Before & After (4 page)

Chapter 6
:
After

I want to peel
back

The cryptic smile
and the

Quiet logic, the
cynical amused

Faces that you
show the world.

(
Rike’s
poems to Peyton)

“I
think I need to see her.”

Rike
glances at me. We’re in the hospital cafeteria, sitting across from each other
in a booth. He’s been sketching for almost an hour while I journal. But I
haven’t really written anything. It’s been over a week since I woke up, and my
days have a pattern. Morning physical therapy and counseling. Texting with
Rike. Afternoons spent playing card games and listening to ridiculous jokes
while he stares at me with cloudy blue eyes that are full of secrets.

I
wish I knew why he was here. I wish I didn’t feel like he was hiding something
from me. And I wish I was brave enough to demand to know what it was.

But
I’m not. And fighting with my doctors and psychiatrist about my insistence to
keep my family at a distance has been consuming me.

Rike
looks distant, nibbling at his lip in a way that is way too fucking
distracting.

“Who?”

“Lindsay,”
I say. We came in together. Maybe I know her. It makes sense. And what if
she’s
all alone like I am?”

His
eyebrows go up. “I didn't think you were alone,” he says.

I
flush
.
“You know what I mean.”

Rike
sighs and put his pencil aside, giving me his full attention. “I do know what
you mean but I need you to hear me. You aren't alone. I'm here. I’m not going
away.”

We
sit in silence for a long moment staring at each other and then, “But I don't
understand why,” I say.

He
smiles, that mysterious smile I adore and stands up, “You don't have to
understand why. Come on.
You’re
right: seeing
her will do you some good.”

He
helps me into my wheelchair
—the doctors want me in it
until the casts come off my leg and arm—
and tucks a blanket around me,
always with that careful caution that I'm coming to expect.

He
treats me with such reverent care, like a strong wind will shatter me. And it
might. I know nothing about who I am
—
sometimes,
it feels like he is all that holds me together.

I
catch his hand as he straightens and his eyes flash to mine. Hungry and
questioning and so intense it takes my breath away for a moment.

I
want to kiss him. I don't know why, but I do
,
and I think he can see that desire my eyes. He leans into me, his forehead
against mine. "You’re making this so hard, Peyton
,"
he
murmurs.

"Sorry,"
I say faintly
,
and his lips twitch a little.

"No,
you aren’t."

I
grin. I’m really not. I fucking love that I’m affecting him.

Rike
sighs, and straightens. “Behave.”

“You
don’t really want me to,” I sass, and he barks a laugh as he pushes me through
the cafeteria and into the halls of the hospital.

The
playful mood slips away as we get closer to the ICU. I’m nervous, suddenly, as
the doors swing open and the sterile environment stares back at me.

A
nurse offers me and me—Rike, especially—a friendly smile, but he ignores it as
he steers me deeper into the unit. Until we come to a stop at unit seventeen.

There
is a steady beeping, the constant hum of machines, and it’s comforting. It
means life—maybe broken, but still life.

Rike
pulls open the door and maneuvers me in deftly, and the door swings shut behind
me.

I
barely notice. My entire being is focused on the girl in the bed.

Her
hair is chopped brutally short, almost shaved, and she’s covered in bruises.
She’s wrapped in bandages, so fucking beat up I want to cry. “You didn’t tell
me it was this bad.”

“You
didn’t need to know this, Peyton.”

“That
isn’t your call,” I say harshly. “You aren’t part of my life. You don’t even
know
me.”

“Don’t
argue,” a voice says. I startle. The movement jars my leg, and I hiss in pain
as it slices into me, hot and searing.

Rike
is by my side instantly, his hands catching mine, gentle. His voice is
soothing, centering me, and it keeps me in the moment, focused on something
other than the pain.

“Come
on,
Pey
, breathe
though
it,” he murmurs, and I gasp, tears stinging my eyes. Nod at him as he continues
to murmur softly. It takes a few minutes, but when I can breathe again, he sits
back on his heels and looks past my head, to whomever is standing behind me.
“Don’t fucking do that,” he snarls, and I shiver. There is real anger there, a
kind of bone deep dislike that I haven’t seen from Rike before now, and it
chills me.

I
don’t like this side of him.

“Then
don’t fucking disturb her,” the other man snaps. His gaze skates over me, and I
see the flash of fury in his gaze before his expression goes smooth and blank.
“What are you doing here?”

“She
wants to see Lindsay.”

The
other man snorts. “
Now
she does.”

“Scott,”
Rike growls, and I finally shake myself.

“Can
I have a few minutes alone with her? Please?”

They
both stare at me for a moment and I force my chin up, a defiance I don’t
actually feel in the face of their anger that makes no sense.

But
I was right. Seeing her helps. If only because it confirms what I knew.

“Please,”
I say again.

Scott
huffs and stalks past me, throwing an order over his shoulder. “Don’t fucking
wake her
up.
She was up all night with the fucking
nurses.”

I
wonder if he knows any curse words besides fuck.

“Shit.
And damn. And hell. As in, I don’t give a damn what the hell you want. Your
shit doesn’t concern me.” He points at the bed. “She does. Don’t fuck this up.”

