by Oliver, Tess
I think about his words. I'm in enough of a muddle that they're hard to process, but the thought of Freestone coming after me seems ridiculous. "I don't think you need to worry about it, Captain. Freestone isn't going to come after me."
"You get well and let me take care of everything else."
Maddox walks over while they take my vitals, replacing Clark at my side. I feel as if the past few days have drained away my life but seeing him with his jewel green eyes and confident smile gives me a burst of energy. I frustrate the paramedic by squirming from his grasp as he's about to take my blood pressure. I drag the cuff, cord and monitor along as I reach for Maddox's arm. The medic grabs for the equipment cart before it rolls forward and hits the gurney.
I shrug. "Sorry, it's just that my best friend recently came back from the dead and I have to keep touching him to make sure he's really here." The blood pressure cuff comes loose as I lift my arms up to Maddox. Just being in his arms takes away some of the pain coursing through my body.
"Fucking hell, Ten, you've aged me a hundred years in two months." Maddox mutters against my cheek.
The medic clears his throat to remind us they need to get to work.
Maddox lowers his arms and takes hold of my hand. "I'll be right behind."
"You don't have to go with me, Maddox. I'll be fine," I say with little conviction.
His dark brow arches as he half smiles down at me. Everything about him is so familiar it makes me want to hug him again. "Uh, maybe you forgot what happened the last time I let you out of my sight."
"Technically, that was all your fault." My voice is thin and weak. No longer from despair but from shock and joy. My head has been in and out of a drug haze for so long, I'm still working hard to convince myself that I'm awake and staring up at Maddox. And he is real, and amazing, and breathtaking and, as always, heartbreaking. For me, he's every powerful emotion rolled up into one strong, beautiful man. The nectar had muted my emotions but now that the drug was leaving my body, every feeling was coming back to me in pure vivid color.
My throat tightens as I think back to the profound loss I felt for the past few days. I reach for him one more time and take hold of his hand. "You're really here."
"Yep. Looks like you're stuck with me." Maddox squeezes my hand. "Ten, thought I'd lost you. So fucking glad I found you."
Tears stream down my face. I make no attempt to stop them. I've earned every one.
3
Kane
The shrubby landscape provides a simple yet effective camouflage. My vantage point above the site gives me an unobstructed view of the police activity below. I watch as they carry out the few remaining pieces of Lace Underground. We worked hard to clear everything away, to erase any traces, leaving only a maze of empty passages and rooms. This chapter of my life has been wiped clean with only the memories of her left behind. She came to destroy me. She succeeded in more ways than one.
Her cinnamon red hair looks fiery in the daylight. She is thin and pale as she sits on the gurney. He's there too. If only he didn't exist. If only there wasn't a Detective James Maddox. No doubt he'll stay close to her during the hell she'll go through the next few weeks. Once the nectar is out of her system, she'll be back to normal. Back to the way she was before she met me. I'll just be a bizarre memory.
The search team is making its way through the unsuspecting landscape. Birds and lizards and other critters skitter out of the way. I kick aside the shrubs and step on the button. The trap door opens. I drop inside, push the button to seal it shut and head through the emergency escape tunnel, away from the police, away from my underground complex, away from the woman who, in just a few short months, stole both my heart and my world.
4
Maddox
Nurse Hopkiss, a woman with an adorable name but not so adorable personality, scowls angrily at the greasy bag and shake in my hand.
I lift the bag to prove to her that I'm not sneaking it in but rather walking boldly past her with it in plain view. "Look, let's not waste time with this," I tell her before she can start her repetitive lecture about the importance of good nutrition while the patient is dealing with her 'situation'. Hopkiss insists on using the word situation for the grueling weeks of withdrawal. "I think we can both agree that the patient is severely underweight. The food in this place is about as appetizing as a soggy bowl of cereal, so let's just say I'm bringing her some much needed calories. Besides, she sent me a text telling me if I didn't show up with French fries and a chocolate shake there would be hell to pay. And if there's one thing I'm scared of in this whole world, it's the one hundred pound fireball behind that door on the right."
Hopkiss sighs resignedly. "Fine but I didn't see you and get rid of the evidence. I don't need a lecture from Dr. Tully."
"That's the spirit, Hop Skip and a Kiss."
"And stop calling me that," she says with a hidden grin.
