27. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
JULIAN
It’s been two hours since we got home, and the doctor left about thirty minutes ago. She threw up for so long that we all started to worry, but the doctor reassured us that it was normal. It was only her body ridding itself of the drug.
Dr. Lang lives in the building, so he’s not far away if we need him.
When Maisie thought about changing Andrea’s clothes, I flipped out at the thought of her waking up and being confused—not remembering how she ended up in different clothing.
My mind is a mess, and I can’t think straight.
I’m bridled with rage for her and the memories that come with what happened tonight.
They don’t understand how important it is that she stays exactly as she last remembers, or she’ll lose it when she wakes up. She’s asleep now, and I left her with Maisie—figured that she should wake up next to her best friend. I didn’t want to leave her side, though.
I have to fight against every fiber of my being to not stay with her and ensure she’s breathing through the night. No matter how badly I want to be there in case she wakes, clawing at the air.
I pour myself a glass of whiskey but don’t drink it. I don’t know if Felix will call the police or take matters into his own hands. I don’t care as long as the piece of shit suffers .
Loosening my tie, I take a seat and will away the thoughts that want to surface—to stop torturing me with their presence. I hear the mumble of Carter’s voice as he talks to her parents on the phone and the memories assault me in flashes.
Wooden panel walls and sheets hung in the place of curtains.
Heavy eyes and numbed skin. A body over mine.
Frozen and afraid. Weak and dizzy.
Waking the next day in confusion as the sun shone in my eyes. Staring down at my naked flesh, trying to jam pieces into a puzzle that didn’t fit.
I did not have faces to blame for my affliction, only voices.
Mr. and Mrs. Quincy told me that my loss of time kept me fed and that’s why I got so many toys. They were nice to me; nicer than the foster parents I had all the time before.
They never beat me.
But I was only thirteen.
For every waking moment of my life, my body compared love to unwanted touches and battered skin.
Pain .
“You all right?” Carter asks as he enters the room like one would approach a wounded animal.
The question has the memories halting as I look up from where my face is buried in my hands. One by one, the memories are swept away like smoke in the wind. I blow out a breath as I run a hand through my hair.
“I will be when I know she is,” I say roughly. He nods stiffly in agreement, taking a seat on the loveseat across from me. I eye him closely. “Are you ?”
He shrugs, uncommitted to an answer, which I understand.
The whole ordeal has shaken him up. Knowing things like this happen and watching it happen are two very different things.
My mind wanders back to the car ride home.
She clung to me like I was her safety net—like nothing in the world could touch her as long as I was there. I’ve never been that for anyone.
“Her parents freaked like I knew they would, but—”
“You shouldn’t have called them.” His brows furrow at my words, and I add, “You should have let Andrea decide if she wanted them to know.”
He scoffs, eyes going wild with disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.”
His face morphs into anger. “Don’t tell me what I should have done. I’m her family, your—”
“I’m what?” I seethe, daring him to say it.
“You barely know her. They had a right to know.”
I let out a humorless laugh, digging my tongue into my cheek as I shake my head.
“She’s a twenty-four-year-old woman who is fully capable of making decisions for herself.
She doesn’t need you to play her cards for her.
” I don’t know what compels me to say it, but I know it’s the truth and he needs to hear it.
She doesn’t need him meddling in sore spots of her past. It only heightens her parent’s concern for her, not relinquishes it.
He blinks at me. “Holy shit.”
My eyes narrow. “What?”
Shaking his head, he laughs. “Holy shit, you’re toast.”
“I’m. . .what?”
“A traitor, too.” He looks up at the ceiling bitterly—as if realizing something. “You like her more than me.”
I frown. “Carter. ”
He holds his hand up. “Nope, I don’t want to hear it. I just need a moment here.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
Glaring at me, he says, “Out of the millions of women in New York, you picked Andrea.”
I sigh. We haven’t had the chance to talk one-on-one about Andrea and me, so I knew this was coming sooner or later.
This new dynamic in our friendship is foreign to both of us, but she’s starting to mean more to me than I could have possibly imagined.
I couldn’t give her up now even if I tried.
“You practically gifted her to me on my doorstep.”
“You don’t have a doorstep.” His attention falls on the DVD box sitting on the coffee table before looking back at me, eyes narrowed. “Did you watch ‘Bring It On’ with her?”
“Yeah, so?”
“That’s our movie,” he says quietly, more so to himself than me. He looks devastated for a moment as if he’s been betrayed. He catches the look on my face and shrugs. “Whatever, man, they’re entertaining as fuck.”
I don’t disagree with him. Only a couple of nights ago, I joined Andrea in the living room.
She asked if it was okay that we watched it and honestly, I didn’t care what we watched.
I just wanted to be near her. Then, I ended up watching the whole damn thing, my eyes only leaving the screen to catch her reactions.
I suggested that she add krumping to her ballet routines.
When she laughed, I wanted to magnify the sound and save it.
That way I could play it on repeat whenever I pleased.
She told me I was getting better at jokes. I’ve never been one to make them. I was never known to be the funny guy in the room, but for her, I’d be anything she wanted me to be, and that realization scares the shit out of me.
I’m a content man with a content life. Yearning is not something I tend to let myself do often. Especially when it’s lost between the lines of real and fake.
“You were in love with someone else two seconds ago,” Carter states, tossing me a serious look as he crosses his arms over his chest. “If you hurt her, you know I’ll have to kick your ass, right?”
“If I ever hurt her, Carter, I’ll let you.”
With a slow nod, he thinks something over before saying, “I’m glad she has you.” He runs a hand over his face in replenished agitation. “If Felix hadn’t called tonight—”
“He did,” I say, brushing away what his sentiment means to me. “That’s all that matters.”
He nods again. “Yeah.”
I take in the brutal state of him. When we started the night, he’d been awake for nearly twenty-four hours having to deal with a crisis with one of his clients.
When I told him where I was going tonight, I didn’t expect him to want to tag along.
Now that I think back, it wasn’t until mentioning a particular blonde being there that he gained interest. If he doesn't give me shit about Andrea, I won’t give him any back.
For now, I let it slide, but if he doesn’t pass out soon, his body will surely do it for him. “You should get some sleep,” I tell him gently. “Maisie has her.”
Carter stands, hesitating as he stares down at me. “What about you?”
I don’t move from where I sit. “Just in case.”
He doesn’t ask “in case of what?” because he knows that I mean in case she needs me. “You’ll wake me if she wakes up?”
I dip my chin. “ Of course.”
“Night, then,” he says, turning away. His shoes slide across the surface of the floor as he walks down the hall, the sound only coming to an end once he’s in the guest room.
Once I’m alone, I finally down the warm liquid in my glass and set it on the side table. Rising to my feet, I walk down the hall and stop in front of the door Andrea now sleeps behind. I take a seat on the floor, leaning my back against the wall, and listen.
I listen for hours.
MY EYELIDS FEEL LIKE sandpaper as I pry them open. My focus lands on a hovering tousle-haired Maisie holding two steaming cups of coffee.
Frowning down at me, she asks, “Did you stay out here all night?”
“Yeah,” I croak, my throat feeling like gravel. “I did.” My gaze shifts to the cracked white door to her face. “Is she—”
“Awake and grouchy? Yes, yes, she is.” Her tone holds a hint of annoyance, but her eyes betray her relief. “Here,” she says, handing me a cup.
“Thank you.” The coffee is a godsend as it slides past the rawness in my throat. “Do you think she’d want to see me?”
Her mouth quirks up. “I’m thinking yes, but let me check with her first.” She disappears into the room, and I hear the soft murmur of voices beyond the door as I sip my coffee.
When she reemerges, she dips her chin in confirmation.
“You’re good to go in. I’ll give you two a minute.
Do you mind if I make breakfast for all of us?
I wake up with a mean appetite and Andrea wants bacon. ”
The gesture is nice and I wouldn’t mind breakfast myself. “Go nuts.”
She grins, walking backward as she asks, “How do you like your eggs, art boy?”
“Scrambled with enough cheese to block an artery,” I joke.
Laughing, she spins, twirling a finger in the air. “Coming right up.”
I set the coffee on the floor before standing, and with a steadying breath, I step into Andrea’s room.
Clouds mute the cityscape beyond the windows, casting the room in a soft, gray light.
The quiet has my nerves spiking as I round the corner and find her propped up in bed, the comforter gathered at her waist. Her makeup is gone, and her auburn hair is piled into a messy bun.
She’s wearing an oversized white T-shirt that reads ALWAYS DOWN FOR TACOS— the sight of it makes me smile for the first time since last night.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” I say softly.