Rescue (Ransom Book 5)

by Rachel Schurig

  “When you put it like that, I’m sure you owe me several.”

  He laughs, pushing my shoulders. “We’ll start with this one. Go have fun. Enjoy your day. And tell Haylee I said hi.” Then he turns to go, leaving me still grinning like a fool, this time for totally different reasons.

  “Thanks, Cash!” I call after him, and he responds by flipping me off over his shoulder. Typical. I’m still laughing when I pull out my phone to call Haylee back.

  ***

  “Isn’t this illegal?” Haylee asks many hours later as we sit on the embankment next to the river.

  “What?” I ask, and she holds up our bottle of wine.

  “They don’t have open container rules over here?”

  “I actually have no idea.” I grab the bottle from her and take a swig. “But I’m willing to risk it.”

  She grins, reaching for the wine. “Look at you, Mister Reckless Behavior.”

  I laugh, leaning back on my elbows to look up at the stars, dim in the light of the city around us. “I just figure you can’t have bread and cheese by the Seine in Paris without wine.”

  “It does add to the experience,” she says, mimicking my pose. Her fingers are close enough to reach over and touch, so I do, loving the barely audible sigh that escapes her lips at the contact. I wonder if that will ever get old, our physical reaction to each other. It’s hard to imagine.

  “This was a good day,” she says quietly. “Remind me to thank Cash.”

  “Oh, he’ll remind you. It’s not that he never does anything nice for someone else, but when he does, he thinks he should brag about it for months. Years, sometimes.”

  She laughs softly. “I’ll be happy to thank him for this. It was perfect.”

  Since my premature escape from band responsibilities, we’d enjoyed a few hours of catching up in my hotel room before embarking on an afternoon of lazy wandering around the city. We’d been to Notre Dame, walking through the nearly silent cathedral, the soaring ceilings and gorgeous stained glass stretching far overhead. After that we’d wandered through the maze-like bookshelves in the English-language Shakespeare and Company bookstore, Haylee humoring me for a good twenty minutes before declaring herself too bored to breathe.

  By then it was getting dark, so we grabbed a nighttime cruise down the Seine, where we could see the city all lit up around us. The views of the Eiffel tower from the boat were pretty perfect, and I kissed her as we passed underneath. She called me cheesy and romantic, but she smiled while she said it, and that was good enough for me.

  She sighs, the sound drawing me from my thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she says quickly. “Just thinking about how close we are to the end of the tour.”

  I frown, not wanting to think about that. After we finish in Paris, we’ll head to Amsterdam and Berlin before going to London for four shows. And that will be it. We’ll be heading home so Daisy can be near her doctors as she heads into the last weeks of her pregnancy. And Haylee will…

  “Let’s not think about that yet,” I say. “We still have two weeks.”

  “True. And I am really excited for London. Think we’ll go to Abbey Road?”

  I sling an arm around her shoulder. “I think we’ll do whatever you want.”

  She nestles her head against my chest a little. “I like the sound of that.” We sit like that for a few minutes, watching the water rippling in the light from a streetlamp above. “We’ve done so much since we got to Stockholm,” she says. “I kind of can’t believe I’ve been to all these places.”

  “Just imagine how much better you’ll be at Never Have I Ever.”

  She sits up straight and turns to me, her eyes glittering. “What about you, buddy? You haven’t upped your Never Have I Ever abilities at all.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She waves her hands as if to encompass Paris around us. “You’ve already been here. You’ve been to all these places! You haven’t added any brand new experiences since you left the States.”

  I let my gaze run down her body. “I’ve added a few new experiences.”

  She rolls her eyes, smacking my arm. “I highly doubt sleeping with Haylee Hunt is going to be a question. You need to have new universal experiences.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Really. And what did you have in mind?”

  She thinks for a moment, and then a grin stretches across her face. Her eyes travel from my face to the water and back again. “I recall you not taking candy for the skinny-dipping question.”

