by Kat Kenyon
Chapter Nineteen
Rayne Mathews
The morning group therapy session can’t end soon enough. Each story of pain crawls over my skin as I rush out only to find Vanessa leaning against my door. She has her tablet, her stylus tapping on the glass like a tiny woodpecker.
“Hey,” I offer, curious as to why she’s here.
“Hi, Rayne.”
“We already met today. Is there something you needed?”
“I came, because…Listen, I know how you feel about your mom, but she’s in the waiting room.”
I snort.
A pleading smile and a pointless request follow. “She wants to see you. You’re her daughter, and she wants to make sure you’re okay.”
“No. She wants her meal ticket back, and I’m not falling for her bullshit.” Folding my arms over my chest, I rock back on my heels. “I was crystal clear about how I felt about her. Nothing’s changed.”
“I really think you should talk to her.” Her voice is sugary, and it would be sweet if it wasn’t for who she was asking for.
“Good for you,” I sneer.
Vanessa’s eyes widen, shocked at my level of derision. “Rayne—”
“Everyone thinks all mothers love their children, but that’s a lie.” Memories are a bitch and I despise how much they sting. “My mother was broken long before I was born and she’s been trying to break me ever since. I can’t fix her, and I’m saying no.”
Her face falls. “Mothers make mistakes. You’ve told me she has problems, but she did notice you never called back. A lot of parents don’t notice.”
Hissing through my teeth, my spine snaps straight. “Emily Donahue cashed in a golden ticket and now the ride’s over. Yes, she knew I didn’t call back because she wasn’t getting paid. The answer’s no.”
She freezes for a moment before her tablet drops and slaps against her thigh. “Fine, I’ll let her know.”
“If you need help, find a baseball bat and a muzzle.”
“I think this is a mistake,” she mutters.
“I know it’s not,” I tell her, walking into my room, closing the door on this conversation.
I’m done with being forced into anything.
Chapter Twenty
Tyler Blackman
“I’m going to be in LA tomorrow.”
Anne drops this bomb as we weave in and out of the traffic on the way to the hospital. I only have a couple hours before visiting hours end, and I’m not missing her today. After plowing through classes and a couple hours of painful routes with Brian, my focus is on her. That doesn’t stop a tingle of suspicion from racing down my spine when Anne announces her plans.
“Why?”
She hesitates before saying, “I understand you’re doing everything you can, but Mr. Mathews would like me to assess the situation on the ground.”
“Again, why?”
“What do you mean why?” she asks, an iciness crystalizing in her tone.
“He’s never given a shit about her before, so why now?”
“Tyler, I understand Rayne may be hurt by the lack of relationship with her grandparents and that’s tainted your view of them, but they have their reasons. Mr. Mathews cares about her or he wouldn’t have been paying her living expenses.”
I don’t want to argue with her right now, so I bite my tongue.
“Tyler?” she sighs.
“I’m here.”
“I understand you’re doing your best. I just need to come and see for myself, then I’ll be able to let him know that.”
My disquiet doesn’t go away, but there’s not much I can do. “I’ll see you when you get here.”
“Yes, you will.”
The silence hangs over me like a threat, causing my fists to clench. My hand’s out of the cast and the air on my skin feels strange. I started physical therapy to get back the strength I need to play, so it’s already sore, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to crush the invisible tension.
I’m going to class, grabbing Rayne’s homework along with notes from different students every day, running routes with Brian, and now daily therapy. More importantly, I’m trying to get her out and find Gabe, so Anne and Mathews will just have to jump in line with everyone else who want a piece of us.
We pull into the secured parking lot in the basement of the hospital and take the long elevator ride up to the mental health unit. When I get to the double-doors, I hand all my stuff to Sam and hit the comm unit on the wall, bouncing on the balls of my feet until they let me in.
Through the doors, sign in at the nurse’s station, then down the hall. Every step gets me closer to her and makes my heart race.
