Bayside Wishes

by Stacy Claflin

  "What happened?" Freya asked.

  Alana kneeled on the floor in front of her. "You passed out. Don't you remember?"

  Freya moaned. "I was thirsty…"

  The lady in the white coat turned to her. "I'm Dr. Gellar. When was the last time you had something to drink?"

  Elle stepped forward. "Freya had a bunch of water between shoots."

  The doctor frowned. "She shows signs of dehydration."

  "Must be something else." Elle shot Freya a glance, warning her not to disagree.

  "I'm hungry." Freya rubbed her bump again.

  "When was the last time you ate?" Dr. Gellar slid her finger around the screen of a tablet.

  Freya tried to remember. "Um…"

  Elle glared at her.

  "Breakfast?" asked the doctor.

  Freya shook her head. "I overslept."

  "Dinner?"

  "Celery. No calories."

  Shaking her head, Dr. Gellar continued sliding her finger across the screen. "Tell me you had lunch yesterday."

  Elle narrowed her eyes at Freya.

  "I think so." Freya really couldn't remember. She couldn't even recall what she'd modeled the day before.

  Dr. Gellar put her tablet away and turned to Freya. "You're going to need to come to the hospital. We have to hook you up to an IV to get you hydrated. You'll need to eat, also. Can you walk?"

  "I'll try." She grabbed onto the armrest and pulled herself up to sitting. At least the dots had gone away.

  Alana hurried over and helped her stand.

  "Walk," the doctor ordered.

  Freya took a deep breath—finally. She wasn't stuck with the shallow breathing. Her knees wobbled a little, though. She took a step, but stumbled.

  Alana steadied her. "I'll go with you."

  Elle glared at her. "We can't lose two of you from this shoot."

  Dr. Gellar shot Elle a dirty look. "Maybe you should reschedule. If I order an investigation into what's going on here—these girls not being allowed to eat enough—"

  "Have you seen our snack table?" Elle snapped. "Plenty of food. Something from every food group."

  "That we're not allowed to eat," someone mumbled.

  "Who said that?" Elle demanded.

  No one spoke.

  Elle's face reddened. She glared at Alana. "Fine. Help her to the hospital, but you'd better get back here ASAP. Got it?"

  "Sure." Alana turned to Freya. "Where's your purse?"

  Freya pointed to the locker she thought she'd put it in. It was hard to remember for sure, though.

  Elle straightened her back and stomped to the doorway. "The rest of you, out here. Now!"

  "She's giving me a headache," Freya mumbled.

  "You and me both." Dr. Gellar smiled at her. "We'll get you back in shape to come back and hear more of that soon."

  Freya managed a small chuckle. "Thanks."

  "The hospital's three blocks away," Dr. Gellar said. "Do you want an ambulance to take you?"

  "Not with my insurance plan." Freya shook her head.

  "That's why I asked. Let me call us a cab."

  Alana handed Freya some apple slices. Freya practically swallowed them whole.

  "Just because there's a doctor over there doesn't mean you should try to choke," Alana teased.

  "I guess I didn't realize how hungry I was."

  Dr. Gellar led them outside, and before long, Freya found herself in a hospital bed attached to several tubes.

  "Do you want me to stay?" Alana asked. "I'd be happy to."

  Freya shook her head. "I don't want you to face the wrath of Elle."

  "Oh, I can handle her."

  "Really, I'll be okay," Freya insisted. "I'm feeling better already."

  Dr. Gellar came into the room. "That's called being hydrated. It's how you're supposed to feel." She smiled.

  "How long is she going to be in here?" Alana asked.

  "Not long if she continues to improve this quickly." The doctor turned to Freya. "I'm sending for a meal. Any dietary restrictions?"

  Carbs. Sugar. Fat. Calories. Freya shook her head. "No allergies."

  "Good. I want you to eat everything on your plate."

  Alana took Freya's hand and squeezed. "If you need anything, give me a call. I'm going to check on you as soon as the shoot is over."

  Freya squeezed her hand back. "Thank you, Alana."

  "And call me whenever."

