29. LILLY
29
LILLY
M y arms wrap tightly around a pillow as if it’s a person. Desperate for a human connection, I wish my shadow was here with me to hold me and give me the contact I crave, but even if he was here, it would be fleeting.
My phone comes alive in the ring light holder. “Hey, beautiful.” His head dips closer to the screen. “Everything okay?” The mask a constant reminder that he’s just another unattainable man and relationship doomed to fail before it even began.
I hold back the tears. “I lost a patient today.”
An exhale comes through the speaker. “Sweetheart.” His gloved hand slides over his balaclava.
“It’s part of the job isn’t it. I gave her CPR and brought her back to life. Her family came and?—”
“Baby.” His voice cracks.
“She passed away again two hours later.” I swallow a sob, my lungs heavy. It’s times like this, I want to come home to someone. A parent, a sibling, a lover, or a friend. Anyone who I can talk to about my day and have them hold me and take some of the weight from my chest.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“I broke her breast bone. It was all for nothing.” My head drops into the pillow I’m clutching. I close my eyes and sniffle against the soft cushion.
“You’re wrong. It wasn’t all for nothing.”
I lift my head, my brow wrinkling.
“If you hadn’t brought her back to life, she wouldn’t have had that time with her family.” His voice wobbles as if he knows the pain I’m feeling. “That time you gave them to say goodbye will mean everything to her family. Trust me.”
My eyes swell, but now my unshed tears aren’t for Mrs Riley, they’re for him and his loss. The pain in his voice is palpable. “I’m glad you got to say goodbye to your loved one.”
He falls back in his chair on an exhale as if someone punched all the air from his lungs. “That’s just it, nightingale. I didn’t get to say goodbye. My father passed away while I was on tour. Our last words were spoken in anger. I never got to tell him how much he meant to me or thank him for everything he did.”
I dab my eye with the corner of the pillow.
“So I know more than anyone exactly what you did for that family today.”
I nod my head in agreement, the weight in my lungs lifting as I let out a sigh. “How’s your wound?”
My shadow lifts his top with a gloved hand, revealing my poor steri-strip patch up job. “Healing okay.”
I move closer to the screen on my mobile to get a better look “It’s gonna leave an awful scar. You should have gone to A&E and had it dealt with properly. “
“I’ll wear it like a badge, knowing it’s your hands that healed me.”
I let out a small huff. “That’s a bit of a stretch.”
“You’re a good nurse. You have a way of making people feel better just by being around you. The way you talk to people, care for them and touch their hearts.” He clears his throat. “Your smile calms my mind, your voice soothes my soul, and your hands relax all the tension in my body.”
I gulp down the ball of emotion clogged at the back of my throat. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“I have much nicer things I want to say to you. There isn’t enough hours in a day.”
I stifle a yawn as the clock on my bedside table flashes, telling me it’s midnight.
“Are you tired? I can go if you want to get some rest. It sounds like it’s been a long day for you.”
It’s not tiredness, it’s more like chronic fatigue. That and the tender breasts and increased urination, not to mention the nausea I’m experiencing, my hormones are running rampant. “Chatting with you is the highlight of my week.” Saying it out loud makes me realise how much of a loser I actually am.
Since when did chatting to a man on a live become the highlight of my week? I’m tired of sitting around waiting for any scraps of affection he’s willing to give, and if these symptoms I’m experiencing are what I think, I need to force him to come out of the shadows so we can have a proper relationship. I can’t keep doing this.
My fingers stroke the velvety petals of the red flowers on my nightstand. “When are you going to let me see you?”
He shifts in his seat, creaking his leather office chair. “I told you. You can’t.”
My eyes close when he says the words I knew were coming. “I want you to spend the night with me. I want to wake up in your arms. We can’t have a proper relationship like this. I want more.”
He lets out a long breath behind his mask. “I want that too. Believe me, I want nothing more than to have a life with you.”
“Then why can’t we?” My heart sinks to my stomach. It’s like every other relationship I’ve ever had. “Nevermind. I understand. I’m just a good time girl. Someone to have a bit of fun with after dark.”
He growls into the mic. “That’s not what this is. Any man who doesn’t want to date you is a fucking idiot.” He leans back with another exhale and runs a hand over his masked face. “And I’m the biggest one of them all. If I could find a way for us to be together, I would. I promise you, nightingale. I’d do anything to have you as my wife.”
My eyes widen. I swallow the words I was about to say, leaving only one on my tongue. “Wife?” I was only talking about dating the man and now he’s talking about marriage. And I thought I was mental.
“Yes. Wife. I’m doing this to protect you as much as me.”