I turn to leave but stop and lean over the counter at the nurse's station. "By the way—how is she?"
Hopkiss peers up at me over the rim of her glasses. "Let's just say fireball might be an understatement."
"Right. Glad I'm armed with a chocolate shake." I head to Ten's room and knock.
The door swings instantly open. Ten reaches for the greasy bag and yanks it away before I even step into the room.
"Hello to you too." I follow her inside the private room. The rehab center's attempt at making the room look cozy and inviting is laughable. Ten claimed the bright yellow and blue curtains actually made her head hurt worse. They've since been covered with a gray bed sheet. The oak bed frame has a matching nightstand. A small table and two chairs are positioned under the window shrouded in bed linens. Visitors have a short blue couch that matched the curtains back when they weren't covered by the gray sheet.
Ten wastes no time cascading packets of ketchup over the fries. I place the shake down next to her and pull my hand away quickly like I might do if feeding a tiger at the zoo.
Ten pops the lid off. "Hmm, chocolate." She dips one of the fries into the shake and closes her eyes as it passes her lips. "So good. It was nice of you to bring me this." Her tone is soft and sweet, but after three weeks of watching her go through the torture of withdrawal, I know too well that can change in an instant. She has entered a phase that Clark and I have termed politely as 'edgy'. And not in a cool, hip way. But it's a phase that thrills me because shades of the real Ten are showing through and I fucking missed every 'edgy' bit of her.
"Good of me? I believe there was a threat about hell to pay if I didn't show up with fries and a shake." I sit down on the couch and watch her gobble the food. Her gray t-shirt hangs on her bony shoulders like it's sitting on a coat hanger. But there is a sparkle in her brown eyes that I haven't seen in a long time. "Watch you don't choke. It's been a while since I took that Heimlich training."
She picks up the shake and stirs it with the straw. "Trust me, if I choke I will stumble out into the hallway to look for help. I took that training with you. You spent the whole four hours flirting with the woman sitting next to us. You didn't learn a fucking thing except her phone number."
"Whoa, someone is gaining back all of her memory. Try to gather up some of the stories where I wasn't being a total asshole."
Ten sits back to consider my suggestion. She pushes the straw between her lips. My focus is instantly drawn to her mouth. Was it possible to miss watching someone drink from a straw? Apparently it was.
"Nope," Ten says after a swallow. "No asshole free stories come to mind."
The old banter habit comes back naturally to us but deep down I worry that we're using it as a way to avoid the hurdles we still face, the hurdles she faces. There is so much behind the last few months besides an aggravating drug addiction. Right now, everything is focused on her physical recovery. The rest of it will take longer. My guess is that it'll be much harder. I only hope I have the strength to face it along with her. Especially now that I've finally gotten through my thick skull just how
I feel about her.
Ten sucks the last few drops of shake through the straw and puts the cup down victoriously. "That ought to put some round back on my hips and thighs."
"Think you're still a long way from that, but a chocolate shake is a good start."
Ten eats one more fry and curls her nose before pushing it away. "I think they are only tasty if dipped in chocolate shake." She gets up from the chair. For the hundredth time, she pulls the drawstring on her sweatpants attempting to keep them on her slim hips. The skin on her arms is slightly raw from rubbing, but the crazy skin crawling reaction is slowly disappearing. Her first two weeks in detox were almost unbearable to watch. She writhed in pain morning until night. When she wasn't feeling the pain, her body would tremble uncontrollably. In between the misery, she had to keep from scratching herself raw. The nurses kept trimming her nails. They kept her in soft, mitten-like gloves morning through night. When she refused to wear them, Nurse Hopkiss told her it was gloves or having her arms strapped to the bed. Wisely, Ten chose the gloves.
She sits down on the couch, turns to face me and crosses her legs kindergarten style. "I need to ask you a big, big, super big favor."
The phrase is so Ten-like, it makes me smile.
"Ooh, you're flashing that Hollywood bad boy smile already. Good start," she says. "I like your enthusiasm. Keep it blooming as you figure out a way to get me the fuck out of here."
I stare at her a second to see if a laugh or the infamous Ten smile follows. They don't. She's serious.
"Yeah, I don't know, Ten. It's hard enough trying to sneak in a milkshake. I'm pretty sure Hopkiss will notice if I throw you over my shoulder or tuck you under my coat and take you out of here."
