Saving Us: A novel of love and friendship (Northern University Book 1)

by Wendy Million

  His shock and despair must be mirrored in my expression.

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “Why do you have her? What happened to her?”

  “I don’t know what happened other than how it looks.” Clay steered the car along the deserted roads to the hospital. “I was walking home from the bar, and I decided to take a shortcut through an alley. I didn’t realize it was her at first. Maybe a homeless person or a drunk sleeping it off? But”—he swallowed—“when I got closer, I could hear her moaning in pain.”

  “She was in an alley?” My voice was a stunned whisper.

  He nodded, and his gaze flicked to mine in the rearview mirror. “When I approached her, she recognized me. I didn’t know it was her at first.” Clay frowned. “She didn’t want an ambulance or the police. She wanted you. I carried her to my house.” He mumbled, “I’m not even sure she understands we’re going to the hospital.”

  “We have to take her to the hospital.” I searched my pockets for my phone. I closed my eyes. It had to be on my floor. It’d been in my pants’ pocket when we returned from the bar. “Did you try to call me?”

  He grimaced. “Several times. I was hoping you could meet us at the hospital. When I suggested that, Annika got frantic. So, I did the only thing I could think of.”

  I nodded. “You did the right thing.” Without my phone, I couldn’t contact Sebastian. I didn’t have his number memorized. My life’s details existed in my phone, not in my brain.

  My dad.

  “Can I borrow your phone?” I asked. “You’re right about my dad. Mine is at the house.” I grabbed his device when he passed it between the seats.

  From memory, I punched in my home number with shaking hands. My dad had enough seniority now to work day shifts. A call at four in the morning would freak him out, but waiting until later would piss him off. If Annika was as bad as I thought she was, I needed someone to help navigate this.

  “Hello?” My dad’s voice was alert.

  “Dad?” I asked, even though I knew it was him. My voice cracked; the sound of his deep timbre enough to snap me into the reality of this situation. “I need you.”

  “Address?” His frantic scramble for a pen was clear even over the phone.

  “Lakeshore Hospital.” I caught Clay’s eyes in the mirror for confirmation.

  “You or someone else?” Dad asked. He’d switched to cop mode.

  “Annika. It’s Annika, Dad.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as humanly possible.” Just before he clicked off, he said, “I love you, Natalie Ann. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” My voice caught on a sob.

  I hung up and passed the phone through the seats to Clay.

  We drove in silence the rest of the way. Annika didn’t say anything about the phone call. I wasn’t sure if she was awake. Her even breathing made me think she was sleeping. If her wounds were as painful as they looked, it was for the best.

  Clay found a spot outside the emergency entrance. He turned to examine me over the seats. “I’ll go inside and find out if I can get a wheelchair. It was a long walk from the alley to my house carrying her. I doubt I could get her in the doors.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, wondering if my dad had already left our house. It would take him a couple hours to get here. He should miss most of the traffic at this time of day.

  Clay returned with a wheelchair quicker than I expected. We both worked together to get Annika out of the backseat, shifting our grip every time she moaned in pain.

  Once she was in the chair, Clay pushed her into the hospital through the emergency entrance doors while I kept my hand close to her arm. In the bright hospital lights, it was hard to tell where the blood had come from. A head injury. There was some kind of facial injury. The wounds on her arms might be defensive.

  Defensive. My stomach rolled.

  Nurses came forward, their faces neutral as they steered us to a room, bypassing the line of people waiting.

  Outside the door, a nurse touched my arm. “Sexual assault kit?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “She should be checked for anything and everything. My friend found her in an alley.”

  “That would be the crime scene,” the nurse said gently. “You should have called the police.”

  “She didn’t want them.”

  The nurse frowned. “Do you think she knew her attacker?”

  I hadn’t even gotten that far. I should have. “Yeah,” I said. “It’s possible.”

  Clay came out of the room. “Annika doesn’t want either of us in there while they check her over. I asked if she was sure she didn’t want you. She said she is.”

