Echo(39)

I carried myself towards the living room with jerky, awkward movements. The house was so quiet. Too fucking quiet.

“How much money?” My voice was sandpaper in my throat.

“What?” Norma shouted, spinning away from the curtain again.

“How much money is missing?” I repeated.

She scratched her head and pretended to think about it for a moment though I knew better. Norma always knew how much money she had in her purse. And exactly how much that would buy her.

“How much?” I growled.

“A thousand bucks!” she spat. “I know I didn’t misplace it.”

“Where’s Brayden?”

“Huh?”

I wanted to slap that idiotic expression off her face. She was wasting my time with her drug-addled brain.

“Where the hell is Brayden?”

“How should I know?” she shrugged. “He never leaves the couch usually. He’s probably in his room sleeping.”

“He isn’t.”

It dawned on me with sickening slowness. The conversation we’d had the night before. The calm expression on his face. I knew exactly where Brayden was. Or at least where he was going.



***



I tried to call Nicole one more time as the plane taxied onto the runway. Nobody answered. Not her, Ryland, or Matt. Why weren’t they answering?

“Come on, pick up,” I pleaded.

The flight attendant crossed her arms and gave me a pointed stare.

“Ma’am you need to put that away.”

Nicole’s voicemail picked up again, and I shoved the phone into the seatback pocket, trying not to let my nerves get the best of me.

I told myself I was being crazy and paranoid. That Brayden would never really go after Ryland. I told myself the reason all of their phones went to voicemail was because they were busy. Ryland and Nicole were probably at work, but reception kept telling me they weren’t available. Brayden could have been at the bar, or with a friend.

So then why was I sitting on a plane bound for San Francisco? I had no clue. The only thing I knew for certain was my gut told me this was where I needed to be.



***



I slipped out of the elevator doors before they even fully opened, scrambling towards Ryland’s door with forced calmness.

I didn’t know what I would say to him when he answered, completely fine. I would look like a lunatic, I was sure, and give him false hope where none lived. But I pounded on the wood anyway, waiting impatiently for him to answer.

He didn’t.

I already knew he wasn’t at work since I’d called reception again on the way over. The temp on the phone told me neither he or Nicole came into work that day, and that was all the information she had. It was midweek, so he wouldn’t be at Belvedere Island.

That only left his apartment.

I dug into the bottom of my purse, retrieving the key ring I never thought I’d be using again. Only, the key I needed was missing.

Brayden.

I reached for the handle anyway, expecting it to be locked. But it wasn't. I swung it open wide and nearly collapsed from the sight before me.

Blood.

So much blood. Smeared across the floor, the breakfast bar, the walls. I couldn’t make sense of it.

The phone lay shattered on the kitchen tile. The bar stools were nothing but a splintered pile of wood, scattered across the living room floor. There was glass and furniture everywhere.

The blood was a dull red color, which meant that it had been dried for a while. I cupped a hand over my mouth as I searched the rest of the apartment frantically. Tears streamed down my face as I checked every room, noting that my sewing room had been locked and turned into a shrine like his dead family members.

Because Ryland thought he’d lost me too.

And if he was dead, I would die too. Knowing I never told him how much I loved him. Knowing I didn’t help him as much as I should have. Knowing that my own flesh and blood had done this.

My heart stopped functioning. I couldn’t breathe. I was hyperventilating. A strange wheezing sound came from my lungs every time I tried to drag in some air. I fell onto my knees in his bedroom, dragging his tee shirt to my face.

Oh God. It smelled like him.

Ryland.

Another sob heaved from my chest, and it echoed around the room as I repeated his name over and over again. I wanted to curl up in a ball and die. He was gone. I was so certain of it I couldn’t move. Grief had paralyzed me.

But then the front door slammed, and something like hope sparked to life inside of me. I dragged myself into the kitchen, where Nicole stood with a hollow and lifeless expression on her face. There was no shock, no confusion… only acceptance.

