Spin (The Indigo Lounge Series) (11 page)

Todd jerks back. Felicity’s eyes are pools of shock. “What are you talking about?”

“Have you never wondered why Bethany doesn’t go near the pool anymore?”

Felicity and Todd exchange puzzled looks. “We asked her about it. She said she’d lost interest in swimming.”

I want to snarl. I want to pound my fists into the nearest wall. But I’m saving that release for later. For after I know the extent of Bethany’s injuries. “He tried to push himself on her when they were kids. She fought back, and he tried to drown her. She’s had a fear of water ever since. She didn’t tell you because a part of her believes what happened was her fault.”

“My God. Todd...how could she keep something like this from us?”

“Don’t blame her. She tried to handle it the way she thought best.”

Felicity’s mouth trembles. Her tears flow freely.

Her husband comforts her.

I resume pacing. My mind is tearing itself to shreds when the doctor walks in. “Mr. and Mrs. Green.” He nods at me. “Mr. Savage, I have good news. The MRI shows there’s nothing broken. Her trachea is bruised and she’ll have trouble swallowing for a few days. We recommend she keeps talking to a minimum. But she should make a full recovery. We’re going to monitor her overnight to make sure her oxygen levels return to normal and the chlorinated water she swallowed is flushed out of her system. We can discuss her discharge in the morning.”

“I want to see her.”

He shakes his head. “She’s just taken a sedative. She’ll be a little drowsy—”

“I’m seeing her, doctor. That wasn’t a request.”

“Okay, come with me.”

We return to Bethany’s room. Her hospital gown makes her features look pale. The sight of her oxygen mask threatens to cut me off at the knees. But she’s awake and when her eyes meet mine across the room, I groan with relief to see they’re no longer vacant.

She pulls down the mask. “Zach,” she mouths.

I rush to her side and grip her hand. “No, baby, please don’t try and talk.”

She shakes her head and flicks a glance at her parents before settling back on me. “I’m okay,” she mouths again.

I sink into the chair next to her bed and take several shaky breaths before I press the mask back onto her face. “Rest now, darling. Please. Whatever we need to talk about can wait. I’m here. I’m
here
...” Where I should’ve been all along.

I look over and see her parents staring at her with equal parts of pain and love. I don’t stop her when she pulls down her mask one more time with her free hand. “You know?” she enquires soundlessly.

They nod.

Something akin to relief crosses her face. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Felicity looks like she’s about to burst into tears again.

“You’re straining yourself, Bethany. That’s enough.” I place the mask firmly on her face. The sedative takes hold and she drifts off minutes later.

Her parents and I sit with her until sunlight slowly creeps across the room. At some point, I see a couple of uniformed officers loitering outside the door. I ignore them until they go away.

Just after nine a.m., a distraught Keely bursts in with Mason on her heels. She promises all manner of fire and brimstone in retribution. Mason’s gaze catches mine and we exchange a grim smile. When Bethany drifts off again, I stand and head for the door. Mason follows me into the hallway.

“Philip brought me up to speed,” he says once he makes sure we’re alone. “Want some company?”

I shake my head. “I need to do this alone.”

He nods in understanding. “Take as much time as you need. I’ll hold the fort.”

“Thanks.”

He clasps me on the shoulder, then returns to the room. I watch through the blinds. Everyone who loves Bethany is in that room. But none of them love her as much as I do. And I placed her directly in harm’s way.

My hands shake as I fish out my phone.

Philip answers on the first ring.

“Where are you?”

“Round the corner from the hospital. Take the west entrance and I’ll be there.”

“I’m on my way.”

I hit the street ninety seconds later and slide into the passenger seat. We don’t talk as he accelerates from the curb.

Ten minutes later, he parks in front of Bethany’s parents house. We head through the house and straight out the back. He keys in the code that lets us into Wanda and Leslie Davidson’s house. We enter through the kitchen and up the stairs to the room at the back of the house.

Philips opens the door and stands back to let me in.

Dillon Davidson is strapped to a chair in the middle of his bedroom, his mouth taped shut.