Turning the handle, I push into her room. The overhead lights are off, but the wall lamp is on and streams of sunlight comes through the window. Even with some of her stuff here, it leaves the place feeling barren, especially without her.
“Rayne,” I call, hoping she’s in her bathroom. I don’t like when she’s not in her room because I’m always afraid they’ve moved her without telling me. The idea sends a tremor through my body.
The idea is quelled by a small hand on my back.
“You’re here.”
Her voice sounds like hope and no matter how light the touch is, it anchors me, keeping me from spiraling out of control. Leaning back into her, the stress of the day fades enough for me to breathe deeper into my lungs.
“I’ll always be here.”
Her arms snake around my waist, her cheek pressing into my back. “I know.”
So quiet, yet sure. Threading our fingers together, I walk us forward into her room, kicking at the door, and turning around to face her.
You’re so small.
Her skull fits into my hands, that brain of hers, so precious. Her features so delicate.
Fragile.
“What’s going on?” I pull back on her hair to force her to look at me.
“How much of this is on the news?” she asks slowly.
Shit.
“How much do you wanna know?”
Tilting her head, she looks at me like I’m an idiot. “What are they reporting about me being here? What are they saying?” Her brows wrinkle so there’s a deep line. “No one here will tell me when I ask, and it’s pissing me off. I know we’re on the news, but I don’t want to watch surrounded by a bunch of strangers. But, I’m ready to know what they’re saying.”
Brushing my thumbs across her brows, I frown. “Why are you asking now?”
Her hands drop and she backs away, sinking into the cheap, square chair in the corner.
“Why are you avoiding it?” The thin edge of irritation might upset someone else, but her getting pissed and demanding thrills me. She’s alive. I can’t help but smile at her, which earns a glare.
Dropping the bag of homework on the floor, I grab the arms of the chair and drag it across the floor, ignoring the horrible squeaking the entire way, until she sits in front of me, knee to knee when I drop to her bed.
“I’ll tell you what I know, but, baby”—I rub my fingers along hers—“I don’t watch it and I don’t go online. It pisses me off.”
Understanding flashes in her eyes and she gives me a return nod.
“Okay. The search for Stevens is everywhere. With his family’s standing, it’s being sensationalized. His father keeps saying it was his mom’s death that caused him to snap. That you were teasing him.” Shaking my head, I want to find him and snap his fucking head off with the shit coming out of his dad’s mouth.
“Do people believe that?”
I can’t tell if she’s scared or indignant, but either way it’s bullshit. “I don’t think so. The reporters aren’t reporting it like that. They’ve taken a few interviews, trailed him, and kept asking questions.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” I sigh, there’s so much to tell her. “As for the hospital. Emily went to the papers. Most reporters are being really careful about how they talk about it, but Emily’s definitely playing
the martyr mommy.”
I’ve only seen one interview and I almost broke the TV.
“I’m sure she loves that.” Her face contorts into an ugly grimace.
“She’s desperate.” I grab her hands.
Her torso folds forward, lying across my quads, her hands scratching down the sides of my thighs. The rise and fall of her chest tells me she’s working to keep her cool.
“She’s desperate all right, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a plan.” Rayne huffs.
Stroking her hair, I groan. “I know. We ignored her before, we won’t again.”
She snorts. “You didn’t ignore her, I did. Even after Corey warned me, I figured if I didn’t talk to her, she couldn’t hurt me.” Her fingers dig into my thigh. “I know better.”
I try to think of what to say, wishing I had the answers. I don’t know what to tell her that she doesn’t already know, so I stroke her hair slowly.
“I got exactly what I deserved.”
My fingers freeze, the low admission, stunning me. Dropping my head to look at her, she’s staring off into space, lost in ugly thoughts. Shame. As if this is her fault. “Hey.”
Her eyes close, but I’m not letting her do it to me this time. Not on this. “Hey,” I say, my voice harsher.
She contorts, pulling away, yet clinging to me.
