He holds me on the couch until I succumb to a fitful sleep.
“Baby, you have to eat something.”
Ben offers a bowl of some mushy looking cereal, but the mere sight of it causes bile to rise in my throat. “No, I can’t.”
“You have to.”
With a hand covering my mouth, I say, “I’ll try later, Ben. Okay?”
He nods, watching me warily, but doesn’t press the issue, thank God. Simply getting dressed and looking presentable is just about all I can do. And I wouldn’t have been able to do that much if Ben hadn’t dragged me out of bed and Sofie hadn’t been there to pour me into a dress.
What does it matter how I look when my heart’s been ripped out of my chest?
The house where I raised my son doesn’t feel like a home anymore. The walls my brother and I finished painting a creamy beige aren’t comforting. They feel hollow and cold. Empty.
“Livvie,” Sofie says softly from the doorway. “It’s time.”
It’s uncharacteristically overcast for the Sunshine State, but the weather feels fitting. No day without Cole should have sun. I know for sure that any light in my life had been robbed from me the moment he went missing. As I stand in front of a room of reporters and policemen, I feel as though I could shatter at any moment.
“Do you need anything?” Ben asks in a low voice as we’re filed into the conference room at the police station to address the press.
“Just hold me. I don’t think I can face this without you.”
His arm is a steel band around my waist. “Don’t worry,” he says, “you won’t have to.”
The sensible black dress Sofie picked out for me clings to my sweat-slicked skin. Not even the slowly whirring fan stirs the thick, muggy air and even though we’re inside, I can smell the coming rain. I concentrate on the sticky feeling of the dress against my flesh, the heat from the camera lights that glare into my eyes, and the pregnant, gray clouds that threaten to burst outside the window. Anything but the real reason why we’re here. Doing so will cause me to break—again—and there’s only so much I can do to hold myself together at this point. The distraction and Ben’s closeness are the only things keeping me together.
I note the familiar faces in the crowd. Jack and Sofie stand front and center. He has his arms around her and is murmuring something in her ear. A surprising sight considering the two of them still can’t stand to be around each other for more than ten minutes at a time. They look good together, like they fit. She leans into him and he holds her steady, and I wonder if maybe there’s hope for them, at least.
Logan is there, too, dressed in his police uniform and scowling magnificently. Beneath his stoic façade, I sense an inner turmoil. I know he blames himself, and I want to tell him that none of this is his fault. There’s no way he could have known any of this would happen. But the words would feel false, because like him, I also blame myself.
My stomach churns as my mind wanders. No matter how much I try to pretend otherwise, this is really happening, but I don’t want to acknowledge it. My brain simply can’t compute that he’s gone. My baby is missing, and I’m helpless. Completely and utterly helpless. There’s a room full of people to attest to the fact that someone broke into the sanctity of my life—again—and threatened my son. Except this time, they were successful.
Beside me, I can feel the tension rolling off Ben in waves. Anyone that doesn’t really know him wouldn’t be able to tell from the outside, but I can see the ghosts in his eyes. The shadows of despair shimmer in their depths and if I weren’t numb from the anxiety medication I had been forced to take, the sight of Ben so shuttered and closed-off again would have brought me to my knees. If I could feel anything, it would be the insidious, sucking pit that is sorrow.
“Only a few more minutes,” he murmurs.
I stare at the police chief as he updates the public on the atrocities committed against my family. He entreats anyone with any knowledge of my baby boy’s whereabouts to come forward and directs the viewing public to a tip line and anonymous website, one I’ve already had Sofie hack and monitor. He ends with a plea to those on social media to share Cole’s photo and information. My heart calls out to every mother in that moment. Every mother who’s ever worried about losing a child—I hope they see this, and I hope they have it in their hearts to spread the word and help me find my baby.
We had so little time together. I glance at Ben, who is still staring into the camera as if to challenge it and everyone watching to defy the chief’s orders. Ben especially has had so little time with Cole. Because of me. I wipe away the traitorous trail of grief from my cheeks. Maybe this is what I deserve for not trying harder. My penance for being a horrible person. I deserve this, but not Ben. Not a man who has spent the last decade of his life fighting for his country, sacrificing his time, mental health and future for something greater than himself. If nothing else, I deserve this pain for lying to Ben and stealing away the precious time that was rightfully his.
I didn’t want to give the kidnapper the satisfaction of seeing my tears, but I had been instructed by the negotiators that it was important to make them realize Cole was a person. That his family cares for him.
Ben must sense the change in my emotional state because he glances away from the cameras and back at me. The look on his face doesn’t change, but he shifts closer to put an arm around my shoulder and pull me into his strong, reassuring side. I press my face into his chest and take a moment to allow his strength to reassure me.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I sniffle. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”
I don’t know what I would have done if I had to face this by myself. I’d been kidding myself to think I could have done this on my own. No matter what the future holds for Ben and me, I’ll always remember he was there for me when I needed him most. Even when he was hurting, too. A far cry from how he responded a year before.
The reassuring scent of him and the strong band of his arm around my waist distracts me from the words I know he’s speaking into the camera. The pleas to the kidnapper to return Cole home unharmed. Outwardly, Ben is steady, determined, but I can feel the tremble that racks his body and the deep, unsteady breathing that belies his calm demeanor.
