My eyes widened as his fingers came near my hair. All the demons—the screaming—I’d fought so hard to rid myself of were back in force.
“Dawson, I’m here for ya. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
A half-hiccup, half-sob left my lips as I tried to force air into my lungs.
“Look at me, Dawson,” Beau instructed. His voice was barely more than a whisper, as he issued the request. “I ain’t gonna let no one harm ya. You’re in control.”
I nodded madly as if agreeing with him would make things true in my own head.
“Say it with me, Dawson.”
“I’m in control.”
“You’re capable.”
My next breath was a little easier, the exhalation a little less shaky. “I’m capable.”
“Did ya want me next to ya?”
I started to shake my head. I didn’t want him to have to expose himself on national TV for me, but then I thought about how much easier everything might be if I could hold his hand—if he could answer for me when I was choked up. With tears welling in my eyes, I nodded. “I’m sorry, I’m too weak to do this alone.”
“Don’t, darlin’, ya ain’t weak. Do you know how much strength it takes to even agree to this?”
“He’s right.” Dr Bradshaw ’s voice came from right behind Beau, but because I was too lost in his eyes, I hadn’t noticed her come closer. “This is a huge step, Phoebe. One a lot of people in your position would never be able to get to.”
“They’d never need to,” I argued.
“You’re right. Some wouldn’t. But that doesn’t take away from how brave you are being. Do you need to talk before you go on camera?”
We’d already agreed that she would be on hand for a completely off the record session after the cameras stopped rolling. It was already agreed that I would be having the talk regardless of whether I felt I needed it so that she could ensure I didn’t say no when I really did have things I needed to say.
When Beau called over the producer, Mum came with him. While Beau spoke to the producer, Mum kneeled in front of me. “The cameraman caught that little exchange with Beau, and Robert, the producer, wants to know if you’re happy to include it in the final cut.”
“What? Why?”
“Because it shows what you’re going through without you having to speak a single word about your ordeal.”
“Can I see the cut before it goes to air?”
“Of course.”
“Then, maybe.”
Beau came back with a mic pack. I slid across to let him sit next to me. Once he was ready to go, he offered me a comforting smile and held his hand on his lap—palm up—just like he had so often when he wanted to show me it was my choice.
I slipped my hand into his without hesitation.
“Are you ready?” The reporter, Ellen, asked as she sat opposite Beau and me.
Beau gave my hand a little squeeze as I nodded.
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Let’s start from the beginning. Why don’t you tell me what happened the day you were taken?”
I sucked down a breath and nodded. Then I proceeded to tell her the story of Xavier, Cora, and Bee.
By the end of the interview, I was a mess. I had no idea how they would get anything usable out of my blubbering, stuttering, and flat out sobbing, but Ellen and Robert declared that the stuff we had was great.
No one made me leave the couch in a hurry, telling me I could take as long as I needed.
After the cameras had been packed away, Dr Bradshaw sat across from me—where Ellen had sat during the interview. “How are you feeling?”
I swallowed. “I just hope it helps and that I haven’t just made things worse.”
“What’s your biggest fear with it?”
“That people will think I’m lying.”
“I’m not going to lie to you, there may be some people who will try to discredit you, and others who will suggest you have over exaggerated your experiences. However, the vast majority won’t be able to watch that interview and feel anything but sorrow for the things you’ve experienced.”
We talked back and forth for a while until she was happy that I was in as good a frame of mind as I could be under the circumstances.
“Phoebe, I just wanted to thank you for the honesty today,” Ellen said after I’d finished the meeting with Dr Bradshaw. “I know it wasn’t easy.”
“Beau helped.”
“You have a good man there.”
I nodded. “I know. I couldn’t imagine life without him now.”
“I also wanted to thank you for letting me be the one to interview you. I hope I didn’t overstep any boundaries.” The way she spoke made me wonder whether perhaps she had some darkness in her own life. I didn’t want to ask anything she wasn’t willing to offer though.
Before long, Mum, Beau, and I were on the road back home. It was only a little over three hours after we’d arrived even though it felt like longer. When we left, it was with the promise of a first edit of the planned final cut to be delivered to us within two days, and a plan to air the interview the weekend before Bathurst. The argument was because it would help with the crowds during the event, but I wasn’t so stupid that I didn’t know the ratings for it would be higher that weekend than on any other weekend for the rest of the year. Plus, the two events were airing on the same station, so it was all good cross-promotion.
When we got home, I asked Beau to leave and then headed to my bedroom. I’d had too much to handle for one day, and I hoped he would understand. It was the first time in a while I’d actually kicked him out.
I was woken a little after midnight by the piercing cry of a newborn, and a scream of my own rose to my lips. When I opened my eyes, my heart raced as I tried to figure out whether the sound was real or whether it was the one that had haunted my nights for months. For a moment, I waited for Beau’s voice in my ear or his gentle touch against my shoulder, but neither came.
As the baby’s cry continued, piercing my heart, I remembered that I’d sent him home after the interview.