A whirl of emotions swell in my eyes. “I’d love that too. It would be a dream to have a true partner. But this pseudo life we’re living now is too painful. I need all or nothing.”
Inhaling the floral bouquet gives me the courage I need. If he cares about me like he says he does, then the next card I play should force his hand. “We can’t keep doing this. I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with a man who’s unobtainable again. You were never real when we were just talking on the phone, but the minute you broke into my home, I developed feelings for you. I can’t do this anymore, sir. I have to protect my heart.”
“I’m sorry.” He taps his gloved fingers against his wooden desk. “I’ll send you the money I owe you.”
“I don’t want any money.” His words are like a knife carving out a piece of my heart. “These last few weeks haven’t been about money for me.”
“And I’m not paying you for chatting with me. I just want to make sure you’re okay financially. If you need anything, you tell me. Promise me.”
“I will.” Tears threaten my eyes. Is this goodbye? Is he not going to fight for me? For us? I thought giving him an ultimatum would make him step up.
“Will you do this with anyone else?”
I wipe a tear as it drips onto my cheek. “No, I don’t think so.”
“I’m still going to send you some money. This is for you. Not your brother. And I don’t want you on this app. It’s dangerous. You don’t know who you’re getting involved with.”
A small smile pushes my cheeks up, forcing more tears to drip from my lashes. “Like you?”
“Exactly.”
“It doesn’t have to be the end. Come over. We can talk face to face.” I plead with him one last time, before I leave the call, knowing my plan could backfire, and I may never see him again.
Barks make me jump. “That bloody dog.” I wipe my face with a sigh.
Sarge straightens in his chair, tapping his keyboard, his head turning to the side, as if looking at another monitor. “Someone’s there.”
“It might be my brother. Please don’t be mad, I’m all he has.” I stand from the bed and grab a dressing gown.
“That’s not your brother.”
I turn back to my phone in the ring light holder, wondering how he knows, then I remember he probably has cameras all over this place. “I’ll be back in a min.”
“Lillian,” he shouts through the phone.
My heart jolts. It’s the first time he’s used my name.
“Get the phone and get under the bed. He’s breaking into the fucking house.”
I’m frozen to the spot gasping for breath. “Who?”
Sarge is on his phone reeling off my address and a load of codes requesting back up. The sound of glass breaking pierces my ears, and I do what he says, taking the phone from the ring light and my ear pods from the dressing table and squeezing under my bed, shuffling until I’m next to my box of toys.
With trembling fingers, I place the ear pods into my ears. Everything’s muffled. All I hear is the sound of blood rushing through my head.
“Lilly,” his voice comes through my ear pods. “Are you safe?”
Wedged between the floor and the bed slats, I whisper, “Yes.” I hold the phone close to my face. The screen’s black, but it sounds like he’s in a car.
“Stay quiet, concentrate on your breathing. I called it in. The cops are on their way.” His ragged breaths come through my ear pods, matching my own trembles as I gasp for air under the dusty mattress. I should really hoover under here more.
“Breathe, baby. In through the nose, one, two, three, and four.”
I do what he asks, turning my head to the side and trying not to get a mouthful of dust, the hard plastic held tightly in my hand my only comfort. More glass shatters from downstairs and my legs shake.
“Hold your breath for two seconds. One, two, and release through your nose, counting to six.” His voice slips as if he’s choked with emotion. “Fuck,” he says just as I hear noises from the kitchen as if drawers are being emptied.
Russel’s barks continue, and I’m thankful for the familiar sound as if he has my back. Hopefully his owners will notice what’s going on, but the little dog yaps so much it’s like the boy who cried wolf at this point.
“I’m almost there, baby. Stay quiet. Keep doing your breathing. Slow it right down. The police might get there before me. Give me a thumbs up so I know you’re okay.”
I lift my thumb in front of the camera. My brain struggles to think who this could be wanting to break into my place. Taking an ear pod out, I train my ear to more sounds other than sarge’s voice, wondering where he is.
Cupboards and drawers open and close. Whoever it is isn’t making any attempt to be quiet. Ash wouldn’t break in. He knows all he has to do is ask me, and I’d give him whatever I have.
The live goes dead. I lift my phone to my face to see the umbrella of doom twirling as it tries to reconnect. Inhaling another slow trembling breath, a cough escapes as I inhale a lungful of dust.
A creak on the stairs has me holding my breath and covering my mouth with my hand. Sweat coats my skin as my heart tries to escape my chest. My bedroom door squeaks on its hinge.
