27. Rae
27
RAE
I twist the damp ends of my hair over one shoulder and take a moment to study the oddly serene scene before me. Jamie sits on the side of the bed and scrolls her phone; her legs kick out beside Maddie, back against the headboard. My best friend stares at the midnight blue wall before her, jaw twitching occasionally, eyebrows shifting into a peak as though the thoughts flicking through her mind physically pain her. I find comfort in those little expressions, the proof that she's still in there, wherever the shock has taken her.
“Oh, hey.” Jamie slides her legs off the bed, setting her phone on Tyke’s nightstand. “Didn’t hear you come in.”
“She said anything?”
Jamie shakes her head, gaze sliding to Maddie as she does. “Makes a little whimper type of sound every so often, but I can’t get her out of it.”
“Shit.” I cross the floor and crawl onto the bed before her—my best friend. The woman who saved my fucking life. “I’m sorry, babe.” I say the same thing I did when I stopped in after I cleaned up earlier. Before Tyke mistook me being away from her as a sign I’d never come. “I’m sorry you had to do it.”
It should have been me. A piece of me that I’ve only just come to understand wishes it had been me.
I take her hand in mine, relieved that Maddie doesn't jerk it away like she did the first time I visited. "I'm back now. I'll stay a while. Maybe I can get you something to drink. See if you can do that?"
Nothing. No reaction other than her rhythmic blinking.
Damn it. “I’m sorry I left. I went to get painkillers and then…” Well. She doesn’t need to know any of it. Her father’s misunderstanding, his anger, the result… Especially the result. “Deo came in. I don’t know if you realized that. He came to see you were okay, but he left." I stroke my thumb across the back of her hand and map the little freckles amongst her tanned skin. "Your dad thinks he's gone to find Fox, but Kane and Harvey are following your uncle, and they haven’t seen Deo. Tyke’s calling Marco to find out if he might know where he went.”
Her breath shudders into her lungs, and then she’s status quo.
It worked, though. It might not have been happy news, but it tugged at something conscious.
“He’s got to love you, right? To want to get justice for you like this?”
“Or he’s fuckin’ mad.” Jamie sighs. “He’s one guy against two. Maybe three. Shit—Ronan is the equivalent of three.”
"Have you seen this Ronan guy before?" I tilt my head and look her way, intrigued by any tidbits Jamie can give me about this mysterious figure.
She nods. “At a distance. Looks like the kind of man you’d expect to see coming out of a corporate building in the city, you know. All groomed and pretty.” She smirks. “Stories my dad tells, though… You can’t let the guy’s pretty looks fool you.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Learned the lesson the hard way with Connor. Speaking of… “Anyone know where Connor went?”
“He was with Minion and Kane while they were checking properties, but I don’t know if he still is.”
“He helped look for her too?” It seems so contradictory to the deal he tried to barter.
“Yeah. I don’t know what’s up with that, either.” Jamie’s gaze slides to our catatonic friend. “They spent their whole years at Red River High trying to either kill each other or get the other expelled.”
“Really?”
She nods. “Maddie won. Connor was expelled four months shy of graduating.”
I twist my mouth up. "Yeah. He said something once about not finishing school, but I never asked why."
“There’s your reason.” She nods toward Maddie. “You want me to leave you two alone for a while?”
“Honestly?” I sigh, setting Maddie’s hand on her crossed legs. “Suit yourself. I don’t mind if you stay.”
Jamie eases off the bed. "Nah. I'll go." She glances around the room. "I've never been in Tyke's room before, and it's kind of weirding me out."
I chuckle. “Really?”
“You ever hang out in your parents’ bedroom when you were a kid?”
I smirk. “Guess not.”
“Yeah. Me neither. And this feels way too much like doing that.” She retrieves her phone, weighing it in her hand as she studies the President’s daughter. “I hope she comes right soon.”
"Yeah." I reach up and tuck Maddie's hair behind her ear. "Me too." My gaze falls to the dried blood hidden away beneath the collar of her shirt, the specks stuck in the underside of her hair. "You think we should help her shower?"
"Nah." Jamie moves for the door, stalling a few steps away. "I know if I woke up out of this kind of shit, a hot shower is something I'd want to do consciously. Relax and all that, you know?"
“Yeah. I get you.” I offer her a small smile. “Thank you. For being with her.”
Jamie shrugs, ducking her head. “Ain’t nothing. We’ve never really been friends, but I still think of her like a big sister.” She huffs a short laugh. “Kind of hard not to when we’ve essentially grown up together.”
“True.”
“Anyway. Holler if anything changes, yeah?”
“Of course.”
She disappears out the door and down the short hall toward the main living area. I watch Maddie a while longer, mapping her twitches and ticks, fucking certain that if I watch her long enough, I'll see her slip up and catch her watching me too.
Yet it doesn't happen. Her gaze stays fixated on the wall, breaths even save for the odd longer draw as though she regulates herself.
I shuffle around and set myself up the same way Jamie was, with my back against the headboard, one of Tyke's thick pillows saving my aching spine from curving too far. I left my phone upstairs, not that there's much on it I'd rather pass the time with. Socials leave me anxious—just more shit being fed into my brain to remind me that I'm not enough. That I should be better. More.
My gaze lands on Maddie, the fall of her shirt stretched across her back, the knotted locks of hair separated over her shoulder. A shiver courses its way down my body; the situation feels too familiar, too raw. It's just her and me—alone.
I close my eyes and draw a deep breath, hands fisted atop my legs. Sweetie’s not here, you dork. Yeah—because she’s dead. Shit.