Curling into a ball, I let my tears fall as I heard Mum’s footsteps in the hallway. I tried to stifle my sobbing so she didn’t worry about me while she took care of my baby sister.
THE NEXT couple of days were nothing short of a nightmare. The one thing that kept me sane was that Beau had jumped at the chance to be back in my bed and he’d comforted me back to sleep whenever I’d woken.
Two days after the interview, as promised, we received a rough version of the final cut. With the recording in hand, Mum, Beau, and I sat on the couch while everyone else was at work and school. I held Beau’s hand in mine as we watched the first part—the promo spots that Sundays at Six would run within minutes of us finishing the viewing. If we gave the okay at least.
When the main event started, I held tighter to Beau’s hand and closed my eyes for a moment to gather myself.
“Tonight, we have a special exclusive interview with a woman who has suffered intense trauma. Phoebe Reede, daughter of racing legend, Declan Reede, went to America to conquer a new racing format for Emmanuel Racing, and ended up chained and tortured in a storm cellar for almost three months at the hands of a trusted friend. This incredible story of survival is both awe-inspiring and heartbreaking, and Phoebe has agreed to break her silence over her ordeal exclusively to Sunday at Six.”
Beau gave my hand a little squeeze while my gaze locked onto myself on the screen as I described the memories that haunted me and the way it played with my mind. My heart raced as I watched myself talk about everything that had happened. Although it was raw, and ugly, and left me shaking even watching it, I couldn’t see anything that would cause problems. At least not yet.
That was a big part of the reason why Mum was watching it though. She could pick up the possible PR implications that I would miss. There were things the public and my fans needed to know though.
“What’s the one thing you would want to say to your fans?�
�� Ellen asked me on screen.
I watched myself sigh as my on-screen gaze fell on Beau momentarily before turning back to Ellen. “That I appreciate all of the support they’ve given me and my team. I’m here today because I’m ready to get out there and do the best I can for them and for myself, but that I need their patience. Crowds . . . Well, they overwhelm me. Honestly, there are days when my own family overwhelms me. I may take a little longer to get through autographs and photo sessions, but if you give me your patience, I’ll give you all the time that I have.”
When Ellen signed off and the recording went to black, I flicked off the TV and turned to Mum.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“I think it does what you wanted it to do and there’s nothing in there that shouldn’t be shown unless you’re not comfortable with any of it.”
I shook my head. “I think it’s fine. What do you think, Beau?”
“I don’t think I can say.”
Turning to face him completely, I frowned. What had I missed in the interview that he’d seen? More importantly, why wouldn’t he tell me?
“Tell me, I won’t be upset.”
A half-grin twisted his lips. “Do ya promise?”
I nodded. “Cross my heart.”
“I think it’s perfect, darlin’.”
“What was so bad about that?”
“And that you’re so darn beautiful. It’s like you’re made to be on the screen. Watchin’ that, it’s like I’m gettin’ to share the you I know with the world.”
My breath caught. He’d been so careful not to say anything like that to me since I’d told him the way Xavier used to compliment me.
“Are ya okay?”
I blinked at him as I ran through a few of Dr Bradshaw’s techniques for grounding myself. “Yeah, I think so.”
His fingers curled into the ends of my hair as he met my gaze and grinned at me.
“Well, if we’re all in agreement, then I’ll leave you two alone and go call Robert to let him know it’s all good to go.” Mum chuckled as she left.
I wrapped my hand around his cheek. “Did you want to go back to my room?”
He swallowed. “Maybe later. Right now, can I jus’ hold ya?”
I curled into his arms and rested my head against his chest. “Of course.”
We sat like that until the crowd filled the house again.
Later that night, I tried once more to draw Beau’s attention. His arms were around me instantly, his lips against mine. Once again, when I tried to push it further, he put on the brakes.
“Okay, what gives?” I asked.
“What d’ya mean?”
“I mean, well, you’re, uh—” I cleared my throat and then shifted so that I was straddling his hips. I wasn’t sure how to raise the issue. “You . . . Well . . . I was wondering why you don’t want to have sex with me.”
His cheeks turned pink. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you’ve turned me down a couple of times, and not just today.” As the thoughts filled me, I frowned and my lips formed a pout. Despite not thinking I’d ever want him again, the desires in me had been stoked because of him, and now it was as if he was afraid of taking things further. At least, at my house.
“It ain’t that I don’t wanna.”
“Good.” I leant down and planted a trail of soft kisses across his jaw.
He grabbed my shoulders and gently pushed me away.
I raised my brow at him. “What is it?”
His hands came to rest on my hips and he lifted me enough to slide his legs out from underneath me. Then he sat in front of me and held my hands. “I guess I just ain’t comfortable takin’ things further here.”
“Here?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “In your parents’ house.”
“You don’t want to have sex in my parents’ house?”
“It just don’t feel respectful.”
“I think they know we’ve had sex.”
The tips of his ears were almost scarlet. “It ain’t that. It’s just . . . your daddy ain’t only my girlfriend’s daddy, he’s also my boss. It don’t feel right to seduce his daughter under his roof.”