My silent tears soak his shirt, but I close my eyes and take a cleansing breath. When I look in the camera, I know I’m not as steady as Ben or as easily able to hide my emotions, but I do what I was told to do and speak from the heart. I implore them—whoever ‘them’ may be—to bring my baby home. I hold up his picture.
The cameras cut back to a view of the both of us then back to the police chief. As soon as I’m out of view, I burrow back into Ben’s arms as my body is racked with shudders of fear and shock. The adrenaline I experienced since waking up to realize Cole was still missing is finally abating. I can feel the lethargy stealing over me. I sink more heavily into his side, using his strength to keep me upright.
Once the chief declares the press release concluded, the reporters start filing out and we’re urged back down the hallway to the sanctity of one of the conference rooms. Perhaps sensing our need for a few minutes alone, the officer escorting us excuses himself with a few quiet words and closes the door behind him.
I focus on the sound of the whirring air conditioner and hug my arms around my waist as if that would contain the roiling pressure building in my chest threatening to break free. I don’t know how to process anything that’s happened.
My father, the shooting and now this?
From my position in front of the window I watch as the flock of reporters disperses and the blue-black clouds above finally break. Thick drops pelt the metal roof of the police station and a darkness descends, painting everything a dull gray.
Hands grip my sides and turn me away from the window. I look up into Ben’s face and see my grief reflected in his eyes. Until that moment, I’d been able to hold everything back. Having practically raised myself prior to my teenage years, I was used to taking
care of everything for myself. That modus operandi continued even after the Walkers adopted me, as I never wanted to be a burden on their family.
But seeing a man like Ben vulnerable and overcome with emotion touched something inside of me that I’d kept hidden away for far too long. I feel my face crumple and run hot with fresh tears. Ben’s mask of indifference dissolves and he jerks me into his chest, his arms going around me and holding me closer. His comforting scent surrounds me and his chin comes to rest on my shoulder. The ragged sound of his breathing and the rapid beat of his heart fills my ears.
A keening wail bursts from my chest and I scream into the rapidly dampening cloth of his shirt. My fingers find their way under the material of his shirt, and I grip the warm skin of his back to anchor me through my sobs.
Ben curves over me as if to absorb my pain into himself. His hands rub across my back as he relays soft words of consolation. I can’t make out anything he’s saying, but I can hear the rumble of it from his chest and the gesture soothes me.
I almost can’t handle the overwhelming sense of despair and emptiness. There are so many things I wish I could change, so many mistakes I’d made and so many things we’d yet to experience. Now, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make up for them or experience them. Not only did this person steal my flesh and blood, but they also stole my future happiness. Without my son, there is no happiness.
With the spending of my tears into Ben’s shirt, I also cry away the last of my energy. The past twenty-four hours had only been one horror after another. Combined with lack of sleep and food, I barely have the energy to hold up my head once the first wave of grief passes.
Ben smooths a path up my back and neck to cup my face in his big, warm hands. My watery eyes reach his, and he dips his head to kiss the trail of tears away from my cheeks. His tender act warms me from the inside out, chasing away the chill that today’s trauma has wrought.
No one has ever made me feel as at home as Ben does. In truth, he ruined me for anyone else when I first laid eyes on him at thirteen; I was just too scared to take the chance on him. None of our past matters now. The only thing that matters is how safe his arms make me feel.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice warbled and scratchy. “I didn’t mean to break down all over you.”
“Anytime, baby.” I can hear the emotion in his voice and my arms constrict around his body, pulling him closer.
“I always seem to ruin your shirts.”
“I don’t care about the damn shirt,” he says gruffly.
Then he embraces me, assuaging the hurt in one of the only ways he knows how. His touch is insistent, focused. He rubs his hands with a practiced precision that has my mind going fuzzy and blank, which is a welcome turn from the blind panic I’ve been in all day. I accept his comfort greedily, taking everything he has to offer.
We stay there, locked in each other’s arms, until someone knocks quietly at the door. Ben steadies me with a firm grip on my elbows, his eyes searching mine.
“We’ll find him. I promise you that on my life, Olivia.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I press a kiss against his chest and am reminded of all the terrible things he’s had to endure over the years. The loss of friends, men who were akin to brothers, innocent families he’s had to watch be tortured and ruthlessly murdered. The many times he’s had to fight for his life. He’s spent a lifetime training for atrocities like this. He hides his inner turmoil well, as he was taught to do. I look up, and he rubs a hand over my hair.
If there’s anyone I can trust now, I know it’s him. We’ll get through this together.
Logan and Ben pow-wow with the police while Sofie makes it her number one priority to get me home, fed, and keep me relatively sane as we do the only thing we can do: wait. She even allows Jack to tag along, though the tension between them is so thick, I still notice it even through my stupor.
As we pull in the drive to my cute two-story bungalow, I wonder if this little house I called home for so long, the place I’d hoped to raise Cole in, would ever feel safe again. An ominous weight settles over my chest as I unlock the front door and swing it open to an empty room.