  I peered through the small window while they got Annika settled on the bed. Then the curtain was pulled around. The nurse who had been talking to me yanked open the door and disappeared inside.

  “Should we call Annika’s parents?” Clay asked.

  “Oh, God. Why am I the worst? I didn’t even consider that.” I turned wide eyes to Clay.

  “Do you have their number?”

  “Annika didn’t have her phone?”

  “No purse, no keys, no phone,” Clay said. “She wouldn’t say what happened. A mugging, a sexual assault, or…”

  “Johnny.” I finished for him.

  “He did cross my mind,” he admitted. “Why else would she insist she didn’t want you to bring Sebastian? She really didn’t want him involved.”

  The nurse popped her head out of the curtain. “We’re going to be awhile. If you take a seat in the waiting room, we’ll come get you when she’s ready to see one or both of you.”

  We wandered to the waiting room in silence.

  After a few minutes, Clay said, “Do you want me to go to your place and get your cell? We should call her parents.”

  Sebastian was probably still at my house. I passed Clay my house keys, just in case. “You don’t mind?”

  “No, not really. If Annika wants anyone, it’ll be you.” He took my keys. “Where’s your phone?”

  “Might be in my pants from last night, might be somewhere else. If Sebastian is there, you can ask him, or you can call it if he’s left.” The level of awkwardness was going to be astronomical.

  “Right.” He ran his hand through his hair.

  “I’m sorry. I realize this is beyond awkward.”

  “Considering how Annika looks, a little awkwardness is the least of our worries.”

  He was right. Things might never be the same again for any of us.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  When my dad entered the emergency room through the sliding doors, I checked the clock on the wall. He’d broken so many speeding laws to get to me.

  “Dad,” I called, rising from my seat in the waiting area.

  He headed toward me, and in that moment, I wasn’t sure I’d ever loved him more. His familiar stride, his concerned expression, and his calm presence in the center of a disaster soothed me before he said a word. He was here. We’d figure this out. He enveloped me in a hug, squeezing me tight and rubbing my back.

  When he released me, he framed my cheeks with his large hands. “What information do you have?”

  “Clay found her in an alley.” Surprise flickered across my father’s expression. “She’s been beaten. Possibly sexually assaulted. She didn’t have her tights or shoes. Her phone, keys, and purse are missing.”

  “Did he call the cops? Are they there now?” He took a small pad of paper and a pen out of his rear pocket. Without looking up, he scribbled notes.

  “No.” That wasn’t going to go over well with Dad. No matter what Annika said at the scene, I would have called. But I would have needed help. I couldn’t have carried her like Clay.

  “No?” Dad glanced up from his paper.

  “Clay carried her to his car, picked me up, and then we came to the hospital together. Clay said Annika insisted on no cops.”

  My dad frowned and tapped his pen on the sheet of notes. “Is it poss
ible she knew the person that did this?”

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  “The quarterback?” Dad made another scribble. “Name?”

  “Johnny McDade,” I said. “But I don’t understand why she’d be in an alley if it was him.”

  My dad’s blue gaze flicked to me and then to his record. He took a deep breath. “All kinds of reasons she could have been there. We’ll start asking questions and see how this shakes out. Annika doesn’t want cops, but we need them. This has to be documented whether she wants to move forward or not.”

  I squeezed my hands together.

  “Where’s Clay?” He scanned the people in the waiting room.

  “I left my phone at my house. He went to get it. We thought we should call Annika’s parents.”

  “Good idea.” My dad nodded. “Where’s your boyfriend? Sebastian, was it?”

  I took a deep breath. “Annika didn’t want him to come.”

  Dad’s frown deepened. “Sounds as though the perpetrator might have been this Johnny kid. Would Sebastian have information?”

  Heat rose in my cheeks. “No.”

  I’d gone from being so happy with Sebastian a few hours ago to wondering if our relationship would survive Annika’s assault. The football team meant more to him than anything. On the field, Johnny was the sun, the brightest star. His connection to Johnny was his ticket to the NFL.

