Текст книги "Affliction"
Автор книги: River Savage
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sy
I walk close behind her, hoping like fuck I don’t mess this up. I know pushing her right now is not wise, but I’ve sat back for the last three months and I can’t do it anymore. I need to be the one to help her, to pull her out of this funk she’s been living in.
I follow one step behind her as we make the ten-minute walk to the new salon she started working at a couple of weeks ago. It’s only a few blocks further down than her last salon, but I hate that she walks alone. Something we will be talking about later. Her small frame shivers in the brisk air, causing her to rub her small arms to keep warm. I’m not surprised she’s cold. The woman I took in the heat of the moment, those months ago on her living room floor, no longer stands in front of me. I know by looking at her she hasn’t been taking care of herself, but actually watching her, searching past the fake bravado she puts on, I see something else. Something that follows her. It hits me like a freight train, like staring into a mirror and realizing you’re no longer looking at yourself.
“Did you bring a jacket?” I ask, watching her warm herself up.
“I’m okay. We're almost there.” She points up at the shop only a block ahead.
“Didn’t ask if you were okay. Asked if you brought a jacket.”
“I didn’t ask for you to follow me today, and yet you still did, so I guess we both didn’t get what we asked for,” she says, still walking. Fuck, her little attitude gives me some hope that she isn't so lost. I don’t respond. I just reach up and tuck her under my arm to keep her warm.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asks, trying to move out of my hold.
“You should have brought a jacket,” I explain, keeping her in my embrace.
“Let me go, please,” she says, trying to duck out, but my hold is too firm.
“Quit moving or I’ll throw you over my shoulder,” I threaten, meaning every word of it. Her movements still, her fight not that desperate to leave.
“You never used to be this annoying,” she huffs after a few beats, probably put out knowing my heat is just what she needed.
“No, you used to be the annoying one,” I reply as we walk up to the front of her shop.
“Sy, you don’t have to do this.” She stops suddenly and turns to face me. I can already see the argument play out over her face.
“Holly, don’t even bother. I’m staying. Told you, it’s club business,” I continue to lie. “You should get inside; you’re going to be late.” I nod toward the woman opening up the front doors.
“Fine, but you're wasting your time,” she adds before disappearing inside.
She might be right, but I still stand there for a few minutes watching her through the glass as she prepares for her day. Her fake smile is plastered on as she laughs her unrecognizable laugh. She looks up a few times, but doesn’t acknowledge me. After watching her start on her first client, I walk across the street and get myself a coffee. I look around, searching for a spot where I can watch her for a few hours. I know I’m probably taking this to the extreme, but after the party last week, seeing her lost in her head, I need to do something to pull her out. Everyone back at the clubhouse is worried about her. If only she could see we want to help her. My cell vibrates in my pocket and I fish it out, hoping it’s Rue telling me she managed to clear my weekend so I can make the trip back to Brighton. I pushed my visit out this year, slowly starting to distance myself, but guilt has been eating at me the last few days and the need to see her is strong.
“Yeah?” I answer without checking the caller ID.
“Where the fuck you at?” Nix barks down the phone.
“I’m out,” I reply, not telling him my business.
“Beau needs a second man on his pickup tonight. You free?”
“No, I’m out all day,” I tell him, not prepared to leave Holly alone.
“Where you at?”
“Is it important you know?”
“Quit fuckin’ around, Sy. Can you do it?” he asks, sounding pissed I’m fucking with him. I should say yes. This is the first call Beau has gotten through for the underground recovery we voted in months back. I know it’s huge for him, but I’ve come this far with Holly; I’m not going to leave her alone now.
“I’m with Holly today, so no, I can't fucking do it. Send Hunter with him,” I say, annoyed I just told him what I was doing.
“You’re with Holly, right now?” His tone suggests he doesn’t believe me.
“What the fuck, Nix! Yes, I’m with Holly.”
“Holly is at work, so quit fuckin’ around.”
“I know she’s at work. I just fucking walked her there.”
The line is quiet as he takes in what I just revealed. Fucking great.
