Crown and Anchor Series: Book 1-4

by Kerri Ann

  “So what—”

  “Stop avoiding and tell me. How does the bike god look?”

  Thinking hard and long on it, I say, “Serene.” With a stargazing look—yeah, I know that’s how I look because that’s how I feel—I’m beaming with a sense of overwhelming joy.

  “Serene?” Carli snaps. “Shit ain’t serene? The boy is busted, was bleeding, lost family, not once, but twice, and you think he’s serene?” Her face is somber and rightly so. She’s right. “Watch that one. He’s hiding and his crash is still inevitable.”

  I know she’s right. I’m just afraid to face it. I’m deathly afraid that this ride isn’t over.

  WYATT

  It’s quiet again.

  Tired and worn out, Circe was taken back to her room. But neither my brother, nor my sister have come back. Once more, I’m alone with my thoughts.

  Is it shit? You bet it is.

  I’m relieved that I’ve told them about that day. How we were in the house, and on the ride over. But I’m keeping the memory of her and those final moments to myself. My sister is too soft to know the truth of how she died; how she looked as she died. I can’t bring myself to go through that with her. Whiskey, on the other hand, couldn’t care. Their relationship was the most volatile and convoluted of us all.

  It’s been a few hours since they left, and all of it cycles on reels in my head. Constricting me, it’s tightening on my damaged soul like a vice. I won’t bother Circe, and I don’t know Natalie enough. I’m sure my friends are too busy to run here when I’m about to panic as well, so I do the only thing that I know is right.

  As the room starts to squeeze me, pressing the button for the nurse, I wait for Sali to arrive.

  Mere moments later, entering with a smile, it fades quickly as she sees the state I’m in. “Mr. Crown?” Her voice expresses how I think I look.

  “I’m having a bit of trouble. Could you sit here and just talk for a moment or two?”

  Her face shows her surprise, and I’m grateful for the elder nurse. Pulling on the chair beside the bed, she sits. “Sure. I can spare all the time you need. What would you like to talk about?”

  “I’m not sure where to start.” Telling her that is more truth than fiction. There’s so much to our story that starting at one point will start another, and another, and another to complicate the first.

  “Start where you need to, where you feel comfortable.”

  “I’m terrified.” Saying it aloud makes it even more apparent. “I’m utterly and truly fucking terrified that I’ll fail. That everything they expect…no, demand of me, will be in vain. You see, I always mess things up. This head of mine always messes it up.” A lone tear falls down my cheek, tempting its brethren to follow. Wiping it away, I laugh at the silliness of it. “I’m sorry. I think being stuck in my head for so long has left everything close to the surface. Every emotion, every fear, every fucking—excuse my language—”

  “No excuse necessary, Mr. Crown. Swear away.”

  “Everything is dangerous.” Picking up the water, I sip it down through the flimsy blue straw, while Sali waits without saying a word. Placing it back on the table, I do my best to arrange my thoughts. “I’m not sure how much my sister or brother have told you about me.”

  “Not much, other than medical requirements.”

  “I deal with manic depression, and not well, I might add. Right now, I’m having a hard time coping.”

  “We can get you assessed.”

  “Assessed?” I say angrily. “I don’t mean to be sharp, but assessment isn’t what I need. I need something to lull this,” I smack my head harshly, “back to sleep.”

  “Sleep isn’t what you require. I doubt it would—”

  “Sali, I’d hoped you were able to assist me, help me deal with these dangerous thoughts that run rampant. They’re evil fucking nightmares of her death. The last goddamn moments of her in that car!” My jaw ticks as I feel every muscle in my body tightening to the point of crushing me once more. Sure, my mother isn’t here, and she never will again, but even speaking of her boils it all down to the same keynotes in my concerto.

  Rising from the chair, I see that Sali is reluctant to leave me. Warring with her decision, the fear to leave me alone is more pressing than to stay and see me fall apart. Coming toward me, she presses the button for the nurse’s station.

  “You were going to hang with me, listening, talking, not having me assessed, Sali!” I’d expected more from her. As the feeling crawls across my skin, I know what happens next. As the darkness absorbs all light in my soul, my mind scrambles. My pain increases exponentially, and every cell in my body feels sharper. I’m ready to take on any fight.