Every single particle of composure I’ve managed to hang on to flees my body at the sight of the man who made my Bethany stop breathing.

The first punch to his solar plexus knocks the air out of his lungs and sends him crashing to the floor. I plant my feet on either side of him and watch his eyes bulge as he stares up at me.

“Having a little trouble
breathing
, asshole?” I snarl.

Color washes in and out of his face as he fights to breathe. I wait until he starts to catch his breath. Then I punch him again.

“You know what you did by attempting to take what’s mine?”

Naked fear mushrooms in his eyes, and he looks as if he’s about to pass out.

“You brought hell to your doorstep. And guess what? I’ve decided to stay for a while.”

All The Broken Pieces

Bethany

“Z
ach.”

The moment I say his name, his head jerks up from where it’s pressed into my hip. His day-long vigil by my bedside has been unwavering.

Grey eyes pierce mine, a thousand powerful emotions fused into that single look.

“Bethany,” he breathes.

I tighten my grip around the hand meshed with mine. I attempt to swallow despite my throat feeling worse than it did last night when I was brought in. Zach sees my pain and his eyes darken.

“Lock. Door,” I manage.

He frowns. “There’s no lock on the door. And I really don’t want you to speak, baby. It’ll just aggravate your throat.”

Irritation and frustration bite hard. “Lock. Door.” I love my family and friends and their concern for me has been beyond touching. But I want to be alone with Zach.

He drags his gaze from mine to the door, and his jaw clenches. “Fine.”

He reluctantly lets go of my hand and grabs a spare chair. He wedges it beneath the handle, then comes back to the bedside. I look up into his eyes.

Zach is doing a great job of being strong, but I see the ravaging anguish in his eyes every time he look at me. The harrowing pain intensifies when his gaze drops to my throat.

I shift to make room on the narrow bed and pat the empty space.

His face clenches hard. “Peaches...”

I pat harder.

He nods and shrugs off his leather jacket. If I was even remotely in the zone, I would’ve laughed at the delicateness of his move to get into bed with me. Eventually, he folds his large frame beside me, and I move into the circle of his arms.

This close there’s minimum exertion on my throat, when I whisper, “I love you, Zach.”

A full body shudder fires through him. “God, Bethany.”

I look up and his eyes are squeezed shut.

“I love you. This wasn’t your fault.”

“
Bullshit
.” The word is visceral. Definitive. Condemning. “He was
right next door
. I perform double background checks on complete strangers who board my planes so I can ensure they don’t come to any harm. What the fuck
fiancé
does it make me when I don’t check on the guy who already attacked you once?”

My heart shakes at the finality of the indictment. I know he’s going to blame himself for this for a long time, possibly forever.

“No,” I attempt anyway. “Please, Zach. Don’t put this on yourself.”

“Stop fucking
talking
, Bethany,” he pleads in a ragged voice.

I sigh and move closer. His eyes are still shut, his nostrils pinched white as shudders continue to rack him. I cup his jaw and force him to face me. 

His eyes are bleak pools of self-loathing, his lashes damp from emotions he can barely contain.

“I love you.”

His jaw quivers beneath my palm. “I don’t
deserve
your love.”

I clutch him harder. “I love you. Kiss me,” I mouth.

His gaze drops to my throat and he starts to shake his head. I don’t let him deny me. I shift closer until I’m a whisper away.

A moan shakes from his soul and he breaches the gap, his mouth infinitely gentle on mine as he sears my lips with his torment. My hand clutches his nape and I open my mouth to take it, to alleviate a guilt that shouldn’t be his.

Unrestrained emotions buffet us both. I fight to reach him and he fights to protect me. Dampness wets my cheeks and I realize we’re both crying. Our tears mingle, slip between our lips. We taste the evidence of our altered reality, and Zach gives a hoarse, agonized groan. The sound threatens to break something inside me. I hold him tighter. 

“Stay with me, Zach. Don’t leave me. Please.”

He slowly pulls away, his face stamped with harrowing regret. “I’m sorry, baby.”

My heart freezes. I swipe at the tears on his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. Just be with me.” 