“You walked her to work?” he asks in his no bullshit way, but I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Is that all you wanted?” I ignore his question.
“You, Sylas Dean, walked Holly to work?”
“Fuck off, Nix. I’m hanging up now,” I growl into the phone, not in the mood for his shit.
“Have fun,” he chimes down the line before I end the call. Smartass.
I know he has a reason to be shocked. I’ve gone from wanting nothing to do with her, to not being able to keep away, to giving her space. But I’m done. I’ve given her enough time and I’m tired of waiting for her to pull herself out of her head when I know I can help her. She just has to trust me.
“Are you going to buy anything else today?” the waitress asks after I’ve been sitting here for the last hour.
“Do I have to?” I snap, enjoying the quietness of watching Holly work.
“Yeah, you have to,” she replies in her whiney voice.
I stand, not in the mood to listen or argue with her. Dropping a twenty, I leave and decide to watch Holly from afar. I keep her in my line of sight, and try not to read too much into the familiar feelings which settle inside me every time she searches for me. Instead, I focus on what she doesn’t want people to see: the darkness prevailing. It threatens to send her into oblivion, one I know about all too well. I've had years to perfect the façade she's now putting on show for the world to see, but she's so absentminded and lost in her own thoughts she doesn't even realize how obvious it is. I've tried to fight the need to help her through the glooming shadows that lurk around her. But for reasons I don't even understand, this pull she has on me is so strong, walking away is not an option.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Holly
“Girl, I’m telling you now, if that fine piece of man-candy was standing out the front of the shop waiting on me, you’d have to hold me back from mauling him right there on the street,” Gabrielle says, standing next to me. “I mean just look at him, all dark and tattooed. Jesus on a cracker, if you don’t want him, I’ll have a play,” she continues her verbal assessment of Sy.
Gabrielle is one of the other stylists who work at Vault Hair. She took me under her wing on my first day and hasn’t left me alone.
“Gabrielle,” I sigh. She hasn't stopped for a breath, verbally undressing Sy for most of the day. The woman won’t give up.
“Holly, look at him,” she says, reaching out and lifting my face from the paperwork in front of me. “That man is sex on fire. You damn blind or what?” I pull back and turn toward her. Her long, dark hair is pulled up into some kickass bun on top of her head, braids entwined all through the masterpiece. She peels her eyes off Sy, who’s standing across the street, to turn and look at me.
“I’m not blind. I can see,” I agree with her assessment. I silently add, but Sy and I are just complicated. We may have had a connection once before, but now, things are too messed up.
“He’s so mysterious. Maybe I should get a tattoo from him,” she smirks, resting her elbow on the desk, her head lost in her personal daydream.
“You do that,” I say, going back to my paperwork. I’ve had a busy day, picking up two new clients plus the few I had booked.
“You wouldn’t care?” She sounds shocked.
“Why would I care? I already told you, he is just someone I know. That’s it.” I try to let the words be true, but I know I’m only lying to myself.
“Holly, the man has stood out there all day keeping an eye on you. I've watched him watch you. He might be someone you know, but that man out there, is feeling something else for you,” she says, pointing toward Sy. She shakes her head at me and walks to the back of the salon. I look up and catch Sy's stare; his chin lifts, giving me his signature nod. I awkwardly raise my hand and wave over at him. His lips quirk in a small lift, awarding me with his grin. Dropping my hand, I get back to my work as an unfamiliar sensation flows through me. Excitement? Anticipation? Something settles over me; it slightly outweighs the dread I always feel. For the first time in a long time, I find myself not wanting the sadness to take over and bring me down.
“Looks like Mr. Dark and Dangerous is heading our way,” Gabrielle says, walking past me with her bag and coat. “You okay if I head out? I have to pick up Rosie. Derrick’s on late nights this week.” Rosie is Gabrielle’s five-year-old daughter and Derrick is her amazing husband.
“Yeah, it's okay. I’m just finishing up now.” I wave her off, my eyes still on Sy as he walks past the glass door.
“See you tomorrow,” she laughs, leaving us alone in the empty salon.
