Second Down (Moving the Chains Book 2) (2 page)

Our loyalty.

I don’t know how long we all stay like that, grouped around Rob. My cheeks feel wet again. Peering around at all the lowered faces, I realize I’m not the only one crying.

When I look at Rob, though, his face is dry, his eyes closed, and his breathing even. He must have finally run out of tears to cry. I don’t even know how the guy’s still standing after this day from hell. What a sick fucking joke that she’s taken away from him on the day that she finally agrees to be his. I have to wonder if praying matters at all. Or If there’s even a God up there to hear us.

The throng of people disperses, and soon it’s just the four of us guys standing in the middle of the hallway.

A quick peek at the waiting room reveals some key people missing: Eva’s grandparents and sister, and a guy I guessed was her uncle. They must’ve gone back to view the body while we were huddled.

We slowly make our way back over to our seats, waiting on final word for what to do next.

What in the hell are we supposed to do next?

I’ve never been in this situation before. I don’t know the rules of the game. Is it a personal foul if I ask Mom to take me home now, so I can get wasted, alone in the privacy of my own room, then sleep today off?

Before I can open my mouth to ask for just that, a nurse enters the waiting room and whispers something into Patty’s ear. Rob’s mom is a nurse here at the hospital too. Maybe she has some inside lines of communication. Without a word or glance to any of us, Rob and Patty follow her down a hallway. I guess Eva’s family decided to let him say goodbye.

Against my will, images race through my mind at lightning speed. Rob hovering over Eva’s lifeless, bloody body. Rob’s dead eyes glazed over while everyone in the room stares at him, watching to see what he’ll do. Rob kissing her goodbye. Rob going home and putting his dad’s handgun to his temple. Attending two funerals in less than a week.

I’m gonna be sick.

The guy I thought might be Eva’s uncle returns to the waiting room, jarring my attention and forcing me to swallow the bile in my throat.

He wears a tired, but grateful smile. “On behalf of my whole family, and especially Eva, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your support and prayers today. By the Grace of God, she’s resting comfortably in a room and will make a full recovery. Please continue to keep her in your prayers because it will be a long and difficult road ahead.”

Several people immediately jump to their feet to question him about her condition. Most of our teammates and Eva’s friends exchange weary

hugs before trudging out to the parking lot to go home and get some sleep.

I have no idea what to do or what to think. My head swims, I feel like I’m going to barf my brains out, and every muscle in my body screams at me to lay the fuck down and pass out.

Rachel appears by my side again. “Alex, do you want me to drive you home?”

I search for my mom, unsure why Rachel is even offering me a ride when I already have one. My gaze lands on her petite figure, practically swallowed up by the other adults who are having a heated discussion about today’s events. She’s probably going to be a while.

Somehow I manage to pull myself up, staggering on my feet, and then Mike appears in front of me. We hug. It’s not even a bro hug, but the real kind that I haven’t given to another guy since I was a kid. No words pass between us. What the hell could either of us possibly say?

I’m tired as fuck, but I still let Mom know that I’m leaving with Rach. She grips me with a strength I didn’t know she had, but releases me to stay where she is and listen to all the gory details.

Pass. I don’t need to know any more than I already do.

My house is dark and quiet when Rach pulls into the driveway. Without a word, I lead her inside with me and up to my room. Her eyes seem to understand what I’m silently asking. She nods her head once in agreement.

Then I do the only thing I can do after the worst day of my life so far. I bury myself in her to forget.

Chapter 1

Through Glass

Rob

The room is dimly lit and reeks of hospital-grade disinfectant. If only it would erase the scent of blood from my nose. I’m not sure that’ll ever go away.

Evie's family is sitting all around in uncomfortable- looking chairs, staring at me as my vision blurs. Their faces and expressions all swim together until my gaze lands on the one person I thought I might never see again.

The only light in the room shines from above her bed, casting her features in an ironic sort of spotlight. She lies absolutely still in the middle of the sterile white sheets. My immediate urge to go to her and touch her, to see her breathing, is halted when her Papou stands in front of me, enveloping me in a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You saved our precious Eva. We are eternally in your debt.”

Funny, I don’t feel like I did anything. I’ve never been more of a failure in my entire goddamn life.

Papou releases me. Evie’s mom steps into his place, wrapping her arms tightly around my waist. Much like Evie, the top of her head only comes up to the middle of my chest. That comparison sends sickening heat racing across my skin. She lets me go a second before my rising body temperate becomes unbearable.

The closer I get to Evie, the more I shake. She’s alive, yeah, but she looks absolutely broken. Her face is turned toward me, highlighting every injury visible above her thin hospital gown. It’s obvious that even if her deep blue eyes were open, one would be completely swollen shut. The entire left side of her face is black and blue. Her usually sharp, high cheekbone is so puffy that it physically pains me just to look at her.

Her hair is matted around her face; tangles instead of curls fan over the pillow. Crusty patches of dried blood remind me of things I’d rather forget.

She looks so small and frail in the middle of the bed, covered to her waist in a blanket that looks too thin to provide any real warmth. Does she feel cold at all? I shiver because it definitely feels cold in here to me. Doesn’t anyone care if she’s warm enough?

I want to ask if she’s woken up yet, but the longer I stare at her the more the room spins around me.

Just when my knees buckle, a chair is pushed against me, and I fall back onto it. I stare for a few more minutes, pressing my fist against my mouth to hold back the building vomit. The room remains completely silent except for the soft beeping of the monitor that keeps track of her heart. Her heart that was already so fragile from last year. The one she gave to me. It’s still drawn on my Bio notebook. I have no idea where that is right now, but I have a sudden, overwhelming need to find it. Some sort of tangible proof that she actually gave herself to me.

