Now Open Your Eyes (Stay With Me series Book 3)

by Nicole Fiorina

  The flight had been fifteen hours long, and I arrived in New York at three in the morning. After my first step out of the airport and into the city that never sleeps, a repulsive stench of pollution, stagnant water, and rude and tired faces greeted me. I waited patiently on the curb, holding my arm out in the air to call a taxi, and when the yellow car pulled up, a lady in a black business suit shouldered past me and slid into the backseat.

  By five, I was on the road in a small silver hatchback rented at Alamo, en route to Bushkill, Pennsylvania. It had been the only place open at that hour, and I’d taken whatever was available.

  By six-thirty, I parked in the driveway of the Jett residence.

  The house was a two-story home with a partial front porch. Was this the same house Mia lived where all the evil moments of her past had happened? Had Bruce moved her into a new home to shield her from the memories as much as he could? The house backed into woods, secluded, with a steep driveway. For the last hour, I’d debated on finding a coffee shop. If Mia were inside, she’d appreciate her croissants. But I was too afraid to leave the premises.

  And by eight, I was standing in front of the door, knocking. My heart beat out of my chest, and my adrenaline punched through impossible levels. Unable to stay in place, I paced the front porch, hoping someone would answer.

  The door opened, and Bruce stared back at me from inside the house. He wasn’t like anything I’d expected, a balding head, years of guilt stacked in layers under his sunken eyes, wearing sweatpants and a Steelers football shirt with a coffee mug in hand. “You must be Oliver.”

  I wet my frozen lips. “Is … please … tell me—”

  “She’s here,” he confirmed with a nod.

  My palm fell against the door frame, and I hung my head, pinching the bridge of my nose to fight back the emotions threatening to spill onto the Jett’s front porch. I’d found her. My vision glossed over, and I wiped my face into the sleeve of my hoodie before lifting my head to see the man I’d spoken to every day since release day. “Is she all right? Is she hurt?”

  “Why don’t you come inside. I have an hour before work. Let’s talk.” Bruce lead me into the kitchen, but my eyes couldn’t help wandering around and up the stairs, looking for Mia. “Would you like a cup of coffee? You look like you just came back from a hundred-year expedition.” He chuckled.

  “It sure feels that way,” he had no idea, “and yes, please. Black.” I took a seat in the breakfast nook where a bay window overlooked the garden bleeding into the forest. My knee bounced under the table, itching to run up the stairs to find her. But this was his home. “When did she arrive?”

  “Yesterday morning after I’d left for work. Mia hasn’t spoken much. Barely left her room. I have no idea how she got here or where she came from, but she’s been locked up in the guest bedroom ever since. Diane, my wife, isn’t too happy with her being here,” he pointed out, setting a mug in front of me over a wicker placemat. “Especially since we have to pay more lawyer fees to reschedule the court date she missed.”

  I pulled the mug from my mouth. “It wasn’t Mia’s fault. I’m sure she feels bad about it. And you don’t need to worry about the cost. I can take care of a lawyer.”

  Bruce’s brows peaked as he dropped into a dining chair with his mug in hand. “You?”

  I leaned back in the chair and pressed my hand into my knee. “Yeah. I love her, sir. I’m in love with her, and Mia loves me too.”

  The deserted smile on his lips fed my anxiety. “Mia’s not capable of love.”

  He’d said it as if I didn’t know her—as if he knew her better than me. “You’re wrong.” I cocked my head to the side, averting my gaze briefly to contain myself. The words were there, hanging on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to tell Bruce how Mia had always been capable of love. That I’d felt her wistful heart beat furiously at her absolute worst, proving passion stirred in the midst of nothingness. Mia Rose Jett had always been desperate to love. She only had to wake up first. “Mia’s been through hell and back, and not only has she survived, but she bloomed. Mia is nothing short of a wonder. If you took the time to get to know her, you’d see it too.”

  Bruce leaned back and folded a leg over the other. “Are we talking about the same Mia?”