“You’re still here,” I state, packing up the desk, not quite giving him my eyes. “I thought you would have given up.” I’m shocked he’s hung around all day.
“Nope, told you, I was on watch all day. How was your day?”
“Busy,” I answer while reaching for my bag.
“What have you got goin’ on now?” he questions quietly, watching my every move.
“Just heading home.” I pull my hair up on my head.
“You want to get something to eat?” he asks.
“Eat?”
“Yeah, I’m starved. While we’re out, we may as well pick something up,” he shrugs, looking around the salon.
“I’m pretty tired. I was planning on a quiet night.”
“Okay, I’ll order us some takeout,” he suggests, completely ignoring my idea of a quiet night. “What do you like?”
“Umm, I was just going to have a glass of wine, a bath and go to bed,” I admit, and then cringe internally at the visual of it. Sy doesn’t respond. Instead, he stands before me; his dark stare now piercing into mine.
“You need to eat, Holly.”
“I’ll make something at home.” I lie, knowing I don’t have an appetite.
“I watched you all day today; you haven’t stopped. No arguing. I’ll order you some takeout. You ready?” he asks, ending all conversation of dinner and stopping me from replying.
“I’m capable of looking after myself, Sy.”
“Really? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, you’re not doing a good job. So, until you start, I’ll take over for you.”
“I don’t need taking care of. I’m doing an okay job, thank you,” I fight, knowing the words coming from my mouth are a lie. I can even hear it.
“Babe, your clothes are falling off you. As beautiful as you are, you look like shit,” he points out, and in that split second, the sadness that lives to bring me down falls over me again. The small reprieve I was feeling not five minutes ago, now feels fragile by his words. Just like me. “Don’t even think about it, Holly.” He steps forward into my space.
“Don’t what?”
“I’m not letting you get lost again. I’m not letting you become me.” His hand reaches for my face, but I pull back at his touch. “I’ve watched you. I’ve kept my distance, but I can’t do it anymore. I told you that night in the hospital. I won’t let you push me away.”
“Don’t push me, Sy,” I beg, knowing he’s my weakness.
“I'm not pushing. I’ve given you time for that to settle in. I think your time is up.”
“Sy—”
“Your act is not working for me. That smile you hide behind doesn’t fool me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I step out of his space, needing a moment to breathe.
“This perfected act of yours. You think you have everyone fooled.” He shakes his head. It’s a slow shake, which makes me forget the panic that’s rising. Slowly, anger takes its place.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. How dare you!” My voice rises and at the same time heat floods my cheeks.
“Come on, baby. You can do better than that,” he smirks, setting my blood on fire in frustration.
“Fuck you!”
“There she is. I’m starting to see her,” he whispers, his eyes shining with excitement. “The real you is still in there. I just have to piss you off to convince her to come out.” His voice is low and filled with amusement, making me angrier. My hands go to his chest, an impulsive reaction to his accusation.
“I’m here. I’ve always been here.” I push hard, but his hands come to my wrists, trapping them in his grip.
“You might think you’ve been here, but Holly, you’ve been missing, and I’m not going to let you do that anymore.”
My defenses fall, his hands on my skin unraveling me. “I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t want this pressure. I’m not brave enough,” I foolishly admit. I don’t know why I cave to this man, admitting truths that don’t need to be voiced. I’ve done so well keeping my shit together, yet now he’s in my face for one day, I’m giving in.
“You don’t need to be brave, Holly.”
“Sy,” I murmur, trying to pull out of his grasp, but he holds on tighter, forcing me to forfeit.
“Holly, don’t say anything. Just trust that I’ve got you. Let me help you, okay?” His grip on my wrists loosens, but I don’t have the strength to fight him anymore. I stand before him exposed, stripped back, my body begging for comfort, for affection, for the touch of another. His hands move down mine, and his fingers part my own, locking them between his. The warmth of his touch takes some of the panic away.