No one speaks, so I find my voice because I have to know. “Is she...? Will she...? How is she?”  

I don’t know what I want to ask; I’m not sure what I even want to know. My breath escapes in rapid pants the longer the silence drags on. I’m either going to throw up or pass out. Why won’t anyone answer me? Why don’t they care that her hair’s a mess and she looks cold?

Mom crouches down in front of me. “She has a severe concussion, but the scans show no sign of brain damage, bleeding, or swelling. She’ll be monitored for the next 24 hours to assess her mental state because she still hasn’t regained consciousness. The doctors think that’s a combination of physical and emotional trauma. Her body and mind need to stay asleep for now to help her heal. She has a gash on her head that they closed with staples. That’s why there was so much blood when you found her. There are four bite marks on her breasts, consistent with your statement to the police. They have her on a regimen of prophylactics to minimize the risk of any blood-born infections. A rape kit showed that he never penetrated her vaginally or orally before you got there. The exam found no evidence of semen anywhere on her body, so there’s no risk of pregnancy.”

If she has more to tell me, it’ll have to wait. That last bit of all-too-graphic information forces the bile that’s been rising up my throat into my mouth. I make a mad dash for the attached bathroom before violently puking into the toilet.

I don’t know how long I’m on my knees, heaving. My entire body throbs like I’ve played the most grueling game of my life. Times about twenty.

A figure casts a shadow against the light. I raise my head to find Papou quietly standing there, holding a hand out to help me off the floor. He leads me to the sink without a word and turns on the water, pressing my back down with a firm push to silently instruct me to wash my face and rinse my mouth.

Emerging from the small space, I move to sit in the chair I’d previously occupied. He guides me around to the other side of her bed. “You sit over here. This is her better side. It is easy to pretend she is only sleeping.”  

Papou’s right. From this view she might just be napping. Ever the smartass, she rolls her head toward me with a soft moan, revealing the beaten part of her face to me once more.

As if I could ever forget what it looks like.

A tear slips down her swollen cheek.

I’m instantly on my feet again, bent over her broken body. “She’s crying. Is she in pain?”  

From the other side of the room, Evie’s mom jumps up and rushes to her other side, grasping her hand.

“Evie? Open your eyes, baby. I’m right here.”

Papou shuffles to the bed, bends over, and whispers to Evie in Greek. I have no idea what he’s saying, but his voice is soft and soothing as she continues to silently cry.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to comfort her. I couldn’t even save her from what happened, how can I possibly save her from whatever nightmare rages in her busted-up head?

A whimper escapes her throat. Even though there’s nothing left in my stomach, the urge to throw up returns. The monitor beeps faster just as several nurses rush into the room.

They force us all away from the bed as they pour over her to record her numbers, and check for...I have no idea what. Christina finds her way to my side, crying quietly as the staff works on Evie.

After what seems like an eternity, the beeping slows, and one of the nurses speaks quietly with Ms. Papageorgiou and Mom. They nod their heads in understanding as the rest of the staff files quietly from the room.

Papou carefully brushes hair away from Evie’s forehead, still speaking his soft words in Greek. I’m suddenly glad that I don’t know what he’s saying. I feel like an intruder, and any words I might understand between them would be eavesdropping on a private conversation.

She’s no longer crying, but tear tracks are still visible on her cheeks. Her breathing is slow and steady, and her face remains turned toward me. If she registers her grandfather speaking to her, she makes no movement or other small sounds to let him know.

Papou fixes me with a look I can’t decipher. My mind’s been fuzzy since the moment I found Evie on the trail, fighting for her life. I wonder if I’ll ever be fully aware again, or if I even want to be. The way I see it, if I can’t wake up from this God-awful nightmare, then I don’t want to face it, either. I can go through the rest of my life in a daze.

I sink back into my chair, not knowing what else to do.

Tini takes the seat beside me. “The doctors told us that she can still hear us. We’re supposed to talk to her and let her know she’s not alone. That she’s safe. They said it would help her wake up.” Tini reaches a hand out and rubs along the length of her sister’s leg.

I tear my gaze away from Christina’s steady ministrations to look at Papou when he clears his throat.

“It is good to touch her, young Robert.”  

He must sense my hesitation, but I’m grateful he can’t read my mind. I used to think it would be good to touch Evie too. So good. I can’t stand the thought of anyone touching her now. Not her family. Not me. No one.

Papou nods his head to me, urging me to do as he and Tini are. I don’t want to overwhelm Evie with sensations, so I reach for her hand. It seems less intimate than her face or leg.

Our combined hands show just how much we both fought today. Her nails are jagged; scabbed scratches climb up her slender fingers from fighting so hard. The memory brings a fresh wave of tears from my eyes. I trace along the slight scar where I burnt her at the bonfire. I joked weeks ago that this brand marked her as mine.

How many people in this room have seen her new brands? Marks that I couldn’t prevent. Marks left by someone else who wanted to own her.

My swollen, taped knuckles can’t compare to what she endured. She’s lucky to be asleep and avoiding this reality for a bit longer.

I have no idea how long I stare at her hand in mine, lost in silence.

Someone squeezes my shoulders. I look up to see that Tini is gone from her post beside me.

Papou hovers over me with a worried look on his face. “Speak to her, young Robert. She needs to hear your voice.”  

Evie doesn’t look like she’s moved an inch. What would give him the idea that she needs anything from me at all?

I’m all out of prayers, but I bow my head anyway. Resting it against Evie’s hand on the bed, I tell her the only thing I can. “I’m so sorry, Evie.”

Her scarred hand absorbs my tears until the darkness overtakes me too.