Trusting Gibson (Last Score Book 2)

by K. L. Shandwick

  What did she write? Was it about Kace? Was it about what happened? Adrenaline rushed through me, fearful of what he may have done and what she’d disclosed. When Chloe was found, there wasn’t a mark on her. Tests were negative for force and there were no bodily fluids found that indicated that Kace had forced himself on her.

  This time the doctor leaned over and clicked escape on the laptop and switched screens. All I could see was a whole document with one word, “Gibson.” Chloe had entered my name over and over. Three whole pages of my name. Proof with all that had happened to her, she had, still remembered me in all of this. Another negative thought entered my head. How does she remember me?

  I stared confused at the doctor and when he smiled, I was so fucking relieved that I could have kissed that ugly little man. Heaving out a long sigh, I then cleared the lump that had been in my throat since I watched Chloe on the screen so intently, “So what does this mean?”

  “It means I want to prepare you for seeing Chloe.”

  Hearing those words set off a chain reaction of excited thoughts about what I was going to say to her. My adrenaline pumped even harder in my veins at the thought of finally holding her in my arms again, feeling her hair, smelling her skin and having her warm body close to mine. Then came the worry. How do I get from what I saw on the screen to achieving that?

  “Not yet, of course…but soon. If she does this again or makes another reference to you, I’ll re-introduce you to her.” Reading my disappointment, he stood and stepped around his desk, placing his hand heavily on my shoulder. “I know this is frustrating for you, but we have to go at Chloe’s pace. We’ve come a long way in such a short time, and in my view she’s weeks away from talking, much faster than I could have hoped for at the start of this.”

  Usually that assessment would have made my heart soar, but now that I’d seen Chloe on screen and knew she was thinking about me, it was torturous. I’d seen her for myself and before that’s all that I’d wanted, but now…I needed to hold her— regardless of what Chloe needed. I needed to hold her.

  Opening the door, my eyes met Johnny’s, who studied me with a worried look in his eyes like he was holding his breath. It dawned on me that Chloe’s position had taken its toll on all of us, in one way or another.

  Jerry and Johnny were close friends and he was trying to support the both of us. Jerry had handed in his resignation, and although I hadn’t accepted it, I was having difficulty getting past the way he’d fucked up twice in one day.

  “Take me the fuck home. No, take me to a bar. I need to get drunk.” Johnny didn’t answer me, just threw an arm over my shoulder in support and walked quietly back to the car beside me. When he started the car, “Fix You” by Coldplay was on the radio.

  Once we were settled, Johnny took out his phone. “Len, get the boys together, we’re coming over.”

  “I said take me to a bar.”

  “Nope, tell me what happened?”

  After a quick run through of what had happened in the doctor’s office, Johnny let out a long slow whistle. “Damn, Gib. That’s tough, but I think it won’t be long before you get another call. What if it’s today? You want to be drunk and make her wait? Or do you want to be ready to go get your girl and sort out this fucking mess in her head?”

  Johnny was always looking out for me, and this time was no different. This time I listened to his voice of reason. “Take me to Len’s.”

  Within ten minutes of arriving, Simon and Mick turned up. I can’t explain what having all the guys rallying like that did for me, but I felt like I was home. Instead of talking about Chloe, Simon and Mick started talking about a party they had gone to a couple of days ago and the wild ride they both had with some plus size model with ‘tits the size of watermelons.’

  Mick loves curvy women and I could actually relate, because there was something about that certain type of woman that skinny girls just couldn’t compete with. Dressed in the right clothing, they oozed sex appeal.

  As they were talking about their naked antics with a carton of frozen yogurt they had taken from the host’s freezer, we were all cracking up laughing when Simon started telling us about acquiring a bunch of grapes and two still being missing now.

  We were crying with laughter about them both being drunk and Simon stubbing his toe when he slipped on the yoghurt that the woman rubbed on his feet and was attempting to suck off. Apparently this was too tickly for Simon, who cracked up laughing and he’d attempted to run to the bathroom to take a leak in the middle of everything.