"Still such a funny man. Good to see that being brutally dumped by your fiancée, a future dentist, no less, hasn't left you completely devoid of humor." Considering how much I bragged about the dentist thing it's a well-deserved dig.
I shrug. "Yeah well, after the near death experience, the being brutally dumped thing just wasn't a big deal."
"Yeah, yeah," she waves it off. "Almost died, yada, yada. Now, get me out of this place. Please. I'm going stir crazy in here. At this point, they are really just well paid babysitters."
"Ten, how the hell am I going to do that?"
She reaches over and smacks me on the chest. "Figure something out. I can't stay here."
"Ouch." I rub my chest and scoot back on the couch. "You can't go back to your apartment. Clark is already freaking out that he had to pull the security detail when you moved to this facility."
She untangles her long legs and paces the floor in front of me. I notice that her hands are shaking as she crosses her arms around herself.
"Are you cold? I'll get your sweatshirt." I get up to walk and grab the sweatshirt off the end of the bed.
She circles back my direction. There's enough misery in her face and anxious tension in the way she moves to get me thinking about a plan. I stop to drape the sweatshirt around her shoulders. We both fall noticeably quiet. She lifts her gaze to me. Her eyes are large and expressive in her thin, pale face. It's hard to interpret the moment but it seems we are both wondering just where this will lead us. Everything has changed. There is still so much clutter between us, it makes the idea of us being together seem almost impossible. Or maybe most of the clutter is on my side. There isn't a day that goes by when I don't think about Ten living underground, submitting to all Freestone's fantasies. My blood boils with jealous rage at the thought of him touching her.
Ten pulls her eyes away quickly. I worry that she's caught me in one of my moments of utter fucking turmoil. I need to tuck that shit away, especially when I'm with her. It's the last thing she needs. What she does need is a place to get better and the rehab facility is not it.
"You know, my uncle owns a little house down on the coast."
"Is that the uncle who likes to spend all his spare time fishing?" she asks.
"Uncle Nate, yeah, that's him. It's remote and pretty cool. It was a great make-out place when I was young."
Ten's mouth purses. "Yes, back in the day, when you were just a young, horny buck . . . as compared to now." She reaches for my hand. Her fingers are cold and shaky, reminding me she's far from a hundred percent. I could be making a big mistake. If I was smart I'd be talking her out of this careless scheme but I know how persistent Ten can be. If I don't help her, she'll find another way out.
She squeezes my hand in hers. "Please give Uncle Nate a call."
I stare down at her. It's hard to ignore those pleading brown eyes. "It's kind of a hovel."
Ten lets go of my hand and smacks me, flat palmed, in the chest again. "A hovel? Have you seen my apartment? Call him."
I rub the sting from my chest. "Jeez, all right, Elaine from Seinfeld. Stop smacking my chest."
Ten crosses her arms with a shrug. "Sorry. I'm a little on edge."
"You think?" I pull out my phone and scroll through my contacts to Uncle Nate. I decide to send him a text about using his house. Uncle Nate tends to get into long gory details about his various ailments, like fungus on his toes or his overactive bladder.
"Hey Nate, it's Jim. Can I use the beach house for a few weeks?" I know calling it a beach house always makes him happy.
Nate texts right back. "Sure thing, Jimmy. I've just had some corns removed from my foot, so I won't be going fishing anytime soon."
"Thanks." I text quickly back. It seems the text was a good idea. "Well, that's settled."
Ten hops around for a few seconds before throwing her arms around me. "Best friend a girl could have." She lets me go and skips around the room a few more times. "Hey, bed, I won't miss you." She rubs her fingers along the sheet on the window. The push pins on the wall above give way and the sheet falls down. "And bright, head hurting curtains, I won't miss you either."
"Seems like you have some energy to burn."
"You're right. I'll be on the beach. I can go running every morning."
I walk toward her and take hold of her arm before she can skip around again. "Hold it there, Skippy. First of all, you won't be able to just wander freely about. The beach house is sort of off the beaten path but that doesn't mean we can let our guards down. Freestone is still out there."
Her thin shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. "I told you, he's not coming after me. Freestone wouldn't do anything to hurt me. He had every opportunity to kill me or get rid of me and he didn't."