He kisses my palm and exhales raggedly. “I’m sorry.”

The knock on the door startles me, but Zach doesn’t even twitch.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

The knock comes again, and the door handle is turns downward.

Zach touches his forehead to mine as the pounding begins. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Miss Green? Are you awake? The police are here. They need to speak to Mr. Savage. Is he with you?”

My eyes meet Zach’s and I read the grim inevitability. “What’s going on? What did you do?”

“What I had to do, baby. I had no other choice.”

He grips my hand, and brings it to his lips in reverent anointment. That’s when I see the black bruises and cracked skin on his knuckles. “
Oh, God
.”

His gorgeous eyes turn black. The only light that burns is the light of pure, unadulterated love for me.

The pounding on the door intensifies. I want to scream for them to go away. But I’m frozen in place. Zach’s gaze never leaves mine as he rises slowly and backs toward the door.

He kicks the chair away and rushes back to me. Once again his places his forehead against mine. “I love you, Bethany. More than life itself. Never forget that.”

“
Zach.”

“Mr. Savage, step away from the bed.”

He doesn’t. His eyes and hands remain clamped to me. “Never forget, Peaches.”

Men in uniform surround the bed. One thick hand lands on his arm, pulls him away. “Zachary Savage, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent...”

“
Zach!
”

“
Never forget
.”

In less than an instant he’s gone.

I thought my life was over as I drowned last night.

I was wrong. Today is the day my life ended.

***

T
he love of my life is convicted of assault two short weeks later. April thirtieth, my wedding day, comes and goes without a single ripple of recognition. My parents and Keely take care of the cancellations.

I’m too numb to dwell on
might have beens.

My throat is healed, but I’ve taken to wearing scarves. Not because I’m ashamed of the glances it draws when I attend court during Zach’s trial. It’s because each time I see my own throat, I’m reminded of the harrowing look in Zach’s eyes.

The trial was swift, the newly elected District Attorney eager to land his first high profile case. He’d been almost disappointed with Zach’s confession to assaulting Dillon Davidson.

But Zach chose not to hide behind the bullshit pleas his team of lawyers recommended. He sat next to me in our apartment once he was granted bail, his eyes fixed squarely on mine as they sweated for their fat retainers by trying to keep their client out of jail. Pride wouldn’t let Zach allow an insanity plea.

Sure, he may have been technically out of his mind when Dillon lobbed a grenade at the foundation of our existence, but he was clear-minded when he delivered vengeance.

The sentencing judge commented as much, with an almost regretful tone:
You took justice into your own hands. I cannot allow that to go unanswered.

So now my fiancée is in Rikers, serving a six-month sentence. His lawyers had succeeded in pleading down from nine months.

The day he was sent down, I walked into our penthouse and locked the doors behind me. I haven’t cried. I have to remind myself to breathe in and out.

The only think I live for is my first visitation order when I get to see Zach. His lawyers have no idea when that will come through.

I wear Zach’s T-shirts. I sleep on his side of the bed. I clutch his pillow and live in abject terror that his scent will fade...

A Place Called Intervention

Keely

“W
e have to do something!”

“Easy, kitten—”

“Don’t easy me, Mason. She’s barely eaten a thing in the last four days. She’s wasting away in that bed, and I’m damned if I’m going to lose my friend.”

“You’re here for her, baby. She knows you are.”

“
Here
isn’t doing a damn thing if it isn’t registering. Have you seen that vacant look in her eyes? She might as well be one of the extras on
The Walking Dead
.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Bethany murmurs.

I wrench myself from the doorway, where Mason and I have been arguing for the last few minutes, and rush to her side. I jump onto the bed and peer down at her. The woman huddled beneath the covers is as alien to me as a newly discovered fossil, and I’m slammed with complete helplessness. “Can you, B? You wanna help me out here, then?”

Her eyes drift shut. “I’m fine. I’m just taking a nap.”

“Really? Naps generally tend to last an hour, maybe two. Not five fucking days.” My voice is gentle, firm, and coated in fear for my best friend.