  “We’re not skinny-dipping here.”

  “Why not?” She waggles her eyebrows. “Scared?”

  “Of swimming in this river? Yes, I am, actually. It’s deep, and it’s dark, and I have no idea what kind of current there is. And there are boats to maul us with their motors.”

  Her face falls. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “Plus, we could get arrested.”

  “There’s that…” She watches the water for a bit before her face lights up. “But we could still go skinny-dipping.”

  “What about—”

  “Not here.” She jumps up and grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet.

  “Where are we going?” I’m a little nervous. I shouldn’t have brought up that damn game.

  “We’re going back to the hotel.”

  I breathe out a sigh of relief. “So we can go skinny-dipping in the shower?”

  She laughs, the sound more than a little wicked, and my relief fades a little. Maybe this whole hanging out with someone more adventurous than me wasn’t such a positive thing after all. “No. In the pool.”

  ***

  After a perfect day with Haylee—including skinny-dipping in the hotel pool, which we miraculously didn’t get caught doing—we fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

  And that night, I dream of my mother.

  The dream is familiar to me, one I’ve had a hundred times before. As soon as I see where I’m standing—the middle of our living room back in California, the green carpet scratchy beneath my feet—I know what this dream will entail. It’s always the same.

  I’m in the living room, playing with one of those ball and paddle toys, the kind where the rubber ball is attached with a string and you have to keep it bouncing on the top of the paddle. It’s Cash’s toy, and I know he’ll be mad at me if he sees me playing with it, but he’s out in the woods behind our house with the other boys. I was going to go with them, but I knew Cash would want to catch frogs in the creek, and I hate catching frogs. Not because they’re gross or scary—I actually really like frogs. Besides, I’m big now, and only babies are scared of stuff like that. But I hate catching them, hate taking them from their cozy homes, hate scaring them. I know my brothers would never hurt a frog—they don’t do things like that. But whenever I look down at their little faces, their eyes wide and blinking, their chests moving so fast, I just know that they’re scared. And it makes my tummy hurt.

  Besides, Mom is in a good mood today, and I thought if I stayed with her we might get to do something fun. Maybe she would take me on one of her errands, to the bank or the grocery store or some other boring adult place. But it wouldn’t be boring because I’d be with Mom. I’m the only one she ever takes with her on her errands. The other boys are too loud—I’m the only one who can be quiet.

  She comes out into the living room, her purse in her hand, and I stand, excited. She looks over at me, and she’s not smiling. Her eyes are kind of wide, her hair coming out of its ponytail. Her hands are shaking. For a minute I think I should sit back down, play with Cash’s toy. Or maybe run out to the woods and find my brothers. Because I don’t really like how sad Mom looks right now. And I don’t like how she’s not saying anything.

  But then she holds out her hand to me, and I go right to her. No matter how many times I have this dream, I always go right to her. Even as my stomach tightens in fear, even as my conscious brain argues that I do not want to go, I do not want to get in that car,
still I go with her. Every time.

  I jerk awake, my heart pounding, my body drenched in sweat. It’s dark in the room, and for a moment I can’t breathe.

  “Lennon?”

  I jerk again at the sound of Haylee’s voice. I’ve forgotten all about her, have forgotten she stayed with me. I try to focus on what happened here in this bed only a few short hours ago, try to focus on the happiness I felt, on how right it was. Anything to escape from the dark, terrified something that seems to claw at my chest, wanting to get out.

  “Lennon?” She’s more awake now, sitting up in the dark, reaching for me. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I manage, but my voice is strained. Shaking.

  “Did you have a nightmare?” Haylee leans over me, brushing hair from my face, and I can see her eyes in the darkness. They’re wide, a little afraid. “You’re freezing cold.”

  Funny, I felt so hot.

  But then, I always feel hot in that dream. Not just warm, not just uncomfortable. I feel hot—burning hot.

  “Lennon?”