  “Would you let me go upstairs so I could make sure?” I tried, and he laughed. I hid my smile behind the rim of the coffee mug before taking a sip. I was serious. My veins shook from being this close and not seeing her. Setting the coffee back down, the laughter settled between us, and I let out a helpless sigh. “Please, let me see her. Let me go wake her up.”

  “Will she leave with you? What are your plans?” Bruce asked, straight and to the point.

  His first question threw me off guard, almost as if he didn’t want Mia here. Almost as if Mia was a burden. Bruce didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. A vacancy loomed in his eyes, and it was apparent when it came to Mia, Bruce had checked out a long time ago. “For two years, I’d done nothing but make plans, and I stopped making them two weeks ago when Mia went missing. I’m done making plans, sir. I used to believe if I did everything I could to map out our future, it would happen because it was planned—because I thought I’d prepared us for the unknown. But that’s not the case, and I see it now. The only plan I have right now is sitting right here in this chair until you give me the okay to run up those stairs to see her. I can’t see past that right now.”

  “I like you,” Bruce admitted.

  “People usually do.”

  “When you get up the stairs, her room is on the left. Don’t wake my wife.”

  I abandoned the chair and took off. My feet couldn’t move fast enough, and when I’d approached the door, I drew in a deep breath and turned the knob.

  It was locked, and my forehead fell over the door as I knocked lightly. “Mia,” I pleaded. “It’s me.” The silence and barrier between us were terrifying. What condition would I find her in? What on earth could she have possibly faced over the last few weeks? What did Ethan do to her? Why did he let her go? Questions swam and my head spun. “Please, open the door.”

  “There’s a key over the frame on top,” Bruce stated from below.

  I reached my hand up over the ledge until my fingertips touched the cold metal.

  It was gold, and I pushed it through the hole and turned the knob.

  The door opened.

  But the room was empty.

  Desperately, I checked the closet and the bathroom. The bed had been slept in, unhinged sheets bunched at the foot of the mattress. My eyes darted around the bedroom until they settled on an open window where a breeze came through, blowing the thin curtain carelessly. I stepped forward and swiped the curtain out of the way to find a ledge someone could easily jump from. A ledge she had jumped from.

  Mia was gone.

  I’d driven up and down mountains, gotten lost in the valley, and lost cell reception along with it. With no idea as to where Mia would run off to, I continued to drive around, afraid I’d end up off a cliff. Every driver I’d passed whipped by me, rudely honking their horn.

  By three in the afternoon, I’d finally gotten service and tapped the nearest petrol station into the GPS. She had to be around here, she was inside my chest, inside my bones. My soul hummed, recognizing hers close by. A few more hours of searching passed by and on my way back to their house to see if she’d returned to her dad’s, twisted brown hair, a tiny frame, and a black hoodie caught my eye and stole my breath. It was Mia, and she was sitting on a bench off in the distance, overlooking the view.

  I pulled the hatchback into the dip in the road and turned off the engine. Mia’s back was to me, but I knew it was her. The pounding of my heart was all too familiar, and my nerves drifted, turning into relief as she sat there in numerous layers of clothes, engine-red rain boots covering her feet. She didn’t bother turning around when she heard the car come up behind her. Or did she hear?

  Exiting the car, I thought about what I’d say or do. And with ea
ch step closer, I had to refrain myself from pulling her into my arms. I took a seat beside her on the corner of the bench and released a shaky breath, my gaze never drifting from her. Under wet lashes, her lips were chapped, and she shook inside her clothes. But even when she was crying, she was beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she kept hers on the mountain view.

  We sat there for a while, neither one of us saying anything. Mia’s silence called upon a panic teetering inside me, pushing it over the edge. I’d never been so nervous. The wind from up here blew violently, but Mia never faltered. The thoughts inside her head were so loud it clenched my entire being in a tight grip. She was confused, and I wished I knew the reasons why.

  “Why didn’t you look for me?” she finally asked.

  Her words shocked me and broke open my chest, and I had to turn my head away to blink away the water gathering in my eyes. When I turned back to face her, I reached out for her hand in her lap, but she pulled away. “Mia, look at me.”

