Chapter Thirty-Four
Presley
April
“You can be so stupid sometimes,” Keifer’s angry voice snarled beside me. “I fucking hate you for making me love you so hard. You’re still so wrapped up in Rygaard’s fake-ass love, you don’t even see what’s right in front of you.”
“No,” I moaned.
His legs flung out, kicking me in the stomach over and over until he finally bent down, replacing his kicks with fists.
“You’re one dumb bitch,” he growled, each word punctuated by another blow, “and you’re finally going to get what you’ve been praying for.”
“Stop,” I mumbled, choking on the screams trapped in my throat.
I lost track of how long he used me as a punching bag before he yanked me up by my hair.
“A slut like you doesn’t deserve to live.”
I barely had time to register the words before his fist slammed into my face, breaking my nose with a sickening crunch.
“Keifer,” I groaned, sagging in his grip .
“Doctor!” someone screams.
Oh God. He isn’t finished.
Panic floods me. I try to move, try to open my eyes, but something heavy pins me down.
“No. Stop,” I beg, because for the first time in a long time, I want to live. It took several, agonizing years to realize it, but hearing my son tell me he loved me was the moment everything changed. I couldn’t go on like this. I wouldn't.
Opening my eyes felt impossible, like trying to lift a mountain with broken hands.
“No, don’t move,” someone said, cold fingers brushing my swollen face. “I’ll get the doctor.”
Their footsteps faded.
"Presley?"
It takes a moment for me to find the voice, to crane my neck toward it, but my eyes still refuse to open.
New footsteps approach. "I hear my patient is awake," a man says as something cool presses against my forehead. "Let's get her vitals. Nurse, please."
Hands move over me and instinctively, I try to pull away, but there is nowhere to go. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe," someone soothes.
I shake my head weakly. No. I am not safe.
"You've been here almost a month and you’re still safe."
A month? Here? Where even was here?
How? Why?
I had a thousand questions and no voice to ask them.
"Let's work on getting that tube out of your throat. Maybe then you can tell us what you remember," the doctor says.
What I remember…
Do I even want to remember?
Tears leak from the corners of my battered eyes as memories claw their way back, Keifer’s fists, his feet, his rage.
"Don’t cry, Presley. We’re here for you," Agatha whispers, her hand warm and steady on mine.
She never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself.
I let my eyes drift closed again, slipping into a different kind of darkness.
Birds chirp a sweet melody. The scent of fresh flowers fill my nose. Warmth kisses my face, the sun.
Oh, how I'd missed mornings like this.
I crack open my eyes, surprised when they actually obeyed.
“Princess?”
That voice.
Tears spill down my cheeks before I can stop them. “Baby, please don't cry,” Rygaard murmurs, his hand brushing gently across my face, adding to the burning sensation. “I'm so sorry. So fucking sorry. God, I'm sorry.”
He’s kneeling beside my bed, gathering my frail hands in his.
“There’s nothing I can say to erase the hell you went through, by yourself. But if it takes me the rest of my life to make it right, I'll do it.”
I sob harder, ashamed, because now he knew.
He knew everything.
How?
It doesn’t matter.
All that mattered was the crushing shame that I wasn’t strong enough, not strong enough to carry our son, not strong enough to carry myself.
I spiral. Hard. Fast.
“Keifer,” I rasp, my throat raw from the tube.
“What'd you say?” Rygaard leans closer, his handsome face etched with concern.
“Keifer... he's the reason. We have to stop him, ”
“Whoa, whoa. You can’t do anything right now, Presley. You’re hurt. Bad. But listen to me, he's dead. You don't have to worry anymore.”
“Dead?” I echo, disbelieving.
“Here,” he says, reaching for an oversized hospital cup and holding the straw to my lips. “Small sips.”
I drink, studying him between shallow pulls. “Why are you being so nice?” I whisper. “You should hate me as much as I hate you.”
“I could never hate you,” Rygaard says simply. “You've always been my world. Always.”
I turn away, but he gently cups my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “If I could go back, Presley, I would’ve fought harder. No matter what lies my father spewed.”
“Lies,” I mutter. “What lies?”
“I believed him. He had people watching us. Threatening you. It wasn’t until years later that we started fighting back.”
“We?”
“Sylvia.”
He said her name like it meant nothing.
“You never loved her?” I ask bitterly.
“Never. We were forced together. It was all strategy, survival.”
“You slept with her.”
“Yes.”
“Did you like it?”
“No.” He said it without hesitation. “She wasn’t you.” I smile through the heartbreak. “What’s the smile for?” he asks, confused.
“I should hate you. I was supposed to hate you forever. But now…” I trail off.
“Now what?”
“I don't know,” I whisper.
“You can start by reading the letters I wrote you.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “We have to find Keifer.”
“I told you. He’s dead.”
“No, Rygaard. You don’t understand.” My voice breaks. “He’s not dead. He killed Simon, and made it look like it was him.”
Rygaard’s face pales.
I force myself to remember. Keifer's hands. His boots. His rage. Then Simon, sweet, broken Simon, stepping in to stop him.
The struggle.
The gun.
The shot.
Simon, gone.
Keifer, aiming at me.
“Why aren’t I dead?” I whisper.
Rygaard stands, placing his hand gently over my heart.
“Your heart,” he says, “isn’t where it’s supposed to be. You were born with a defect. Your heart is here,” he says, moving his hand slightly to the left.
Confusion swirls in my mind.
“How, ”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. But thank God. Otherwise you’d be gone. And that’s not something I could survive.”
Then he leans in and kisses me.
Soft. Fierce. Desperate.
Everything melts away, the fear, the pain, the past.
There is only us.
When he finally pulls away, he chuckles, brushing his forehead against mine. “I’ve waited a lifetime to do that.”
“Don’t make me wait another,” I whisper, smiling through the tears. “Nothing's the same, Rygaard.”
“Everything’s the same. It only changes if we let it.”
“I don't know what that means. We can’t go back.”
“Why not?”
“Because there are things about me you don't know. Things you’ll never understand.”
“Try me.”
“Just stop,” I say. “Maybe I don’t want to go back.”
Rygaard sits down heavily beside me, gathering my hand once more. “No. You listen. I fucked up. I let your world collapse. If it takes forever to fix it, I’ll do it.”
I swallow hard.
“Keifer is the reason I lost the baby,” I blurt.
He freezes.
“What?”
“It's a long story,” I say. “Here’s the short version.”
And then, for the first time, I tell him everything.