  “I’ll see what I can find out. Make calls to the local police. Get things rolling.” Dad slipped his pen and paper into his rear pocket. He removed his phone and wandered along the hall.

  Just as my dad disappeared, Clay came through the sliding door. He passed me my phone.

  “Was Sebastian still there?” I wasn’t sure what I wanted the answer to be.

  Clay gave a curt nod. “Yeah, he was leaving.” He hesitated. “Said he had an emergency team meeting at six.”

  It was almost six-thirty now according to my home screen. What coach called a team meeting—emergency or not—this early? Had the coach heard what happened? Or was Johnny rallying the team?

  Anxiety stirred my stomach, and bile shot into my throat. I held up a hand to Clay and ran to the bathroom. I made it into a stall before my dinner came tumbling out. On my knees, I hovered over the bowl, dry heaving. Tears pricked at my eyelids. When there was nothing left, I wiped my mouth with toilet paper.

  At the sink, I braced my hands on the ledge and stared at myself in the mirror. Closing my eyes, I remembered the look on Sebastian’s face last night as he’d told me he loved me.

  Would love be enough?

  I washed my hands, rinsed out my mouth, and opened the door to the waiting room. Clay was there, arms open, and I stepped in. He squeezed me tight.

  “You’re thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked.

  I nodded. “It can’t be coincidence for the coach to summon them to an emergency meeting the morning Annika is found badly beaten.”

  I cradled my phone and it buzzed. A text from Sebastian. The words I love you were visible through a blur of tears. When they fell, I brushed them away with my thumb.

  “I’m going outside to call her parents. Back in a minute.”

  Clay took a seat in a row of empty chairs. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

  I clicked on Sebastian’s message. A few hours ago, I was so happy.

  What did I say in response? I loved him too, but I couldn’t make myself type a response. Instead, I scrolled through my contacts until I found Annika’s parents. I’d only met them a handful of times.

  The phone rang forever before a female voice answered.

  “Mrs. Babu?” I asked.

  “Yes. It’s very early. Whatever you are selling, I don’t want it,” she said.

  “Wait!” I called before she could hang up. “Mrs. Babu, it’s Natalie. Annika’s roommate.”

  “Natalie?”

  “Annika’s been hurt. She’s at Lakeshore Hospital,” I said in a rush. “She’s going to be fine. But it’s serious.”

  “We’re coming,” she said. “Tell Annika we’re coming.” Her voice was thick with tears.

  The dial tone buzzed in my ear. She hadn’t even asked what happened. Was it impressive that it didn’t matter or worrying? Had Annika told her mother something she hadn’t told me?

  The sun lit the horizon, and I opened my message again. I ran my finger across the three words and hit reply.

  “Nat?” My dad came out of the sliding doors. “Annika wants to see you.” He looped his arm over my shoulders and squeezed.

  I clicked my phone closed. “Are the cops here?” There were cruisers parked at the side entrance.

  “Yeah. They let me sit in while they questioned her,” he said. “She’s doing much better than I would have expected given her injuries.”

  “Did she say what happened? Who did it?” We walked down the hall to her room.

  His brow creased. “She says she doesn’t remember. It’s a blur.” He met my gaze, anticipating my question. “It’s possible, Nat. It’s possible.”

  Outside Annika’s door, I placed my fingers on the handle and took a deep breath.

  “Supportive,” my dad reminded me.

  “I know, Dad. No judgment. I listen. I believe.” The words I’d heard from him at the dinner table offered a guiding comfort. “My job isn’t to establish truth.”

  Lines appeared at the edges of his eyes when he smiled. “So you did listen.”

  “Far too many times.” My voice thickened. “But right about now, I’m grateful.”

  “Keep your phone handy. I’m going to tag along with the officers for as long as they’ll let me,” my dad said. “Right now, they’re fine with me hanging around. That could change at any point.”

  I gave him a quick hug. “Thanks, Dad.”