“Let's just start with dinner,” he says, drawing me closer. The smell of leather, oil, and Sy comforts me. I nod into his embrace, words no longer needed as I selfishly take what he doesn’t know he’s offering. Would he still be willing to help me if knew the reason I hurt the most? I know it makes me weak, but I’m not ready to find out.
PAST
Sy
“Do you know that sharks rarely get cancer?” she asks from the window as she soaks up the morning sun. Her question jolts me, keeping me stuck in the same position for a few minutes as I process her words. I’m not surprised at her random fact about sharks. It’s her favorite topic, but the cancer word has my full attention. When we first found out about the cancer, Katie didn’t want to label it. In her mind, labeling Keira’s disease was giving it power, so we decided to tell Keira she had special blood that needed important medicine to make her better. At the time, it was appropriate. She was five years old and didn't need to know the ugliness of what cancer was. As the years went by and with the cancer returning, we never called it what it was. Always just her special blood that needed more medicine.
“I didn’t know that,” I answer her question, coming back to the moment.
“It says it has to do with the 'epigonal organ' they have. We don’t have it.” She continues to read from her Shark Dictionary we bought her last month.
“I did not know that either, sweetheart.” I keep my voice level and as calm as I can manage.
“Do you think when I see God, I should tell him that people need the epigonal organ?” she asks. Her tone is so serious it takes me a few seconds to figure out how to answer her and not scream in anger. She's been asking questions like this the last week. Innocent to her, but soul-crushing to Katie and me.
“I think that would be a good idea,” I reply, the only thing I can say at this moment. I want to get up and put my fist through the wall, scream at the top of my lungs at the injustice, but none of it will take away the fact that my daughter is dying. The special blood that needs more medicine just isn't going to cut it anymore. My daughter has cancer. She's going to die.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Holly
“I have a nine o’clock with Dr. Elliot,” I tell the young receptionist.
“Take a seat,” she smiles and nods over at the quiet waiting room before going back to tapping away on her keyboard. It’s the morning after Sy walked me to work, hung around all day and then proceeded to buy me dinner. We didn’t discuss what happened those two times five months ago, when we caved in the heat of the moment, or this connection we have. I didn’t tell him about the baby or even talk about the shooting, but each time I see him, it gets harder and harder to keep it all inside. I know he has a right to know, but talking about it, hell, just bringing up the possibility of talking about it has me shutting it out.
“Holly,” Dr. Elliot calls from her office, breaking me from my thoughts.
“Hi.” I stand and make my way into her office. Her room is not what I was expecting when I first walked in last month. I had this vision that I would walk into a stuffy room, lie back on a leather couch and tell her all my worries and have her feel sorry for me.
“Take a seat,” she says, motioning to the sofa across from her armchair. Placing my bag down next to me, I sit back into the cream suede sofa. I take a pillow from beside me and place it on my lap, relaxing into the comfort of her room.
“How have you been, Holly?” she inquires, sitting across from me. Her pencil skirt and blouse are so neatly pressed I wonder how she manages to pull off her perfect look. Her blonde hair is blow-waved into a neat bob style, just like every other time I've come, and her perfectly applied lipstick complements her outfit. The woman is so well put together; she makes me look like a hot mess.
“I’m good,” I answer as I fold my hands together, stopping myself from fidgeting. I always hate this part. The niceties of how my week was, before getting into the real reasons of why I come here once a week. Insecurity eats away at me as the sadness attempts to consume my thoughts. I started seeing Dr. Kendal Elliot when I didn’t even want to get out of bed. I didn’t understand why I was so upset, why I kept pushing everyone away. My family didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to help me grieve. It wasn’t until I had a visit from Nix that I realized I wasn’t coping. The badass biker telling me I needed to pull my head out of my ass was enough to get me up and moving. I stood there and cried for what I had become. He held me while the waves of emotion washed over me, and then pulled out his phone and made my first appointment.
“Want to start with a page from your book?” Dr. Elliot smiles, returning me to the present moment. She knows how much I hate this part. I’ve tried all my tricks to get out of it, leaving my notebook at home and begging her to read it out for me. I hate the anticipation of it, of listening to the words pour out of me when I’m feeling most vulnerable.
