18. The Volunteer
THE VOLUNTEER
It took all my self-control not to sprint out of the bar. I just wanted to go home and cry. I spent the last week telling myself not to care, that I just met him. He wasn’t trying to hurt me. I’d made up this picture in my head and it wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t living up to it.
It wasn’t fair to be mad at him. He didn’t know how much this back and forth was hurting me. How could he? I hadn’t told him and I couldn’t expect him to read my mind.
I knew that—I really, really did.
But I just wanted him to make up his fucking mind.
I laid as much as I could out on the table and he just stared at me.
Not a flicker of emotion behind those icy-blue eyes and it broke me.
I’d been trying to tell myself to take him at his word—I was reading too much into it—he was being friendly and nothing else.
But friends didn’t spend hours together every single day for two and a half weeks. Friends didn’t call incessantly to check in when one was clearly avoiding the other. Friends didn’t ignite every nerve in your body with a single touch.
And yet, he just stood there.
I went back to the bar to grab my coat. I needed to get out, go home, draw a bath, and cry. Maybe eat a pint of ice cream.
“Come on, V, stay a little longer,” Amber whined.
“I just need a night to myself. Next week we can do a proper girls’ night, kay?”
“Fine, but don’t waste this. Eva poured it for you.” She picked up the last shot glass in a five-glass train; it was the only one that still had liquid in it.
I took the glass and downed it. “Bluh,” I protested. “Who ordered bourbon?”
“You looked like you needed something strong,” Eva said, a sad smile on her face. She must have seen Avalanche follow me.
I reached across the bar and gave her hand a squeeze, mouthing thank you.
Then I gave Amber, Maddy, and Ashley a hug and left.
It wasn’t until I made it outside that I realized something was wrong.
I’d only had four drinks and I wasn’t a light weight.
I could usually do six or seven before I needed to slow down, but the world was spinning.
No, no, no.
This wasn’t drunk. Someone spiked—
“I’m so glad your friends let you leave alone.”
A chill ran down my spine as a hand closed around my upper arm.
“I was worried I’d have to hurt one of them.”
The hand jerked me around. I couldn’t see straight. The face in front of me was warped and unrecognizable. But the eyes—I knew those eyes. It had been over two months since he stood in the back corner of the bar and watched me with Avalanche.
“Let—”
“Shush,” he cooed, brushing my hair from my face.
“I’ve been watching you. So pretty, so bright.
” He leaned in closer assaulting my nose with the smell of beer and cigarettes.
I tried to pull back but I was losing my fight with the drugs, I wasn’t strong enough.
“I was worried about that black haired guy the first time I saw you. He’s scary, but you don’t want anything to do with… ”
His words were starting to drift. I needed to stay conscious, I needed to hold out long enough that I could get help. I tried to pull away again but his grip tightened.
“Let me go.” My voice sounded so far away, so scared.
“You don’t want me to. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take care of—”
I was yanked from his grip. I heard a scream. I heard begging. All I could think was that I had to get away, but I could barely keep myself up right, let alone get my legs to move.
Then, strong arms wrapped around me, pulled me close. I relaxed immediately. My senses were overwhelmed by the familiar smell of whisky, ice, and cinnamon, and I knew I was safe because Avalanche was here. He’d make sure I got home okay. I could trust him with anything.
Except my heart. I needed to keep that locked up tight.
He held me to his chest.
“It’s okay, it’s me. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
“I know.”
I was in and out of it all night.
The first time I came to, Avalanche was setting me down on bathroom floor. He pulled my hair from my face and had me lean over the toilet.
“This is going to suck but we have to get as much of the drugs out of your system as we can.”
I nodded slowly; everything was still spinning.
“I trust you.”
Then his fingers were down my throat and I was vomiting.
He did it two more times just to make sure my stomach was empty.
Once he was convinced, he helped me sit up and lean against the wall while he flushed the toilet then grabbed a face towel to clean me up.
He ran it under warm water before using it to wipe my mouth.
I thought he was going to leave it at that but he grabbed my makeup wipes from off the counter and took off my makeup too.
His movements were so gentle I was sure I’d melt under his touch.
Then he grabbed a new face cloth, ran it under the warm water again, and used it to wet my face before he grabbed my face wash.
He circled his fingers over my cheeks then my chin and forehead.
“Close your eyes,” he said softly.
I did but I didn’t want to. I wanted to keep watching him. I didn’t know if this was a dream or real but I wanted to keep seeing him like this. Soft, gentle, tender. Watch him while he looked at me like he cared. Like I meant something to him. Like he might even love me.
I felt the cloth over my face again. When he pulled away I went to open my eyes.
“Keep them closed. Just another minute.”
I did.
I didn’t know how I kept myself from crying when I felt my moisturizer touch my skin. But my tears stayed at bay.
“Okay,” he said softly.
My eyes fluttered open to find him at the bathroom counter, putting everything he’d taken back where he found it.
“Can you stand or do you need my help?”
“Help,” was all I managed.
Once he was satisfied he’d gotten everything back in order, he walked back over and took my hands. I got my feet under me and slowly rose. He walked backward while I focused on putting one foot in front of the other.
I stopped at the sink, pulling one hand from his to rest on the counter, to keep myself upright. I hated the taste in my mouth, I needed to brush my teeth.
I reached for my toothbrush but ended up knocking over the cup holding it.
Apparently that was my breaking point because tears started pouring from my eyes.
Silent, broken tears. The ones I shed when life came crashing down and I remembered my parents were gone—that I was alone.