  Her eyes slammed closed, and she shook her head.

  In seconds, I crouched down in front of her, refusing to allow her to accept the bloody lie. “I’ve been looking for you my entire life, Mia. I’ve never fucking stopped. I look for you in every room I’m in, in every face I see, and for the last few weeks, I’ve done nothing but do everything I possibly could to find you, because I was made to find you.” Mia’s eye’s clenched together harder, tears escaping. “I’ll never stop, Mia.”

  Mia’s eyes opened. She looked at me, and I froze.

  Despite the last few weeks, the single look in her eyes proved she was the same strong Mia I fell for all over again with every passing day. She stayed with me, and I blew out a long unsteady breath.

  “You lied to me. For two years, you lied to me,” she said, and her hand touched my cheek. Perhaps she wanted to make sure I was real. “You’re a poet now—”

  “I’ve always been a poet, love.”

  “You never told me you published your work. You never once told me the hoodie I wore almost every day was in your name. You kept so much from me.”

  Though she was speaking, I was too hypnotized by her touch. My face sank into her palm before she raked her fingers through my hair. I leaned in closer, needing more. “Everything I did was for you and Zeke. That’s the truth. I was afraid to tell you because I was afraid to fail you. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me. When I found the first book was a success, I wanted to surprise you, but never got the chance.”

  “Why didn’t you file a police report?”

  “God, Mia. I tried. Lord knows, I tried. The police never gave me the time of day. I’ve talked to every goddamn officer and resident in all of Guildford and Surrey, visited Oscar in prison, showed up at Lynch’s, bothering his arse every fucking day. I called Bruce. Every. Bloody. Day.”

  “You have an answer for everything.”

  “Because I’ve done everything.”

  And we went back and forth like that for over an hour, me on my knees before her with her hands on me. She’d told me what happened with Scott, how he was responsible for the suicides, and she had walked in on him, how Scott took her and held her captive in a cabin. How Mia set the cabin on fire, and Scott saved her. How it was her decision to get on the plane. How Mia didn’t want to leave him, but Scott dropped her off. I told her I wanted to kill him, and she said no. I told her I loved her, and that would never change.

  Communication had always been easy for us because we laid everything on the table and rarely held back from one another, but I did hold back. I should’ve told her that I’d gotten involved with the Links. I’d made a deal with the devil to find her, but telling her would only put more on her plate. Instead, I reminded her I’d wait however long she needed. That I’d stay with her for however long it took.

  Temperatures dropped, and she still hadn’t moved from the chair, not letting me touch her—not letting me hold her. It hurt, but Scott had done damage. It pained me to see her like this, so distant and on edge. Though her eyes remained on me, making sure I didn’t disappear. I wanted to ask if he’d touched her in places my hands have been and if she’d touched him the way she touched me but now wasn’t the time. It wouldn’t have made a difference, anyway.

  “I’m so mad,” she whispered, her hands still in my hair as if they’d keep me real as mine held onto the bench on both sides of her.

  Her anger tore my soul to pieces and made me feel whole—a masochist. My legs were numb from crouching for so long, but I couldn’t see straight from being in her space, too afraid to move—afraid of her hands pulling away from me. “Mia …” Stay with me, love.

  She shook her head as her hands dropped from me and shook at her sides. “I never needed anyone. I didn’t need anyone else to make me feel safe, to make me happy. I was fine and able to take care of myself … Because I didn’t fucking care. Now I care, and suddenly, it’s as if I’m relying on everyone else. On Ethan, on you. I hate not being able to defend myself. I hate how every time you’re away from me, the pain eats me from the inside out like I’m dying a slow and excruciating death. I hate it,” her voice increased, and I was scared of where she was heading and what her confession was doing to her, “I don’t want my entire world to depend on anyone else but me. I want to start making choices. I want to make something of myself, to fight my own battles, to earn my own victories. I don’t want to be weak anymore,” air escaped her lips, a puff of white chill, “I don’t know anymore. I can’t think at all. I’m so mad, I want to punch someone. I want to hurt someone. I’m so angry, and I want to scream. Yeah …” she looked at me, gasping for a breath through furious sobs, “I want to fucking scream.”