“Sure,” I reply, knowing the quicker this is done, the quicker we can move on. Taking a deep breath, I flip to my most recent entry in the diary I’ve been keeping for the last few weeks.
“I didn’t really get much down,” I lie. This journal is filled with so much shit, I just hate repeating it.
“That’s okay. Let’s hear what you have,” she counters. If I weren’t about to let her into my darkness, I would smile at her persistence.
“Tuesday the second. Today has been a bad day. I’m sick of feeling so weak. Why can’t I just feel peace? Why does it have to be so hard?” I read aloud in a shaky voice, scanning the pages filled with my scrawled handwriting. “I don’t want to feel like this, like I’m in a constant state of anguish. Why can’t I just pick myself up? I know I’m playing the victim card, but I can’t stop. I hate that about me. I hate how this controls me. That I can’t just wake up and be okay.” I begin to cry through my words, resenting every moment of it. My innermost thoughts spew out of me, holding me together, but at the same time, they possess the strength to break me.
“Very good, Holly.” She smiles her gentle smile. “Can you tell me why you think you have a hard time reading your diary back to me?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes, when I start going down the path of feeling sorry for myself, I can’t stop. It’s like I work so hard trying to feel okay, but then I do this and feel worse.” I shrug, not really understanding why I have to relive it over and over.
“Well, that’s the purpose of these exercises. You’re not playing the victim, Holly. You are a victim. Getting these feelings out is normal. You’re not going to break. It’s okay to feel those things. They are a normal reaction to what you have experienced.”
“But is it? Shouldn’t I be over this by now? I feel like I need to just get over it, get over this pain, this loss, but I can’t and it’s messing with my head.” I let out a shaky breath. This panic consumes me. It takes everyday things and makes them impossible to endure. When will it all be okay?
“Holly, you experienced something that was life threatening. You were shot. The same bullet killed your child. That is what happened to you. That won’t ever leave you, so it’s okay to be feeling these emotions. It doesn’t make you weak, or helpless. You had something taken from you. You need to stop worrying about how other people expect you to act, or be. There is no shame in feeling like you can’t handle the stress of what you went through. There is no shame in wanting to curl up in your bed and feel like you don’t want to face the world. What’s not okay is hiding these feelings. If you don’t talk about what you’re trying to bury, then you aren’t going to work through this and move forward with your life.” I know what she is saying is right, but how do you try to explain to someone who doesn’t understand what you are going through? I don’t want to bring down my friends or my family.
“I just wish this feeling of dread would go away. That it wasn’t so hard to roll out of bed.”
“You need more time and you need to let people in. I think you need to tell Sy about the baby,” she insists and I know she is right. I know telling Sy is something that needs to be done. How do I even begin to explain my mourning for the loss of someone whose existence was kept secret in the first place?
“I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
“What are you so afraid of?” she asks, eyeing me carefully. This is something we have discussed many times in the last few weeks, but I don’t know what is holding me back from telling him. It’s not that I’m afraid of him, but more of what he will say.
“That he will look at it as something that was insignificant and dismiss my loss.” I let the truth come out with no hesitation. It frightens me more than anything else.
“Do you honestly believe that?” She sounds shocked, but she doesn’t know the situation like I do. He might be in my space now, but before the shooting, the man didn’t want anything to do with me.
“I don’t know what I believe anymore.”
“That’s what we have to work on, Holly, getting you to believe again.”
***
“So, he just followed you to work, spent all day at the front of the store, and then followed you home. You both ate in silence, then he left?” Kadence asks, sitting across from me in our favorite coffee shop a week after Sy’s weird stalker day. I don’t know why I even let on about my strange night with Sy, but he never told me why the club was watching out, so I wanted to know what was going on. I haven’t seen anyone else watching me, so what game is he playing?
“Yes, Kadence, he told me it was club business,” I tell her, taking a sip of my coffee.
“Well, I have no idea why he would tell you that. Nix hasn’t warned me at all, and considering all that’s happened, he would have told me, Holly.” I know she’s right. I knew he wasn’t telling the truth. I just don’t understand what he’s up to.