  Freya nodded and then Alana left.

  "Can I make phone calls in here?" Freya asked.

  Dr. Gellar typed away on a keyboard. "Sure thing. Any family or friends can come visit, too. Though, I really think you'll be headed home in a few hours."

  Freya groaned. A few more hours?

  "I know it sounds like a long time, but time has a funny way of going faster in the hospital. Also, you can turn the TV on anytime."

  "Thanks." Freya reached for her phone which sat on a tray next to the bed. She'd missed more calls from back home. Not just Shale and Nico, but Dakota and Logan, too. Had they heard about her passing out? Or had something happened in Enchantment Bay?

  Dr. Gellar turned to her. "Press the nurse call button if you need anything. I'll be on the floor if you need me."

  "I appreciate that."

  "Oh, and if I don't see you before your release, promise me you'll eat and drink once you get home."

  Freya nodded enthusiastically. "Believe me, I will."

  "And I don't mean celery and water." The doctor gave her a motherly expression that showed both concern and a bit of a warning.

  Freya longed to go home and let her parents take care of her. Her eyes misted. "I promise."

  "Good." Dr. Gellar gave her a nod and left the room.

  Looking around the room, Freya realized just how alone she was. She really wanted to hear Nico's voice. He was probably busy with work, but she could call and least hear his voicemail message.

  Her vision went blurry with tears. She blinked them away, but more came and spilled onto her cheeks. Freya wiped them away, makeup smearing onto the back of her hand. She put the phone in her lap and allowed herself a good cry.

  What was she doing to herself? Starving herself. Lying to a doctor about the last date of her period. Passing out at a shoot. Letting everyone else dictate what she ate and how she looked.

  As much as she loved seeing herself in the big name magazines and even the occasional billboard, she was making herself miserable. Counting calories and macros was no way to live. Trying to burn more than she ate was nothing more than a tedious chore. It had started out as a fun game, but now it sucked the life out of her.

  Freya waited until the tears finally stopped and reached for the tissues on the tray. She blew her nose and then wiped the smeared makeup as best she could without a mirror. She probably looked every bit of a mess as she felt.

  Though she did feel better after a good cry, and she was even more hydrated. She could feel it everywhere.

  Now she was ready to call Nico. She couldn't wait to hear his voice, even if was just a slightly stuffy recording. It was adorable.

  It rang and then went to voicemail, just as she'd expected.

  "You've reached Sergeant Valentin. Leave a message, and I'll return your call as soon as possible. Thank you."

  Her heart fluttered at his voice. It had become such a comfort to her in the last couple months.

  Freya almost hung up—he would see the missed call—but she wanted to talk to him, even if he wouldn't hear it until later. "Hi Nico." Her voice sounded so weak. She cleared her throat and steadied her voice. "I know you're probably busy with work, but I wanted to get back to you. Sorry I missed your calls last night. I was so tired, I fell asleep before I could return them. I hope everything's going well." She paused, debating on the next words. "I miss you."

  She hung up just as Jules entered.

  "Ohmigosh!" She gasped. "It's true. Are you okay? Did you really faint on camera? Did—"

  "Slow down." Freya gave her a weak smi
le. "I just need some water and food." She gestured toward the bags.

  "They're feeding you through a tube?" Jules stared at her, eyes wide. "It's worse than Alana said. Should I call someone? Nico? Shale? Dakota?"

  Freya shook her head. "No, please don't. I'm fine."

  Jules rolled her eyes. "Right. That's why you're in a hospital."

  "Seriously. The doctor said I can go home soon."

  "That's good. I should still call someone, though."

  "I just called Nico."

  "Is he flying out? Do I finally get to meet the hot cop?"

  "He's—"

  "So, if you guys marry, will he dance at your bachelorette party?"

  Freya's face flushed with heat. "You're definitely not meeting him, and we're not even exclusive."

  "You won't go out with any of the guys I've introduced you to."

  "So?"

  "He's not seeing anyone else, is he?" Jules gave her a knowing a look.

  "I'm pretty sure my only competition is his job, but he hasn't said anything. We haven't talked about it."

