by M T Stone
Summer: I’ll pick you up in a half hour. We really need to talk.
Not wanting her parents to freak out again, she left a note on her pillow. She informed them that she needed time to think and made it clear that she would be home in time for dinner. If they called her with any questions, she had already decided that she would simply text them back. They had kept things from her, so she didn’t feel bad for being a little vague in return.
Nibbling on a monster cookie and sipping a caramel latte at the 24-hour coffee shop, Summer shared the details of what she had overheard. Dylan was equally shocked as they began talking their way through the various ramifications of her epiphany. Point by point, Dylan helped her work through her fears and feelings. By the time the sun popped over the horizon, Dylan had convinced her to take the necessary action.
“I’ll go with you to the hospital,” he offered. “That way, I can drive you back afterward. You’ll most likely need a ride.”
Summer sat in silence for a moment with a definite look of consternation. She had used up all of her emotional reserves in the past week, and now this latest revelation was shaking her to the core. Intellectually, she knew that it needed to be tackled head-on, just as she had done with the man in the park. Emotionally, however, she would’ve preferred to spend the entire day crying in her room. “I don’t know if I can do it,” she whimpered, avoiding eye contact and staring down at the table. “Maybe I should just go back home.”
“I’ll be there for you. You don’t always have to go through everything alone.” Dylan reached across the table and took her hands in his. “I’ve got your back, whatever you need.”
“I’ve never liked the idea of being dependent on anyone,” she replied, pulling her hands back and feeling the need to take back control. “How long would it take us to get there?”
“Two and a half hours.” He looked at the time on his phone. “So we’d get there a little after eight.”
“Okay. Let’s get this over with.” She sighed before stuffing her belongings back into her purse, sliding out of the booth and grabbing her crutches. She would bite the bullet and face her fears one last time. Then with any luck, she could enjoy a little bit of summer before going back to school.
Chapter 34
Olivia awoke with a strange feeling. Something just didn’t feel right. She slipped out of bed and crept quietly across the hall to Summer’s door. Slowly turning the knob and cracking the door just slightly, her heart instantly dropped. Summer was gone. She flung open the door and strode to the bed, picking up the note that had been left behind. She instantly knew that Summer had overheard their conversation. She cursed herself for talking so loudly. Running back to the bedroom, she grabbed her phone and immediately called her. After two rings, she got her voicemail.
“Hi, Sweetie, I just want to talk to you. Give me a call back, please.” Her heart sank as she hung up, wanting to immediately call again. What the hell was Summer thinking, disappearing in the night after only being home a few hours? Her phone buzzed, and it was a text message from her.
Summer: Dylan and I are running an errand. We’ll be back later this afternoon.
Olivia: You just scared the hell out of me! Where are you?
Summer: I’m sorry. Don’t worry, we’ll be back soon.
Olivia: Be careful. XoXo
Summer: I will. XoXo
What kind of errand would the two of them be running at a quarter after seven on a Saturday morning? That made no sense. She knew that Summer had overheard their conversation and now, she probably needed some time to process it in her own way. She resisted the urge to call her back, wanting to explain a few things. She had rehearsed how she was going to tell her, whenever the time was right. The perfect time just hadn’t presented itself in any obvious way, and now it appeared to be too late. She began revising her script for the inevitable talk they would be having later on.
By the time Summer and Dylan pulled into the hospital parking lot, they had rehashed the entire coffee shop conversation a couple of times as well as every possible outcome of the visit. Even after two hours of talking, her resolve began to crumble once the hospital came into view. “Maybe this was a bad idea.” She reached over, clutching his forearm. “I don’t think I’m ready. I know I’m not ready.”
“You’ll never be ready,” Dylan replied dryly, giving her a sympathetic look. “There is no way to be ready for something like this. You just have to be strong and go through with it. That way, you can move past it and get on with your life.”
Summer recognized his words, because she had heard her mother always tell it to her clients, including him. Yet, until now, Dylan had never internalized the idea and truly dealt with his father’s death. He had good days and bad days, but in general, it seemed he was still having a hard time moving forward with his life. “I know.” She took a deep breath and turned her glare toward the hospital entrance. “Will you walk in with me?”
“Of course!” Dylan seemed a bit surprised by the invitation.
Normally fiercely independent, today, she wasn’t feeling strong enough to face this alone. In the end, she knew it had to be a one-to-one conversation, but she wanted him as close as possible in case she needed some support. Regardless of how it went, she also knew that it would take plenty of time and support for her to get over. She forced a smile and opened the car door. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”
Dylan scrambled around the back of the car to get the crutches for her, as she appeared to be ready to take off without them. With a crutch under each arm, she moved briskly and with confidence to make up for how insecure she was feeling inside. Dylan jumped a step ahead of her to open the door, allowing her to easily navigate through. She maintained her pace until she reached the admissions desk. She calmly explained who she was, what had happened in the past week, and the reason for her visit.