  Other nurses walk in. They speak to Sali as I rant and rail about how assessment is definitely not what I need. “All I want is a way to forget! All I want is to forget it all. I need to escape the pain of seeing her final moments, the light leaving her eyes. Can’t you understand how incredibly dangerous it is to see it? To feel it all?” The fire is banking the feelings to a boiling point. “Please, take it away? Please help me fight this?” I cry out as the pain surrounds me.

  “It’ll all be better in a moment…” Is the last thing I hear Sali say before I black out.

  CHINA

  “Hello?”

  “We request you come back to the hospital, please. Wyatt’s had an…episode,” Sali informs me.

  “Fuck! You’ve got to be kidding me?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I’m not, China. You really need to come back. He’ll need you.”

  “Did his heart fail again?”

  In the background is loud shouting and noises. I can barely make out what Sali says. “No. He’s physically well.”

  Shit. That’s not good. “I’m just downstairs. I’ll be right up,” I say, ending the call. Making my way back to the building, I resign myself to the fact that this might not be something I can help with.

  Rushing to the elevator, I’m thankful when it opens on the first push. Selecting the floor, watching it close up to slow for my liking, I take a moment alone to deal with this.

  Watching the floors tick down, I mutter to myself. “Wyatt, what the hell am I going to do with you? What are you hiding?”

  Fuck. When he was telling us about the crash I knew, I just fucking knew he was keeping something back. He didn’t want to hurt me, so he’s hurting himself instead.

  Typical Wyatt.

  As the door opens, I step into the hall, but instead of walking to his room, I turn left instead.

  I burst through the door. “Circe, I need you right now.”

  The look on her face is one of true shock. Taking in what I’m saying, she’s about to speak before another chimes in.

  “Hi. Glad to meet you. Thanks for stopping by, but we were in the middle of a conversation.” Sitting in the chair beside the bed, a tall Asian woman harnesses her inner bitch. At any other time, I think we could be besties, but at this moment, it’s just annoying.

  “I don’t have time for this shit.” Bringing the wheelchair over, I push it to the side of the bed. “Not to be rude—”

  “Because you were,” she interrupts again with a squinted look.

  “Yeah. Look, I’m not worried about hurting your last feeling,” I say, staring her down. “But, there’s something important that requires your attention, Circe. Immediately.” Without a question or a word, she begins lifting the blankets, dragging her tired body into the wheelchair.

  “It’s okay, Car. If China says I’m needed, I know she doesn’t ask without really needing me.”

  At least someone here is listening. “Totally true. Now, let’s get this show on the road.”

  “Excuse me, but no. China Crown ignored your ass for weeks on end in this place. She kept you from knowing—quite legally, I might add—and now I’m wondering why you’re ready to bounce out of here when she snaps her manicured fingers. Please, tell me why, Circe?” The friend rises off the chair, pressing down her neat linen pants,
standing to her full height. She’s expecting to halt our departure. Good luck.

  “Look. Pissing match aside, you’re just gonna have to give me shit later. I need Circe.”

  Gingerly moving to the chair, she shifts her IV pole around. “Carli, it’s fine. Yeah, I get all of those reasons, and they’re totally valid points, but I need to go with China.”

  Thank you. Would I like to argue further and entertain myself with a battle of wills? Yeah, sure I would, but we need to go.

  After Circe is settled, I start for the door without another word to the friend. Do I get her defence of Circe? Yep. My Harlow would have had anyone’s ass in a sling for the move I pulled, but as it is, someone needs us more.

  Stepping as fast as I can, I push Circe’s chair out the door. “You’re about to get the crash course in Casper Crown. I’m sorry, but there’s no other way. I think that for once I’m just not enough.”

  “What’s happening, China?”

  “I can’t even begin to explain it. You have to see it to believe what’s going on with my brother. I’m hoping the connection you two have will be enough to settle him.”

  CIRCE

  Okay, I can do this. Wanting to be a part of Wyatt’s life means I need to take the bad and good, right?