“Nicole?”

It was my plea for her to deny what I feared. To deny that I had any right to feel the way I did at that moment.

She didn’t respond. She was half comatose herself as she stared at me.

“Where is he?” I shook her arms. “Where is Ryland?”

“He’s… at the hospital.” She sagged against the counter. “I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t smell the death all around me anymore.”

“Death?” I shook my head. “No, not death. He’s okay.”

She opened her mouth but nothing came out, and I shook her harder.

“He’s okay, Nicole.” I wasn’t asking anymore. I was telling her. Because I couldn’t accept any other option.

“I… I don’t know,” she whispered.

“I have to go to him,” I said, rushing for the door.

“They wouldn’t tell me.”

It was the last thing I heard before I left the apartment.





Chapter Twenty-Seven

“I’m his fiancé,” I blurted. “Please, you have to tell me.”

The nurse gave me a skeptical look, one that guaranteed she knew I was full of shit. But I didn’t care, and I guess neither did she. She took pity on me and typed something into her computer.

“It looks like he’s in recovery right now,” she said. “He just got out of surgery twenty minutes ago. He’s been given a strong sedative so it’s still going to be awhile until he’s able to accept visitors.”

“Surgery?” It was all I could do to get the most basic of words out.

“Yes.” She nodded. “He sustained several stab wounds during the attempted mugging. His shoulder, his chest, and his abdomen. He had a collapsed lung and internal bleeding. That’s all I can tell you right now.”

“But he’s okay?” I persisted.

“He’s stable,” she replied clinically. “Which is all I know at the moment. You’ll have to wait until he’s conscious, and then you can speak with the doctor.”

I opened my mouth to protest when she pointed down the hall.

“Get yourself a cup of coffee, honey and have a seat. I will send the doctor as soon as we know anything else.”



***



By the time the doctor came in three hours later, I’d practically worn a hole in the floor.

“Miss Valentine?” he questioned, his eyes scanning the file in his hand.

“Yes, that’s me,” I said quickly.

“He’s asked for you,” he said. “So you can go on in.”

I rushed towards the door before pausing at the frame to turn back.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s in stable condition,” the doctor explained. “He’s very lucky that he survived, but he will need to be monitored closely over the next few days.”

“Thank you.” I clenched my hands together. “Thank you for… taking care of him. I don’t know what I would have done…”

“It’s okay.” He smiled. “Why don’t you go see him now.”

I nodded and scurried down the hall to Ryland’s room. The door was cracked, and I dragged in a mouthful of air as I pushed my way inside.

He was lying in the hospital bed, covered in blankets and tubes. I bit my lip to keep from making any noise as I leaned over and clasped his face in my hands. His eyes were closed, and he looked like he was asleep.

My first instinct was to pepper his cheeks with kisses while I smoothed his hair down with my fingers. He wouldn’t have wanted it out of place. He didn’t want anything out of place.

Big droplets of water splashed onto his face, and I realized they were coming from me. I was sobbing all over him. At how close I had come to losing him. I didn’t understand how Brayden could do this. I hated him. I hated him so much it scared me, and I feared what would happen when I saw him next. But I knew without a shadow of a doubt I couldn’t leave Ryland right now. I worried I might not ever be strong enough to leave him again.

“Why are you crying, baby girl?” Ryland’s voice was scratchy when he opened his eyes, staring up at me with the hint of a teasing smile.

I shook my head, unable to answer, and the tears continued to pour. Ryland brushed my hair back with his fingers, getting a clear look at my face as he tried to comfort me.

“Hush,” he whispered. “Don’t cry for me.”

“Don’t say that,” I snapped, threading my fingers through his. “Don’t tell me not to cry for you.”

A moment of silence fell between us, and when he spoke again, his words were heavy with the weight of relief.

“I didn’t think you would come.”

“Of course I would come,” I sniffled. “I love you, Ryland. That doesn’t just go away.”