  “I’m fine,” I say again, my voice a little more normal. “Nightmare.”

  “I thought so.” She kisses my forehead, brushes my hair back some more. I love her so much at night, in the darkness. All the hard, rock-chick walls come down and reveal something softer. Something sweeter. She kisses my head again, her long fingers rubbing lightly across my shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”

  What would I even say? How could I explain to her the way the dream filled me with such terror when absolutely nothing had happened? My mom had offered to take me out on her errands. Real scary. “No, it’s fine.”

  Her fingers move up to my head now, the motion comforting. Almost maternal. “You’re okay now.”

  You’re okay now. Her words hit me with all the force of a freight train, and I’m sitting up straight in bed, hardly noticing that I’ve pushed her away. There’s no air left in this room, and my skin feels so hot again, as hot as if it’s burning, and I can’t breathe.

  Because for the first time in my life I remember more of that dream. It didn’t end when I took my mom’s hand and left the house.

  And I’m pretty sure it isn’t just a dream.

  “Lennon?” Haylee sounds scared now, terrified really, and I feel her hands at my back, reaching for me. There’s a terrible gasping noise in the room, and it takes me a minute to realize that it’s coming from me. Haylee jumps from the bed, and a few seconds later I hear the unmistakable sound of the window opening, and then there’s a sudden gust of cool air, right across my face.

  I breathe in as deeply as I can, the air like water to a dying man. But it’s not enough. I stumble from the bed, tangled in the sheets, and go straight to the window, sucking in the fresh air.

  “Lennon.” Haylee’s voice is still scared, but there’s something else there too, some note of authority. “Do your breathing exercises.”

  Funny, I had no idea she knew about my exercises. I try to remember what Daisy told me, how she managed her panic attacks. In through the nose, hold. Out, slowly. Repeat. It seems impossible to take slow, even breaths when I am sure I am suffocating. Then Haylee’s hand is on my back again, her fingers cold against my burning skin, and I find I can focus a little better. In through the nose, hold. Out, slowly. Repeat.

  I don’t know how long I stand there, trying to get my breathing under control. I know that when I finally step away from the window, far from being hot, I’m shivering. Then I look up and see Haylee, still standing inches from me, dressed only in my T-shirt. Her entire body is shaking.

  “Shit,” I mutter, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her to the bed. I fling the quilt around her, rubbing her arms through the thick material. “You shouldn’t have stayed by the window like that.”

  “As if I was going to leave you,” she says, her teeth chattering.

  A sick wave of shame rushes through me. I did this to her. Because that’s what you do, a voice in my head whispers, quiet and dangerous. You make things worse for people.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, determined to ignore those words. It’s a common enough refrain in my head, and certainly nothing good has ever come from indulging it.

  “You don’t have to be sorry,” she says, and she seems to be warming up because she’s no longer visibly shaking. “Lennon, what just happened?”

  “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I had a nightmare.”

  “But you freaked out after you woke up.”

  “I know.” I have no idea how to explain what I just experienced. What I was pretty sure I remembered about that day my brothers went to catch frogs. Because it didn’t make any sense. Why would my mother taking me to run an errand end that way? Me in a hospital bed, my dad crying and saying the same words over and over. You’re okay now.

  I was never in the hospital as a little kid. Never had my tonsils out or broke a bone or any of the other dumb kid stuff that happened to my brothers. I’ve spent my fair share of nights in a hospital bed in the last few years, the product of my own stupid decisions, but never as a kid.

  Right?

  “Lennon?” Haylee asks, shaking my shoulder a little. “I’m scared. Should I call Reed—?”

  “No.”

  “Your dad? I mean, has this ever happened before?”

  Has it happened before? Have little bits and pieces of dreams come back to me in those few suspended moments between sleep and waking? Is that what I was feeling all those times something seemed to be fighting to break loose in my brain? Were those memories?

  “That dream really shook me up,” I say, forcing my voice to be calm. Because if I let myself get upset right now, if I let myself think about this, I’m going to lose it.

