Twenty
ZAC
I’VE BEEN STANDING out front of Alyssa’s townhouse for an hour. I was never planning to leave her here. Ella made sure I knew how much she did not like the fact I had called Dean to take her home.
Pulling my phone out, I give him a call to make sure Ella didn’t put him through too much hell on the drive home. The phone only rings twice before he answers.
“Yeah?”
“I’m judging by the fact that you answered, you’re still alive and my sister didn’t manage to find a way to kill you yet?” I laugh.
I don’t know what’s going on with those two; Dean and Ella used to be really close. Lately, it’s like they can’t stand being in the same room together.
“I wouldn’t put it past her to be plotting my demise as we speak. She is your sister, after all,” he says.
“Don’t I know it.”
I’m about to ask him what’s up with the two of them when I hear someone scream. No, not someone, Alyssa. I hear Alyssa scream.
“Fuck!”
I’m holding the phone in my hand as I run towards Alyssa’s front door, my heart pounding as I take the stairs two at a time. Barging my way past Bray and some other fucker in the doorway of Alyssa’s bedroom, my heart feels like it’s just been ripped out of my chest.
The room is a fucking mess. Where is she?
Turning around, I spot her on the floor at her wardrobe, rummaging through shit while mumbling about needing to find something.
Fuck. Grabbing her, I pull her back into my arms. She fights herself out of my hold, begging me to help her find whatever it is she’s looking for.
Trying to reassure her that I can replace anything she needs, I freeze as her next words to me just break my fucking heart.
“It’s the only picture of my mother I have, Zac! You can’t buy me another one!”
That’s not something I can replace. I watch as her body crumbles to the floor; she bends over herself and cries. I can feel the tears running down my own face. I haven’t cried since my parents’ funeral five years ago.
But the sight of Alyssa on the floor, looking so fucking broken, I can’t take it.
I’m about to pull myself together, scoop her up, and put her back together. I can fix this. I have to fix this. Sarah leans over her, whispering in her ear. She’s also fucking crying. She looks up at me.
“You need to take her home, Zac. Get her out of here. Please,” she pleads with me.
I can see that she’s looking to me to put her best friend back together right now. I’m not sure how I will do it, but I make a promise to anyone who will listen that I will do just that. I will do anything to take away Alyssa’s pain.
I pick her up and walk down the stairs with her in my arms. Bray follows me down.
“I’ll drive,” he says just as Dean comes running through the door.
He takes one look at us and asks, “What happened?” looking at Alyssa’s limp form in my arms.
It’s just registering with me that she’s not clinging to me like she usually would when experiencing a panic attack. This is different. I don’t like how limp and unresponsive she’s being. I know she’s conscious to some extent; she’s still crying and mumbling about finding that damn picture.
“Can you stay and help Sarah upstairs? Don’t leave her alone. Bring her to the penthouse when she’s finished here.”
I can’t even tell him what happened. I can’t bring myself to find the words, confirming that Caitlyn has finally managed to break down Alyssa.
Getting her home, I take her straight into the shower.
She’s stopped crying; she’s just silently staring into space.
She won’t answer anything I ask her other than nodding or shaking her head.
I honestly don’t know how to help her. Should I call a doctor in?
A trauma specialist, maybe? Fuck, I just need to figure out how to help her.
“Baby, please tell me how I can help you? What can I do?”
I keep my voice quiet, calm, or at least, I try to.
But I’m breaking on the inside too. I’m breaking from seeing her like this.
This is not Alyssa, not my sunshine, so full of life and promise.
The girl standing in front of me, with her once beautiful blue eyes that are now dull, seems to look through me.
She doesn't answer me, so I continue to remove her clothes so I can get her in the shower. Just as I’ve pulled her tank top over her head, she says, “You can’t help me, Zac. No one can.”
Like fuck, I can’t help her. I know that right now, she believes that, but she will see. We will get through this.
After washing her hair for her, I dry her and bundle her up in one of my shirts.
I watch as she brings the material up to her face and inhales.
That one little gesture shows me she is still my Alyssa.
Mine, and fuck anyone who thinks they can take her from me.
I lie down in bed with her and hold her.
Whispering to her, I promise to fix this. I promise her that, no matter what, our tomorrows will always be together.
It’s been two weeks since I carried Alyssa out of her bedroom in her townhouse and brought her back here.
Two weeks and I still have no fucking clue where the fuck Caitlyn is holed up.
I’ve had teams of private investigators looking for the bitch.
I can’t find a single fucking trace, and it’s doing my head in.
It’s been two weeks since Alyssa has left the penthouse. She puts on a brave front to everyone. She didn’t fight me when I told her she should put in for a couple of weeks leave at work, which tells me she’s not as good as she keeps insisting she is.
She can pretend to be fine, but it’s the way she jumps at loud sounds, the way her hands shake a little, the way she clings to me when she becomes overwhelmed… All these little things tell me she is not okay at all. She is spooked, she’s angry, and she’s anxious about what’s next.
Alyssa didn’t get out of bed for two days.
She barely ate. She spoke only in answer to a direct question and, even then, would only give two-word answers.
On the third day after I brought her home, Sarah turned up, having found the photograph of Alyssa's mother. Fortunately, the picture was not damaged, and now lives locked inside the safe in my home office. After she received the picture back, Alyssa’s spirits lifted again, and slowly, I saw my sunshine coming back to life.
Still, her laugh is not as full as it was, her smile not as bright.
I didn’t know my heart could hurt so fucking much, but the last two weeks, watching Alyssa struggle and fight with her fear, has fucking wrecked me.
I feel useless right now. The only time she seems at total peace and relaxed are the times when it’s just her and me in the bedroom.
Every night, we have been up for hours, me wringing orgasm after orgasm out of her until I wear her out enough that I know she will get some sleep.
You won’t hear me complaining about that task though. I will happily give my girl whatever release she needs, anywhere, anytime.
One thing I know for sure is that she is it.
She is the girl I see my future with, the one I want to wake up next to every morning.
And I will take her any way I can have her.
If that means I spend the rest of my life fighting to bring life back, to restore the sunshine and happiness to her eyes, I will.
If I have to spend every day proving to her that she is safe with me, that I’m not about to let any motherfucker get their hands on her, then that’s what I’m going to do.
I’m lying in bed with Alyssa in my arms and I couldn’t think of waking up any other way.
It’s Christmas Eve. I have her car in the garage with a huge fucking bow on it.
I just have to figure out a way to get her to accept it.
I’ve been lying awake for hours, conjuring up ways to get her to accept the car and accept the question I’m planning to ask her tomorrow morning. But first, today, the car.
Alyssa stirs, slowly opening her eyes. She is the definition of not a morning person. Grumbling, she smiles up at me.
“Morning, babe.” She leans in and kisses me gently before settling her head on my chest.
“Morning, sunshine. Sleep well?” I ask, kissing the top of her head.
“Mmhmm, I always sleep well next to you,” she mumbles back.
Huh, she’s in a great mood today. Rolling her over to her back, I pin her down and kiss her. She responds immediately, opening for me. I pull away before I take things any further. A look of disappointment crosses her face as I get up.
Chuckling, I say, “Stay here. I’m going to get your coffee. I’ll be back.”
Not waiting for her to reply, I make my way out to the kitchen and set up the machine to make her coffee. As I’m walking out of the kitchen, Bray walks through the living room.
“Morning, how is she?” He asks the same thing every morning. He’s been sleeping here for the last two weeks, around to help with whatever I needed, without question.
“She’s good,” I tell him and can’t help the smile that appears on my face. Because for the first time in two weeks, I actually feel like it’s the truth.
“That’s good, bro. I’m taking Ella last-minute shopping today. Apparently, there is more shit she needs to get. Call if you need anything,” he says as he walks into the kitchen.
“Thanks, man,” I call after him.
Walking back into the bedroom, I’m greeted with the sight of Alyssa sitting up in my bed, smiling at me. Maybe it’s the coffee she’s smiling at, but I’ll take it.
Holding her hands out, she says, “Give me, give me, give me.”
Laughing, I hand over her vanilla latte.
I watch as she takes a sip and her face morphs into an expression of pure bliss as a moan escapes her.
Dammit, I want to be the reason for those moans.
I want to hear her screaming out my name in ecstasy.
Reaching down and readjusting myself not so subtly, I see her smirk over at my discomfort.
Tilting her head, she says, “So that does still work, I take it?” pointing at my crotch region.