“Unless you think all of my family were immaculately conceived, I think Mum and Dad know about sex and the intimacy of it. I think they’re okay with you and me sharing that, even if they don’t want to know the specifics.”
“’Sides, one of your siblin’s might come in.”
It was clear he was willing to argue as long as it took.
“I might not understand it, but I’m not going to try to convince you,” I said. It would be hypocritical of me to try to push him when I’d spent so many months asking for patience. “But just to confirm what I’m hearing, your place . . .”
He chuckled. “There, the only thing stoppin’ me would be you.”
I leant forward and kissed him. When he went to deepen the kiss, I put my hand on his chest and pushed him away. “I guess it’s time for sleep then,” I teased.
He chuckled. “Are ya mad?”
“No. I mean, it would’ve been nice for you to tell me about your worry, but I’m not mad.”
“It wasn’t something I’d thought about. Not till ya asked just now.”
“I guess that’s okay. Although, just because I ask for a night over at your place—” I cut off before I could finish my thought because it was rehashing the conversation we’d had before I’d faced my fear of sleeping with him again. He’d never expect anything more from me than what I offered; I could trust that more than anything else in the world.
I STARED INTO the cot and watched as Georgia wiggled within. Each day I’d been at home had been a little harder than the last. Worse because on top of the other thoughts I had, guilt ate at me. Why couldn’t I just be happy that she was okay? Why did her every cry drive an arrow straight into my heart?
For her part, Georgia was content to suck on her fist and bounce her legs to entertain herself. She didn’t realise the torment she was putting me through, just by existing.
She was so small, helpless, and I was transfixed. A thousand thoughts ran through my head as I watched her. Would my child have been such a content baby? Or would she have been more like Parker who had cried almost non-stop between three in the afternoon and seven at night every day?
My hand found its way onto my stomach and the heat of tears burned my eyes. The longing to go back in time, to save the life that had been lost, was stronger than ever.
“Darlin’, are you all right?”
I jumped at the sound of Beau’s voice but didn’t spin around to look at him. Although his footsteps had been partly muffled by the carpet, they had been just clear enough that I’d heard his approach and didn’t completely freak out. It was merely the timing of his words that had startled me.
“I’m not sure,” I murmured. “I can’t . . . I can’t get it out of my head.” I was certain the placement of my hand, and my introspection would tell him exactly what I was thinking about.
“I think about it too,” he admitted. “Whether she’d a got your eyes or mine.”
I shifted closer to him, granting him silent permission to wrap his arms around me. When he did, I held his arms against my stomach with my hands and rested my head back on his chest. “Do you wish things were different and we could try again? I mean, are you sure you’re not going to regret being with me later on?”
He remained quiet for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. “I woulda been honoured to be the daddy of your children, but I know that ain’t in the cards. I want you, even if that means never havin’ kids.”
“I want it,” I admitted. It was something I hadn’t really said to anyone. At least, I hadn’t confessed the full extent of my desire. “There are some days where I want it so bad I can’t think of anything else. Even when I’m out on the track, I want it more than I want to drive. I just imagine a different life. A different world. One where I am healthy and don’t have any of t
he issues I have. Where you could touch me freely, and my brain wouldn’t erect these walls over and over, and where we could have kids whenever we wanted without having to worry about whether it could cause me to have kidney failure.”
Standing there, with his arms wrapped around me, it was easier than ever to imagine it. To picture Georgia as our child rather than my sister. A whole other world; another life. One that was impossibly out of my reach.
It was never going to get easier.
It was time for me to admit that to myself. If I was honest, I’d known it since the day I’d acknowledged Mum’s pregnancy.
I would always look at Georgia and wonder about my child. The nights when Georgia woke screaming already intermingled with my nightmares, giving them more power than ever. How could I cope with another twelve months or more of the situation?
A resolution built within me.
“Is the offer to live with you still open?” I asked Beau with as much volume as I could muster.
At first, I thought Beau mustn’t have heard me, but then he spun me in his arms. The smile crossing his lips confirmed he’d heard and that the answer was yes. Or maybe, hell yes! “Course! D’ya really wanna?”
“I can’t stay here. I love my family, but this . . . it hurts too much to look at her, Beau.” I rested my head against his chest as tears flooded my eyes again. “Maybe with some distance, I’ll get to a good place again. I’ll be able to love her like a big sister should. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“When?”
I brushed the tears away and gave him a smile. “Today? Tomorrow? It doesn’t matter to me. I’m sure Mum and Dad won’t mind storing my things so I can move across a little at a time. I’ll talk to them before dinner and if you’re happy we’ll go to your place tonight.”
He lifted me up and spun me around before kissing me in celebration. My smile grew with the knowledge that such a simple action on my part could have such a strong impact on him.
AS I’D EXPECTED, Mum and Dad didn’t mind when I told them I wanted to move in with Beau. In fact, they were practically giddy, no doubt seeing it as proof of my healing. It wasn’t though. I wasn’t moving out because I thought I was ready to be independent; it was simply the lesser of two evils.
Phantom (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #5) Page 5