by Jayne Frost
“Sure. I’m good.”
She pushed to her feet, giving me a little nod of encouragement on her way out.
My shoulders sagged, and I forced a grim smile for the nurse. “Let’s get this over with.”
Miles
Rocking back on my heels, I stared at the screen in Sheppard’s office.
“You know this makes my skin crawl, right?” I cut my gaze his way without moving my head.
The doc sat back in his chair, a troubled look on his face. Like he’d been caught. But then it was gone, and his professional mask slipped back into place.
“Come on, Miles. You’re not that naïve. This is a psychiatric hospital. Having no surveillance in the common areas wouldn’t be prudent.”
He was probably right. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
Ignoring the monitor, and Blake, the kid I was here to talk to, I flopped onto the chair in front of Sheppard’s desk. “What about privacy?”
“There is no expectation of privacy in common areas.” I felt the scowl pull down my lips, and he pointed a finger at me. “Before you start judging, it’s no different from traffic cams, or the eye in the sky at the grocery store.”
He shifted, averting his eyes, and I wondered how much he would reveal. Not about any particular patient. But just the standard procedures.
“There are no cameras in the patients’ rooms,” he said with a sigh. “Or in the area where we hold group therapy. But I suspect you know that.”
I did. And for that reason, in the two months I’d spent here, I’d never taken a meal in the dining hall. Or hung around in the rec room. And though it was against policy, Sheppard had allowed it. It was the only victory I’d ever claimed over him. And from the look on his face, he was still a little salty about it.
“Yeah, I knew,” I conceded. “But I gather since Blake isn’t in his room or up here, you want me to meet with him out there.” I pointed to the monitor, and when the doc nodded, I scrubbed a hand over my face.
“Just at the beginning,” Sheppard was quick to add. “Blake is volatile, Miles. But I don’t think he’s a danger to anyone but himself. That being said, I’m not taking any chances. So far, Blake hasn’t done anything bad enough to ruin his life. Which gives me a little hope.”
“Why?”
“Because, despite whatever darkness he’s wrestling with, he still thinks he has one.” Resting his forearms on his desk, he tipped forward and looked me in the eyes. “I know this could be a deal breaker for you. Going out there. Exposing yourself.”
Tilting my head, I lifted a brow. “I won’t be exposing myself, doc. I gotta draw the line somewhere.”
A relieved smile curved his lips at my joke. “Point taken. So you’ll talk to him?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I spied Daryl through the glass insert in Sheppard’s door. “Yeah, I’m fine with it. But the big guy might take some convincing.”
Blowing out a breath, I meandered over to Blake’s table in the back of the rec room. Daryl’s gaze followed me from his perch inside the glass bubble in the corner that served as a nurses’ station. It was as close as he was allowed to get. And he wasn’t happy about it.
Glancing over my shoulder, I tossed him a wink before dropping into a chair across from Blake.
The kid looked up, confusion lining his brow. But he quickly masked it and continued strumming his guitar.
“So…you’re back, huh?”
I didn’t want to start off with a lie. But keeping it simple was probably my best shot at getting him to accept me.
“It would appear so.”
A bitter smile curved his lips. “And we all…fall…down…” he sang, brown eyes flickering with the same rage I’d detected in group therapy.
Ignoring the jab, I sank back in my chair and listened for a while.
The kid was good. Smooth. And I could tell right away who he was emulating. Maybe he was doing it for my benefit. To mock me. Or maybe Paige had influenced him because she was just that fucking good.
I closed my eyes, and I could see her sitting on the floor of my childhood bedroom, hunched over her Fender.
Listen to this, Miles. I think I wrote a song.
Shaking off the memory, I leaned in to get the kid’s attention.
“You’re fumbling over that transition in the middle,” I said, my focus on his fingers gliding across the frets. “Use a modified F and pick up the pace.”
Blake didn’t acknowledge me, but when the melody circled back around, he took my advice.
A smile ghosted his lips, like he couldn’t believe my trick actually worked. “Do you play? Guitar, I mean?”
“Yeah.”
I was actually pretty good. But my skill level had never risen to that of Paige or even Rhenn. But those confessions were best saved for another day, so I didn’t elaborate.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my drumsticks.
Blake lost track of the chords when I began to tap out an eight-beat riff on the edge of the table. I kept going, and eventually, he caught up.
“What are you doing here, man?” he finally asked. “Did you relapse or something?”
“Nope.”
“Then why?”
Changing the tempo, I added a little flourish when he reached the end of the sequence. “Just play, dude. There’s time for all that later.”
The kid nodded, and after a moment, he stopped to jot something in a notebook. Lyrics. He really was a musician.
An hour later, an announcement came over the loudspeaker directing everyone to the cafeteria for lunch. Blake’s lips fell into a frown when I stowed my sticks.
“You’re not really back, are you?” he asked.
I might lose him, but I couldn’t keep avoiding the question. “No.”
Disappointment flashed across his features. But he masked it and quickly averted his gaze. “That’s a good thing, I guess. Prove ’em all wrong.”
“Who?”