  "You just answered my question."

  Freya's heart skipped a beat. She checked the monitor, but it seemed okay. Could they really be exclusive? She'd hoped so, but hadn't wanted to say anything. Not with the long distance between them and both of them being so focused on their work.

  She realized just how much she really wanted exclusivity.

  "Do you know when you're going home?" Jules asked, pulling Freya from her thoughts.

  "A few hours?"

  Jules glanced at the clock. "Okay. I'm going to head over to the gym. If you get released early, text me. I doubt they'll let you leave alone."

  "Thanks, Jules." Freya leaned her head against the pillow and closed her eyes.

  "See you soon."

  When Freya opened her eyes, she had the room to herself again.

  An orderly came in with a tray of food. Freya's eyes nearly popped out of her head at the sight of the full plate.

  "You're to eat everything," the orderly said. "Doctor's orders."

  Freya's stomach growled. "Gladly." She dug in as soon as the plate touched her tray, and she'd inhaled most of the food before the orderly made it to the doorway.

  Her phone rang. It was Dakota.

  "Hey, sis." Freya tried to sound as enthusiastic as possible.

  "I'm not interrupting, am I?" Dakota asked. "No one can get hold of you."

  "Nah. I just finished eating."

  "Fine cuisine?"

  Freya glanced around the hospital room. "The finest. Is everything okay? Sorry I haven't returned any phone calls. I was so tired I passed out." If she said it lightheartedly, hopefully Dakota wouldn't know how truthful she was being.

  "Everything is good. Shale is doing great—he's getting together with Logan or Sullivan most days and he's started interviewing at some places your boyfriend recommended."

  Freya's face heated again. Everyone seemed to think they were an item.

  The heart monitor beeped several times.

  "What was that?" Dakota asked.

  "My alarm," Freya fibbed. "I've gotta get going. Talk in a bit?"

  "Yeah. Give Shale a call. I think he misses you."

  Guilt tugged at her. "Okay, I will. See you soon."

  "See me soon?"

  Freya put her head in her palms. Freudian slip. May as well fess up. "I'm thinking of coming back home."

  "For good?" Dakota's voice squealed. "I've missed my only sister. Are you moving?"

  "Possibly." Freya stared at her empty plate. Or probably. Suddenly, modeling in Portland didn't seem so bad. Maybe she could even try something different. Go back to school. That would certainly make her parents happy.

  "You can move in here," Dakota exclaimed. "We could be roomies. How fun would that be?"

  A lot more fun than passing out in front of cameras and that horrible Elle. "The best! Just don't tell anyone."

  "Party pooper," Dakota teased.

  "Oh, that gives me an idea." Freya couldn't help smiling.

  "It does? Do I want to know?"

  "Yeah. We should throw together a little party and then I'll announce that I'm moving back."

  "You really are? You weren't teasing me?"

  Freya took a deep breath. It really was the right decision. If anything proved it, it was the events of the day. "I'm coming home to stay."

  "I'm going to start planning right away. Don't tell anyone you're coming. I can't wait to see everyone's faces."

  Neither could Freya. Most of all, she couldn't wait to see the surprise on Nico's face.

  Twelve

  Nico hit the snooze button for the third time. He rubbed his eyes and stretched. He would need to make his coffee extra-strong today. He'd stayed up too late once again. His nightly ritual was speaking to Freya after dinner and then poring over case details. They were making progress on Turner's case.

  Nico was determined to solve it for his fallen officer. The department had already been deep in the drug community, trying to find those in charge, but now it was personal. Nothing would stop Nico until he arrested the scumbag now.

  He got up and started the pot of coffee before climbing into the shower. Once dressed, he went to the living room and opened the shades. The sun was already shining and buds were blossoming on the trees and bushes. Birds sang somewhere.

  If he could just solve the case and convince Freya to move back, everything would be perfect. Their conversations were the highlight of every day. She was having fun on the shoots and occasionally sent him some selfies of her with a celebrity she'd run into.