“Well, looks like I was played.”
“Or maybe he is done waiting like he said,” she adds. I don’t reply. I watch as she tries to work her brain to come up with a way to talk about it. “Are you planning on telling him?” she asks over her mug of coffee.
“I’m getting there,” I mumble. I really am. I know I have to tell him, that he deserves to know. I’m just working up to it.
“Well, the sooner the better,” she adds, knowing she can’t push me.
“So, how are the wedding plans going?” I ask, hoping to get off this subject.
“We’re going dress shopping next week, so make yourself available,” she announces, and I fight my need to come up with an excuse not to go. “You know, I’m kind of enjoying this new dynamic to our relationship,” she laughs, watching me work through my need to say no. I know she’s joking. Hell, it is laughable; there’s no denying that. Five months ago, I would have been all over this. Now, I’m fighting my panic at even the thought of going out.
“I didn’t mean that,” she rushes out, reaching for my hand when I don’t laugh at her attempt to joke. I wish I could go back to the way we were before, when she was the one hiding away in our apartment, keeping to herself while I had the carefree attitude.
“But it’s true, isn’t it?” I squeeze her back. She looks at me with heartache, but I can't get drawn into it. I need to move past this and not get stuck again.
“It was a stupid joke,” she whispers, but I won’t let her beat herself up about it.
“I’m getting there,” I confide. “Slowly but surely. Just give me some more time.”
“I love you, Holly. You know that, right?”
“I do and I love you, too,” I reply sincerely. “Now, let’s talk about this bachelorette party. Can we do Vegas?” I force myself to be happy for her. I’m her maid of honor; this is what I need to do. Besides, keeping my mind busy will help me stop thinking about things that need to be forgotten.
“Oh, Nix will not be down with that,” she shakes her head, but her smile tells me she would risk it.
“Okay, leave it with me,” I tell her, knowing I’ll be limited with that man of hers.
“Just, please, whatever you do, do not make me wear something ridiculous.”
“Umm, who are you talking to? I’ll make you look good. Don’t stress,” I say, reaching for my phone when it vibrates. Picking it up, my stomach flutters when I see his name flash on my screen. I hate myself for it, considering I’ve worked so hard to keep him at arms length the last few weeks. But after the party and now dinner, I can’t hide my smile when I see his name on the screen.
Sunshine: Are you busy tonight?
I look at the screen, wondering what alternate universe I’m living in when Sy messages me asking if I’m busy.
Me: No, why?
I quickly type back and place the phone on the table to stop myself from over analyzing my reply. Why did I tell him that?
“So, when do you want to do this? Same weekend as the boys’ bachelor party?” I ask, giving Kadence my attention again.
“No, we’ll have to do separate dates. We have Z,” she says, watching me carefully when my phone beeps again. I pick it up, ignoring her smirk and read his new message.
Sunshine: I’ll be over at 5pm
I check the time and see I have a couple of hours.
“You okay?” Kadence finally gives in and asks.
“Yeah,” I tell her, not sure why I don’t want to fill her in on Sy’s message, or him coming over again. Something in me wants to keep it a secret from everyone around us, even her.
“Who are you messaging?” She raises her brow in suspicion when I don’t fill her in.
“Just Mom. She just sent me something silly.” I somehow come up with a lie and instantly feel like shit. I’m a bad best friend.
“Oh, really? Show me.” She smirks and holds her hand out calling my bluff. Shit.
“You won't think it’s funny,” I mumble, placing my phone in my bag.
“You never know, I might think it’s really awesome.” She shrugs, not fazed with my secrecy. She knows.
“Fine, it wasn’t Mom. Just leave it, okay?” I spill, feeling the pressure of her stare.
“Didn’t think so,” she smirks into her coffee. “Just remember, Holly, I have your back, but the longer you keep it all hidden, the harder the fallout will be,” she warns, and I know she’s right. I just need to tell him when the time is right.
Then again, when is it the right time to tell a man he’s lost a child he didn’t know he had?
