Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
The room is cold and sterile. The fluorescent lights overhead hum, their sound a constant reminder of where I am. I’ve been refusing to take the meds they want to give me, not trusting what they might do to me. But today, they’re not taking no for an answer.
They dragged me to what seems like an examination room, and I already feel the bruises forming from their rough grip on my upper arms.
The door opens, and a doctor steps in. He is tall, with white hair and large glasses.
He looks at me with a mixture of pity and concern.
“Ms. Wilson,” he begins, “I heard you’ve been refusing your tablets.
I’m sorry, but I must insist that you take them.
You need these medications. They’ll help quiet the voices in your head and stop you from seeing those ghosts. ”
He says ghosts as if it’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard.
Really?
You work in a mental hospital, buddy. I bet there are far stranger things here.
I shake my head frantically. “I don’t see ghosts! This is all a misunderstanding. I want to call my grandmother or a lawyer. Examine me if you want to. No one has examined me since I got here. You’ll see I’m not crazy.”
The doctor just looks at me sadly. “Ms. Wilson, you’re in a manic state. We’re going to do everything we can to help you.”
I feel a surge of desperation. “Please, just let me go. I promise I’m okay.”
Tears fill my eyes, and I curse myself.
Why can’t I just keep my cool for once?
He will never believe I’m not crazy if I sit here a crying, blubbering mess.
But he’s turning away, signaling to the nurses.
“No, please!” I yell, trying to stand, but the nurses are already by my side, holding me down.
“The more you struggle, the harder you make this for all of us, Ms. Wilson. I’ll see you again next week. We’ll assess how you’re feeling and if we need to adjust the dosage.” With those words, the doctor leaves me alone with them.
One of the nurses holds a small cup filled with pills while the other grabs my arm, pulling me up. I struggle, trying to break free, but they’re too strong, and I have no strength left in me after spending days tied down with little food being offered.
The nurse with the pills tries to force them into my mouth, but I clamp my lips shut.
He grows frustrated, grabbing my chin and squeezing hard to force my mouth open.
His fingers dig into my throat with a pressure that makes it hard to breathe.
I gasp, and he seizes the opportunity to shove the pills into my mouth.
With a scream lodged in my throat, I wake up, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s trying to break free from my chest. It takes a moment for me to register where I am, and the realization only serves to heighten my anxiety.
This is their guestroom.
North, Nash, and Hunter’s place.
I sit up abruptly, panic coursing through me.
My memories from last night are hazy at best, but I can’t shake the feeling that something awful happened.
My hands tremble as my gaze finds the bedside lamp, the soft glow of light radiating from it, even though the room is already bright because it seems to be morning.
Someone placed a boombox on the nightstand, which softly plays a tune.
“You’re okay, Boo. It was just a dream,” Saylor reassures, and I only now see that he’s leaning against the wall on my left, his lips turned down. “At least just now.”
He seems tense and agitated, but before I can ask him what’s wrong, the door, which was ajar, swings open. North, Hunter, and Nash spill into the room, all looking a little disheveled and frantic.
“Blue.” North’s voice is steady, though, as he’s standing at the edge of the bed by my feet, concern etched across his face.
“We heard you scream. Are you all right?” I look from one to the other, unsure what to do, so I just nod.
“You’re safe. We got you in time. Do you remember anything? ” North pries.
My head throbs as I struggle to piece together the fragments of my memory. “I… I don’t know. Everything’s fuzzy.” I rub my temples, trying to clear the mental fog. “How did I get here?”
Saylor huffs, looking down at the floor and kicking the carpet.
What happened?
Nash steps up and sits on the edge of the bed beside me. “We found you at that bar,” he explains, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You were… you weren’t in good shape. Adam had…”
My heart sinks as the realization hits me.
Roofied.
I was drugged.
“Adam spiked my water,” I whisper, my eyes going from Nash’s to Hunter’s, then North’s, and they all look devastated.
I’ve heard enough horror stories about it, but I never thought it would happen to me. I feel violated, vulnerable, and furious.
“You came and got me,” I breathe out, reaching out to look at Nash’s knuckles, which look angry, red, and swollen.
This is all too much. Why is this happening? Isn’t it enough to be heartbroken over all of them? No, I have to get drugged and almost assaulted in a fucking bar with other people around me because I was polite to a man. Polite because being impolite could have brought even worse things.
