by Olivia Evans
Dylan shook his head. “What about Dr. Sanders? Cody is his patient. I’m not permitted to take on that kind of role.”
“I’m not asking you to.” Dr. Edmonds pressed the tips of his fingers against his temples, moving them in tiny circles before dropping his hands back to his desk. “Dr. Sanders is a brilliant doctor, but he’s never been able to reach Zach. As a member of the board, it’s my duty to do whatever is necessary to help those in our care at Hilltop. I’m not asking you to give Zach guidance, I’m asking you to listen. If he tells you something that could be helpful in treating him, then we’ll tell Dr. Sanders immediately.”
“Wouldn’t that be breaking the very trust that yielded the answers you’re looking for?” Dylan asked.
“Isn’t helping him more important?”
It was Dylan’s turn to massage his temples. “What if breaking his trust only hurts him more?”
Dr. Edmonds sighed. “The truth is, I’m very fond of Cody. He reminds me a lot of my son at that age. I just want to help him. Since I’m not his doctor, this is my best option. You’re my best option.”
Dylan remained silent for a moment, letting Dr. Edmonds’s comment sink in. Was Dylan really any different? He wasn’t entirely on the up-and-up with his plans to undermine Dr. Sanders’s treatment of Presley. Already he’d questioned if Cody was receiving proper care as well. What harm could it do?
“What does Dr. Sanders think about this?”
A wry smile crossed Dr. Edmonds’s lips as he shook his head. “He doesn’t know.”
“And I suppose we’re not going to tell him, are we?”
“Not until we have a reason.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Dylan asked. He couldn’t help but feel a little excited at the prospect of going behind Dr. Sanders’s back. He felt like, for the first time, he would have the upper hand.
Dr. Edmonds smiled. “I’d like to put you solely at Hilltop for a while. You’ll still rotate shifts, but your schedule will be a little more consistent.”
Dylan sat up straighter, his mouth going dry. “You want to put me at Hilltop full time?” This was more than he ever could have hoped for. He’d be able to keep a closer eye on Presley and begin the process of altering her doses on a regular basis.
“For a while, yes. The truth is, Dylan, you’re the brightest resident we have on staff. Your thought process and decision-making capabilities are equal to any doctor here. Hilltop is slower-paced, but it gives you a unique opportunity to listen to those around you. You’ll be able to observe patients when they’re not nervously rocking in the chair across from your desk. You’ll be able to learn their mannerisms and eventually come to understand them. The knowledge you can gain from watching and listening is immeasurable.”
Dylan nodded, his mind whirling with what this meant for him and Presley. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a wave of guilt washed over him. All of this was possible because of Cody. “Do you think he’ll actually talk to me? Zach, that is?”
Dr. Edmonds gave a sharp nod. “I guarantee it. It was his idea that you’d be there more. You have to remember, Cody wants answers as much as the rest of us.”
“He doesn’t remember the murder?” Dylan whispered as he realized this was what Zach had been referring to when he mentioned fixing something. He meant Dylan needed to be there more.
“He wasn’t there,” Dr. Edmonds answered, standing from his chair. “Zach was.”
Dylan nodded and stood as well. “When do I start?”
“Tomorrow morning. I’ll email you the full schedule later tonight.”
Shaking Dr. Edmonds’s hand, Dylan quietly slipped out of the hospital, his mind still reeling. Tomorrow felt like the beginning of the end. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt that way, but this time, he vowed things would be different. Presley’s parents wouldn’t win again.
Chapter Eleven
January 2011
Dylan smiled when he saw Presley’s name flash across the screen of his phone. “Hey, you,” he said. The smile slipped from his face when he realized she was crying. “Presley, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“Dylan, he knows everything,” Presley sobbed, her voice breaking.
“Who knows? What are you talking about?”
“My father. He was so angry. He doesn’t care about me at all,” she rambled, her words running together.