He smiled again, and it wasn’t bitter. More conspiratorial. “The bloggers. Some are laying odds on how long it will take for you to fall off the wagon and end up back in rehab.”
Shifting in my seat, I picked at a loose piece of laminate on the side of the table. You’d think for what they charged they could afford better furniture.
Inhaling deeply, I clasped my hands to keep from destroying any more property. “I was never on the wagon.”
“You’re still partying, then?”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “Nah. Booze and pills were never my problem. I wasn’t here for that.”
I saw the recognition flicker in his eyes as his focus strayed to my wrists. But he’d find nothing there. No proof. And he wanted proof. “What were you here for?”
“I chased a bottle of pills with a bottle of booze.”
Blake’s head tilted to the side. “But you’re not an addict?”
“Nope.”
“So…?”
He pressed his lips together when the nurse strolled up, slumping back in his chair with the same defiant posture. But this time it wasn’t directed at me.
“Miss lunch and you don’t eat,” she warned, tapping the watch on her wrist. “This isn’t a country club, Blake.”
Shooting me an exaggerated grin, he pushed out of his chair and handed the nurse his guitar. “Guess that means we should cancel our tee time, eh, bruh?”
“Looks like.” I stretched, then casually hauled to my feet. “You know…I could come back next week. Bring my guitar. If you want to jam again.”
Blake scratched his arm, looking anywhere but at me as he mulled it over. “I wouldn’t mind,” he finally said, then added a little more eagerly, “What day?”
Shit. It wasn’t a trick question, but for some reason the hint of excitement in his tone threw me.
“Uh…” I rubbed my forehead. “Tuesday?”
His smile was genuine, with a hint of something else. Relief?
“Cool.”
And then, as if I mi
ght change my mind, Blake spun on his heel and headed out the door.
“You got your hands full with that one,” the nurse remarked as she turned toward a locked cage in the corner with games, other instruments, and even some athletic equipment.
“I thought that was Blake’s guitar?”
“It is,” she replied, pulling out a set of keys for the padlock.
Ambling over, I shoved my hands in my pockets. “He really shouldn’t keep his guitar in there. It needs to be in a case. Preferably in his room with a humidifier. I can bring—”
She faced me with a stern expression. “He can’t keep this in his room.”
I glanced down to where her finger moved back and forth over the frets. And then I pictured what the kid could do with the steel string in the privacy of his room.
“Yeah,” I roughed out, my throat dry and tight as hell. “Got it.”
Suddenly the room felt too small. And my lungs felt too tight. The tattoo on my chest, Paige’s flying guitar, pulsed with every beat of my heart.
Daryl eyed me as I stepped into the hallway. But I didn’t break my stride. I needed out of this place. Into the world where razors were for shaving, and guitar strings were for plucking.
“You all right?” he asked.
Nodding, I pulled my phone out of my pocket when it rang. Unknown. I hit ignore. A second later when a text came in, I made a mental note to tell Emily to change my number. But then I saw the preview of the message. Swiping a finger over the screen, I scanned the rest of the text as I slid behind the wheel of the truck.
“I need to pick up something on the way home,” I said to my shadow as he folded himself into the seat beside me.
“Lunch?” he asked hopefully.
I chuckled, the tightness in my chest diminishing. “No, Gelsey.”
Gelsey
“Gelsey.”
I was dreaming. I had to be. Because why would Miles be here? At the imaging center? But even with my eyes closed, I recognized his voice. And his soft touch caressing my cheek.
Definitely dreaming.
I leaned into it anyway.
“Wake up.” His thumb skated over my bottom lip. “It’s time to go home, little mouse.”
“I don’t…I don’t have a home.”
The thought made me sad. And I just wanted to sleep some more.
“Are you sure she’s all right?” Dream Miles asked, his voice gruffer now.
Since I didn’t think he was talking to me, I didn’t answer. Nurse Maxine did though. She was here too.
“She’s fine. She had a slight reaction to the contrast dye. We gave her a dose of anti-nausea meds, in addition to some Benadryl. It knocked her out pretty good.”
I wanted to tell her I wasn’t asleep. But obviously, I was. So I kept quiet.
The voices faded, and I was cocooned in strong arms, my cheek against soft cotton. And the smell. Citrus soap and something else. Miles. I could hear his heart beat against my ear.
But how?
Because you’re dreaming.
Then sun was on my face then, light seeping through my lids. I wanted to ask where he was taking me. So I did.
“Where are we going?”
Miles didn’t answer. Just held me tighter, his chin pressed to the top of my head. And since I was dreaming, it didn’t seem to matter.
My eyes flew open when I landed on something cool and soft. But not as soft as the cotton. Leather. I was in a car. And Miles was leaning over me, fastening my safety belt.
I touched his cheek. Because I could.
He stopped what he was doing, lifting his gaze to mine.
“Why…why are you here?” I asked.
And I wasn’t sure if I meant in my dream, or in my life.
The dimple winked from under his stubble when he smiled, and I traced it with my thumb.
“I don’t know.”
Since that seemed as good an answer as any, I smiled back and let my eyes drift closed, allowing the dream to take me wherever it wanted to go.
