21. Casper
My blood races through my heart and pounds in my ears. I can’t hear the sirens that follow us or the cops yelling behind me as I sprint from my car and race toward the back of the house. All I can hear is her screams on that voicemail, playing in a tortured loop in my mind.
I pay them no attention, but I know the guys are beside me, running without hesitation toward whatever we’re about to face. I’d do the same for them. We all would.
Flashlights light our path, streaming from Bates’s and Ledger’s phones. We fly through the gate after I unlock it, rounding the corner and booking it across the massive lawn. The neon sign above the corn maze isn’t lit, but I don’t need it to be to know where to enter.
My body is numb, adrenaline calming any ache in my legs. But it wouldn’t matter if I was barefoot, running through glass. I would get to her.
“Mona!” I cry out, begging the universe to let her be okay.
We race through the entrance, and I hear it, a muffled but desperate, “Please!” as if the only voice I can hear is hers.
I deviate from the path, cutting through the stalks in a straight beeline toward the plea. The guys’ lights shine bright in the darkness, casting an eerie glow onto the crops and the beaten paths.
I’m coming, Mona.
We emerge from the thickness, bursting out into an open path, and the image before us causes everything inside of me to still. Not a weak, soft, and delicate silence. But a deadly, terrifying calm before the sky cracks and hell rains down.
I blink, and I’m moving, barreling into the side of the man choking Mona.
I blink, and I’m on top of him.
I blink, and my knuckles are painted red.
I blink, and I’m hauled upward, Kol and Ledger pulling me off him.
I blink, and I’m kneeling beside Mona, scooping her up in my arms and running through the parted path formed by Bates and Ransom.
“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.” I squeeze her tightly to my chest, her body limp.
I blink, my vision blurry and wet as I burst out of the maze and onto the lawn.
The grass is painted with flashing red and blue lights, a thousand officers running straight toward me, guns drawn.
“Help!” I scream, the sound tearing through my throat, rough and ragged. “Here!”
Everything’s slow. The speed of the officers, their approach as they rush toward me, ushering me past the face-painting booth, past the corner of the house, and out through the gate toward the ambulance on stand-by.
My body is shaking, tears streaming down my face as paramedics meet me, eager to get her onto a stretcher and into the unit. My heartbeat is too loud, too overwhelming, and I wish I could force the sound away, desperate to hear her voice instead.
The EMTs speak calmly to one another as we load into the back and take off for the hospital. One of the EMTs ushers me into the seat, muttering something about wishing I were up front. And while I get that, there’s no way in hell I’m leaving her side for a second.
My gaze trails from her hair, disheveled and chaotic, to the fingerprints bruised into her skin. Her lips are a horrifying shade of purplish-blue.
“Please be okay,” I murmur, rocking back and forth in my seat as much as the seat belt will allow. “Please.”
It’s the only word that I can manage to say during the entire ride.
When we get to the hospital and she wakes while being wheeled out, screaming my name, all I can shout back is Mona.
And when I’m brought to see her, immediately taking her hand in mine, not feeling an ounce of peace until I’m in her presence again, it’s her name on my lips.
The hospital pushed back about me visiting her at first because we’re not married, but unfortunately for them, Caroline Ridley, who met us at the hospital, gets what she wants, and as far as anyone in the entire world is concerned, we are her family.
I’m forever thankful to whichever of my friends called her and filled her in.
Cupping Mona’s hands in mine, I bring them to my lips, kissing them tenderly, over and over again as I prop myself up on the edge of her hospital bed with my elbows.Instantly, she stirs from the movement, coming to and shooting up in bed and reaching for me.
I meet her halfway, hovering over the bed, her arms wrapping around me in a death grip as she murmurs into my ear, “You’re here. You’re here.” The biggest sigh rips through the room, and her shoulders relax in my embrace.
My throat burns, tears welling up in my eyes as I cradle her, holding the back of her head with my hand.
“Always.” My lips find her black locks, pressing infinite kisses into her hair as we cling to one another like a lifeline. But it’s true because I’m damn sure that I can’t live in a world without her.
Mona’s discharged a few hours later, and my parents drive us back to my condo. Even though she says her legs are fine to walk, I carry her the entire way inside, up the elevator, and into my unit, not putting her down until we’re tucked safely behind the door.
She’s quiet, her mind likely running rampant as she strides through the living space and down the hallway.
