Be Your Savior: The Be Yours Trilogy #2

by Fox, Lizzie

  I just wasn’t having it.

  “Sorry, bro. This wasn’t what I signed up for,” I said dismissively, waving off the protests of the crew and Miles himself as I stormed out of the studio to a dressing room nearby, where I had left my wallet and phone. It didn’t help that I was on edge already with everything that happened the night before.

  I messaged Jessie to see what she was up to. Was she keeping her promise of not drinking? I hoped she would, but I knew how tempting those vices could be. Recently, it was cutting. Before? It was weed for me. And although it wasn’t addictive per se, I loved how I could finally relax and let my mind go quiet. That was the part I was desperately into.

  Whatever she was going through now, she was probably craving the same damn thing. And I left her behind in her moment of need to face that temptation alone.

  Groaning quietly, I tapped in a message.

  What are you up to, Jess? Did you go to that coffee house that you said you were going to?

  No response after a minute or so.

  Dammit.

  There could have been many reasons for that. Poor reception, maybe her battery died…this was no big deal. It wasn’t time to worry, and I felt guilty doing so. I wanted to trust her. I should.

  “She’s going to go through a couple of really hard things in the next couple of years. You’ll know when they happen. One is about to any day now.” That was what I heard Blake say to me in that dream. How the hell was it I remembered this one so damned clearly, when most other dreams I had no recollection of? It was really weird.

  But could it have been a sign anyway? Even if it wasn’t from him?

  Was this the thing she was going to go through? The struggle with the alcohol? “Fuck…” I muttered, burying my face in my hands. I shouldn’t have left. Fuck Miles. I liked the guy, but he had no idea what it meant to grow up and have people depend on you.

  The idea blindsided me. Jessie depends on you. It gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. I had felt so dependent on her, but… maybe she really did hang on me too. We stood each other up and made the other stronger.

  That was what it was all about.

  Yep, that’s it… I’m out of here. I shoved the phone back into my pocket—and stormed back in the studio. It neared 2PM anyway, and I didn’t imagine we were going to get much more done. Miles looked alarmed when I entered.

  “Archer man, everything all right?”

  I shook my head intensely. “No, I left my fiancée behind, feeling ill. I should be there.”

  Miles clapped my shoulder with a smile. “Man, the guy at the front desk watched her leave. He spoke to her briefly, she was totally fine. She said she was going out for coffee. That’s all, man.”

  The breath leaving my body released a bunch of tension. “Oh, thank god,” I muttered, and I suddenly didn’t care whether or not it was weird that Miles had called and asked about her.

  “And, yeah we’ll skip the model. It was just an idea. So, let’s get back into the studio.” Miles snapped his fingers and tipped his head to the side, indicating it was time to leave.

  “Thanks, I really appreciate it.” It wasn’t a huge crew for filming, but there was a cameraman, makeup artist, boom operator and director on site. The models were told to stand aside, they would be for Miles later. Not me. I was entirely relieved.

  I followed everyone into the studio, but not before grabbing my black t-shirt from the dressing room, tossing off the ridiculous romance-novel, chest baring thing I’d been guilted into.

  If I was going to make music, I was going to continue to be me. I wasn’t going to change for anyone else. I wasn’t a sex symbol, and I didn’t want to be. I didn’t have six pack abs or bulging muscles. I had a flat ass, and was too skinny, with spaghetti arms and lanky legs. There was nothing sexy about that. Take away the guitar and what did you have? Just another tattooed guy. What the hell Jessie saw in me? I could never understand.

  I was an angsty rocker, nothing else. I liked this pop sound, but this wasn’t a permanent thing. I was most comfortable with a guitar, on a stage in a bar, my friends and family in the audience in intimate settings, wearing my clothes and no props. Just four guys, microphones, guitars, drums, and a whole lot of fucking fun.

  I checked my phone again for a second time. Jessie still hadn’t responded, but maybe she finally had a breakthrough and was writing her literary masterpiece. Yeah…I was sure that was all it was.

