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

by Nicole Fiorina

  “I’m sick. I can’t get out of bed.”

  “Well, what do you want me to do? I’m on my way to meet Lisa at Barre.”

  “Can you tell Ollie I can’t come down? And I need medicine. Do we have medicine somewhere?”

  “There’s Tylenol in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.”

  “And Ollie?”

  “I’ll tell him,” she adjusted the bag, “He’s not allowed in the house, Mia. I don’t feel comfortable with someone I don’t know here.”

  “I know. He won’t come inside the house.”

  She sighed and reached for the doorknob. “I’ll stop to grab soup on my way back.”

  That single gesture was both a shocking revelation and the very thing we both needed to put us in the right direction. Since I’d arrived, I’d followed by her rules, kept to myself, and not once made this time difficult for her, or at least I’d tried. Was this her way of giving a little back in return? “Thank you,” I tried to say, but it came out as a hoarse whisper.

  After Diane left, I’d fumbled with the new charger, trying to stick the end into the phone, and waited impatiently for the phone to drink enough energy to light up. The Apple logo appeared, and I sat up in the bed, both sweating and shivering as my head pounded.

  I immediately texted Ollie.

  Me: I’m sorry.

  His response was instant.

  Ollie: Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Let me take care of you.

  Little did he know, it was my fault. I hadn’t dressed for the weather yesterday, walking around without a jacket, taking pictures.

  Me: You’re not allowed inside the house.

  Ollie: Then come out here, and I’ll take you back to the inn.

  Even if I could get out of bed, Diane was bringing me back soup. As much as I wanted to be with Ollie, I needed to see where this would go with Diane and me. Perhaps this was part of me finding myself again, believing I could right my wrongs.

  Me: I don’t want to.

  Little bubbles appeared, disappeared, and appeared again at the bottom of the feed, then the phone rang in my palm, Ollie’s name jumping across the screen.

  I answered, and Ollie rushed out and said, “I don’t like text anymore.”

  “Diane’s bringing me back soup,” I explained. “This is huge, Ollie. I think she’s coming around.”

  “The ice queen is defrosting? That’s good, love. I want this for you.”

  I forced my feet over the bed and onto the floor, then walked toward the bathroom to find medicine. “Yeah, it’s weird. I guess we’ll see how it goes.”

  “You sound terrible.”

  My eyes landed on a bottle of Tylenol, and I snatched it. “I feel worse.”

  His heavy sigh vibrated through the phone. “I hate this. I hate that you’re sick and there’s nothing I can do,”—his car engine roared— “Each time I drive away from you, it feels so wrong.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Sitting outside the house in the car. Had to turn on the heat.”

  “I’ve been taking pictures.”

  “You have?” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  “Yeah, I missed it. Thank you for leaving me my camera,” I said, then popped a few pills and ran my mouth under the water from the sink to wash them down.

  “You need more film?”

  Shaking my head, I said, “I have a roll left.”

  “I’ll get you more today. I need something to do.”

  “This is weird.”

  “What is?”

  “Talking to you through a phone,” I rolled back into bed and pulled the sheets up over my shoulders, “we’ve never done this before.”

  “I don’t like it, but I’ll take what I can get.” Then he paused, and a drawn-out pause played out between us. “Have you found what you’re looking for?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You don’t have to look alone, love …”

  A week had passed since I’d arrived in the states. It was everything I’d imagined. Thankfully, Mia’s dad lived in a rural area, and I hadn’t crossed many people.

  During the last few days, Mia has been sick, and I hadn’t been able to see her. The phone had been a brilliant idea, giving me a way to at least talk to her during this time. Her court date was in one week. After everything she’d endured, regardless if she decided to mention she was kidnapped or not, the judge should approve the expunging of her record. If not, that was what a lawyer was for. I’d found a reputable one in the states thanks to my agent, Laurie. Mia completed her sentencing. Roger Richardson, the lawyer, stated the worst that could happen was to pay a fine for missing her court date. The check was pretty much already written out.

  “Today is the day. I can feel it in my bones, boy,” the old bell-hopper shimmied in his spot with a grin on his face. For the most part, I’d been keeping to myself, but Bud was here from ten at night until seven in the morning with the spirit of old St. Nick and the looks of Beetlejuice, with an extra kick in his step. He was a chipper fella, taking pride in managing holding the door open for guests and offering to carry bags.

  Last week, the first morning Mia pushed me away, I’d walked across the main road and into a corner store that evening. Being in a foreign place, and my only home within Mia threatened, my once high, durable belief had cracked. I’d purchased a six-pack and had started on it on the walk back. The chilled temperatures couldn’t touch me at the time, and I’d sat over a bench when Bud appeared, whistling an old tune I didn’t recognize at a quarter until midnight. He’d mentioned I looked lost. At first, I hadn’t said anything, until he went on, speaking about the many people who go through the doors lost and come out rejuvenated. That the Old Mill Inn was an R&R, and he’d seen the healing properties with his own eyes, which was comical because Bud was blind in one eye.

  “I better meet Mia before you head back to Dublin.”

  “Surrey,” I correct with a shake of the head. “I’m not Irish, Bud.”

  Bud leaned forward with his hands clasped behind his back. “What’s that?”

  “I’m. Not. Irish!” I repeated loud and slow through a laugh, then pulled an Irish accent from thin air, “Ah, feck it.”

  “You look like you’re going for a run. I like this look better. You don’t look like a hood rat for once. I don’t know what is the fashion these days. Since when did wearing rags become a thing?” Bud pointed out, eyes addressing my attire. I wore new trainers, athletic shorts, and a hoodie with my hair stuffed inside a cap. “You getting the girl out of the house?”

  “That’s the plan.” Mia had finally come down from her room yesterday morning but stayed behind the invisible barrier at the door. Her fever was gone, but her hesitant demeanor indicated she wasn’t ready just yet. “I’m nervous,” I finally admitted, keeping my eyes past Bud and on the turning mill behind him.

  “Ah, a woman will do that to you.”

  “Well, wish me luck.”

  “Luck for the Irish?” His eyes twinkled, and my head fell back. “I know. I heard ya. Surrey. English, boy. But luck is for fools who live inside limits. And you’re a dreamer, and dreamers are worthy of anything but the ordinary. Wish for magic. Love should be nothing less than magical.”

  Grinning, I called out loud so he and the world would hear, “Than wish me this magic you speak of, and that I never go a day without it.”

  “Thatta boy. Now, go get your girl.”

  The smile on my face never faded as I drove up and down the rolling hills of Bushkill. I wasn’t used to the steep mountains with fast, disappearing ledges, and inside my smile was a breath held. What it would generally take the locals fifteen minutes, it took me almost thirty. Cars honked behind me at my slow and cautious speed, veering off the road when a hook appeared to let them pass. Mia’s dad lived in a death trap, but nothing could stop me from making it there. And I made it by eight.

  After knocking, the sound of Diane’s voice echoed from inside the home, calling out for Mia as I clutche
d the bag in my hand. I couldn’t think of the possibility of her saying no to me. Instead, I hung on optimism—and magic.

  The door opened. I lifted my gaze.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  And I got drunk on that one word. It took me to places a six-pack or bottle of whiskey could never dream of. “Hi.”

  “What’s that?” Mia’s gaze assaulted the bag in my hand, and her fingers curved around the edge of the door as if she was prying herself away from me, keeping her feet glued to the laminate flooring beneath her feet.

  “Mia, you’re getting out of that fucking house today. You’re putting this on, and you’re coming with me. I refuse to take anything but a yes.” I held the bag up, internally begging for her to take it. Just take it, Mia.

  “Where are—”

  I took a step forward, and her sentence caught inside her throat. My foot was treading dangerous territory, lodged inside the doorway. I laid my palm over the frame to keep myself back, not having been this close to her since the day she screamed into the mountain air, pulling at every string to prevent myself from grabbing her and throwing her into my car. Mia’s eyes momentarily closed before she looked up at me through long lashes. I wanted to kiss her, and I think she wanted me to. As hard as it was, I took a step back because if I didn’t, I would have. And I wanted it to be her choice. “Put this on, love. I’ll wait for you by the car.”

  Mia grabbed the bag from my hand and closed the door.

  And I couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off my face.

  Ten minutes later, Mia walked out of the house wearing the items I bought her. The Adidas shoes were simple and black and white. She couldn’t learn to defend herself in a pair of Chuck Taylor’s or combat boots. Mia never wore color, and I knew she’d like them and the matching joggers, tee, and hoodie I’d found in the woman’s section of a Dillard’s. Her hair was up in a tight ponytail, showing off her flawless features.

  Together we looked like we were on the same team, and my smile returned as I pushed off the car and straightened my posture.

  Mia pointed a finger at me. “Couples who match are stupid and cheesy,” she said, walking in my direction.

  I cocked my head. “Then I suppose we’re stupid and cheesy.”

  She blew past me toward the passenger side, not giving me a chance to open the door. If today went well, then perhaps tonight could happen. The possibilities were so close, we could reach out, take it, and mold it into any shape we wanted. But today had to go by Mia’s terms.

  The entire way to the restaurant, Mia had yelled at me from the passenger side. “Go faster, Ollie!” “You drive like an old man.” “That lady just flipped you off.” “God forbid I die before we get there.” “That’s it. I’m never letting you behind the wheel again. Ever.”

  But we’d made it to Perkins, and Mia finally seemed at ease once the waitress dropped the large plate of strawberry croissant French toast platter, complete with whipped cream and powdered sugar, in front of her. “Tell me about your first book signing,” she said before shoving a forkful of French toast into her mouth.

  “You knew about that?”

  “Ethan told me about it.”

  “It wasn’t the same without you there. You were missing, and there wasn’t much to celebrate.”

  Mia laid her hand over my wrist. “I’m in awe of you. No matter how mad or angry I was, I couldn’t help but smile, knowing you did it. You deserve this, and people are listening.”

  “Was?” I smirked, “You’re not mad anymore?”

  “It’s fading.” She covered her mouth, certainly not hiding food. Probably her smile. “But I’m mad at some of the reviews though. Some people are rude.”

  I laughed. “Rude, yeah?”

  “Have you looked?”

  “No, I’ve been too busy looking for your arse.” Laurie had mentioned not to look, too, that people could be hateful, and there would always be criticism. It came with the territory. Unfortunately, you couldn’t write for everyone.

  “I’m proud of you,” she finally said, holding her fork to her mouth.

  “I’m proud of you too.”

  Mia smiled. I grinned. And we’d finished our breakfast in serene silence.

  I took her to Bushkill falls afterward. The cold front still stirred in the late April air, but the trees were slowly coming back to life after the harsh winter, painting the canopies green. It was early Sunday morning, and we walked the wooden, manmade decks, and I saw the regret in Mia’s eyes for not bringing her camera.

  “We can always come back,” I reminded her with her gaze fixed on the waterfall.

  It was quiet out here in the open woods aside from the water crashing at the bottom. The only sound within miles was nature. Mist from the falls dusted our faces, and Mia closed her eyes to drink it in. “We are definitely coming back.”

  Taking a chance, I stepped behind her and leaned my hands over the railing, caging her in. I needed to be close to her. “You lived here for how long? And you’ve never been to the waterfalls?”

  “Ten years and not once.” Mia backed into me and let the back of her head rest against my chest. The single gesture permitted me to breathe normally again.

  Passed the falls and hiking trails laid a clearing in the woods. We’d been here for over an hour now, and I had to bring up the main reason why we’d come, dressed in comfortable gym attire. She looked at me curiously as I spun in place with my palms raised at my sides. There was no one around. We were way off the beaten path of the hiking trails, needing privacy for what we were about to do. “I’d say here is perfect.”

  Her brow arched high in the air. “Perfect for what?”

  “Teaching you how to defend yourself.”

  “Ollie …”

  “I debated on taking you to a gym this morning, have some other bloke teach you because I’m not a fighter—”

  “Bullshit.”

  I chuckled. “You think I’m a fighter?”

  “You’ve been fighting for me for two years. You’re a fighter, Ollie.”

  The truth was, I could fight, but never wanted to be the one to fight her. I had no idea if I could actually go through with this, putting my hands on her in ways I never wanted. “Yeah, I suppose when I have the right motivation. Anyway, are you willing to learn?”

  “No.”

  Her reaction set me off, and I stepped forward. “I’ve promised you over and over again that I’d protect you, but I’ve been doing it all wrong. You have to start fighting back, Mia. You said a week ago, cried in my arms how you hated how weak you were, how angry you were, and how you never wanted to depend on anyone. Well, here is your chance,” I raised my palms in the air, “what are you going to do with it?”

  “Is this why you brought me here? To teach me to fight?”

  “To defend yourself,” I corrected her.

  “This is stupid.”

  Mia turned to walk away. “Stupid?” I asked her back, and Mia turned around. “I bet you felt stupid when Ethan grabbed you and knocked you out. When you were tied up for days in that cabin, or should I remind you about the prankster, Mia? Nice nickname by the way, hardly a fucking prankster.”

  “Stop!”

  “How did you feel? Because I feel like a tosser for not teaching you this before. That I didn’t give you every tool necessary to protect yourself when I can’t be there. Every day, it tears me up inside. Every scar on your body is a reminder that I’ve failed you. I’m not doing that this time, Mia. I’m fighting for you, but you have to fight for yourself too.” Mia shoved me in the chest, but I wasn’t backing down. “Are you getting mad, love?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I fucking love you.”

  She went to hit me, and I snatched her wrist, spun her around, and slammed her back into my front, my chest heaving. “You always step with your left foot when you come at me. You’re predictable and slow.”

  “I’m not doing this with you.” She jerked her arm out of my gras
p and walked away, but I grabbed her hips and yanked her back to my chest. I was asking for it, and if I wasn’t careful, this could be grounds to never trust me again. But it was a risk worth taking.

  After a brief struggle, I secured her wrists in one hand and pushed her against a tree. My entire weight pressed against her, and my other palm covered her mouth. Her silent tears fell over my hand, but I couldn’t stop. Not now. I was already too far in. “If someone comes at you from behind,” I continued in her ear, “use that other hand and go for my face—for my eyes.”

  Mia threw her thumb backward and jabbed the soft tissue below my eye, and my first reaction was to take a step back, removing my hand from her mouth, which gave her the chance to turn and face me. Confusion swam inside those glazed brown eyes.

  I nodded. “Let’s keep going.”

  I showed her different scenarios and how to get out of them. With each one, Mia became braver, and the light gradually came back to life in her eyes. It was hard, being this close and keeping my head trained at the task at hand, but she needed this. Mia needed to know she could fight back, that she was strong enough all on her own.

  Returning in front of her, I wrapped my hand around her throat to move on to the next move. Loose strands fell from her ponytail, framing her face. Mia’s rapid pulse in her neck tapped religiously against my grip, her chest rising and falling in short breaths. Her glassy brown eyes locked on mine weakened me, and my hand relaxed from around her throat. I couldn’t do it. Putting my hands on her in this way was hard enough, and I wished I’d just taken her to the gym.

  “Keep going,” she challenged me.

  “I can’t. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

  Mia lifted my hand and placed it back on her throat. “What do I do next?”

  Sucking in a breath, I pinched the bridge of my nose with my other hand.

  “Ollie, I trust you,” Mia whispered with tears in her eyes. “What do I do next?”

  “All right,” I ran a palm down my face and adjusted my hat, “You have a few options. First, you always want to drop your chin to your chest as soon as you feel a hand at your throat. Give them as little access as you can. You could grab my wrist with a free hand and yank it down. You could twist your body, throwing this arm up and over to use your elbow to snap connection. Or you could lift your knee and jab it into my groin. It depends if your attacker is using one hand to your throat, both hands, or has you on the ground.” Mia nodded, and I continued, “Go ahead, try one or a combination. But not the groin. I plan to give you children one day. Three of them, remember?”