“The last door on the right is our bedroom.”
“Ours?” A smidgen of her personality slips free in her tone, the first glimpse of it I’ve seen.
I follow behind her, but a few steps back so she can take her own pace. “Yes, ours. I don’t care if you want to go back to The Schrader House; you’re staying here with me.”
Her head whips around, and I already know what she’s panicking about. I had Bates and Kol get the eight-legged lady and drop her off.
“She’s here, on your nightstand.”
She strides toward the bedroom, wincing as she steps with her right leg, the pain seemingly manageable as she continues on. Throwing the door open, she rushes inside and toward Penelope’s enclosure, crouching down beside the nightstand.
“Oh, thank God!” she cries out, bursting into tears and gently pulling the plexiglass container to her chest.
Many people wouldn’t understand this moment, but to Mona, Pen is one of the few souls she’s willingly brought into her life, no matter how small. But I also think seeing her might have forced her back to reality, emotion suddenly pouring out of her as she sobs uncontrollably.
My heart tightens as I walk around the bed and drop to the ground behind her, pulling her back flush to my chest. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, securing them across her chest, not too close to her neck to trigger any reminders of tonight.
I breathe her in, tucking my cheek to her hair, smelling dirt from the maze, a staleness from the hospital, and my girl buried beneath it all. Self-loathing pulses through me, and I hate that I wasn’t there and that she had to face that alone.
I should’ve hired security for her. I should’ve had someone watching the cameras during the game. I—
Shut up, take a breath, and be present.
That regret will likely stay with me forever, but I can be damn sure that nothing like that will ever, ever happen again. I don’t care if I have to quit hockey to be by her side twenty-four/seven or if I have to hire round-the-clock security. I’ll do anything—anything—to keep her safe.
She heaves, her cry thick with emotion. Gently, she returns Pen to the nightstand and leans back into me, tucking her legs up to her chest, her back flush to my front. She turns her head, resting it against my collarbone.
Tears flow like rivers down her face, taking God knows what pain with her. From tonight, the attack, or the last twenty-four years of hardships she’s faced. Whatever it is, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.
“Get it out,” I whisper into her hair, and she clings tighter to my arms, her body only held up because of mine wrapped around her. “I’ve got you, Mona. You’re safe.”
Slowly, she nods, twisting enough to plant a tear-soaked kiss to my arm. She inhales, like she’s trying to say something, but nothing comes out.
I wait for minutes, giving her the space and patience to find her strength, but when she softens against me, melting into my embrace, I finally murmur, “Stay here with me.” She has no reaction at first, so I clarify exactly what I mean. “Permanently.”
Slowly—terrifyingly slowly—she sits up and spins to face me, kneeling between my legs. Her beautiful face is flushed red, her eyes reddened not only from crying, but the petechiae caused from the choking.
Reaching up, she cups my face, stroking my cheekbones with her thumbs. “You’re my home, Cas.”
I lay my hands atop hers, pressing her fingers gently into my cheeks. “So, yes?” I murmur, a haunted smile tugging at my lips.
She nods and leans forward, wrapping her arms around my neck, tucking her head in the crook. “Yes.”
Grabbing her hips, I tug her toward me, wrapping her legs around my waist and holding her in place as I get to my feet with her suspended in my arms. “Moving in with your boyfriend so soon? I knew you were crazy.”
She giggles, and my heart completely melts. “That may be the least crazy part of all of this.”
Rubbing my arm up and down her back, I stride across the room and into the en suite, lowering her gently to the tile floor. “Do you want pajamas or a T-shirt of mine?”
“You have my pajamas?” she asks, taken aback at how I might’ve pulled that off, as if I didn’t manage to get Penelope here.
“Not exactly. I wanted to, tried to—at least the guys did—but the police held everything but Penelope for the crime scene since he might’ve been in your room.”
“He was,” she whispers, her stare falling to my chest. “My door was cracked open when I woke up. That’s … that’s why I thought it was you luring me out.”
My eyes burn again, and I pull her to me, wondering how I’m ever going to be able to go to practice or games without her handcuffed to me. But that’s a problem for a later day.
“T-shirt,” she murmurs, slowly pulling away.
I nod, stalking over to my bedroom and plucking a Sinners Hockey T-shirt from my dresser. “I have panties too. I can grab them from the craft room.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, a sparkle twinkling at what I said. “You … you have a craft room?”