She seems somewhat proud of the fact, but she's not thinking clearly yet. "Exactly," I say. "He could have killed you. He should have killed me but he didn't. And I think that had way more to do with his feelings for you than having an ounce of compassion."
Ten starts rubbing her arms. Whenever the topic of Freestone or Lace Underground comes up, it seems to stir what she calls her invisible army of ants. I take hold of her wrists to stop her. She stares down at my grasp on her wrists. Her breaths come in short, fast bursts and a pink blush covers her skin.
She lifts her face. "Let's fuck," she says quietly.
"What?"
"Let's fuck right now."
I release my hold on her. "Ten," I start but she shakes her head not wanting to hear my excuses.
"Never mind. Can't blame you." Her laugh is weedy and dry. "Who wants to fuck a human skeleton who is so on edge she can't stop scratching her skin?"
"Ten, that's not it." She pushes away my hand when I reach for her.
"When do I pack up? Wish I had some shorts and a bathing suit. Maybe we can swing by my place on the way."
"Ten, stop and listen for a second."
She ignores me and walks to the closet.
"Ten."
"Really, Maddox. I was only kidding about fucking. Just drop it."
I stomp over and slap the closet door out of her hand and shut. She looks up at me in surprise.
"Listen. There is one big hole in our plan. How do I get you out of here?"
"I could just make a run for it," she sugge
sts.
"Yep. That should earn you a locked door and by locked I mean from the outside. Different plan, other than the obvious. I'll go back to the precinct and see if Clark can pull some strings. But no promises."
Ten reaches to hug me but backs off. It feels like a slap in the face.
"Ten," I try and restart the conversation about the earlier awkward moment but she cuts me off.
"Hurry back to the precinct, would ya? I don't want to spend a moment longer in this room." She avoids eye contact with me as she speaks. It's clear it's bothering her as much as me, but I decide to drop it for now. She's not ready to tread in those waters yet. I'm sure as hell not ready either.
For now, I need to focus on getting her out of rehab before she climbs the walls, literally.
5
Angie
"Well, what do you think?" Maddox asks from behind.
I stare out at the unobstructed view of the Pacific Ocean. There are gray slate cliffs at one end of the cove and an outcropping of rocks on the other. It's a small curl of paradise. "I guess like they say—one man's hovel is another man's castle. Or in this case—woman's. A very grateful woman. Thank you so much for this, Maddox. I can even forgive you for taking a whole damn week to free me from that place."
"Anything for my partner." He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, leaving me slightly breathless from the quick gesture.
I can feel the smile on my face, a sensation that has only just returned since my days in rehab. Withdrawals from Kane's drug seemed to make every nerve in my body ten times more sensitive. I felt every nurse's pinprick, every sharp stomach cramp, every throbbing ache in my temples, but the simple sensation of a smile on my face was numbed. Now that most of the hard stuff is over, the reverse is slowly happening. It helps take away the edge. I am more relaxed, but the frenzied nerves and hyper moods are being replaced by a deep, relentless melancholy. The depression that has taken hold brings me back to the terrible days following my dad's death. After his accident, I was alone in a black shroud of guilt. I could never bring myself to confess to my mom or brothers that my last words to Dad were 'I hate you'. They were dealing with their own grief, normal sadness and that sense of overwhelming loss. But I dealt with my own special form of despair, one that was stained by guilt. I never found my way out from under the weight of that remorse. I had no one to commiserate with, no one who'd experienced the same pain. There was no other awful person like me to sympathize with. My brothers hadn't ruthlessly yelled out 'I hate you, Dad' before he drove off to his death. Only I had that horrid privilege. I spent many of my rebellious and brooding teenage years dealing with all the shit that gets thrown at you in the teen's world. At the same time I was trying to figure out how I'd ever change what happened that day. I knew it was impossible but occasionally, I hoped that if I thought about it hard enough I'd somehow let my dad know how much I wanted to erase what I said. But there is no way to erase the past. It was a brutal reality I learned at fourteen and one I've learned again at twenty-five. And once again, it seems I'm dealing with something huge and dark and life changing and I have no one to commiserate with. Maddox has been by my side through all of it, but just like with my family, I can't talk to him about any of the deep stuff. Just like my family, Maddox is the last person I want to talk to about it. I've never felt so close and at the same time so distant from anyone as Maddox.