by Shandi Boyes
I’ve barely climbed into the back of the ambulance when a male officer in his late thirties tells me I can’t leave. “You need to be questioned about the incident. You can’t assault a man and not expect any repercussions.”
He wiggles two fingers in the air, demanding I exit the van. I shake my head. There are over three hundred witnesses who can testify I had a good reason for beating him. Furthermore, he drugged my girlfriend with the intention of raping her. He should be grateful he’s still breathing.
When I refuse to leave Emily’s side, the officer sends in two plain-clothed patrolmen to forcibly remove me. My blood boils with anger, but mercifully, before I can act on any of the thoughts in my head, Ryan’s deep timbre rumbles through my chest. “Let him be. He has nothing to answer for, and even if he did, we will question him at a more convenient time.”
A female officer with wiry black hair and wrinkles of a woman a good twenty to thirty years older than Ryan requests to have a word with the officer snarling at me. When he agrees, but not without a frustrated squint, Ryan closes the doors of the ambulance then taps on the roof, signaling for the EMTs to go.
Ryan is a good man. He’s the rookie officer who brought my mom to the hospital after Michael died. I hate that he witnessed my mother slapping me, but ever since that day, he's kept an eye on me. I think his close watch is more because he was a friend of Chris’s before he died, but I can’t testify to that.
Not long after Emily is admitted to the hospital, Jacob arrives on scene. When he called Lola to tell her what happened, Lola reached out to Emily's mom. Since Patrice was working a late shift, she came straight to the floor where Emily is and was here for two hours.
I only persuaded her to go home ten minutes ago. She was exhausted from working a double shift, and there wasn’t anything she could do for Emily that I wasn’t already doing. I won’t lie; I felt smug as fuck when she trusted me to look after Emily. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy thing to do, but I appreciate it more than she’ll ever realize.
I stop watching Emily’s eyes rapidly move under her eyelids when her hospital room door swings open. Ryan is standing just inside the sanitary-smelling space. He has a recording device in his hand that is a little outdated for the swanky suit he’s wearing.
"Can I have a word?" He nudges his head to the corner of Emily's room, advising I won't have to leave her side during our conversation. For that alone, I agree with his request.
The first half of our conversation is the standard one you’d expect a detective and a man brandishing bloody knuckles to have. He asks me to run him through the events that occurred while he jots down an occasional note in his notepad. I guess a voice recorder can’t pick up the nervous fidgeting liars do.
Once I’ve finished my statement, Ryan switches off his recording device before running his hand over his freshly trimmed hair. He seems uneasy. I understand why when he murmurs, “The DA wanted to charge you with assault.”
My heart sinks into my stomach. I knew I wouldn’t get off scot-free, but I hadn’t considered the possibility I’d be formally charged for defending my girlfriend from a rapist.
Ryan looks as pissed as me when he discloses, “We’ve been hunting the man who did this for a while. The canister of GHB we found in his possession had enough liquid to drug another ten girls. If he wasn’t under arrest, who’s to say another person wouldn’t have been assaulted tonight.”
My teeth grind together. I’m shocked he needs to drug girls to get them to sleep with him. It isn’t like he’s hideous-looking—well, he wasn’t until I got ahold of him. He seemed like a regular guy in his forties. He could even have children around Emily’s age.
I take a step back when Ryan says, “It took a lot of convincing, but the DA will consider dropping all charges against you if this was self-defense.”
My eyes bulge, shell-shocked by his statement. I must have misheard him—surely.
“Jacob’s on-scene statement indicated that the man you assaulted swung at you first.”
My confusion triples. That doesn’t make any sense. The guy didn’t lay a hand on me.
It takes a few moments for the truth to smack into me. Jacob lied in his testimony so I wouldn’t face charges.
Ryan steps closer to me. He’s about my height, but with my shock at an all-time high, he seems much wider. “It’s true he attacked you first, isn’t it, Noah?”
He stares straight at me while nodding. Although I hardly know him, he doesn’t need to be my best friend for me to see the plea in his eyes for me to follow his suggestion, so, with my heart in my throat, I copy his movement.
Ryan smiles. “Great! Then lets re-record your statement from the beginning where he swung at you first.”
My shock about the lengths Ryan and Jacob will go to save my ass is heard in my voice when Ryan retakes my statement. They saved my tail tonight with their quick thinking. I’d never survive staring at four walls all day. I don’t even visit my dad because I can’t stand the idea of being trapped in one place for a prolonged period.
Happy he has a plausible recollection of events, Ryan stores his recorder in his jacket before holding out his hand in offering. After everything he just did for me, it doesn't feel right only shaking his hand. Instead, I curl my arms around his shoulders and give him a quick hug. At first, he stiffens, but it doesn’t take him long to return my embrace.
“I’m glad you showed restraint tonight. If you had killed him, we would have never gotten you off charges.” He hugs me tighter, reminding me just how close he was with Chris before he died. “Please don’t let what happened tonight ruin all the good you’ve done the past three years. You’ve worked so hard for this. Don’t let one minor thing fuck it up.”