  For the next hour, we sung the new song once, and then twice, in the studio; the tempo slowed slightly for visual recording purposes. Really it was nothing big or impressive, and I wondered how it would translate into an actual video, but I didn’t really care.

  It did take a little bit of the magic out of it, I would never look at another music video again the same way. These were supposed to be simple, I was assured. All the effects and crap would be added later in editing. Still…it felt very anticlimactic.

  In between takes, I went for my phone again. Still no message from Jessie, so I shot her another message. No response before I was supposed to go back in to film.

  We were sitting in chairs, guitars on laps, singing “Dust in the Wind," and I just had a sinking, awful feeling in the pit of my stomach, causing me to miss my cue. I’d been bouncing my leg up and down rapidly, trying to channel some of my nerves.

  “Dude. Where you at?” Miles waved a hand in front of my face.

  “Sorry,” I shook myself out of my daze and forced a smile. “I’ll get it this time.”

  “No biggie, man.”

  We took up the second verse again, when Caia emerged through the heavy soundproof door, looking hesitant. “Uh, Seth? There’s a call for you.”

  “Oh shit.” I set the guitar aside immediately and practically flew across the room, as Caia thrust my cell phone out at me. “Jessie?”

  “Are you Seth Archer?” a nasally sounding woman questioned on the other end of the line.

  “Yes! What’s wrong?”

  “Jessalie Reynolds is your fiancée, correct?”

  “Yes,” I responded, annoyed.

  “Miss Reynolds was just brought in about fifteen minutes ago here to Milwaukee General,” the woman said, and I felt myself go woozy, my knees slack, and I had to remind myself to stand.

  “Oh my—is she okay?” I demanded quickly, my hands trembling as I held the phone. I braced myself against the wall to keep myself from falling, or raging—I didn’t know which one at this point.

  “Miss Reynolds is fine, but she apparently slipped and fell in the bathroom of the hotel. When housekeeping came in, they found her unresponsive on the floor.”

  The phone slipped out of my hand I was so stunned. “What the… fuck!”

  Caia bent over for the phone for me and handed it back.

  “Her vitals are okay, but there appears to be a mild concussion from hitting her head against the side of the tub.”

  “Is she okay?” Were the next, panicked words out of my mouth.

  “I’ve been informed she’ll be okay, provided there are no complications.”

  “What the hell? What complications? She slipped?”

  “Appears that way, sir. I can’t give you any further information over the phone. You’ll have to speak to the doctor yourself.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m on my way. What room?” I demanded.

  “Room 507-A.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be right there.” My hands were trembling so hard I couldn’t even shut off the display. Caia took the phone from me and did it, handing it back to me so I could I thrust it into my jeans pocket.

  “Everything okay?” Miles asked over my shoulder.

  I shook my head. “No, Jessie fell in the bathroom, and she’s in the hospital. She’ll be fine but—I need to go. Now.”

  “Yeah, of course. Sorry to hear that, man,” Miles offered his sympathies. “There’s a car on its way to take you there.”

  “Thanks. Dammit…” I mumbled, raking a hand over my face and shaking my
head. “I knew I should have stayed.” But… I’d wanted to stay because she had been drinking… this was an accident. Unless…

  No, I wasn’t going to jump to conclusions yet.

  I quickly went and dressed in my own jeans and waited outside for the car. I barely even spoke to anyone as I left, and I anxiously stood on the sidewalk, shifting my feet and kicking at invisible rocks.

  “Milwaukee General, right?” The driver asked.

  “Yeah, please.” I slumped back into the leather of the seat and willed my mind and body to be calm. The drive was quick, thankfully, and I dashed through the revolving doors and barely paused to ask someone at the front desk where 507-A was. After darting down a couple of hallways, and up an elevator, I was on the fifth floor, and dumped immediately into a reception area. In a panic, I ran up to the desk and breathlessly asked the receptionist, “Jessalie Reynolds. I’m her fiancé, and I’m here to see her.”

