wait. I’m excited. I thought my opportunity had passed.”
“I hope to have what you have one day, Owen. That’s the kind of happiness I want to have one day.”
“I have a feeling you will sooner than you think,” he says, as we climb the last step.
I hope so.
There’s a deep-sated fear in my wounded chest that I’m not going to be able to share the happiness I naturally feel for life with someone.
I’ll be alone because I’m good at it.
That’s a problem, especially when I want it to be the thing I’m the worst at.
Eight
Heather
“Can you lie back for me?” the doctor asks, a kind, yet sad smile on her face when she’s realizing what she’s asking of me.
I wrap my arms around my waist and take a deep breath. I shake my head, trying to convince myself it’s okay because she’s here to help.
“Take your time. It’s okay. I’m not here to rush you, Heather. We have plenty of time.”
I never want to spread my legs again.
My stomach churns and as I look at the window to find some serenity, I notice the new day is beautiful, but I still feel the same. Can the doctor help with that?
She’s nice, older, with long blonde hair that’s turning silver from age. Her eyes are a warm brown and she barely has wrinkles on her face. I can tell I’m not the first case like this that she has seen with how she is staring at me. It isn’t with pity or judgement, but empathy. Her patience means more to me than she will ever know.
“Do you want me to give you a minute alone?” Doctor Bradshaw, I think that’s her name, asks.
“No, I’m fine. I just…I’m gathering my thoughts, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Everything you are feeling is completely normal. You should take your time. We can start with the bloodwork first, if you like?”
I nod a bit too eagerly and she gives me that soft grin again. “Excellent.” She pops on a pair of purple gloves and gathers the equipment needed. When she rolls around to my side, she sanitizes the space in my elbow, ties a rubber band around my arm and waits for my vein to plump. “The only thing I’m concerned about right now is any diseases. Don’t stress about it, okay? We will cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“Easier said than done,” I reply with a slight attitude.
“You’re right. I’m not trying to offend you. I apologize.” Gently, she sticks the needle into my arm and the plastic tube starts to fill with red fluid. When the tube is full, she removes it and fills another. She does this three times before she unties my arm, pulls the needle out, and slaps a bandage on. “Okay, I’m going to label these. I’ll be right back,” she says, rolling away in the green stool. When she comes to a stop, she stands, then walks out the door.
I’m alone.
I hate that I’m used to the feeling of loneliness, at least this time, the space isn’t full of harm. I can live with that. I’m waiting for someone to jump out of the corner and tell me this is all fake, that I’m not safe, and the woman taking my blood is some horrible scientist.
God, I’m wacked.
I just want to go back to sleep, then wake up, and start the day over again. I want to be able to handle the situation better but being in this hospital room makes me feel like a victim. I don’t like the feeling embodying me. It’s ominous, sliding over my skin and causing it to crawl. I’m in the basement where the medical equipment is, and it looks just like a floor of a hospital.
It’s creepy.
But I’m thankful not to have to go out in public. If I did, someone would notice me from the picture on tv, report me, and then I’d have to go back home.
I don’t want to go home, but my welcome here at the Cliff House is starting to wear off. I don’t know if it’s just me, but I have a feeling everyone hates me. They have every reason to. Asher is their family and right now, their family feels attacked— in a sense.
I sigh, leaning back in the chair and lay my feet on the stirrups. I throw my arm over my eyes when I remember him using stirrups on me. Jolie said he did that to her too, and I’ll never understand his reasoning. The contraption wasn’t like this one. I can remove my leg from the holster if I want, but in his room, they were metal cuffs that locked around my ankles.
His tactics were horrifying, and they are nightmares I will never be able to forget.
“Hey, it’s me again,” Doctor Bradshaw knocks, and her voice is muted on the other side of the door. “I have the samples being tested now. By the end of the appointment, we should be able to have an update,” she closes the door behind her and stares at the medical chart, when she sees me in position, she brings the clipboard to her chest and realizes that I’m finally ready. She doesn’t say anything else, probably because she’s afraid I’ll change my mind.
She scurries over to the counter and pops on another pair of gloves.
The creak of the door sounds in the quiet and I turn my head to see Asher peeking his head in the door. I know he can’t see me, but I close my knees together so he can’t see me. “How’s everything going?”
“Mr. Haven, you’re going to have to wait outside, please. My patient does not want—”
“He’s okay,” I say, relieved to see him at all. I figured once I told him the truth, I’d never see him again.
The doctor doesn’t look convinced and watches him with every step he takes until he is at my bedside. He reaches out his hand to grab mine. Our fingers don’t lace together, but he takes my palm in his and lays his other hand on top, reminding me of a hand sandwich. “You doing okay?” he asks and I can hear the distance in his tone.
He is here though, that has to mean something, right?
I nod, squeezing his hand and shutting my eyes when I feel her hands against my thighs, checking out the deep grooves that monster left.
“These are healing nicely. I don’t think the scars will be bad. Faint and there, but not horrible.”
“That’s great news,” Asher says, stroking his thumb across my hand. “You’re doing great, Heather,” he whispers in my ear.
I notice he doesn’t call me baby either. I shouldn’t care because right now I have a doctor between my legs to make sure I’m healthy, but I do care. I want to hear the happiness in his voice again.
“Okay, you’re going to feel some pressure. I’m going to insert two finger and palpate your abdomen. Okay?”
“Shhh, it’s okay,” Asher croons and strokes a thumb over my cheek. “It will all be over so
on.”
I tense when her fingers slip inside me, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from begging her to stop. She isn’t him. She is here to help. I have to keep that in mind.
“Great. Everything feels normal.” She takes off her gloves and replaces them with new ones and grabs an instrument. I know what these are and even when I was normal, I hated getting a pap. “You’re going to feel so pressure, then a slight scrapping, okay?”
“I know,” I say.
She pushes the long, uncomfortable object inside me, and I tense immediately and shake my head. All I feel his him. “No, please, stop. Stop!” I scream and drop Heaven’s hand from mine to cover my face. The pressure leaves my cervix, and I can breathe again.
“Look at me, baby,” Asher takes my hands from my face and his blue eyes come to view. “You’re safe here,” he reminds me. “Nothing is going to happen to you. She needs to do this to make sure you’re okay. We have to know that. So look at me, okay? Watch me. Keep your eyes on me while she has to do what she has to.”
I take his hand in mine and he lets out a relieved breath. He glances over his shoulder and nods at the doctor, then brings his hands to my jaw. My nostrils flare when I feel the pressure again, but I’m looking directly into Asher’s eyes, which are so blue and so different than the brown I’ve been so used to for the last few months.
Another man is in my line of sight and the only thing I can focus on is how I finally understand why everyone here calls him Heaven. Asher’s beauty is from another world. Sure, he has big, beautiful lips, bright eyes that shine the color of the sky, and better hair than most girls, but it’s what’s inside him that has me entranced. He has this goodness about him, a purity that I never saw in him before, but as he is looking at me, keeping me focused, I know I’m the safest I will ever be.
“Okay, all done,” Doctor Bradshaw announces and slips the instrument free.
I let out a relieved breath and lean into Asher’s touch. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, instantly turning off the supportive friend and turning into the guy that is mad at me. Asher walks toward the door. “Come up the stairs when you are dressed. Breakfast is ready and there are a few updates when need to give you.” With that, he leaves, and a cold trail of ice follows him.
Cruel Captivation: A Dark Romance (Underground Kings Book 5) Page 8