“Okay,” the woman responded, her eyes widening throughout the explanation. “I’ll get someone to take you back.” Turning to Dylan, she pointed to a chair in the waiting room. “You’ll have to wait there.”
They glanced at each other, debating whether they should explain Dylan’s role in the whole mess. “It’s fine. I’d rather wait here.” He pointed to a seat in front of the TV. “Just call if you need me to come back there.” He double-checked to make sure his ringer was on.
“Miss? I’m Owen. I’ll take you back,” a uniformed security officer tapped her on the shoulder and motioned for her to take a seat in the wheelchair in front of him. She sat in silence as he pulled open the door and plodded slowly down the long, brightly lit corridor, pushing her toward her final conflict. The last room at the very end of the hall appeared to be the destination. It had some type of security door that was completely different from all the others. A second uniformed officer appeared to be standing guard just to the right of it. As Owen approached the door, the other officer removed his pistol from its holster. “I’m going to set you over there on the X while we secure the room,” he informed her, pushing her to a spot about fifteen feet to the left of the door.
Chills ran through her as she sat there on the mark and watched Owen slide two big metal bars to the left and swipe his badge, triggering an electronic lock. He tugged the big metal door open just an inch or two, using his humongous boot as a doorstop. “The subject is secure,” he told his partner and then turned to Summer, waving her over.
Her heart instantly skipped a beat as she fumbled with her iPhone and clicked the record button on the voice recorder before scooting over to them. She knew this was going to be an interesting conversation, so she wanted to have a recording of it. Her mother would want all the details later, and she knew it would be impossible to remember everything in her stressed state.
“The door will remain ajar while you’re inside,” Owen explained. “We’ll keep our guns drawn as well, so if you feel threatened in any way, just yell. We’ll have you out of there in a matter of seconds.”
“Okay.” She nodded, clutchin
g her phone nervously. Owen stepped to the side and opened the door just enough to allow her to enter the room.
Her heart skipped another beat as a result of being on the receiving end of Carson’s intense glare. Both of his arms were bandaged from his shoulders to his elbows, and each wrist was securely cuffed to the corresponding side of the bed. “You’re the last fucking person I would expect to visit me. Unless you’re looking to kick my ass.” He smirked, kicking his left foot out from under the sheet to reveal ankle cuffs as well. “In that case, now would be a pretty good time.”
“You do deserve a good ass-kicking, but since I’m in a cast, I’ll just stick to asking you why. I know you told Dylan that you saw rescuing me as a desperate attempt to win Mom back, but there has to be more to it than that. How could you do that to me?” Tears blurred her vision as she sat near the foot of the bed, waiting for an answer.
Carson cleared his throat and looked away for a few seconds, obviously needing a moment to consider his response. “I’m not so sure you want to hear this from me, kid. I don’t want to be held responsible for fucking you up in the head.”
“Really?” She rolled a few feet forward, looking directly into his eyes. “You had me kidnapped by a whack job who threatened to rape me and nearly killed me, but you don’t think I’ll be able to handle your explanation?”
The tension grew as they glared at one another. Her fear and trepidation, though, were quickly being replaced by anger and contempt. She was not leaving until she heard a rational explanation. It didn’t matter if she had to sit there all day. It was just something that she needed to understand in order to move forward.
“Okay.” He struggled to shift his body, but it resulted in little more than metal clanking against metal. “Fuck, I hate this.” He looked at his hand and made a fist before wincing in pain. “After watching you guys for most of the spring, it was obvious that your mom and dad weren’t exactly crazy about each other anymore.”
“They’ve had a tough couple of years . . . so what?” Summer countered defensively, crossing her arms and continuing to glare intently.
“You have to understand how much I love your mother,” Carson said, redirecting the conversation. “When I close my eyes, all I see is her. She has the sweetest smile in the world, and I never get to see it anymore.” He paused and cleared his throat. “So when I was figuring out how to get rid of Leo, it occurred to me that if I killed him while rescuing you, I’d kill two birds with one stone.”
“So, if something happened to me, that didn’t matter?” she fumed, struggling to maintain her composure. “If Dylan hadn’t been there that night . . . you would’ve let me die.”
There was a glimmer in Carson’s eyes, a look that let her know that he was once again contemplating the best way to answer her question. “I knew that there were risks, but I figured it was the best shot I had to get back in your mother’s favor. Instead, that whole reward thing fucked everything up. I should’ve just let that go right away,” he replied, seeming only concerned with Olivia’s reaction instead of with what he had actually done.
Summer sat in silence and momentary disbelief. How could this guy be so callous that even when he was talking directly to her, he showed absolutely no remorse? There was no regard, whatsoever, for her or her feelings. The rage soared within her, and she began to tremble uncontrollably. “You don’t know . . . do you?”
“Know what?” He narrowed his eyes, giving her his trademark annoyed look.