  “One moment.” This must have been the same woman from the phone. And she was so calm and collected I wanted to slap the blank expression off her face as she blandly typed into a computer. “You’re Seth then?”

  “Yes. Can I just see her already?” I demanded urgently.

  The heavy doors parted for me, and I barely listened as the woman instructed me down the hall and a slight right.

  The door to 507-A was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open carefully, and anxiously, dreading what I was about to see. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I noticed that, besides a bandage wrapped around her head, and wearing a light blue hospital gown, she just appeared to be asleep. Which…was good. Just asleep, in a hospital bed, hooked up to a handful of machines, that was all.

  I shuddered at the scene. She was still beautiful but looked entirely helpless…and that’s not the Jessie I knew. It scared me.

  It also made me think… I always figured, secretly, that these roles would have been reversed. It would be me in the hospital bed, as a result of some stupid ass thing my mind made me do, and Jessie would be the one sitting here, shaking, and in a panic.

  Now I know how the guys might have felt when they found me. I was no stranger to a hospital room. I remember the looks on Wes’ face when he found me bleeding out, or Quin and Anthony when they dragged me from the lake, shoeless and feet cut up because I lost it, or Shane when I came out of that room, pleading for him to help me. I was a fool.

  So, I certainly couldn’t be mad at Jessie for something like this… but I sure as hell could be disappointed. She was the strong one. She was the one that held me up and pulled me back when I thought I was going to go too far. I supposed a part of me started to count on it.

  I never once really thought I would be the one putting back Jessie’s broken pieces when she fell apart. She was better than me.

  I guessed all people on pedestals fell eventually themselves.

  “Dammit, Jess… I’m sorry… I should have been there,” I said quietly to her, standing by her bedside and reached for her hand. A gray probe pinched her finger and was hooked up to a monitor nearby, and another beeped rhythmically. I brushed her hair that had fallen in her eyes out, and placed a kiss on her temple, reassured to feel her warm skin beneath my lips. She would be okay. Thank god.

  The door to the room opened wide and in emerged who I figured was the doctor. She was tall, with glasses and salt and pepper hair, and sort of reminded me of my therapist. A nurse followed behind—a young-looking man with red hair, freckles, and his arms full of ink. The doctor glanced at her clipboard briefly and looked up at me.

  “Are you Seth Archer?” she inquired, and I nodded. “I’m Doctor Hayes, I’ve been caring for your fiancée since she arrived.”

  “What happened? She just… fell?” I asked in response, and her lips formed a tight line.

  “She fell, yes, but her blood alcohol level is at least twice the legal limit. I assume the alcohol played a factor in it,” the doctor replied. Immediately, I slapped my hands over my face.

  “Fuck…” was all I muttered. When she said it, I found I wasn’t really surprised just… let down.

  “She hit the back of her head whenever she went down; EMT’s said they found her in the bathroom on her back, a contusion to the back of her head,” the doctor explained, and I found myself groaning. “Everything appears to be fine, she’ll just need to be watched for any sign of further trauma. When she wakes up, you’re able to take her home.”

  I nodded slowly, biting my piercing and tugging it in, my leg bouncing under me nervously. I shouldn’t have left… I shouldn’t have left…

  “Why is she still out?” I finally asked.

  The doctor tucked her clipboard under her arm and looked at me sternly. “Mr. Archer, your fiancée consumed quite a bit of alcohol. How she was even able to walk, I don’t even know. Basically, she’s hung over and probably has a nasty headache.” She paused, as if considering her next words. “Have you considered the possibility that your fiancée is an alcoholic?”

  Boom. There it was.

  “I’d… hoped it hadn’t gotten this far, but… yeah.” I sighed, still keeping one hand on Jessie, like I was afraid if I stopped touching her, she’d be gone, and the other scrubbing over my face.