Hands under her armpits, I pull her up, even as she tries to avoid my eyes. “Hey. No.”
Plopping her down on my lap, I grip her chin and make her look at me. She swallows painfully and the shame and humiliation that paints her face and soaks her eyes makes me want to hurt everything around her.
Fuck no.
“You. Didn’t. Do this. You aren’t to blame.” My voice trembles as I hold her.
A single tear comes down her cheek when she blinks.
“You aren’t why Stevens is a monster.” My body shakes and I hold her tighter. “What happened doesn’t make you one. Doesn’t make you less, it makes him fit for slaughter. That’s it. As for your mom—”
“His mom died.”
“Who gives a flying fuck? He was the monster under your bed long before his mom died. You didn’t make him one. Your mom’s a druggie, but you didn’t make her one. Just like…” I take a breath, feeling the truth settle in my bones. “Just like after years of taking Dad’s abuse, hoping he’d love me, I realized there’s something wrong with him. I didn’t cause it, and it isn’t my job to fix him.”
Her hand comes to my scruffy face. “He’s so mean to you.”
“Right.” Shit, he so is and I struggle with why I didn’t see it before. “Do you blame me for what my dad does?”
She sounds horrified when she whispers, “God, no.”
“Exactly.” I brush my lips over her forehead. “I’m not to blame for him, and you’re not to blame for them.” Her body shakes so hard it feels like my arms are the only thing keeping her from coming apart. “Baby.”
Fuck, what do I do?
A quiet sobbing starts, as she covers her face with her hands, her body rocking.
“Baaaby.” God it hurts to see her like this. “What can I do?”
She struggles to suck enough air. “He hurt me.”
Pulling her tight, I rock her on my knees. The closer I hold her, the harder she pushes into me, curling into my lap like I can protect her from the world. It’s the first time she’s mentioned it since the first night. “He’s going to pay,” I promise her.
“He ruined me, everything…”
“No.” My quiet command comes without thought.
“He—”
I gently pull down the hands hiding her face, palming the back of her head, and stare into beautiful eyes shot with red, drenched in tears she should never have cried.
“He hurt you.” I choke. I want to take it away. “I know. But he didn’t ruin shit, ’cause you’re still you. Baby, you don’t have anything to feel guilty about. Get angry, get even, and remember who. You. Are. You earned your way to school. You earned your way onto the Satellites. And somehow you changed me. I’m better…Fuck, baby if not for you I’d still be a douche trying to cure my problems by fucking away the pain.”
Tears pour down our faces as she throws her arms around me, trying to burrow into my neck, I welcome it, squeezing her as tight as her ribs will let me.
“Why are you still here?” Her moist question heats my ear.
A short, pained laugh bursts out. “Are you serious?” Pressing a kiss to her shoulder, the reality of the last five months seems unreal. “Rayne Elizabeth Mathews, you own me.”
Hiccup. Her slight jolt makes me smirk even as I pull back to brush my nose against hers. “There isn’t anything you could do or that could happen that would change that.” My soul would die without her. “I will stand behind, beside, or in front of you, whichever you want, but no matter what, I’ll be standing with you.”
Her tortured breathing evens out, and I wait. For her. For whatever she needs. When she presses her forehead against mine, her head slowly rolling side to side, before she meets my gaze. “I love you.” Her gift whispers into my lungs, filling some of the empty places.
“And I love you.” I suck in deep. “So fucking much, Rayne. You shouldn’t have taken me back, but I’ll never make you sorry. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.” A gentle kiss of promise. “All you have to do is want it, and I’ll get it for you.”
Her lips come to mine, releasing her pain into me, her fears, and I suck it down, accepting all her pain as mine. Her knees try to move forward in an effort to get closer. “Kiss me,” she begs against my lips.
“I am, what else do you want.”
“Deeper. Take it away.” She practically tears my hair out, rising to her knees, attempting to get leverage. In her rush, she straddles my abs, curving her spine to kiss me.