Dylan swallowed around the lump in his throat and pulled in a deep breath. He needed to stay calm if he expected to settle Presley down. “Baby, you’re not making any sense. You’ve got to calm down. Tell me what happened.”
“He knows everything,” she repeated. “He knows about Thanksgiving, and he knows about New Year’s Eve. He gave me boarding school brochures. He said it was the only thing I had any choice over.”
Dylan’s brows dented as he tried to piece Presley’s words together. “How?” he whispered.
“Check your email. I took screenshots before the pictures were taken down.”
Dylan grabbed the remote and muted the television as he kicked his way across his bedroom to his desk. Knocking the clothes draped across the back of his chair to a floor already littered with clothes, he brought the screen to life. As he opened the message from Presley, Dylan’s stomach dropped when he saw the picture. “‘Love when the rich kids go slummin. Free booze, drugs, and high-class ass,’” Dylan muttered, reading the caption. The picture was of Presley and him on New Year’s Eve. They were kissing, and Presley had a joint in her hand. They’d gone to a party in Brooklyn. It had been busted by the cops, and they’d barely gotten away without being arrested. He’d thought they’d been in the clear. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
“There were more than a dozen of them. I don’t even want to imagine how much money he spent to get them off the internet.”
“Fuck, Presley,” Dylan exhaled. “I get these are bad, but sending you away? What the fuck? Especially since he’s already gotten them pulled.”
“That’s not all,” she whispered. “Look at the next one.”
Opening the second attachment, Dylan’s jaw flexed. Now he understood. “‘A rad time with Dylan and his fly-as-fuck chick,’” Dylan read with a groan. “My fucking cousins.” The picture on the screen was of Dylan and Presley at his grandmother’s in the Hamptons. His cousin must have taken it without him noticing.
“I need you to tell me exactly what your father said.” If he was going to fix this, he needed to know precisely what he was up against.
“He said I had lied to him time and time again. That I made a mockery out of him, and he couldn’t have this kind of negative publicity days before he announced his bid for governor. It’s all he cares about. I’m nothing more than a fucking liability. He said, ‘I warned you that if your relationship with Dylan interfered with my plans, I wouldn’t hesitate to send you away.’ He already had the boarding school brochures. It’s like he was just waiting for me to mess up so he could get me out of the way. He blames you. He’s such a fucking asshole.”
Dylan closed his eyes and tried to calm down enough to unclench his jaw. What they’d done was wrong, but shipping Presley off to boarding school was never going to happen. Right now, though, he just needed to take care of Presley. “I’ll never let you down, Elvis,” he promised. “I will romance the shit out of you until there’s no romance left. I’ll give you all the butterflies in the world. There’s nothing I won’t do for you. Trust me.”
After a moment, she let out a soft sigh. “I trust you.”
“Get some rest, everything will be better in the morning.”
After hanging up the phone, Dylan scrubbed his hands over his face and looked at the clock. His grandmother should still be awake. He hated to drag her into a mess he’d created, but he didn’t have a choice. He needed her help.
Jogging up the stairs to where his grandmother sat, Dylan stepped in front of her and pulled in a deep breath. “Grandmother, I need your help.”
The next morning, Dylan stood in front
of the school waiting for Presley. When her car pulled up to the drop-off, she jumped out of the back before it had even come to a complete stop. “What did you do?” she asked, breathless.
He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Good morning to you too.”
Presley poked her finger into his dimple and pursed her lips. “Spill, Dylan.”
“Fine,” he huffed, still smiling. Lacing their fingers together, he tugged her hand, pulling her toward the school. When she fell into step beside him, he started speaking. “I told Grandmother what happened and asked for her help. I know that’s the epitome of a spoiled rich kid, but the alternative just wasn’t an option. She wasn’t happy—actually, I think she called your father a rotten bastard, but she’d do anything for me, and by extension, you as well.”
“What did she do?”
Dylan shrugged. “She called him last night and told him that she would make a sizeable donation to his campaign, as well as give her support publicly, but only if he agreed to drop the nonsense of sending you away and allow you and me to continue seeing one another. I don’t think it was the most pleasant conversation, but it was effective, nonetheless.”
Presley slowed to a stop and turned to face Dylan. “She paid for us to be able to stay together?” she asked, her voice filled with disbelief. “That seems so messed up.”
“What’s messed up is your father threatening to send you away because of his ridiculous campaign, then turning around and accepting a bribe for said campaign in order for you to stay.”
Tears filled Presley’s eyes, and her face reddened. “God, my father’s an asshole.”
Dylan nodded. “He is. But we just have to get through the rest of this year, then he’ll no longer have a say about anything. If I could, I’d move you in with me now, but as cool as my family is, they do have their limits. Shacking up isn’t something they’re too keen on. Once we graduate and I get my trust, it won’t matter what he says. I’ll take care of you.”
Presley swiped under her eye and shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’d never ask you to take care of me. I could get a job or something.”
Dylan laughed and lifted his hands, cupping her face. “You never would have to ask me to take care of you. Don’t you get it? I want to. I want to do it for the rest of our lives. I know we’re young. We’re going to fight and scream and say hurtful things to each other. But, Presley, I’m not being naïve when I say you’re the only girl for me. I feel you in every part of me. You’re all I’ll ever want. I love you.”
Presley nodded and sighed. “Please don’t ever stop romancing the shit out of me. I really fucking love it. I love the butterflies you give me.”
“Speaking of butterflies,” Dylan said, reaching into his pocket. “I got you something. It was supposed to be for Valentine’s Day, but after the last twenty-four hours, I thought you could use something to cheer you up.
“You cheer me up,” Presley argued with a smile.
“Just open it,” he whispered, placing the small blue box in her hand.
“What have you done?” she asked, pulling off the lid. A gasp left her lips as her fingers trailed over the necklace inside. “Dylan…”
He pulled it from the box, the red and black stones fitted inside the butterfly charm glinting in the early morning sun. “Turn around,” he murmured. Clasping the chain around her neck, he moved in front of her and smiled. “It looks perfect.”
Presley nodded, her eyes glassy. “You really do make everything flutter.”
Dylan smirked, his expression causing Presley to laugh. “Of course I do. Now, move your ass, Elvis. The last thing we need is a call from the school that you were late.”
Presley looked at her watch and gasped. “Shit. I’ll see you later!” After a final kiss, he watched as she sprinted into the school just as the bell rang. Walking into class, he promised himself they wouldn’t fuck up again. He had too much to lose.
Chapter Twelve
Present Day
Dylan stood outside the lounge of Hilltop, his key card clutched in his hand. Murmuring voices could be heard on the other side of the door. A feeling of anticipation mixed with unease swirled inside him as he slid the card through the reader. A low beep, followed by the lock disengaging caused his heart rate to accelerate. With a deep breath, Dylan stepped inside. His eyes swept around the room. A few patients sat on rugs facing the sun, their eyes closed and their chins tipped upward, while others lounged on the crimson-colored sofas covered in plush pillows. Hilltop really was one of a kind. Straightening his shoulders, Dylan made his way toward the nurse’s station.
“Good morning, Katherine,” he said with a friendly smile.
“Good morning, Dr. Walker.” Setting the chart she held on the desk, she smiled. “I understand you’re going to be spending more time with us here.”
Dylan nodded. “There have been some changes to the schedule at Grace, and it opened up more time for me here. Dr. Edmonds thought it would be a good opportunity.”
“Well, your presence is certainly welcome. Zach has decided to reappear for whatever reason, and he’s caused quite a bit of trouble this morning.”
Dylan’s brows dented. “How so?”
“He’s refused to come out of his room until you get here. And, of course, this,” she sighed, motioning to her scrubs. It was then that Dylan noticed the front of her bright yellow scrubs were covered in what looked like grape juice.
“He did that?”
Katherine nodded. “He asked for juice, only to knock it out of my hand when I tried to give it to him.”
Dylan pushed his hand through his hair and shook his head. “Why don’t you go clean up? I’ll get started on the morning meds, and once we’re done, I’ll go check on him.”
Katherine’s shoulders sagged with relief. “You’re the best. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Take your time,” Dylan called as Katherine rushed out of the office. Alone, he turned in a circle, his eyes sweeping around the room. There were two cameras, but if he faced the lounge and leaned over the table a little more than necessary, he’d be able to keep the cups hidden. With a pounding heart and shaking hands, he began filling the cups one by one. He didn’t have much time, but he knew skipping around would raise suspicion. Working quickly, he dropped an extra Xanax or Valium into an unmarked cup each time a patient’s medication list called for either.
The door to the lounge buzzed just as Dylan added another Xanax into the unmarked cup. In one smooth motion, he turned toward the door, his hand drifting over the cup and sweeping it into his jacket pocket.
“Better?” Dylan asked with an easy smile.
“Yes,” Katherine exhaled. “Thank you so much.” She motioned toward the medications. “How far did you get?”
Dylan cleared his throat and eyed the list in front of him. “I got through the first eleven.”
“Perfect! Why don’t I finish up here, and you see if you have better luck getting Cody or Zach or whoever’s here right now to come to the lounge. When you get back, we can pass these out together.”
Dylan shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sounds good. Hopefully, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Disappearing down the hall, he tried to steady his breathing as the rush of adrenaline slowly faded. He’d just stolen medication. He could lose his license and potentially his freedom if anyone ever found out. Shaking his head, he pulled in a deep breath and faced Cody’s door. The damage had been done; there was no going back now.
“Cody?” Dylan called, moving into the room.
“I’ve been expecting you,” Zach said, his expression a mix of boredom and annoyance.
Dylan folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe, his face twisted with disapproval. “I was busy getting everyone’s morning medications together while Katherine cleaned up and changed into fresh scrubs.”
Zach’s demeanor changed immediately, a mischievous smile turning up the corners of his mouth as his eyes glinted with satisfactio
n. “Excellent. I assume you took advantage of the situation?”
Dylan paled. There was no way Zach could have known Dylan’s intentions. Zach, however, set the record straight.
“Don’t seem so surprised. I knew when I gave you her medication list exactly what your next move would be. It would be wise for you not to underestimate me, Dr. Walker. I’m not what you think.”
“And what do I think?” Dylan asked as a dozen questions began to bubble in his mind.
Zach hopped off the bed and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You’ll find out soon enough. Do you have a flash drive?”
Dylan blinked in confusion at the sudden change in conversation. “What?” he asked, hesitant.
“Yes or no, Dr. Walker. Tick-tock, tick-tock.”
“Yeah, I do…”
“Good. Have it with you tomorrow. Presley and I both have sessions with Dr. Sanders. It’s your only opportunity to get your eyes on her file.”
Dylan’s mind spun. “And how exactly will I have access to her file?”
“You let me worry about that. All you need to do is be outside his office at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with this.” The entire situation was madness. Too risky. Too many unknowns.
“I thought she was your everything,” Zach challenged, his eyes dark.
“She is,” Dylan whispered, straightening his back.
“Then get comfortable with it.” He hesitated for a moment before spinning around to Dylan. “One more thing. The dreams she has, they’re not hallucinations, they’re memories.” Without another word, Zach vanished, leaving a confused Cody in his wake.
“What are you doing here?” Cody asked.
Dylan’s lips parted in surprise. “You don’t know?”
Cody shook his head. “Zach doesn’t always let me see.”
Dylan pulled in a deep breath as he tried to absorb the situation. “There was an incident with Zach covering the front of Katherine’s scrubs with a glass of grape juice. Everything’s fine.”