  “Good. I think there is a distinct possibility that she is going to need a lot of help. I can refer you to a facility—”

  “—no! None of that. Not yet anyway. I’ll call her sponsor in Minnesota and find out what is back home. There has to be something else other than rehab,” I answered quickly. I don’t know why the idea was so horrible to me. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I had been in rehab—at least, one for mental issues, obviously. If Jessie was that far gone and she needed to be there then, I didn’t want to think what that meant. That she hid this huge secret from me and nearly jeopardized everything? Or that I was too damned blind to see what was right in front of me?

  Or that I nearly failed her, like she thought she failed Blake.

  None of those possibilities I could handle.

  “If that’s what you want, I understand. But we’ll give you some extra resources to take home with you just in case,” the doctor said, and I nodded in appreciation. “I’ll be back in with her discharge papers; once she wakes, she’s free to leave. With the promise that she stays away from the alcohol.”

  “She will, trust me,” I replied fervently. Satisfied, the doctor turned to leave, and the nurse remained with the clipboard that the doctor carried.

  “Uh,” he began somewhat anxiously. “I just need to take her vitals one more time.”

  I shrugged. “Do what you have to do.”

  “Thanks.” His voice was hesitant, like he wanted to say more, and he kept side-eyeing me as he peeked at machines at Jessie’s bedside. “I really like your music. I saw the show with Oblivion Orange Zero. You were really awesome, by the way.”

  “Thanks?” A feeling of horror washed over me and was probably apparent on my face. “Oh god, you aren’t going to—”

  “—say anything about this? I can’t. Doctor/patient privacy agreement. I could lose my job and never work again in this field,” he replied quickly. “No, I wouldn’t anyway. We all mess up once in a while, huh?”

  “Yeah… we sure do,” I replied slowly, with a sigh.

  “Are you really going to go on tour with Miles Madison?” he asked, somewhat hopeful.

  I considered it briefly. But now, sitting here with Jessie, realizing that I’d almost missed something big—too big—I shook my head. “No, at least not in the way he wants me to. To be honest, my life has been chaotic enough. I don’t need to add to that with tours and schedules and crap.” I paused, waiting for the disappointment from this stranger.

  Instead though, he looked relieved. “Oh good. Sorry, but I think you’re better with the band. If I’m being honest,” he chuckled lightly and blushed, “I had a little crush on you since you joined the band.”

  My eyebrow flew up. “Oh?” It wouldn’t be the first time a man has had an inte
rest in me, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Not that I’d reciprocate of course, but it didn’t surprise or bother me.

  “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I always knew you were straight,” he said with a laugh. “But I’ve been following your stuff. You seemed a lot happier on stage with Night Addiction than you did last night with Miles.”

  “Happier?”

  “Yeah. And more… I don’t know… you. What I’ve come to expect from you, that is,” he said, giving me a slight grin. “Anyway, sorry, that’s all stupid. I figured I’d probably never get a chance to tell you that so… well yeah. Don’t mind me, just a fanboy.”

  I chuckled lightly, glancing at Jessie and feeling a bit ashamed that I was even laughing while she was probably hurting. “It’s okay.” I glanced at the badge on his scrubs; his name read “Brennan Davidson”. “And thanks, Brennan. I think I sort of needed to hear that.”

  “Anytime. Well… I’m done here. Good luck, I hope your girlfriend is okay.” He hesitated in the doorway for a second before disappearing out the door.

  When he was gone, I let out a low groan, cradling my head in my hands. I felt like a complete idiot.

  How the hell could I have missed this?

  And how could she not have told me?

  Sighing, I dropped my hands into my lap, and my gaze tracked upward. Jessie stirred gently, released a little pained noise that about broke my heart in a million pieces and continued to frown in her sleep. Whatever demons she was fighting in there? They were big and frightening…

  You’ll know what they are when they happen…

  … be there for her. You’re gonna fuck up, but you’ll always make it better.

  “All right, Blake. Let’s hope you’re right.” I slid one of my hands into hers and squeezed tightly, hopefully she got the point: I was here. Then I leaned at her bedside, and with my free hand, I pulled out my phone. There was a message from Kieran that was about an hour old: