Savior (The Kingwood Duet Book 2)

by S. L. Scott

  “Okay.” I brace myself, the muscles in my shoulders tensing.

  “When you’re released from the hospital I want you to come stay at the manor.”

  The manor. It’s a subject that makes my stomach hurt and my head spin. So many memories—good and bad—wrapped up in one location. When I was driving back, I knew what I was choosing when I decided to return to Alexander. It’s not my favorite place, but it’s where he is, so I’ll go. Taking a deep breath, I try to settle my nerves, and just when I’m about to answer him, a doctor walks in with my parents following. “Good to see you awake again. I have good news. We’re moving you out of ICU. Your numbers are good—blood pressure, heart rate—they have remained in the desired range. There seems to be no slowing down for you post-surgery.” He smiles. “You’ve improved at a tremendous rate.” He pulls out a penlight and instructs me to relax while he checks my eyes, shining the light inside. “Any drowsiness that feels abnormal other than from the medicine or post-surgery tiredness?”

  “No, I’ve felt fine. I’ve actually not felt much at all, which I appreciate. I hate pain. I have such a low tolerance.”

  Standing back and clicking the light off, he replies with a chuckle, “I could argue that. You’re doing well, but if you do have any pain, don’t hesitate to let me or one of the nurses know. You don’t show signs of a concussion, so we won’t need to schedule a scan.”

  “Okay. That’s good.”

  “That is good.” Leaning against the bedrail, he says, “I’d like to make sure everything’s healing nicely before I sign the paperwork for the transfer.” After I lift the gown to my ribs, he lifts the bandage very carefully away from my skin. “This looks good. Clean. No signs of infection. There’s some swelling still, but that is expected with the bruising. When you’re settled into your room, a nurse will go over the aftercare and how to change bandages. There will be a point where you’ll stop covering it, but that will be after a post-release checkup.” He pats my hand gently. “You’re a very brave and strong woman.” Once I’m tucked back in, he asks, “Ready for a change of scenery?”

  “Definitely. How long do you think I’ll need to stay in the hospital?”

  “If all continues to go well, maybe two more days. Infection is a concern, but that’s not a reason to hold you here longer than necessary if you show no signs of one.”

  My dad says, “This is good news, Sara Jane.”

  The doctor types on his iPad while I lie in bed caught between my father and Alexander. The two men are on opposing sides of the bed, each holding a bedrail. The room is too quiet, so noticeably that the doctor looks up at the awkwardness. “Everything okay, gentlemen?”

  Alexander replies right away, “As long as Sara Jane is good, I’m good.”

  The anger that floods my dad’s features isn’t there for long, but I catch it. When I glance to Alexander, he did too. My dad finally turns to my mom and ignoring the doctor’s question, says, “This is good news, Doctor. We’ll be ready to help her however we can.”

  My mom rests her hand on my shin on my father’s side of the bed as if the weight will favor their side in this battle.

  Torn between the two men who love me most, I glance from one and then to the other. When my eyes settle on my dad, I reply, “It’s great news. I’m definitely ready.”

  The doctor laughs. “Let’s not rush things. We’re not in the clear quite yet, but I’m optimistic, as you should be, but let’s take a few days and keep an eye on things. Do you have an appetite?”

  “Not really.”

  “The nurses will talk to you more about that, but I’m here for the next twenty-four hours if you need me.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Take care, Sara Jane.” He steps toward the door and adds, “Make sure to get some rest.”

  “I will.”

  As soon as he’s gone, my mom says, “I’ll cook your favorite meals this week if you’re up for it and those cookies you always loved. We can settle you into your room or set something up downstairs if you prefer to be by the backyard window and TV.”

  They’re desperately trying to hold on to me, and as much as I appreciate it, I reach for Alexander’s hand, wanting him to know he’s not alone. I’m on his side. Did I ever have a choice? I don’t remember having that option from the moment we met. “We were talking earlier, and we think it’s best if I recover at the manor.”

  Alexander stands tall beside me, his jaw tense, his eyes focused on them, but the smallest of smiles playing at the corners of his lips. When my father’s eyes slide from me up to his, a reignited anger brews inside as a red haze creeps up his neck, and he tugs at his collar. Mom says, “You’re going to take care of her?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Alexander replies. “I’ll give her the best care.”

  She meets my father’s eyes, and winces under his hard-set glare. She’s not deterred from making peace. “And love?”

  “I love her with all that I am,” he replies, his voice strained by the weight of the words he feels so deeply.

  Staring at him, my mother’s lips press together, and the tension around her eyes softens. “I know she feels the same about you.” Walking around the bed, she approaches Alexander. “She can’t be replaced.”

  His Adam’s apple bobs with a harsh swallow that I can’t hear over my own. He then whispers, “I know.” The pain and guilt he carries finally get the best of him.

  She moves closer and wraps her arms around him.

  “Jenny,” my dad warns. Ignoring him, she takes a step back, her eyes trained on Alexander. I’m not sure Alexander embraced her, my tears clouding my vision. As they topple over my lower lids, my dad’s wedding ring clashes with the metal of the bedrail, startling us from the sweet moment. “As if you haven’t put her through enough already, you think you can just waltz in and take her home with you. This is serious, son. She almost died because of you.”

  “She was attacked,” Alexander counters, “out of—”

  “No! You and I both know this comes back to the Kingwoods, to you, and to your corrupt father. Are you going to keep dragging her back until she’s six feet under? I won’t allow it this time. I will fight every step of the way.”

  “Daddy!”

  His eyes swing my way. “I don’t care what you say, Sara Jane. He’s no good. His family is evil, and it will seep into your skin and strangle you. I don’t know what happens at that manor, but nothing good can come of it if everyone eventually ends up dead.”

  “Stop,” I demand.

  “David,” my mom cautions, “Not now.”

  “When?” he retorts. “When we’re standing over her casket instead of a hospital bed?”

  I’m about to speak, but stop when Alexander says, “She’s my wife. As such, you’ll stop talking to her like she’s a child.”

  “Like my daughter? Is that what you mean? I can’t talk to her like she’s my daughter, you bastard?”

  “Dad!” My monitor alarms, my heart beating in rapid succession. “Ow,” I cry out, grabbing my side, which inflicts more pain. “Alexander, help me.”

  Stroking my hair, he soothes, “I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He stretches across and pushes the button for a dose of morphine. “Take a deep breath.”

  A nurse runs in and stops in surprise when she sees everyone, the tension thick as she wades through to check on me. “Try to calm down. Take a breath and calm your heart rate or you’ll be stuck with me a lot longer.”

  The joke is lost on me, the pain too much. Tears fall for new reasons as the room begins fading to black. I reach for Alexander, but my hand falls to my side, numbness taking over. “Please,” I say, my mind disconnecting from the world.

  “Please what, Firefly? Anything. Anything. What do you need?”

  “Please don’t leave me.”

  “Never.”

  My lids grow heavy and I let my mind drift away.

  9

  Sara Jane

  The insides of my lids glow red. Air enters m
y lungs through dry lips, my eyelids fly open, and I gasp for more. When I see a man next to me, I jump. “Jason?”

  He stands with his hands in front of him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Exhaling loudly, a calm takes over my body when I realize I’m safe with him. My breathing steadies. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to see you. I was worried.”

  Glancing to the door and back to him, I ask, “Where’s Alexander?”

  “He went to get some food.”

  I don’t recognize the room. My surroundings have changed. The green couch is now mauve and the window is bigger, a tree just outside blocking the view of anything else. “Where am I?”

  His hands lower to his sides as he stands near the foot of the bed. “They moved you out of ICU.” Resting back, my eyes don’t leave his. The same kindness I received for months still resides in the gentle curve of his lips, the uncertainty in his eyes, and in his tone. “I’m . . . I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner to help you, to stop him before you were hurt.”

  “Why would you be?” I ask, confused why he thinks he needs to apologize for matters out of his hands. “Why were you there at all?”

  “I need to tell you something, Alice.” His eyes close tight and he mentally beats himself up. When he looks back at me, he smiles. “Sorry. Habit.”

  “It’s okay. I still want to call you Eric, so I get it.” I cringe a little when I try to adjust my body.

  His tone turns serious, and quieter as he comes closer. The silence lingers longer and it feels odd, disconcerting in some ways when I used to feel so easy around him. He says, “I can’t answer your questions. I want to, but it’s best if I don’t quite yet.”

  “Why?”

  “Please don’t ask. I don’t want to lie to you, and that’s what I’d have to do if I tell you anything.”

  “When can you tell me?”

  “Hopefully soon.”

  “I hate secrets, Jason.”

  “I do too, but I’m used to living in one. I think you are too.”

  “It was only a few months.”

  “I’m talking about all those years prior.”

  Eyeing him, I don’t want to defend my relationship with Alexander or how I chose to turn away from what was right in front of me all along. I blame myself. I blame Alexander. But I disrespected him to someone I thought I knew, but maybe didn’t at all. “I may have lied about my name, but I was still Alice underneath. That wasn’t a lie. Who you saw was the real me.”

  “I let my guard down for you. I trusted you with the real me. I need you to trust me now.”

  “I need you to give me something, something of substance instead of I can’t tell you anything.”

  “I have. I broke my cover and told you my name.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Because if you ever needed me, I wanted you to be able to find me.”

  I’m not able to argue with that. Threatened was something I never felt with him. His honesty, his interest, his concern for me is what he gave openly without asking a million questions, so I need to give him that same courtesy. For now.

  “How are you doing?”

  “I was beaten and shot.” I lost my baby. “I’m alive. Barely. So I’ve been better.”

  “I’ve felt awful—”

  “Why?”

  He looks right and I follow his gaze. Alexander stands in the doorway, food bags in his hand. His glare leaves Jason and anchors itself on me. “I brought food for you. Tacos. Your favorite.”

  “Thank you,” comes out too pitchy as if I’ve been caught doing something wrong. He walks in and sets them on a table nearby. I add, “I’m not sure what I can eat yet.”

  He kisses me on the head and I can’t help feel that it might be more for Jason’s benefit in addition to being an endearment for me. “How are you feeling?”

  Not liking that I’ve been moved while asleep, I try to relax. I’m safe. With Alexander I’m safe. “When did I get moved?”

  “A few hours ago.” Turning to Jason, he asks, “When did you get here?”

  Jason shifts then steps back from the bed and starts for the door. “I’ve only been here a few minutes. I should go.”

  Alexander asks, “Why are you here?”

  He stops shoulder to shoulder with Alexander and looks over. They’re well matched in size, but no one challenges Alexander and gets away with it. I know him too well. He won’t back down. Jason smiles, I suppose trying to calm the tension. “I was looking for you, man.”

  “I’m here. What do you want?”

  Shaking his head, he smiles to himself. “I was just following up on something.” Glancing to me, he adds, “We can discuss it later.”

  “Fine. Later.”

  Jason nods once, looking past Alexander at me. “Glad you’re okay.”

  Timidly, I tug the covers up higher. “Thanks.” When Alexander and I are alone, I say, “He’s not the enemy.”

  Alexander angles my way, his brow furrowed, a hardness spreading across his face. “You sure about that?”

  “I am.”

  “I’m not.”

  To distract from the aggravation I see growing in his eyes, I ask, “What kind of tacos?”

  A smile slides into place. “Nice try.” He doesn’t continue to argue. He knows it’ll do no good. “Chicken. Lettuce, tomato, cheese. Just how you like them. I even got the medium roasted salsa for you.”

  “My mouth is watering, but my body—not so much. We should probably check with a nurse first.”

  “I will.”

  “Have you talked to Shelly? I’m worried about her.”

  “Don’t worry. She’s fine.”

  “How can she be fine under the circumstances?”

  “The doctor was clear. You need to keep the stress down. Your parents even agreed to go home since I was here. We’re all doing what’s best for you. So don’t start looking for other things to concern yourself with. I just need you to heal.”

  “She’s my friend. I’ve been worried about her the whole time . . . I want out of this place so badly.”

  Stroking my cheek, he says, “So do I. I want to be alone with you. I want privacy.” He shifts.

  It’s not a production, but I notice, and ask, “What is it?”

  “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about April.”

  “Your birth mom?”

  He’s quick to correct me, “My birth mother.” Not mom.

  “All right. Is she doing okay?”

  “She’s adjusting.”

  “To what?”

  He sits down on the chair close to the bed, his hands folding together. The blues of his eyes meet mine, and he says, “She’s living at the manor.”

  My head tilts unexpectedly as I take in this information. “I thought she was supposed to get her own place?”

  “She was, but her recovery hasn’t been easy, and we thought it would be good for us to get to know each other better.”

  I force myself to blink when my eyes feel dry from staring at him. He’s hiding something from me, and I can see it in his body language and through his evasiveness. “Do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Do you know her better?”

  “She’s only been around for a few weeks. I’m not home that much.”

  “Some things don’t change.”

  Standing, he holds the bedrail and looks down at me. The outer part of his shoulders slope. He’s not defensive or mad, but he’s definitely uncomfortable with the conversation. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Sara Jane.”

  “I don’t want your apologies. I want you. All of you this time.”

  “I want all of you, and I want out from under the scrutiny we’re under.”

  He doesn’t have to say the scrutiny of my parents. I know what he meant. I want peace, but peace won’t be found on the battlefield. This war they’re both waging is going to get worse before it gets better. I’m still in shock from what my dad said to A
lexander. “Are you going to keep dragging her back until she’s six feet under? I won’t allow it. I will fight every step of the way.” How can we see things so differently? How can he think Alexander would ever purposely put me in harm’s way?

  With their guards in place, I have an eerie feeling there’ll be only one man standing, and we won’t know which until it’s too late. I can’t focus on that. I need to focus on healing. The manor. My apartment. My parents’ house. None of those places are home. Alexander is my home. I go where he goes. “My recovery could be a few weeks to a few months.”

  He must sense my concern regarding the road ahead because he kisses me on the temple. “I’m here for you every step of the way.”

  “Are you sure?”

  His eyebrow quirks, and he says, “I just got you back. I’m not letting you go again.”

  The conviction in his voice is crystal clear, causing me to look deep into his eyes as if I’ll find a different answer there. “I heard you in the car. When you told me why you picked me. I heard you. I heard you through the tears you cried for me, the same tears that were healing my soul while shattering my heart. I heard you when I thought I was dying, and I was okay because it may not have been a lifetime, but the years I’d had with you were worth an eternity to me.”

  I hate seeing him cry, but it’s humbling to see the intensity of his love for me so vividly. Touching his cheek, I smooth my thumb over the fine lines at the corner of his eyes. These lines are a lot like us. We were once so young, too young to know better, but old enough to take the risk. Taken back to when I thought I was going to die, and grateful I would get to die looking into his eyes, I remember everything he said . . . “You once asked me why you. Why I picked you. It was always you for me. I was just lucky enough that you chose me. Do you hear me? I’m the lucky one.”

  “I’m the lucky one, Alexander. Do you hear me? I’m the lucky one.”

  Our lips come together, the embrace not gentle, but defining in its possession. There is not one without the other and there never will be. One hand fists the hair at the nape of my neck, the other glides over my shoulder and lower. He stops himself, though all I want is to feel him everywhere. When our lips part, our breaths are heavy as we look into each other’s eyes. He leans his forehead against mine and closes his eyes while inhaling deeply. “One way or another you’re going to be the death of me and on that day I’ll welcome it wholeheartedly. Like you, I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes in the time I’ve spent with you—living. Loving. Stay with me always, Sara Jane.”