  As everyone was howling with laughter, I suddenly had a flashback of Ruby’s face and the grin died on my face, but this time I had a clearer vision of what had happened. Like an old news reel, the whole incident became a solid memory and I could see exactly where I fitted in.

  I was rip roaring drunk. It was Mick and Len that were having sex with Ruby. Not me. I was having sex with her friend in the same room at the time. Standing up, I puffed out a huge sigh of relief and all the guys turned to face me. Johnny stood up and he could see I was emotional, I was obviously relieved. Striding across the room, I pulled Mick out of the chair and kissed him hard on the lips.

  Mick struggled with me until he wrestled himself free and wiped his mouth. “Eww, what the fuck, Gib. What did you do that for? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Grinning at Len who was staring at me with bunched brows I said, “Ruby? Did I fuck Ruby? Nah, it was you two randy bastards.” I couldn’t contain my delight, and pointed at Lennox then at Mick. Mick raised an eyebrow.

  “Actually Gib you got that wrong, I fucked Ruby, she gave Len head.”

  Len said, “She did?” Len raised his eyebrow, then stated, “Well I’d like to say it was memorable but…”

  Staring incredulously at Mick I asked, “You knew? You knew I never bagged her and you never said anything?” Mick looked at Len then Johnny and finally at me.

  “What am I missing here? Why did you think you’d been with Ruby? Were you with Ruby? Jeez…I’m confused, will somebody fill me in?”

  Only then did I realize that the only conversation I’d had about Ruby was with Len. Communication had to improve all around within the team. Snickering, I imagined us keeping a log book of who had bagged who, to avoid this kind of confusion in the future. Not that I’d be going elsewhere.

  Johnny ordered pizzas and salad and for the rest of the night we talked about music and current affairs and I have to say it was the most normal night I’d had for months. Len told me to stay the night with the others, so I did.

  Waking with the sun streaming through the side of the drapes, which had been pulled too far together, I cracked my eye open trying to focus on the time. It was 9:45am. I hadn’t slept that long for months and I was feeling pretty groggy.

  Proud that I’d stayed away from alcohol: my temporary crutch when life felt too much, I wandered through to the sitting room. Johnny had crashed out on the large deep-cushioned sectional with his pants draped over the back of it and his bare hairy ass mooning out toward the center of the room. Seriously, the dude was a commando in more ways than one. Not able to resist an opportunity of catching him with his pants down literally, I smacked him hard on it. Johnny flew to his feet and was ready to do battle until he realized where he was and that the person who had spanked him was me. “What the fuck, Gib you nearly finished me there.”

  Snickering wickedly, I smirked and shook my head. “Dude, the way you were humping that leather, I think you were trying to finish yourself.”

  Len came padding through bare naked and acting all ambidextrous, scratching his balls and his head at the same time, and wandered over to the fridge. “Don’t let me disturb you guys, carry on.” Johnny sat on the leather sofa and it made this huge farting noise as he slid his clammy skin back against the leather and Len and I were suddenly kids with toilet humor, laughing raucously at him.

  Simon came through, asking what was going on because it was still the middle of the night in his world, and ended
up draining a whole carton of orange juice while we said our goodbyes. Johnny and I headed back to our rental place. Only then did it dawn on me that all the guys had hung around in Seattle when they could have been at home in Cali, basking in the sun.

  “When I realized Chloe was gone, I felt that I had no one in this world that loved me for me. I was wrong. You guys are family. Even you…even Jerry, the fuck up.”

  “Jeez, Gib, I want it known I’m adopted, I don’t want people to think I have a freak in my pants like yours.”

  Looking at the passenger seat I gave Johnny a wry grin and he sniffed, pretending to be indignant about my comment. But I could see he was secretly pleased that I thought of him like that. I was driving because he’d been drinking with the others. I wasn’t going through this torturous time with Chloe and getting so close to seeing her again, only to die in a car crash because someone who had been drinking had impaired judgment on the road the following morning.

