Page 98 of Aced (Driven 4)
He stares at me no doubt deciding if he believes me or not. He nods his head slowly as he begins to speak. “Rylee is the only mom I have. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she gets better.”
I nod my head, the words he doesn’t say are reflected in his eyes: I can’t lose another person.
I understand that more than you know, kid.
“That makes two of us.”
“RY?”
Colton’s voice shocks me from the darkness of my mind into the blinding light of the patio.
Everything wars inside me: relief against spite, fear against hope, numbness against pain.
He stands in the doorway. Vitriol-laced accusations scream in my head but don’t form into words. Can’t. It’s too much effort.
“You left me.” My voice sounds hollow, unaffected. Numb.
I missed you like a drowning person misses the air.
The baby monitor clicks as he sets it on the table. The cushion whooshes as he sits beside me. His eyes give an apology I don’t want to accept.
“I had to take care of some things, Ry.” He sounds tired. Rough. Something’s going on and yet I can’t find enough energy to care.
My body begins to hum. The ghost of the panic attack I had when I found out he had left comes back to haunt me. I wring my hands. Try to hold on to my control even though I can fee
l it slowly slipping away from me.
I can’t breathe.
“I went to see Eddie.”
Air feels like water, slowly filling my lungs with each inhale. Closing over my head and pulling me under.
“It was the first time he’d surfaced so I had to go.”
The deeper I fall the more my body begins to burn with heat from the inside out.
“He won’t be bugging us ever again.”
I fight back. Break the surface. My lungs heaving for the air his words bring me.
My eyes open wide and meet his, a moment of clarity amidst this haze.
“Thank you,” I say, voice hoarse as I try to elicit the emotion to match my words. But I can’t feel. When I don’t want to it’s all I can do, and when I do want to, I can’t.
I keep my eyes locked on his. Hope they’ll be the lifeline I need to keep me afloat, and sustain this feeling of normalcy for a little longer. The span of time seems to be less and less as the days go on.
Colton reaches out and runs the back of his hand down the side of my cheek. Tears well. I fight them back. I open my mouth to speak, but the words don’t come out.
I need help.
He moves to sit next to me, pulls me in close to him. I try to find comfort, try to use that hum of our bodies touching to tell me I’m still alive. And if I’m alive I can keep treading water until I can get to the edge.
I close my eyes. A tear slides over. A little piece of me leaving with it.
“Shane is really worried about you.”
I saw it in his eyes: the fear, the memories of his mom, the worry. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t reassure him. He saw right through it.
