Chapter 37 Willow
WILLOW
“You have to come right now!” a hysterical voice cries into my ear. “I went over to Misty’s house because she was blaring her music again, but when I found her… the door was open and she was just lying there.”
“What?” I ask again, not feeling like I can wrap my mind around what she’s saying.
It’s a neighbor, one of the people who lives close enough to my mom to be affected by her bullshit. She only has my number because she used to call me to get Misty to stop being loud or if the guys Misty had over were being too rowdy.
I never thought she’d be using my number to call me for this.
“I already called 9-1-1,” she continues. “But she’s not breathing, I don’t think.”
The words go into my ear and filter through to my brain, but it all feels like a jumble. My heart is still racing from the orgasm I just had on Ransom’s bike, but now the buzz in my veins is from fear instead of exhilaration.
“Misty!” I jump when the woman yells my adoptive mother’s name right in my ear, trying to revive her. “Misty, you have to wake up, you hear me?”
My skin chills, and I shake myself out of the stupor that’s creeping over me.
“We’re on the way,” I tell her, feeling like my voice is coming from someone else. “Just… do what you can.”
I hang up, and the phone nearly slips from my numb fingers. Ransom catches it before it can fall to the ground, staring at me with concern in his blue-green eyes.
“What happened? Willow?”
“I… we have to go to my mom’s house. Right now. She… I think she overdosed or something, but she’s…”
The words feel strange coming out of my mouth, like I can’t quite believe I’m saying them.
There have been some close calls with Misty before, when she mixed things she shouldn’t have or got so drunk that she ended up blacking out in the kitchen, but it’s never gone this far. She’s never been…
“I’ll take you,” Ransom is saying, and I blink, making myself focus on his voice. “Come on.”
He helps me down from the front of the bike, and I get back on behind him, wrapping my arms tight around his waist. He starts the bike up again and peels out, and I tell him which way to go, almost on autopilot.
My mind races as I cling to him, trying to think of what could have happened and why.
I know Ransom is probably breaking the speed limit to get us there, but it feels like time has slowed to a crawl, and my skin itches with the need to be there already.
I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe that she would…
I feel numb. The wind rushing by doesn’t even sting my cheeks, because I’ve blocked out everything but the choking feeling of dread that fills my chest.
We screech up to Misty’s house several minutes later, and I stumble trying to get off the bike. Ransom moves to help me, but before he can, I find my footing and race up the drive way to the door.
At the moment, I can’t even remember the name of the neighbor who called me, but the scene is exactly what she described.
My mom is lying on the living room floor, pale and unresponsive.
She’s sprawled out, like she maybe fell or passed out or something, dressed in just a pair of underwear and a tank top.
There’s no life to her, nothing to indicate that she’s still with us, and the neighbor is doing CPR, alternating between pressing down on Misty’s chest and blowing into her mouth.
Her arms tremble, like she’s been doing it for a long time, and I can tell she’s both losing strength and not doing a very good job in the first place.
“Here,” Ransom says, stepping up behind me. “Let me.”
She looks up, startled, but moves aside a second later to let Ransom step in. He has much better form than she did, doing the chest compressions neatly and counting them out before he breathes into Misty’s mouth.
He does a few rounds of that and then looks up at me, worry in his eyes.
I stare down at my mom, feeling cold all over.
Her eyes are closed, and in a way, she looks more peaceful than she probably ever has before. But that’s wrong. She’s not supposed to be like this.
So quiet. So still.
She’s always been loud and fiery, her temper just a few seconds from flaring.
This just… isn’t her. Not how she’s supposed to be.
Sirens blare in the distance, and I stand like a statue staring down at Ransom and my mom, feeling frozen to the spot.
The paramedics arrive a minute later, hustling into the house. They lean down to speak to Ransom, who moves out of their way, letting them take over. He comes over to me, wrapping his arms around my body, pulling me out of the way so they can do their work.
I can feel the heat of him against me, feel the steady thrum of his heart, but everything else feels numb and cold.
“Are you family?” one of the paramedics asks me, coming over.
I have to blink a couple of times to make myself focus and then I nod. “Yes. I—I’m her daughter.”
“We need you to answer a few questions for us if you can, honey. Does your mother use drugs?” She asks the question gently, like she’s trying not to upset me more, and I take a deep breath.
“Yes,” I reply. “Sometimes.”
“Okay. Can you tell us what she might have taken tonight?”
I shake my head. “Um… I don’t know. She does a few different things. Weed, sometimes coke, maybe some others if she can get her hands on them. But I wasn’t here today. I don’t know what she did.”