Miles
Two hours. That’s all it took for the first photo of me carrying Gelsey out of the imaging center to hit the Internet. A blog. Not a major one like Perez Hilton. Some obscure little nothing site. Where it probably would’ve stayed if there wasn’t video attached. A twenty-second clip of me telling the nurse in charge that she was an idiot for leaving Gelsey alone in a room. Passed out. In the dark.
How could I not think that someone would whip out a cell phone and capture that moment on tape?
Pure fucking gold, since the mainstream media had picked it up.
And now the speculation had begun.
Since the imaging center was in a three-story medical building with doctors who specialized in everything from bunion removal to severe mental issues, the headlines accompanying the video were off the chain.
Twins on the way! Miles Cooper carries pregnant girlfriend out of doctor’s office.
Miles Cooper and girlfriend treated for substance abuse. Troubled drummer caught leaving hush hush clinic in Austin with mystery woman in tow.
Miles Cooper’s heartache! Drummer’s new love reportedly suffering from anorexia! Inside his private battle to save her.
And on it went.
The stories had one common thread—Gelsey was my girlfriend. My “new love.” Some articles even claimed we were married. Ridiculous, since they didn’t even know her fucking name.
Parked on a lounge chair in front of the pool house, I watched the alerts pour in. Each one more outlandish than the last.
A cloud of smoke hung over my head, courtesy of the twenty or so cigarettes I’d sucked down while waiting for Gelsey to wake up so I could explain. And what would that even look like?
Sorry I freaked out when you were having a routine exam. The video’s gone viral. My bad.
My actions were stupid and irresponsible. I knew fucking better. But seeing Gelsey curled up on that metal table in a tiny room with no one around, like she was nothing, I couldn’t help myself.
Daryl flopped onto the chair beside me, scrubbing a hand over his face. For once, I wasn’t thoroughly put off by having the leaner around. He’d mobilized a small security force—five or six burly dudes who were now stationed at different locations around the property. I’d thought it was overkill until I’d noticed a contingent of press on the video monitor gathering outside the gate.
I knew the drill. In a few days it would die down. But for now, we’d have to ride it out.
We.
My gaze slipped over my shoulder to the pool house. The door was open, and I could see straight through to the bedroom. It was still dark. No surprise since the aftercare instructions the nurse had shoved into my hand while trying to hustle me out the door clearly stated that Gelsey might sleep through the night.
Plucking a cigarette from my pack, Daryl stretched his legs, looking weary.
I passed him my lighter. “I didn’t know you smoked.”
He took a long drag, shoulders relaxing as he rolled the smoke around in his mouth. “I don’t.”
Stubbing out my latest butt, I chuckled. “Yeah. Me neither.”
After he finished his smoke, he sat forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. I’d seen him serious before. Usually when he’d had enough of my smart-ass commentary.
“Spit it out, dude,” I said. “The suspense is killing me.”
He didn’t crack a smile. “I’m having some additional cameras set up tomorrow. But for now, you should go inside and stay out of view.”
“Additional cameras for what?” I scoffed. “This place is a fortress.”
I gazed out at the vast nothingness beyond the lighted patio. Trees lined the property all the way to the cliff that overlooked Austin Lake. Unless someone planned on boating in and then scaling a fifty-foot crag, they weren’t getting up here.
Daryl frowned, seemingly unconvinced. “The property is secure by 2013 standards. But you’re a high-value target for the paps again.”
I sat back, unsure of what stung worse. The fact that my security was out of date, or that I’d only just regained my status as a high-value target.
“Look, Miles,” he said, his tone softer but no less firm. “The surveillance you have is good, if all you were covering was the ground. But we need something in the air. For drones.”
I barked out a laugh. I couldn’t help it. “Drones? Are you fucking kidding me?”
My smile faded when his resolve didn’t waver. Not even a fraction. He was serious.
I scratched at my scruff, my skin feeling too tight all of a sudden. Drones. What the fuck?
“I’m not trying to freak you out,” he continued. “The house itself is secure. But you don’t even have window alarms on the pool house. That’s the reason I put the extra men in place. If someone managed to get in the backyard…”
Biting his lip, he let the threat dangle. But I had a pretty good idea of where he was going. Gelsey was in the pool house. And as of a few hours ago, she was a “high-value target” as well.
“How long will it take?”
Daryl blew out a breath, scratching his head. “A day…maybe two. I’d like to work at night so nobody knows exactly what we’re doing.”
He shifted his feet, clearly holding something back.
“What else?” I muttered, my patience gone. “Just give it to me straight. All of it.”
“Two things. I think it’s a good idea to move Gelsey into the main house until we secure the building. And also…have you thought about who’s going to shadow her until this dies down?”
I let my head fall back with a laugh. “Dude. She’s a nobody.”
I’d been toying with the idea of putting Gelsey up at the Four Seasons or some place equally secure. As soon as she was out of my orbit, the press would lose interest.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I snapped when Daryl’s gaze turned suspicious. “I’m not just going to abandon the girl. But it’s probably better if I didn’t move her into my house. Drive her where ever she needs to go in the morning. Stay with her. And I’ll figure out something after that.”