  Cathy was sitting on the sofa crying when I arrived back at the house. Alarmed when I saw how distressed she was, I rushed over and hugged her. “What’s happened? Chloe? What’s happened?”

  Cathy was sobbing and hitching her breath, wiping her runny nose. The toll it was taking on everyone was immense. “Chloe…she…sh…Gibson.”

  Whatever was going on for her, she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

  “Is she alive.” I just wanted to establish the basics, anything else I’d manage afterwards.

  Cathy smiled and nodded vigorously then shook her head, her body still wracked with sobs. “She spoke…she said, ‘Gibson.’ Sinking to my knees in front of her, I took her hands in mine. “Thank you, God.” Swallowing audibly, I looked into eyes that were just a bit dimmer than Chloe’s but there was no doubt that Chloe was made from her. “I promise you, Cathy. Your daughter will be stronger and feistier than ever by the time I’m finished. I also promise you if it takes me to my last breath, I will find Kace and he will suffer for what he did to our girl.”

  Cathy smiled and freed one hand, placing it to my cheek. “Gibson, you are a good man. Chloe couldn’t be in better hands.” My breath caught in my throat, because Cathy was the third person who had just accepted me for who I was and not what I was.

  CHAPTER 23 - HOPE

  Gibson

  Chloe said my name.

  “When can I see her? Why didn’t they call me? Can I go over there now?” My mind was jumping all over the place. Cathy shook her head, looking sympathetically at me and I could see the struggle on her face about giving me information I really didn’t want to hear.

  “They didn’t call you because they knew you would go straight there, Gibson. Dr. Owen said that Chloe is undergoing her therapy sessions this morning and afternoon and they would decide from there where they take it.”

  Those suffocating feelings in my chest rose again and I fought to suppress them. I was in danger of losing my self-control, because I was helpless to make any decisions. In my past, everything depended on me. I answered to no one, I did what I wanted, and it was up to me to make things work. Being reliant on others wasn’t in my nature, nor was waiting for someone to give me permission to do something as basic as talk to a girl.

  “Gonna take a shower.” I was pissed and fucking furious that my girl had asked for me and I couldn’t go and comfort her. As soon as I closed my bedroom door, I kicked the wall hard then I punched rapidly into the mattress. Breathing hard, I swung around and sat heavily on the bed feeling at boiling point. Stripping my clothes off in a temper, I threw my jeans at the dresser, knocking over all the shit I’d been leaving there for days. Cups, glasses, pens, notebook…stalking towards it, I took my arm along the dresser and swiped them all to the floor before striding into the bathroom and hitting the shower faucet on.

  As soon as I stepped under the shower, I slumped down the tiles and cried again. I’ve never cried so much in my life as I have since Chloe was abducted. Actually, I don’t remember crying at all before Chloe. I had just put shampoo on my hair when I heard my cell ring. Hurriedly, I tried to rinse it off and grabbed a towel from the back of the door, wrapping it around my waist.

  I had missed a call from the clinic, so hit return and waited impatiently for it to connect. “Gibson Barclay—put me through to the person who just rang this number.” I wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries I just wanted to see my girl.

  A couple of clicks on the line and the now familiar Patricia’s voice came down it.

  “Mr. Barclay? Can you come over? Dr. Owen would like you to see Chloe.”

  Dropping the phone on the bed, I pulled on the first piece of clothing I could find. The white t-shirt that was Chloe’s favorite was lying dirty on the floor, but I couldn’t have cared less, so I swiped it up, pulled it on and headed down the hallway. “Johnny move it, I’m leaving now.”

  Johnny appeared from his room and came walking quickly down the hall. “They called you?”

  I didn’t answer because I was too busy finding shoes and Cathy came from the sitting room with hands raised, “She’s asked for you?”

  “Sorry, Cathy, I don’t know anything, just that I got a call to go in. The doc says I can see her.”

  The car hadn’t fully stopped when I opened the door and jumped out running in front of the SUV with my hand reaching out to the hood as if that was going to stop Johnny from mowing me down. Rushing inside, the door banged hard against the wall and all the reception staff stopped dead and turned to look at me.