Another paramedic questions the neighbor, asking her how long ago she found Misty and if she saw her earlier in the day.
Two of them stay near Misty’s body, trying to resuscitate her, and I can’t tear my eyes away. No matter what they do, Misty stays still and pale and lifeless.
Eventually, they sit back, trading a look with each other.
“I’m sorry,” one of them says, looking up at me. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“Time of death?” another asks, but I don’t hear the response.
My legs buckle, suddenly refusing to support my weight. If it weren’t for Ransom behind me, holding on to me, I would’ve collapsed to the floor. But he keeps his arms around me and holds me close as I suck in desperate gulps of air, trying to focus on breathing.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his strong arms tightening. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”
I shake my head, tears streaming down my face. It’s not okay. There’s nothing okay about this. The only mother I’ve ever known is dead, and all I can do is watch as the paramedics load her body onto a stretcher and remove her from the house.
“I’m so sorry.” The paramedic who spoke to me earlier steps back over to us. “But we’ll need you to come with us to ID the body.”
The body.
Because that’s all Misty is now. Just a lifeless body. Another dead hooker in a city where that happens way too often.
All I can do is nod, my throat stuck and my mouth dry.
Everything feels like a blur as we leave the house I grew up in. Ransom helps me onto his bike and tells me to hold on. When I barely make a move to do so, he grabs my wrists and wraps my arms around him, squeezing my hand gently.
We speed off to the morgue, and even just thinking that word makes my stomach drop over and over again.
When we get there, I’m surprised to see Malice and Vic waiting already.
Ransom must have texted them on the way out of the house.
Neither of them says anything, but the three brothers are a solid presence at my back as I go through the bureaucracy of what needs to be done in the aftermath of a death.
I answer questions as best as I can, about Misty’s name and birthday. I tell the story of getting a call from the neighbor and rushing over, and how I hadn’t seen Misty in a couple of days.
I don’t mention the fight we had, or how I told her I was done with her, but it weighs on my heart all the same.
I feel like a robot, going through the motions, answering questions, filling out forms, doing what they tell me to do without much thought.
It takes hours.
Or at least, that’s what it feels like. Every time I think we might be done, there’s another thing to do. I can’t even be annoyed about it because all I feel is grief and guilt and regret. It all swirls around inside me, fucking my head up and tearing at my heart.
Misty and I were never close, but it still feels awful that the last thing that happened between us was a big fight.
When I’m finally released, with the promise that they’ll call me if they need anything else, I stand on the sidewalk in front of the building with the guys.
They sat through all of it with me, and I’m so fucking grateful for that.
“Come on, Solnyshka.” Malice’s voice is deep and solemn as he rests a hand on the small of my back. “We’ll take you home.”
I just nod mutely, and they get me into the car Malice and Victor came in.
Instead of driving me to my apartment, they take me to their warehouse, I’m relieved to see the familiar space as we pull into the garage. The last thing I want is to be alone with my thoughts right now.
They bring me inside and sit me down on the couch. Vic pours whiskey and presses the glass into my hand.
I don’t really sip it, just hold it, letting the feeling of the cool glass and the sharp scent of whiskey anchor me in the moment. I feel so numb, so lost.
Malice crouches in front of me, and the usually harsh lines of his face are gentle and concerned. His eyes search my face, and he puts his hands on my cheeks, wiping away the tears that don’t seem to want to stop falling.
“Solnyshka,” he murmurs. “What do you need?”
I blink at him, and it’s like I’m truly seeing him for the first time today. Even though I’ve talked so much in the last few hours, my voice still comes out raspy and shaky when I speak.
“Nothing. I don’t need anything.”
“That’s not true. You look like you’re about to fall apart. What can we do?”
My tongue darts out, and my lips taste salty from my tears. “I don’t…”
A heaving sob gets caught in my chest. I feel like I have too much trapped inside me, but at the same time, I feel empty. Numb. A dark, heavy, sick feeling is creeping through my limbs, and I have the horrible feeling that if it reaches my heart, the overworked organ will stop beating entirely.
I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want to lose myself under this oppressive ocean of numbness.
I want to feel something good.
Ransom steps up beside Malice, and Victor comes to stand on his other side, all three of them gazing at me. The scent of whiskey tickles my nose, dragging up a memory of another time all three of them stared at me so intently in this very room.
But it wasn’t worry in their eyes then. It was heat.
That’s what I want. I want to go back to that night, when everything felt so fucking perfect.
“I…” A shudder moves through my body, and I wrap my arms around myself, looking at the men with pleading eyes. “I need you to make me come. Make me feel something besides this.”