When it was 3 a.m. and the darkness swallowed me whole.
When the pain was so overwhelming I couldn’t even find the strength to make a sound.
Avalanche wrapped around me and pulled me against him. At some point, he was the only thing keeping me grounded in reality. I let my head fall back against his chest while he ran his hand over my arm.
I caught him watching me through the mirror. The cold and detached look from earlier was gone, replaced with a look of pure devastation. Like every one of my tears was gutting him. But he didn’t say anything, just held me and waited for the tears to stop flowing.
I didn’t know how long passed before I came to again but this time I was sitting on the floor of the shower. I was in my tank top and underwear but nothing else. Avalanche was kneeling on the floor outside the shower with the door open and the nozzle in his hand.
My cheeks flushed. I just threw up and now I was sitting in front of him basically naked. But he wasn’t looking at me. Well he was—all his focus was on my hair.
“Why are you doing all this?”
His eyes stayed fixed on his task while he answered.
“What do you mean?”
“You came after me. Why?”
“I didn’t want to leave things like that. I didn’t want you to think that I cared so little I could stand you feeling like a toy. The truth is that I care about you too much. I have for a long time. It killed me to watch you walk away.”
“I didn’t want to,” I whispered.
The next time I came to I was wrapped in one of my fluffy blue towels.
Avalanche was carrying me into my bedroom.
He set me down on my bed and headed for the dresser in the corner of my room.
He rummaged around, grabbing a pair of plaid pajama pants from the third drawer and an oversized t-shirt from the top.
“Here.” He left them folded at the edge of the bed. “I should go.”
“Stay.” I met his gaze. “Please.”
He searched my face. I didn’t know what he was looking for, but he must have found it because he nodded.
“I’ll grab you a water while you change. Okay?”
“Thank you.”
He closed the door behind him.
“V, you have to get changed. You’re getting your bed all wet.”
I couldn’t get my eyes open. My brain was barely conscious. I think Avalanche was sitting next to me on the bed, but I honestly couldn’t be sure.
“Everything…heavy.”
“I know, V. But you can’t sleep like this, love.”
I would have smiled if I had more energy. I’d teased him months ago about being a softy. He’d scoffed then, but he was totally. Love. How was I supposed to stay mad at him after all this? I let him sit me up.
“Can you help me?”
I finally got my eyes to open. I’m not sure I would have been able to read his expression even if I was sober. Confused? Hesitant? Pained?
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re drugged and mad at me. And my self-control is hanging by a thread.”
“Please. I feel like goo. Just help me get the t-shirt on, take the tank top off from underneath.”
“Okay.”
He slipped the shirt over my head. I reached underneath to slid the tank top sleeves down my arms. I struggled to get it down to my hips, where he helped me lift off the bed so he could pull it off over my legs.
Then he helped me get my arms into the t-shirt sleeves.
By the time he leaned back his breathing was ragged and his nails were digging into his palms so hard there were marks.
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry,” Avalanche’s voice was so soft, so far away I could barely hear it. “I wish I could take it all back. That I could stay without worrying what might happen to you if I do. There’s so much you don’t know, so much I wish I could tell you, but it’s not safe.”
His thumb gently brushed across my cheek. I tried to open my eyes but they wouldn’t budge. I was too tired.
“One day I’ll finish this. Then I can tell you everything while you’re conscious enough to remember it. Maybe you’ll never forgive me for walking away now, but at least you won’t be a target.”
His lips grazed my forehead.
“I’ll always be there, Nightshade. Whenever you need me. I’ll be right there.”
I woke up in the morning with a wicked headache. But it was nothing compared to the way my chest caved in. I was sprawled out in bed, in nothing but a t-shirt and my underwear. And Avalanche was gone, no proof he’d ever even been here.
A part of me wondered if I had imagined the whole thing. If maybe I lost track of how many drinks I had and hallucinated the whole thing. But then I went to the bathroom. Two face towel sat in the laundry basket next to the door.
I could have brushed that off, could have convinced myself that I’d just imagined he was the one to do it—that I’d just gotten myself ready for bed—until I looked at myself in the mirror.
I was pale—to be expected with a hangover—the only thing on my skin was my freckles.
Drunk me had almost never taken the time to wash my face.
If she did, she never got it all off. I’d have smudged mascara, or eyeliner at least.
I pealed my t-shirt over my head. Evidence number two was a bruise on my upper left arm. A hand print from where the other guy had grabbed me.
Tears stung my eyes.
Avalanche left. After everything, he just left without a word.
Of course he would. Why would he stay? The last thing sober-me told him was to stay the hell out of my life.
He couldn’t trust that I remembered anything post-drugs.
I didn’t even know if all of it was real.
Parts of it must have been. He took off my makeup for sure.
But there was no proof of anything else.
My clothes and hair were dry, the towel he wrapped me in was nowhere to be found, no glass of water on my nightstand.
I thought about calling him.
I stopped myself.
I laid it all out for him last night. If he changed his choice, he could come to me. Sure, he saved my ass last night, but he’d been there for me before just to disappear again.
He’d said a lot of words last night. Lots of things that made me really angry.
Like he was staying away to keep me safe?
Fuck him for thinking he knew what was best for me.
I was always in danger. I lived in a shit neighbourhood, in the shittiest district.
Not to mention the countless other villains who considered me an ally.
Any one of their enemies could come after me, too.
Why was he different? Why was he special?
It didn’t matter. If he wanted to push me away to make himself feel better, then fuck him. My life was fine before him and it would be fine after.
I just had to get my heart and my head on the same page.