He steals my chance to reply by pulling back from our embrace, pivoting on his heels, and exiting Emily’s room. I stare at the swinging door he raced through at the speed of a bullet, shocked into silence. He came into my life under the shittiest of circumstances, but I'll be forever grateful he's a part of it.
Jacob and the guys from the band filter in and out of Emily's room most of the night. The first time they entered, their mood was subdued. They stood at the back of her room, quiet and respectful. This time around though... they’re upbeat and excited. Between performing for the music execs and Emily being roofied, it’s been a rollercoaster night, so their odd moods can be excused. I just wish they’d do it a little more quietly. The nursing staff said Emily can only have one visitor, and it’s supposed to be her next of kin, so I don’t want to give them a reason to kick me out.
“Shut the fuck up,” I growl when they get a little rowdy. They’re so hyped up, I’m sure three wards over can hear their chatter.
“Sorry, Noah.” Marcus slaps my shoulder, his wordless apology more sincere than his articulated one.
Nick slips into the chair next to me. “We learned some exciting news that’s hard to contain.”
I assume he’s referring to me escaping charges, but I’m proven wrong when Slater roars, “They fucking loved us!”
I stand from my seat, warning him if he doesn’t shut the fuck up, I’ll shut his mouth with my fists.
He backs away with his hands held in the air. The boys aren’t used to seeing me so worked up, but they never had the opportunity. Before Emily, I only ever cared about myself, and I didn’t do the best job at that either.
Marcus waits for me to sit back down before bumping me with his knee. “Cormack wasn’t happy when you jumped off the stage, but he said they heard enough to warrant offering us a record deal.”
My pulse beeps in my neck, but I can't bring myself to be happy about it. At least not while Emily is lying in a hospital bed unconscious. She would have never been in a place like Mavs if she weren't with me, and if I hadn’t agreed to give her spot to the music execs, I might have noticed the guy spiking her drink. Then we could have avoided hours of heartache.
“Did you hear him, Noah? They want to sign us to their label.” Nick’s slap of h
is knee is half the volume of his voice. “We did it. We got a fucking record deal!”
"I don't care." My squinted gaze bounces between my bandmates, who are staring at me with concern slashed across their faces. Anger is pumping through my veins, overheating my body with more heat than I know what to do with. “I just... I need...”
I curse under my breath, hating that I’m blubbering like an idiot. I’ve never handled these types of emotions before—not by myself, anyway. Emily has a way of calming me down when shit gets the better of me, so I’m not only struggling without her, I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.
The mad beat of my heart somewhat settles when I catch the faintest whiff of the vanilla oil Emily dabs on her skin every morning. It’s nothing compared to the comfort she generally offers, but it’s enough for me to realize I’m taking my anger out on the wrong people.
After licking my lips, I murmur, “I’m sorry. It’s great news. I’m glad I didn’t scare them off.”
I swallow several times in a row before my eyes float up from the floor. Nick, Slater, and Marcus are all staring at me, their faces covered with shock. Anyone would swear I just told them I love them. I do, but I’ll never openly admit it. I merely overreacted to their excitement, so they deserve an apology.
When Emily wakes up, she’ll be ecstatic to hear we've secured a record deal. Then, once the dust settles, I’ll use my first endorsement check to buy her a big, beautiful engagement ring, because she deserves so much more than the dainty one I’ve been carrying in my pocket all day.
Chapter 21
Emily
“It could be another hour; it could be five. She’ll wake when she’s ready.”
As my mouth works through its dryness, I struggle to open my eyes. I’m experiencing the same sensation I felt when my parents drove through the darkness of night to beat traffic on the family adventures we took every year when I was a child. I don’t know where I am, and I’m not sure how I got here, but there’s an unusual sensation thickening the air.
I feel as safe and as protected as I did back then. That probably has something to do with the hand curled around mine. If the alluring scent I’m sucking in is anything to go by, I’m confident it’s Noah comforting me. If only my eyes would cooperate, then I could satisfy my curiosity. Alas, no matter how hard I fight, my eyes refuse to open.
It’s probably for the best. My head is pounding so badly, it feels like someone is jackhammering my brain. It’s worse than the hangover I had when Jenni and I got tipsy at Phillip’s eighteenth birthday party three years ago, but I didn’t drink anything last night, did I?
My memories are a little vague. I remember Noah picking me up from school, but I have no recollection of what happened after that. Perhaps I’ve fallen asleep on the drive back to Ravenshoe, and I’m dreaming?
Wake up, Emily! You don’t want to miss Noah’s performance.
A blinding light streams through my eyes when they finally follow the prompts of my brain. It’s the low-hanging sun bouncing off the stark white walls surrounding me. I'm lying in a rock-hard bed, and an annoying beep is making the pulse in my head more noticeable.
Although I’ve never been a patient at a hospital, I’m fairly sure that’s where I am. My mom has worked in the health department for years, so I’m well aware of how they look.
A grin overtakes my grimace when my eyes stumble onto Noah. He’s sitting in a hard blue plastic chair. The top half of his body is slumped over the bed. He’s sleeping—but not peacefully. Lines are etched into his forehead, and the veins in his arms throb with every twitch of his muscles. I hope he’s not having a nightmare. With the anniversaries of his brothers’ deaths approaching, his nights are growing more restless.