  If those are memories trying to break through, I know only one thing—I don’t want to remember.

  “I think I wasn’t really awake yet,” I say. “So it made me jumpy.”

  “That was more than jumpy.”

  “Can we just lie down?” I ask, and it occurs to me that I’m not meeting her eyes. “I just want to go back to sleep.”

  “Lennon—”

  “Please, Haylee.”

  She sighs, and it’s a long moment before she relents. “Okay.”

  I collapse back into my pillow, pulling the sheets smooth over my legs. Haylee unwraps the quilt from around her shoulders and spreads it over us both, resuming her place in my arms. For the first time since we met, I’m barely aware of the fact that I’m touching her.

  I feel numb.

  “I wish you would tell me what you dreamed about,” she says in the darkness.

  “I’d rather not think about it. Maybe some other time. I really just want to sleep now.”

  She presses a kiss into my shoulder, her hand warm on my chest. I can feel its pressure, but that’s all. There’s no warmth, no spark. Nothing.

  “Then sleep well.”

  “You too.”

  I don’t know how much time passes before her breathing evens out and I can be sure she’s asleep. I only know that I’m awake for it, just like I’m awake for the sun rising a few hours later. In fact, I don’t sleep again all night.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Haylee

  “We are so lost,” Daltrey mutters, peering through the tombs of Pere Lachaise cemetery as if he thinks the grave we’re looking for will just jump out.

  “Who thought it was a good idea for us to go tramping through another cemetery?” Cash asks, crossing his arms.

  “Uh, you did,” Levi says. “In fact, you insisted.”

  “I did not insist—”

  “‘The only thing I freaking want to do in Paris is visit Morrison’s grave,’” Levi says in a surprisingly good imitation of Cash.

  “You did say that,” Dylan points out.

  “Well, someone should have told me how stupid that was,” Cash replies. “Especially after what happened in the last cemetery.”

  “How were we supposed to know that this cemetery was l
ike a maze?” Reed asks. A quick glance up the cobblestone lane we’re on proves his point. Many of the tombs and gravesites in the Pere Lachaise are ancient and crumbling, mixed in with newer headstones and slabs of marble. They stretch back from the road in uneven rows, too many to count. And the little lanes and alleys that cut through the cemetery are winding, many without street signs. We’ve been looking for Morrison’s grave for the past hour, and I’m pretty sure we’re no closer to finding it then we were when we got dropped off.

  “You do realize why you’re lost, don’t you?” I ask, plopping down to the curb to stretch my feet out in front of me.

  “Why?” Lennon asks. “Besides the fact that Cash is a horrible planner and assumed someone else would do the work for him?”

  “You’re lost because Paige isn’t here,” I say.

  “She has a point.” Levi sighs. “Paige would have brought a map or something.”

  “Basically your whole operation falls apart without her,” I say. “And maybe you should remember that the next time you want to tease her.”

  Cash makes a face at me, but he doesn’t disagree. When we left the hotel this morning for our last day of Paris sightseeing, Paige informed everyone that we’d be visiting the Champs Elysees first. When pressed, she admitted that the famous street was well known for its shopping. That, of course, led to the Ransome brothers, including Reed, teasing her about her propensity for shopping and her sneakiness in thinking she’d get them to participate. And that led to Paige sending us off to navigate the cemetery on our own while she spent her morning shopping. Daisy, Karen, and Layla had joined her in a show of solidarity—or, more likely, out of a desire not to spend their morning looking at old broken gravestones.

  And here we are. No Paige. No map. Lost.

  “I’ll call her,” Reed says, sighing. “She probably has a map in her itinerary.”

  “I think Cash should call her,” I say. “Since he was the one giving her such a hard time in the first place.”

  Cash grimaces at me, but Lennon joins me on the curb and leans in close to my ear. “Do you have any idea how sexy it is when you give my brothers a hard time?”