  As China wheels me out of the room, the first thing I hear are the sounds of shouting, cursing, and Wyatt’s voice breaking in pain. Why didn’t I hear it before? Have I been that involved in myself that I didn’t notice things going on? Fuck.

  Trying to ignore my oversight, placing all of my concentration on the one pushing my stroller, I admonish my selfishness.

  “I’m putting faith in you, Circe. I hope you can do what I’ve done, but better.” Every ounce of what China says strikes a chord. “Honestly, I’ve seen you two together, and I’m sorry I kept you away. And yeah, I suck at apologies, but if you can help, I promise not to leave you in the dark again.”

  “You’re right. You suck at apologies. But it’s not about me or you. This is for Wyatt, yeah?”

  “Damn straight. But it won’t be pretty.” Pushing the door to his room with her ass open, the crashing sound of Wyatt increases.

  “I don’t need that!” Slamming his casted arm into the side table, the sound echoes off the walls, the smashing plaster flying everywhere.

  “Circe,” China warns. “If you want, I can wheel you out. Don’t be afraid to say this is too much.”

  “China, move me, please.”

  “Out or in?”

  “In.”

  Avoiding the extra nurses, security, and Dr. Callie, China pulls my chair up to the end of the bed where there’s the least traffic. Taking in all of Wyatt, his eyes are vacant. He’s far off in his own turbulent storm, fighting a battle of wills. Pain and control are not mutually exclusive, and he’s not winning.

  “Wyatt,” I say softly at first, then more forceful a second time when he doesn’t acknowledge me. “Wyatt!”

  Over the din of confusion and hospital care workers, no one hears me. Looking behind me, up to China, I see the fright. She’s about to fall apart and no one see’s how painful this is for her too. Watching as they try to restrain and contain him, I feel horrible for both of them if this is the way it’s always been.

  Is this how everyone has thought to care for his issue? Further containment and less understanding? Well, not me.

  “Circe. You shouldn’t be here right now. It’s not safe,” the doctor states, trying to feed a full syringe of opiates into the IV line.

  “Dr. Callie. Could you leave us alone?”

  “Just let me get this—”

  “No. I mean, before you drug him,” I state emphatically.

  “Circe, I don’t think you understand. He’s harming himself. We need to control—”

  “That’s the problem, doctor. I think all anyone has ever done is control him. Please, let me try it another way.”

  Turning to Wyatt’s sister, Dr. Callie thinks she’ll find a defender. “China, I—”

  “I agree with Circe. Please, everyone leave. And I don’t mean after you dope him up.” Watching her request be ignored, they still work away, attaching cuffs. Her patience wanes. “Now!” she hollers.

  As they pause, releasing Wyatt’s hand, he calms. “Everyone, please leave,” I tell them, as China ventures to the door, opening it wide.

  “All of you leave, please.” The harsh face of determination, a perfected resting bitch face, China smacks the door lightly to grab their attention. “Let’s go. We’ve got this. And if by chance we don’t, you can come back and tell us we told you so.”

  Walking away, one by one, each look at us with incredulity. They’re amazed we want to deal with this alone.

  Looking back over her shoulder as she’s leaving, Dr. Callie places the cap back on the tiny syringe. Turning to China with a crestfallen expression, she says, “We’ll just be outside the door.”

  We understand what we’re asking, and we’re ready to accept it.

  Turning my attention back to Wyatt, I see the physical stress of everything as his body tenses. His eyes dart and the darkness fills him. No, I’ve never dealt with anything like this, but I feel the same despair anytime I think back to my crash. Anytime I have a panic attack, my soul crushes just a tiny bit. When I see him being dragged under like this, I don’t just understand it, I appreciate the coping mechanisms he’s devised.

  As the door shuts and the room quiets, I ask for help. “China. Could you wheel me up to the side?”

  “Yeah, sure. One sec.” Bringing me to the edge where I sat only a day ago, China clicks the lock on the wheels. “I’m sorry you’re seeing the worst of it.”

  “I’m not seeing the worst of anything, Doll.” I lift myself slightly out of the chair. “You can go. Don’t worry, I have this.”