  Nico lit his candle and scrolled through the pictures of her. His favorite was still the one he'd taken of her with frosting on her mouth while she laughed. It was a candid and had captured a piece of her beauty that none of the others had. Giving the camera a picture-perfect grin was her job. That's why he adored the one where she was caught off-guard.

  He put the phone on the counter and made his coffee in a travel mug. It smelled nice and strong. He took a sip of the scalding drink. It was perfect. Any stronger, and his hair was likely to stand on end. He grabbed something quick to eat and headed into the station.

  "Valentin." A detective held out a box of donuts, offering him one.

  Nico shook his head.

  "Still hoping to impress that chick?"

  "Get to work, Henderson."

  "Touchy."

  Nico went into his office and spread out his paperwork on the desk. A stack of files sat, waiting for his attention. The light blinked on his phone, indicating that he had voice messages. Like that was any big surprise. He took a long swig of his quickly cooling coffee and turned on the laptop. A full screen of new emails.

  He groaned. Sometimes he longed for the days of being a lower rank and just being able to go out into the field. On the other hand, he had an office door that he could close. He did just that before digging into the paperwork and messages.

  Someone knocked on his door. A quick glance at the clock told him he'd been in there for two hours already.

  "Come in."

  Detective Wilson came in. "Got a call from one of my snitches about a drug deal going down."

  Nico rubbed his temples. "Take Henderson and let me know what you guys find."

  "Aren't you coming?" Wilson seemed concerned.

  With this load of paperwork? "Not this time. If you need me, call. You get to be in charge of the scene. This is going to lead to big things for you."

  Wilson frowned. "Yes, sir."

  Nico stared at him. "Turner's death has hit us all hard, and I know with you being his partner, it's even harder, but you can do this."

  "Are you sure?"

  "You're not?"

  Wilson took a seat. "Have you ever lost a partner, Sergeant?"

  "I haven't, but we're all feeling the loss. I feel responsible—I was the one in charge of the scene that day, remember?"

  "And I should have had his back." Wilson frowned.

>   "You did."

  Wilson shook his head.

  Nico studied his face. He seemed uncharacteristically stressed. "Have you seen the psychiatrist?"

  Wilson groaned. "That's not where I was trying to go with this."

  "You lost your partner. You have to see her—it's not a suggestion. It's policy."

  "Fine. I'll make an appointment as soon as I get back to the station." Wilson rose and adjusted his jacket.

  "We'll get the guy," Nico promised. "I'm working day and night on this."

  Wilson nodded.

  "Take Henderson with you."

  "I will."

  "And if you don't call the psychiatrist, I will."

  "I'll do it." Wilson left without closing the door.

  Nico felt bad about staying, but he knew better. When there was this much stuff to wade through, he could really only leave if there was an emergency. A drug bust didn't count—unless some big names were involved. He listened, and could hear the two detectives discussing the case. They'd be able to handle it just fine.

  A couple hours later, he pushed his chair back and stood up, stretching his legs. He was finally making a dent in the paperwork. His stomach rumbled, reminding him he needed to eat lunch.

  Shouting sounded from the other end of the precinct. Nico went over to the doorway and glanced over. Wilson, Henderson, and a couple officers were escorting in a skinny, heavily-tattooed twenty-something in cuffs.

  Nico stepped and arched a brow.

  "He was selling to high school kids," Henderson said.

  "It was all legal," the dealer said. "I didn't do nothin' wrong."

  "Put him in a holding room," Nico said. "We'll question him after lunch."

  "You have no right," the guy exclaimed. "No proof!"

  People stared at him, some not bothering to keep in chuckles.

  "These cops are dirty! They—"

  Wilson shoved him. "Shut up now, before you regret it."

  Nico went over to one of the holding rooms and held the door open. Wilson shoved the guy in and Nico closed the door.

  "What happened?" Nico asked.

  Henderson explained the situation.

  "Well, it'll do him some good to seethe for a while." He turned to Wilson. "Your informant says he has ties to Turner's killer?"

  "Yeah. He has a direct link to the loser who ordered an officer to be killed. Apparently, he thought it would scare us off."