  So badly, I wanted to kiss her to quiet the chaos swirling inside her mind. Mia was hyperventilating, words all over the place. Ethan had broken her down and filled her head with so much doubt and uncertainty, I wanted to take a knife to his throat for the pain and damage it caused her. In a hurricane of hysteria, she tried filling her lungs and looked up at me through heavy and desperate eyes. For the first time, I didn’t know how to help her. But the words just fell out of my mouth as if it were a reflex. “Scream, Mia.”

  “What?”

  “Scream. It’s just you and me here, let your worst out.” I nodded, hoping this would work. Mia’s head snapped up, and she pinched her brows together as the wind tossed her wayward strands against her face. I took her hand and lifted her from the bench toward the railing. It made me nervous how close to the cliff she was, and I stood behind her as she continued to search for air. Looking out into the sun setting behind the rigid mountains, I dipped my head close to her ear and closed my eyes. “Let go.”

  I wanted her to fall apart.

  I wanted her to fall on me.

  With every struggling piece of her, I was ready.

  I wanted my too much heart and soul to be the filter for her.

  Then Mia’s fists clutched the railing, knuckles white, and a scream pierced through the evening air. A battle cry, echoing in the valley, the entire world her audience, the mountain her stage. It penetrated my soul, passing through every part of me. Her scream entered my bloodstream, crawled through my veins, and brought tears to my eyes. My chest ripped open as I held on to her, believing she had the power to move planets and stop time. It was that powerful. Mia screamed because it hurt, and for once, she wanted everyone to feel the same pain she felt—and I fucking felt it. She screamed because she thought she was broken, but her broken would never make me run. She screamed until the scream turned into a cry, and she collapsed into my arms, and I rocked her against the wind.

  “You can lose your mind, Mia, but you’re never losing me.”

  Oliver Masters was in America, his rented hatchback parked in my dad’s driveway.

  Neither one of us had spoken a word on the way here after I’d screamed, which made me feel lighter. In less than sixty seconds, the rage, pain, and hurt hoarded over two weeks had escaped through my throat, and it never felt so g
ood. Ollie always knew what I needed.

  Ollie had pulled behind my dad’s parked car, and we sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Before we’d left Dolor, we made plans to run off and get married, our futures open and free, and for the taking, together.

  But two weeks could change a lot.

  Ethan made me question Ollie’s devotion to me. His love for me. Ethan made me believe I was weak and needed him to survive, but that was before he discarded me—a useless card in a losing game of poker. A joker. My brain was a jumbled mess, and I wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. I couldn’t even trust my own thoughts. One second, I wanted to throw myself onto Ollie and beg him to erase the last two weeks and take me back to Guildford, where we danced inside his dorm room and laughed under the thin sheet all night long, talking about everything we’d do and the places we’d go. The next, I wanted to run inside my dad’s house and devise a plan to live out the rest of my life alone, possibly singing in the streets for money, so no one could ever have the chance to betray me again.

  Ollie sat in the driver seat wearing the black hoodie and grey joggers I’d seen him in so many times before. Exhaustion consumed his features, he looked even skinnier, and his hair was cut differently, shorter on the sides, but still long on top. Yet, his green eyes were still the same, only now a hint of relief shown through all the ways they’d always spoken to me.

  “I’m getting a hotel close by,” he finally said. “I’d really like it if you stayed with me.” Words stuck in my windpipe, and I needed longer than a breath to think this through. “I understand if you don’t,” he continued. “I know you need time, but I’ll be here in the morning, and I’ll show up every morning on that doorstep until you realize I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Okay,” was all I could gather. Ollie pinched the bridge of his nose, and my heart collapsed into the pit of my stomach. He was trying to be strong, and it tore him up inside. Instead of finding his fiancé, he’d found a girl with a broken spirit. And I didn’t want him to bring me back this time. I needed to find the strength to bring myself back for once, to know I could.