  Breathless, I heaved deeply to fill my lungs and gasped out, “Chloe. Dr. Owen called.”

  The hot prim receptionist with the black rimmed glasses and top knot inclined her head in the direction of the seats. “Please sit down, I’ll let them know you’re here.”

  “Sit down?” I’d done nothing for nearly two months but sit down. I didn’t want to sit down. All I wanted was to be in the same room as Chloe again. Patricia, the stern looking intern with her severely scraped back black hair and blue hospital pajamas, appeared and ushered me up to Dr. Owen’s office. When she opened the door I could see the doc already getting out of his chair to meet me.

  “Gibson. Come in, take a seat.”

  “No. Tell me.”

  “Firstly, I need you to be very calm. Second I need you to do exactly what I ask. If I don’t think you can, then I won’t risk putting you in there with her. This is about Chloe. I don’t care that you are a pop star.”

  “Rock star.”

  “Whatever. Here, you are Chloe’s partner. She’s the one with status, not you.”

  Damn. Of course he was right, but wrong at the same time. I wasn’t being a rock star, I was being a guy who passionately wanted to see his girl in the flesh. Nothing bullish about that.

  “When you enter the room, you are not to touch Chloe. You don’t speak to her for the first five minutes and you are in there for a maximum of fifteen. You steer clear of anything that is remotely a stressor for her. Talk about music. Talk about the weather…anything you think is a safe subject. I don’t expect much from Chloe. You can tell her how you feel about her in general terms but you are not to discuss Kace, understand? Keep the conversation clipped. Short sentences. You start reasoning and explaining something, it will all be lost and I may as well give you a megaphone and send you out to sea in a rowing boat, because she’s not going to hear you.”

  Smiling at me like he’d just empowered me, made me feel depressed because I felt the opposite. I was walking into a minefield and one false move could send Chloe right back into her shell. When the doc arrived, he took me down the corridor and along another with a locked door. The reality of keeping Chloe safe became even more apparent. She wasn’t a prisoner, but she was locked in because she was seen as a danger to herself and others until they knew her mental status.

  Every step we took sparked a reaction from my body. My pulse was throbbing in my neck and my temple. My mouth was dry, my heartbeat thready and rapid, and I was almost panting with the fear and excitement of b
eing with her. Opening the door, Dr. Owen, crept over to Chloe who was wearing a blue maxi skirt and white fitted top and she was sitting with her back to me, staring into the corner of the room. That shocked me. I never expected not to see her face.

  Placing his stubby hand on the small laminate table beside her, he said, “Chloe, I have a new person I want you to see. He has come especially to see you. I am going to leave and come back in fifteen minutes, and he will leave again.”

  Few things in my life have scared me, but when the door clicked shut, I don’t mind saying that I felt afraid. Afraid that I’d say something that hurt her or made her react badly or worse, trigger a negative memory. So I froze, standing there with an anxious feeling making every muscle in my body solidify, my fingers opening and closing because I was itching to hold her but I knew that I couldn’t do that. So trying to figure a way around everything, I took the seat and sat quietly, waiting to see what she did. When she didn’t turn to look at me, I stared at the back of her head.

  After five minutes I said, “Just finding some tunes for us.” Reaching over, I began flicking the CD cases forward to find one that she’d enjoy. A familiar one screamed at me, which would let her know what she meant to me. It was significant but general enough and it had played once when we were in the car, “Something I Need” by One Republic.

  Ryan Tedder sang to Chloe while I listened and watched Chloe intently. There was no reaction—nothing. I don’t know what I was expecting and I’d been warned not to expect much, but she appeared a shell of the warm sweet girl I fell in love with. When the song finished, I checked my watch and it was seven minutes in, so I could talk to her. “Hello, darlin’ how’s my girl doing?”

  Again there was nothing. So I just sat talking about my day and how I was doing. Any ol’ shit really, because if I said what I really thinking, I’d probably have finished her off.