I twitch my feet and flex my hands to shake off the jolt of nerves, then glance around the room instead, studying its masculine appeal. The walls are a rich midnight blue with a hint of grey undertones. It matches the ornate black frames around photos and articles hung on the wall in clusters. The design feels too intentional for Tyke, but then again, what would I know? Maybe he does have an eye for this shit. Perhaps I judge the book by its cover.
A glossy black set of drawers sit to my right, the feet intricate in their carving, the brass handles vintage style. Not much sits atop: a dish containing what appear to be rings, a watch, and a couple of personal grooming products. The wingback chair in the corner to the right of the drawers is beautiful. Aged, with cracked and worn leather at the front of the seat and around the edge at the top. But it fits perfectly with the bourbon hall vibe of this room.
I run my palm across the stitched pattern in the black comforter and then over the deep navy sheets. Maddie's position in the center of the bed is the only reason I don’t bend down and inhale, see if I can catch Tyke’s signature smell on the cotton.
I’m a fucking weirdo.
But then again, anything related to him or Digger, brings me comfort, even if it is something as simple as the warm smell of their bed.
“I feel like we should talk about something.” I glance at the back of Maddie’s head and let loose a nervous chuckle. “It feels odd sitting here in silence. Any suggestions?”
She stays mute.
"Does your dad have a speaker I can Bluetooth to in here?"
Nothing.
I run my eye over the clothes she's worn since yesterday. The signs of the struggle in the bloodstain at her hip and the dirt on the ass and thighs of her jeans.
"You'd feel better after a shower and a change of clothes, right? But I don't want to impose on your privacy and all that. I wonder if that's why nobody's done it yet." I fidget with the edge of the sheet at my right, flicking the stitched lines between my fingertips. "To be fair, out of the two of us, I'm surprised it's not me sitting there, frozen. When I first met you, I wished I was more like you, Mads. You're so strong." I pause, take a moment to let the tension ease out of my throat, and the impending tears subside. "I envy the way you command a room. Your confidence. Your natural zest for life. You're… so different from me."
Fuck. I miss her already. It’s been what? Hours since we found her? But it feels as though my friend’s been gone for weeks.
"I still wonder why you decided we should be friends. What benefits you think I bring to the party. It feels as though it's always been you doing shit for me, and I…" My breath leaves with a sigh. "What did I give you? What can I give you?”
I push off the headboard and crawl to kneel at her side.
"I want to know what the hell I can do to help you, Mads. How do I get you out of this place?" I search her face and come up empty. I could imagine what I'd need in this situation, but as I lamented to her, we're so different. What I need and what she does are two entirely different things. "Everyone's worried." I ease back on my heels and fuss with the indent in my knee from the crumpled bedding. "Nobody really knows what happened other than you were taken, and now you're back. But I can feel it, you know? The tension in the air when I walk through the place. I see how everyone watches me, how they look at your dad, the other officers. There’re questions. It's as though shit will hit the fan if Tyke doesn't address them soon." I heave a sigh. None of this trash is helpful to her. "Anyway…" My focus hits a photo on the short section of the wall between the bedroom door and the barn door that leads through to the attached bath. I shuffle to the end of the bed and slide off, feet soft against the rug until my bare soles hit the hardwood beneath.
Tyke's young in this image. Astride a bike much more straightforward than the one he has now; he can't be any more than mid-twenties in the shot. His hair sits wild around his shoulders, yet what strikes me is that he doesn't wear anything indicating he's a part of the club. He's alone in the shot, which makes me wonder who took it. Was it Charlene? Was he with her already?
Whoever snapped the picture saw a beautiful opportunity and took it: Tyke sits framed by a weeping willow on one side and a rushing river behind him on the other. Wherever they snapped it, it appears to be a roadside stop on a much longer journey. A bed roll sits strapped to the back of the bike. A hiker's pack stuffed to bulging rests beside the front wheel.
It’s a life more carefree. Open to possibility.
Maybe that’s why he has it there.
As a reminder of what life can be.
I startle at a rustle behind me, shoulders jumping before I do, and spin to find Maddie moving up the bed. My heart hammers in my chest, and I'm frozen as though she's some ghostly apparition rather than my traumatized best friend. Mads crawls toward the headboard and then slides her legs beneath the sheets, pushing the bedding down to let herself slip into Tyke's bed. Hands tucked beneath her head, she lies on her side, facing me, yet not looking at me.
A sole tear slides over Maddie's nose, dripping off the bridge.
Fuck. I don’t know what she needs, but I damn well know what I can offer.
Gentle, to avoid disturbing her too much, I round the bed and slip onto the mattress behind her, staying above the sheets. Left arm tucked beneath my head, I stretch out and match her position, sliding in behind. Her breaths are slow and even, yet there's a stiffness to her that indicates she's far from relaxed. Unable to rest.
I lift my hand and trace her arm to see if she'll shy away from touch again or if she welcomes the comfort.
“It’ll take time,” I whisper. “For this to pass. But you know what?” I smooth the cap of her T-shirt over her shoulder. “You’re strong enough to do this, babe. You’re the toughest, most badass woman I know. If anyone can beat this, you can.”
Her left hand crosses her body, seeking out mine, and my chest clenches tight as Maddie slides her fingers between mine. She anchors herself with my hand, tucking them against her ribs. She might not have spoken a word, but there isn’t a thing to be said that would be more meaningful than this.
Than my best friend relaxing, body slack as she leans against me to fall asleep.
I may not be able to love myself in the moment, but at least I can love her.