The bite of pain makes blood fill my dick. It’s the last thing I want, but pain is a trigger and she knows it. “Careful, baby.” I pull her ass up so she doesn’t feel how much I want her. I feel like a sick fuck because this shouldn’t be turning me on.
“Why?” she whispers, her lips floating down to my chin, slipping along my jaw, body stretching out along my body, toes braced against my calves.
“Fuck.” Air flees my lungs as her lips run down my jugular, sexy and focused as she clamps down.
“I need this,” she says as she bites, licks, and sucks on my neck, sending aching pulses of blood and desire through me. She always threatened it before, but now deep pulls of suction make my cock jump as she marks me…for the first time.
“Take whatever you want.” I grunt.
Pulling back, her eyes locked on the spot on my neck, her chest heaving again…and again. “Mine.” Her eyes light up as she shifts her gaze to my face.
“All yours.” I don’t care if she covers me in purple bruises.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rayne Mathews
Today’s the hearing and I woke up before dawn. I was dressed with all my stuff in my giant duffel bag, ready to go and never come back when the first shift nurse comes through my door, her phone in hand.
Vanessa said she’s recommending I be allowed to get back to my life. The one that’s been crushed, but belongs to me. Not this half-life surrounded by people who don’t give a damn about me.
“Your blood work looks good. I know you ate earlier.” Looking up, the nurse scans me as I sit on the edge of the bed. “I know you want to get out of here, so are you feeling good enough for the drive?”
I shrug. “If they keep their hands to themselves, we’ll get along just fine.”
Her eyes look like they’re going to roll so far back into her head, she’ll see her brain. “I understand you don’t like it here, but they didn’t know.”
Remembering Nick’s recommendation, I don’t argue. “I promise, I won’t be trouble. Causing a scene will just keep me here.”
A hint of a smile appears as she waves me out of my room. My heart races, and I go to swipe my
bag off the floor, but she stops me. “Leave it. Whether or not you come back is still up to the court and it’ll be better if you leave it here.”
“I’m not coming back.”
She gives me an encouraging nod. “I hope that for you too, but procedures say it stays. We’ll have it ready for you to pick up after the hearing. All you’ll have to do is take five minutes to come get it.”
I want to argue, but the risk of being labeled uncooperative hangs over my head, so I walk out the door, dropping it to the floor.
Down the hall we meet the transport team taking me to the courthouse and the nurse hands them the orders releasing me to go to court.
The sun is out on this March morning and it feels good to see it. Hopefully, it’s a sign of what’s to come.
• • • •
Instead of locking me in a room by myself like last time, the transport team heads down the main hall, then turns into a small cove. Sam and Neil are there, looking like protective statues: hard, implacable, immovable, and dangerous. When they see me, small smiles break across their faces.
“Miss Mathews,” Sam says.
“Hi guys.” Seeing them makes it feel more real that I could go home.
“Glad you made it.” He winks as he glances over my shoulder.
“Me too,” I say, walking between my Shadows, smiling softly at each. When the techs try to follow me, they close ranks behind me, blocking my escort from accompanying me.
“You need to let us past,” the tech says, trying to step through them.
“Nope, her lawyer’s in there,” says Neil. “If you check your orders, you’ll find you’re to deliver her to her attorney. You have. You’re done now.”
“We stay with our patient.”
“You go ahead and say that, but you don’t get to walk into a legal meeting with her attorney. Call your hospital, call the court, call whoever you have to, but you aren’t going in.” Neil’s voice is as sharp as the wicked edge of a razor.
They don’t get the chance because the door swings open and Arnowsky gives them a look of exasperation. “Gentlemen, you can call the hospital, but your only purpose was to deliver my client to me. She’s not a goddamn convict and you aren’t jailers. Now, please, feel free to wait in the courtroom or any room but this one. I’ll be having a privileged conversation with my client, so you can go.”