  “Circe, it’s one thing to get a crash course, but it’s another to hop into the lion’s den without a stick to beat it back with.”

  “He won’t hurt me. It’s okay.” Placing my hand on the bed, I move toward the empty space beside Wyatt. “Really, I’m fine. We’ll be fine.”

  I push up higher until I can lift myself to sit on the edge. Stroking Wyatt’s sweat-soaked platinum hair, I reel at the pain he’s in.

  “If you need me, I’m right outside.”

  Hearing her leave me, I take in all of Wyatt. His cast is destroyed, which will cause him delays in riding. His wild eyes dance untrained on nothing specific. His hospital gown and hair are soaked with sweat. Leaning into the hard bed, turning my attention elsewhere, I don’t notice if China left or not. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is him and his pain.

  “Wyatt?” Touching his hair, I stroke the side of his strong jaw as it ticks, trying to calm him. No, I won’t be a fix, but maybe I can be a relief. “Wyatt, I’m here. It’s Circe.”

  Since the doctors and nurses left, he’s calmed considerably. The stress of them in no way made it better, it just cornered the beast. Now the fight or flight has lessened, but the beast is still wary.

  “Do you remember the first time we kissed? I thought you were a pompous man, only looking for your next thrill, your next fuck. The next war. You know what I saw, though, and I never voiced it? I saw you hiding. That guy on the track, he’d hurt you more than if you’d hit him, didn’t he? The fear of causing someone else’s pain scared you. You were afraid that you could have been the catalyst for another sad family.” Keeping my voice calm and serene, I tuck in tighter to Wyatt’s side, laying my casted arm across his body.

  “I know what you saw that day. You held back from telling them. I get it. You didn’t want to tell your brother or sister what you saw in the car when we crashed, did you?”

  Moving his hand, he finally touches me. He’s relaxing.

  “You saw it too?” he asks.

  Answering his question, tears choke my voice. “I saw death.” I know he was there. I knew he took a life, and I knew it was going to be painful. With tears threatening my eyes, I take in a deep bre
ath. “There was nothing you could do.”

  He doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he stays quiet, in his own system of containment. “The part that pains me most is that I was glad for her. She needed the peace. That, and I don’t think I could’ve survived you gone from my life. You understand that, right? Without you, with me—in here—you saved me every day.” Tapping his head, he finally turns his eyes from the ceiling to look at me. As the wetness coats his cheeks from tears, I see it all. Pain and suffering, joy and relief.

  It’s true, we haven’t known each other long, but I have a connection to him that I can’t deny. Seeing the change in him, I feel that his turbulent ocean has lulled. It’s not gone, it’s just relinquishing its hold slightly, allowing him control behind the wheel.

  Thumbing his tears, I listen as he talks. “You were what I thought of. You were all that kept me going as I sat here, wondering about everything. It was all wrapped up in you. I’m not sure if I’m moving a dependency from racing and sex to you, but I know I can’t do this alone, Circe. Please, tell me this isn’t a dream?”

  “I’m here, Wyatt, and we’ll figure it out.” Kissing his cheek, I taste the salt of his tears. Turning his head slightly, he kisses me and I feel every ounce of passion in his lips. My heart skips a few beats, and my soul cheers for more. Breaking away, I tell him again. “I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

  Pulling back, he stares into my eyes. “Thank you for calling me, Siren.”

  I smile. “I’m glad you answered.”

  WYATT

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  Days have passed. I’ve been learning to grab things, pulling and pushing, along with other stupid stuff to gain control of my body. Shit like flexing your fingers is crap if you ask me, but I can write my name again. I can stand without feeling queasy now, and hopefully, I’ll be able hold a throttle. But I’ll never race again.

  All day, every day, it’s been me and Circe as we’ve tried to repair all the broken pieces of our badly damaged bodies. When I say Circe and I, I mean it in the terms that she’s been what’s cooled me. She’s calmed me, and made me feel whole when all I wanted was to collapse in my mind. Finding a way to settle my mind without the rush of a track and without sex has been hard. I sat confined in my head and despised returning to a dependency on drugs. I’d thought I’d found peace in that coma, but that was a lie.