Although I hate seeing him so edgy, his twitching exposes a water jug on a table at the side of my bed. My throat is on fire, so I'd sell a kidney for a glass of water. Not wanting to wake up Noah, I stretch out my arm, praying I can reach the jug without freeing my hand from his grasp. I get within an inch, but it does little to relieve my thirst.
Like magic, the jug lifts. I lick my parched lips before raising my eyes to my savior. Jacob greets me with a smile, not missing my slack-jawed response. "Jesus, Em, you scared us half to death."
I shush him. Not because we’re in a hospital, but because Noah is sleeping. With a grimace, Jacob pops a straw into a cup before raising it to my lips. The cold water trickling down my throat gives me instant relief.
I suck greedily, guzzling down the entire cup before Jacob can pull it away. “Thanks, Jake.” My voice is husky, but my gratitude can’t be misplaced. “I’m sorry I was short with you. I just don’t want to wake up Noah. He hasn’t been sleeping much the past month.”
Jacob gives an understanding nod at the exact moment Noah lets out a groan, leaving no doubt to my theory his sleep is being interrupted with horrid real-life nightmares.
Once the crinkle in Noah’s brows smooths, I return my focus to Jacob. “What happened? I don’t recall anything after Noah picked me up from school.”
Other than my throbbing head, I'm relatively uninjured, so I couldn’t have been in an accident, but what other reason would have put me in the hospital?
I suck in a sharp breath when Jacob discloses, “You were roofied at Mavs. The doctor said the excessive dose he spiked your drink with is the reason you’ve been out so long. Usually, you’re unconscious for an hour or two. You’ve been out for over eight hours.”
My heart rate climbs to a dangerous level as my woozy head struggles to decipher what he is saying. Isn’t a roofie a date rape drug? If so, why was it given to me...
My inner monologue trails off as panic makes itself known with my gut. Was I raped? Is that why I’m in the hospital?
Although I’m panicked I’ve been horrendously violated as no woman ever should be, not all my worry stems from that. Nothing but consoling Noah is on my mind. He’s already endured his share of trauma in his short twenty-one years. He doesn’t need more atrocious things added to his overflowing plate.
Jacob touches my arm, easing the heaves of my failing lungs. “He didn’t touch you, Em. Noah got to him before he could.”
Gratitude hits me first, but it's closely followed by panic. With my heart clutched in fear, my watering eyes drift to Noah. I scan every inch of him, fretful I missed something during my earlier perusal.
I didn’t—thank god.
Other than busted knuckles, he’s unharmed—physically. I’ll have to wait for him to wake to check his mental state.
Tonight was Rise Up’s big chance to impress the music execs, so I can only pray their performance ended before I was drugged.
Realizing I have the answer standing directly in front of me, I relock my eyes with Jacob. “What happened with the music executives? Did Rise Up finish their set?”
Jacob shakes his head. “They were halfway through ‘Player’ when Noah leaped off the stage.” His words grind out of his mouth as he works his jaw side to side. “I was talking to Melissa when Noah missed a line in the chorus. If that wasn’t enough indication that something was amiss, the fury on his face was a surefire sign. When I followed his gaze, I noticed a man was dragging you toward the back exit. I rushed for you, but Noah beat me. He fucked the guy up pretty bad.”
He scratches his brow as he shuffles foot to foot. “You collapsed within seconds of Noah pulling you away from him.”
The guilt in his voice shocks me. What does he have to feel guilty about? I stupidly left my drink unattended, meaning I most likely ruined Rise Up’s chance of securing a record deal. Jacob has nothing to feel guilty about. I’m the only idiot in this room.
Jenni, Nicole and I were forever cautious about date rape drugs when we went dancing. We never drank from a drink left unattended, and we refused any offers to buy us drinks, but the one night Noah needed to concentrate solely on his band, I slacked off on my observations. I’ll never forgive myself if my stupidity ruins everything he’s worked so hard for.
“Thank fuck.”
The sheer relief in his voice adds more moisture to my already brimming eyes. When he leaps up from his chair, I scoot across the bed, wanting him to sit next to me so I can rest my head on his chest. Just hearing his heart will calm down my swirling stomach.
He accepts my offer before drawing me in close to his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.” I can barely hear a word he speaks since his heart is raging so fast.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Out of excuses, I burrow my head into his pecs, praying his scent will stop my tears from falling. I feel terrible about what has happened, but I don’t want him to see my tears. He hates when I cry.
My breath snags halfway to my lungs when my eyes zoom in on specks of blood dotting Noah’s shirt. My stomach launches into my throat when my head darts off his chest. “Are you hurt?”
I fist his shirt, seeking any bruises or cuts that may be responsible for the blood. My woozy head doesn’t appreciate my brash movements, but I don’t care. I need to make sure he's okay.
Noah drags his shirt over his head before bunching it up and hooking it across the room. My eyes float over his torso, seeking injuries. The panic burning me alive soothes when I fail to notice any marks. He appears unharmed.