“It was my eighteenth birthday yesterday,” she informed him.
“Happy birthday?” he countered, giving her a little smirk.
“Think back to where you were eighteen years and nine months ago.” She stared so intently this time that it felt as if she could burn holes right through him.
He sat in silence with a furrowed brow, obviously thinking back to what year that would’ve been. “Hmm, that would’ve been about six months before they got married.” A pained expression suddenly crossed his face, making it look as if he had been struck in the head by a lightning bolt. “Your eyes,” he gasped, leaning in and looking at her more intently. “You have my eyes. I never noticed that until right now.”
“That’s because you always assumed I was Ryan’s daughter, so you almost refused to acknowledge my existence,” she seethed. “Unfortunately, I overheard them arguing last night. It makes me sick to think that half of my DNA came from someone like you. But, I have to admit, it does explain a few things.”
“But you have dark hair,” Carson pointed out, still struggling to believe what she was implying.
“Do you know what color your birth mother’s hair was?” she asked, drawing upon what she had learned about genetics in high school biology. “How about your birth father or your grandparents?”
“Not a clue. I’ve never met my mother, and there isn’t even a record of my dad anywhere,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Fuck me.”
“So, I’m the only blood relative that you’ve ever met, and you damn near killed me,” she told him, letting go a string of coughs that she had been suppressing since entering the room. “I’m most likely going to have permanent lung damage,” she gasped, trying to clear her throat.
“I can’t believe Olivia never told me about you.” His eyes turned dark, instantly filling with rage. “I deserved to know about you. That would’ve changed everything.”
“Which is most likely the reason she never told you,” Summer speculated. “I’m pretty sure that she had figured out that we would both be much better off without you.” Tears welled up in her eyes once again as she realized that her biological father was a full-blown narcissist. He obviously had no regard for the law or anyone’s feelings other than his own. She had written a term paper last semester on narcissism, at the suggestion of her mother. Looking back, she had to wonder if she had intentionally chosen that topic so she would understand Carson if the two of them ever met.
“Oh, but Ryan is perfect,” he seethed, shaking his head in disdain.
“Nobody’s perfect. But he’s been a good dad,” she countered, suddenly feeling defensive of him. “He got me a BMW for my birthday, even though he’s had a horrible year and I’m not even technically his daughter. You, on the other hand, tried to kill me.”
“For the record, I gave that kid explicit instructions not to hurt you. I didn’t know anything about him wanting a fucking kid of his own. I guess I should’ve explained that I wasn’t going to let him keep you.” He stared at her with a conflicted look on his face. “I only made you spend one full night out there by design,” he added.
“Oh, so you were actually looking out for me, huh?” she countered, completely blown away by his level of detachment. “Mom was right. Dad should’ve killed you when he had the chance,” she spouted, putting her grandfather’s words in Olivia’s mouth.
Carson chuckled, so amused by her statement that a smile actually crossed his face. “Yes, he definitely should have. With one phone call, I’ll be out of here or any other place they think they can hold me. I’ve cultivated some very powerful allies in the past six months just in case something like this ever happened.” He nodded his head with a self-satisfied grin. “I just need a couple more days to get these arms stabilized. I damn near bled out after that dipshit fucked them up.” His glare turned steely once again, showing how easily he could move past the emotions of finding out he had a daughter. “You tell him to watch his back, because I’m going to cut off both of his legs once I’m out of here.”
“I’ll just let him listen to the recording,” she replied with a smirk, setting her phone on the side table. “It’s amazing all the apps you can get for these things.”
“I didn’t consent to any recording. That will be worthless in court,” he sneered, tugging at the handcuffs as if he were going to break out of them and snatch the phone. “Ouch! Fuck, that hurts.”
“Court?” she snickered. “I recorded this for Mom. I just wanted to make sure she never spoke to you again,” sh
e told him in a hushed voice. “This will definitely be the final nail in your coffin.”
“Don’t count me out, missy,” he muttered back. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
“My biological father, unfortunately,” she snapped, grabbing her phone, shutting off the recorder, and stuffing it back into her pocket. “It was a pleasure meeting you . . . Dad.” She turned her chair and pushed toward the door before pausing and looking back. “You know, I’m glad I came here today. I never would’ve believed how much of an asshole you are without seeing it firsthand. Thank God Mom made the right choice.” She pushed against the door and immediately saw both guards just outside. “I hope you guys heard the part about how he’s going to have someone break him out of here,” she said, glancing back at Carson.
“Please exit the room, Ma’am,” Owen replied dryly, moving to the side and motioning for her to continue through the doorway. “Please wheel over to the X again and remain there until I have secured the room.” He stepped inside the room to make sure each of Carson’s cuffs were still in place before slamming the door shut. When he dropped the bars into place this time, he secured both of them with padlocks. He then turned and came over to where she was sitting. “I need you to send me a copy of that recording.”