  Before I opened the door to Annika’s room, two male police officers appeared in the hallway and passed my dad a coffee. The three of them wandered toward the waiting room, chatting. I suspected they’d be talking to Clay next, maybe heading to the alley where he’d found her to search for any clues.

  When I entered the room, the curtain was still pulled tight around the bed.

  “Nat?” Annika’s voice was distorted.

  I drew back the edge of the curtain and stepped into her cocoon. They’d cleaned her. Her black eyes were now apparent, a blast of purple across her brown cheekbones. Her left cheek was swollen and had a gash, as though something sliced it. External scars were the least of her worries, but I hoped her face healed properly. The exterior reminder might make it harder for her interior to heal.

  “Did they give you medicine for the pain?”

  Annika nodded.

  I perched on the edge of her bed, taking her palm in mine. When our gazes connected, tears trickled down her face.

  “I don’t remember anything.” Annika didn’t bother to wipe away her tears. “I want to remember.”

  Words failed me. I couldn’t imagine waking up in her situation and having no recollection of what happened.

  “Johnny’s not here?” Her eyes glittered with hope.

  I pursed my lips and shook my head.

  “Would someone have told him I was here?” Her voice was a whisper, and more tears ran in rivers along her cheeks.

  I hesitated. “Sebastian knows you’re here. Not why, but…”

  Her forehead creased, and a gut-wrenching sob emerged. I enveloped her, trying not to hit on any of her painful wounds.

  “Oh, Annika,” I said. “I am so sorry this happened to you. You cry. You cry as much as you need to.” I rubbed her shoulder blade with a light touch, and she leaned into me.

  “I don’t understand.” She choked out between sobs. “What did I do? Why would he do this?”

  “If it was Johnny,” I said, “this wasn’t your fault. Nothing, and I mean this, nothing you could ever say or do to someone justifies what’s happened to you.” I drew back, so we made eye contact. “Whoever did this—they’re responsible, not you.”

&nb
sp; She twisted a tissue. “But if it was Johnny, he wouldn’t have done it without a good reason.”

  Her words were stones dropping into a well. “He’s hurt you before?”

  She stared out the window. “Sometimes,” she whispered. “Only when we fought. Only when he had a reason.”

  My gut reaction was to pounce, to rage at Johnny, at her for not saying anything. I swallowed it. A bitter pill. Did she tell the police about Johnny’s pattern of violence? My father’s words rang in my ears. Supportive. I rubbed her back and didn’t pry.

  “I called your parents,” I said. “They’re on their way.”

  Annika pointed to the tissue box, and I snatched a couple to pass them to her. “If my mom will be here, you might as well give me the box,” Annika said. “Knowing she’ll see me like this…” More tears trickled, an endless flood.

  “She said ‘we’re coming,’ so I’m sure your dad’ll be here too.” I tried to make eye contact. “She didn’t even ask what happened.”

  Her chest rose on another sob, but she swallowed it. “She knew.”

  I grabbed Annika’s hand without the wad of tissues and waited for her to continue. My dad’s words kept surfacing. The urge to rage at anyone who knew this was a possibility and didn’t do everything to stop it made me livid. But I had to include myself in that group, didn’t I? He wormed his way so deep into her head and her heart, she couldn’t see straight.

  “At Thanksgiving,” Annika started and then paused again to collect herself. “We were trying on clothes at a store. She passed me something through the curtain in the change rooms and saw my bruises.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She begged me to leave him.” Her eyes brimmed with tears, and her voice was thick with emotion. “She had an abusive boyfriend before my dad, I guess.”

  I searched her face. “Why didn’t you leave? I would have helped you.”

  She dabbed at her tears. “My dad was so excited at Thanksgiving. Johnny McDade was interested in me.” She shook her head slowly from side to side as though the motion hurt her. “I just—I liked being special. And then when we weren’t fighting, we got along really well. So well. We had a lot in common. I kept thinking the rest of it would get better.”