The bouncer is still a mess of parts on my living room floor and the scent of the dinner I’d burnt lingers in the air. Hank winds around my legs, even more anxious than normal, so I let him out the back to work off the nervous energy.
Sofie and Jack busy themselves with straightening the mess in the living room while I plop down on the couch, unable to do more than watch listlessly as they clean. They make every effort not to pay any mind to one another, but even I can see they’re both forcing themselves not to watch each other.
Jack takes a load of toys upstairs to the nursery, and Sofie plops down beside me after grabbing my computer from the coffee table.
“What are you doing?” I ask from my curled position on the other end of the couch.
“The police chief said we should share this everywhere we can. I’m going to put a call-out to every friend, family member and classmate on all twenty-three of my friends’ lists. I’ll do the same on yours.” She looks at me, her face illuminated by the glow of the computer screen. “I’ll hack into Jack’s and do his, too. Maybe even spread it to some of my friends to do their thing to make sure the news coverage is spread far and wide.”
For as long as I’ve known her, Sofie has been brilliant, if not a little nerdy. She can do things with computers that make my already-limited skills look like child’s play. In fact, after high school graduation, she went on to university to study things I couldn't even begin to understand. Jack always used to say she could take over the world with the way she knew how to handle men and a computer.
Jack returns with a plate of sandwiches and a big glass of sweet tea. He sets them on the table beside me and says, “Eat.”
There’s nothing I want to do less than eat, but I know I haven’t had anything in twenty-four hours and I have to keep up my strength, so I do as he asks. I choke down bites of it with the refreshing glass of tea as Sofie clicks away on her computer and Jack scowls at her from his perch on the recliner.
With each hour that passes, the sucking hole in my stomach grows until I feel like I’m going to be swallowed by it. When darkness falls, Sofie has exhausted all of her resources and Jack has taken to pacing the length of the couch as we wait for word from Ben and Logan.
I almost jump out of my seat when I hear the lock clicking on the front door and Logan’s smooth voice trailing through. I immediately jump to my feet and race to the door, hope surging to my throat.
The look on Ben’s face tells me all I need to know, however, and my knees just go out, making me fall against him. I sense Logan heading to the living room, presumably to tell the others the news—or lack thereof, rather. Ben murmurs to Logan to let the others know they can head home until tomorrow.
Ben gathers me close to his chest like he did in the conference room, only this time, I’m too raw to cry out my pain. I feel like I have nothing left. I’m completely empty inside. As the others talk to Logan, Ben leads me up the stairs to my master bathroom.
His once light-hearted face is completely somber as he undresses me. When I am standing before him naked, he turns on the shower and adjusts the temperature. I watch listlessly as he sheds his own clothes, too numb to react in any way whatsoever.
He pulls me underneath the warm spray and I mold to him, drawing what strength I can from his embrace. The water sluices over us both, washing away the grime and sweat. We take turns lathering up a washcloth and rubbing it over each other.
Ben still hasn’t said a word, but I’m starting to learn that this new Ben doesn’t need to talk a lot to get his point across. Regardless, what little energy I had was completely sucked out of me when Cole wasn’t with him when he came home. I slip into one of his shirts that somehow showed up mixed in my laundry. The smell manages to calm my jangled nerves somewhat. I brush my teeth as he tugs on a pair of briefs.
He
slides into the covers and holds them open for me. I join him, snuggling into his shoulder and plastering my body against his. I fall asleep to the cadence of his heartbeat with the hope that the next day will bring good news.
WATCHING OLIVIA SHUFFLE around her house like the life has been sucked out of her hurts just as much as not knowing where our son is. Every other day, I woke up wrapped in her scent, wrapped in her. Her legs and arms twined around me like she was afraid I would somehow disappear again.
But not today.
Today, I woke to a cold, empty bed, and as I watch her make half-hearted attempts at conversation, I feel the same emptiness clawing at my chest. Guilt burns heavy and hot in my stomach.
I find her in the downstairs bath, hands sheathed in yellow rubber gloves as she scrubs the tub with a sponge. “Baby, why don’t you sit down for a while?”
She doesn’t look up at me when she responds, “No, I’m okay. I need to keep busy or I’m going to go crazy waiting. Has Sofie heard anything?”
“No, not yet.” I hate this helpless feeling. I’ve been running from feeling like this ever again.
“Okay. I’m almost done here, I promise.”
She doesn’t notice when I leave. Yesterday, she was vulnerable, open to using me to support her when she was breaking down, but her defenses have shored up overnight. Her self-reliance is something I’ve grown to love and admire about her over the years. As someone who has had a stable, supportive family, I can’t imagine what it was like to grow up without one, then have what little you did have ripped away from you. Time and time again. And now this.
My phone chirps and I answer it automatically, “Hart.”
“It’s Logan. No updates, but I just wanted to check on the both of you. How are you holding up?”
I glance back at the open door of the bathroom and see Olivia now scrubbing the grout. “As good as we can, considering. Did you check on what I asked?” A weighted silence answers me on the other end. I grip the bridge of my nose with two fingers. When he doesn’t respond, I prompt, “Logan?”
Warrior (First to Fight #1) Page 19