Dirty trainers move towards the corner of the bed and stop next to the leg Shane fixed. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
A black gloved hand lifts the valance sheet, then a skeleton mask peers under the bed. “There you are.” He reaches a hand under the bed, but I’m at the other side. Dropping the valance, he moves around the bed.
I pull the ear pod from my ear and shimmy to the other side, kicking my toy box out of the way, hoping I can get out and make a run for it.
He lifts the valance on the other side of the bed, and I try to shimmy out, but he’s too quick for me. My breath halts as I come face to face with the skeleton print smiling at me like a kids halloween costume, only this man is no child with his stale breath seeping through the fabric as he hovers above me.
“You’re not getting away from me this time.” His body odour catches in my nose.
I stare up at him trying to recall where I’ve heard that voice, but it’s not easy when it’s muffled behind a mask. Everything’s distorted and wrong. I’m used to seeing my shadow, but he’s not him.
My sarge wouldn’t squeeze my throat, cutting off my air supply when I shout no. He wouldn’t hurt me while he tears at my pyjama shorts.
I struggle beneath him with new found adrenaline, but my throat hurts. My body aches and my head is screaming.
“I knew you liked it rough. Dirty fucking whore.” He spreads my legs, holding them down with his knees while he undoes his belt.
Tears stream down my temples. I know I said this was my fantasy, but this feels wrong. This isn’t what I want at all. This isn’t my shadow.
Sirens sound in the distance, getting closer to the property.
“Did you call the cops?” He whacks a hand across my face. “You fucking bitch.” He climbs off of me, rising to his feet and poking his head behind the curtain.
I roll over on the floor gasping for air, holding my throat and squeeze my body back under the bed again.
“Where do you keep your money?” He drags me back out from under the bed with my hair.
My scalp burns, and I let out a garbled scream.
“Where’s your money bitch?”
“I don’t have any on me.” My voice is hoarse and sore from where he held my throat hostage.
The sirens get closer. He leaves the room with me wedged half under the bed, and I let out a shaky breath, my body vibrating against my bedroom floor.
Voices sound from downstairs and outside.
I slide out from the bed and sit next to my bedside table, curling into a ball. I should go down and talk to the police, but I can’t seem to move. If I wasn’t on a live with my man, who apparently has access to my security system, things could have turned out very different tonight.
Outside my room the police do a sweep. “Bathroom clear.”
An officer steps into the bedroom. “Victim in front bedroom,” she says through her radio. “Are you hurt, miss?”
I shake my head, still unable to move, clutching the phone in my hand, hoping he’ll call me back or show up. I need him right now.
The female officer helps me to my feet, but my eyes move to the next officer who steps into the room wearing a stab proof police vest. “Shane?”
He lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
I let go of the woman’s hand and rush into Shane’s arms.
He wraps himself around me. “You’re safe. You’re all right.” His hand smoothes down my hair.
“Where did you come from?” the female officer says.
I pull back to look him in the eyes, but don’t let go of his arm. He’s everything I need right now.
His gaze doesn’t leave mine as he says, “I heard the call on the radio.”
My fingers grip the black polyester material on his long sleeved top. He’s not wearing his usual white shirt under his police vest. It’s like we both know the truth, but neither one of us wants to speak of it. If one of us were to out the secret, then our relationship would be over.
It all makes sense now why he wouldn’t tell me his true identity. He knows as well as I do that we can’t be together. My heart breaks all over again, just as it was cracking when I was on the live. He knows I’d have to choose between him or my sister.
Fern isn’t as forgiving as me. She cut ties with our brother. I’m sure she’d have no problem doing the same with me. There’s an eleven year age gap between us. Growing up, I was more of a burden than a sister.
“I’ll take care of her,” Shane says as he swipes the mussed hair from my face. With the rough pad of his thumb, he caresses away the tears from my cheeks and presses his lips against my forehead.
He doesn’t know I’m not just crying about my ordeal, but for all the things that will never be between us. Inhaling the comforting scent of mint, tobacco, and all man, I relax in the familiarity of his strong arms.
“Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head, then remember the sting in my cheek and the roughness of my throat. With trembling fingers, I touch the left side of my face. “He held my neck and slapped me here. When he heard the sirens, he fled.”
Shane steadies my shaky hand, taking it in his, then presses his warm tender lips to my cheek, reminding me of the night he saw my rosacea for the first time. It makes sense now how my shadow conveyed so much love into one kiss, even though we’d only known each other a short time. He’s known me my whole life, and he’s been taking care of me for most of it.
“Come downstairs. The police will want to take a statement. Your kitchen’s a bit of a mess, but we need to leave it for forensics.”
“Will you stay with me?” I look up into his eyes, knowing the answer before he speaks.
“I’m not going anywhere.”