Saylor was right.
Fuck polite.
“Why the hell did you guys bring me here?” I demand, my anger rising as I let go of his hand again. “After everything, you think you can just swoop in and be my saviors?”
I know they saved me, and lashing out at them for it is not okay. Of course, I prefer that they found me to what would have happened if they hadn’t.
My rational brain knows that.
But my emotions are going haywire.
Why would they even need to?
Why can’t a woman go out by herself without being at least afraid?
And why can’t I have a fucking break? Why does the universe seem out to get me only to send these guys my way, to make it hurt a little more?
To dig it in a little deeper.
North sighs, his gaze never leaving mine. “We didn’t bring you here to play hero, Sloan. We brought you here because we care about you. We needed to make sure you’re okay. You were completely out of it.”
I clench my fists, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. “Care about me? You called me crazy and kicked me out of your lives!”
I sound like a broken record, but goddammit, they did!
Nash reaches out to touch my hand, and I consider pulling away for a moment. But his touch is gentle, and his voice is soft when he speaks, “We were wrong, and we’re going to make things right.”
For just one second, I falter. His ocean blue eyes are so sincere, and my heart does a flip.
But I know deep down that if I give in and let them care for me, they will never let me go again.
The part of me that feels so scared knows they just rescued and watched out for me and knows I’m safe with them, wants to cry and throw myself at them.
But thankfully, a cough from Saylor kick-starts my brain before I can do just that, so I pull my hand away. “Why were you even there?” I mumble, looking at my hands. When no one answers for a few moments, I look back up and notice North and Nash glaring at each other.
Hunter sighs, “Those dickheads decided it was a good idea to watch out for you while you had your date. I called it stalking, refused to come with, and stayed here with Lio, but in hindsight, I’m fucking glad they did it.”
Saylor huffs again, still looking at the ground. “Unbelievable.”
“You guys were stalking me?” My voice hitches when I scramble to stand, and all their gazes zero in on my legs. They’re naked, and I’m only wearing white panties.
“There…” Nash points to my jeans, folded over the desk chair, and I hastily grab them, pulling them on.
“You fucking undressed me?” Knowing that one of them could pull my jeans off without me having any recollection of it freezes my blood, filling my mind with other scenarios I wouldn’t remember now if they hadn’t stepped in in time.
Fuck.
“I thought it was more comfortable for you to sleep.” Nash shrugs as if it were the most natural thing ever. “Not the first time I pulled them off you.”
“Not the time, idiot,” Saylor rolls his eyes in my peripheral vision, and I’m fuming, pointing my finger in Nash’s face.
“You!” I accuse, unsure how to end that sentence, so I just yell.
He grips my finger in his fist and mutters, “Sorry, okay? It was just… I thought it would be more comfortable. I promise I’ll never get you out of any of your clothes again before you’re begging me to do it.”
His eyes hold a mischievous glint, and I know he’s back to flirting, but I’m not fucking having it. Pulling my finger out of his grip, I walk to the door, past all of them, making my way through the hallway to the front door.
But Hunter’s voice from behind me stops me in my tracks. “Your bag is on the couch.”
I turn to glare at him and walk into the living room where my bag is sitting, reaching out to grab it. The clock behind the couch reads six a.m.
When I turn to leave, Hunter is standing in front of me, blocking my way.
We stay there, unspeaking, for a few long seconds before he silently grabs my bag and puts it back on the couch before his gaze finds mine again.
It’s so intense and piercing like he can see directly into my soul, and it’s as if all my emotions are bubbling to the surface—the fear and panic from yesterday, the anger from just now, and the hurt and betrayal I’ve been feeling for days.
The heartache.
My eyes well up, and I’m starting to tremble.
Hunter’s brows furrow, and he announces, “I’m gonna hold you now.
” He hesitates as if to give me time to object, but I just can’t anymore.
I know I’m weak, but I am falling apart right now, right before his eyes.
He bends down to grab me by the back of my thighs and lifts me to his chest. My hands wrap around his neck, and he takes a step backward, sitting down on the sofa with me straddling him, my face buried in his neck when I start to sob.
He strokes my back gently, and I can’t do anything but cry.
Being in his arms is disarming.