I
flush, heat crawling in my cheeks, and he laughs as he walks out of the room.
“At least that thinking out loud thing hasn’t changed. “

I
look at Rike, a searching stare, but he’s ignoring me, stalking after Scott and
letting the door swing close behind them.

And
there is nothing but the girl sleeping in the bed to distract me.

I
nudge myself closer to the bed, and stare at her.

I
don’t know her. Except—I do. I don’t know who they are, these people, but I
know them, or I knew them. And they don’t fit who I imagine I was.

“What
the hell were we doing? Why was I with you and where were we going?”

“I
can’t tell you.”

She’s
staring at me and I didn’t even realize she was awake. Her eyes are tired, glassy,
a too dull brown, and sad. She winces as she shifts, twisting a little to stare
at me.

Her
words are sinking in, slowly. Too slowly. I narrow my eyes at her. “What do you
mean, you can’t?” I demand.

Her
gaze darts past me for a minute and she licks her lips. A nervous habit.

How
the hell do I know that’s a nervous habit?

“Lindsay,
what the fuck does that mean?”

“I
promised, Peyton. I promised I’d let him do this his way. I—I can’t tell you
anything.”

“Do
I know you?” I demand, and lurch forward. Agony sings through me, but it’s
amazing what you can ignore when something else is at stake. Pain is
fleeting—it’ll be gone soon. My memory will stay gone, and she
knows
something.

“Who
am I?”

She’s
sobbing, and I’m clutching her leg, shaking her. “I promised, Peyton. I can’t.
I’m so sorry.”

“Who
the hell would you promise that to?” I shout. “This is my life you’re fucking
playing games with!”

The
door slams open and she breaks down, sobs shaking her as Scott shoves my
wheelchair aside and cradles her against his chest.

“I
told you to leave her the fuck alone.”

“
She fucking knows me,”
I scream.

“Get
her out of here, Rike,” Scott yells, and the nurses are all around us.
Lindsay’s machines are going crazy, and I can feel Rike pulling me away from her,
can hear the apologies he’s almost shouting as we’re all but thrown out of ICU,
and I can hear Lindsay crying and Scott cursing, but it’s all distant. A long
way away. Muffled and distorted as I scream after her.

She
knows me. She knows who I am, and where I come from. She knows it all. And the
bitch won’t tell me anything.

I
feel a prick in my arm, and the world swims as icy heat flood my veins.

Rike
is crouched in front of me, and I can see the apology in his eyes. He’s
murmuring and as the sedative the nurses gave me starts working, pulling me
inexorably toward oblivion, I shape the words. Sift through them.
I’m so sorry, Fish.

It
doesn’t make sense. Why is Rike sorry? Why is he here? What—my gaze widens and
I grit out a curse. “Oh, you fucking
asshole.
It was you. You made her promise not to tell me anything.”

Guilt
floods his gaze and he looks away. And the darkness pulls me down, with the
sound of his betrayal, and flaring alarms all that I can hear.

Chapter
7
:
Before

There
are a few defining moments for every relationship. Shit where, afterwards, you
know things have changed. Finger banging Peyton on a stage in a bar was one of
those points.

When
I was with her, I could forget for a few minutes that everything we were doing
was stupid and doomed to fall apart. Because she was in my arms or holding my
hand. But there was something that needed to happen that couldn't wait—a big
fucking defining moment.

"I
want to take you out," I say, softly. She's sitting next to me, her
fingers flicking lazily through the stacks of records, and her gaze comes up to
mine when I murmur those words. Curiosity is bright in her eyes and I swallow
hard. This girl fucking undoes me. I don't know how or why, but she can unravel
me completely with just a single smile, all sweet innocence and dirty promises.

"Where
are we going?"

I
let out a breath. "Scotty wants to get some new ink. You
wanna
come with us?"

She
wrinkles her nose, an expression that I love on her pretty face. "You want
me to go out with you and Scotty?"

I
nod, and my breath stills.

She
shrugs. "Ok."

That's
it? Her gaze goes back to the stack of records, and some of the tension eases
in my shoulders, relaxing some even as I frown at her. "You aren't going
to argue with me?"

"Do
you want me to?" she asks.

"Of
course not," I say, annoyed for some reason. Her gaze snaps up, just a
little bit warning, and I breathe out, trying to keep from snapping.

"Look,
he's your best friend. I get it. There's something about him that's important
to you. We've been seeing each other for almost a month. I'd be more concerned
if you didn't want me to hang out with him." She shoves the records at me
and stands, and I get a quick peek of pink lace panties as she straightens her
rumpled skirt. "But if either of you think you’re going to share me, you
can get that shit out of your head. I get that you have in the past, but I'm
not into him, and I'm not going to fuck him to keep you happy."

Without
thinking, I catch her hand and drag her back down to the couch. Catch her lips
with mine and swallow her startled little noise of surprise as my hands smooth
down her luscious curves.

She
comes to life under my hand, arching into my caress and almost purring as I
lick into her mouth. Her teeth close over my lower lip, and I swallow my groan
as she pulls away, pain flickering through me, chasing the high of kissing her.

"I
won't fucking share you. Scotty gets a lot, but the most he'll get to
participate is listening to you scream when I fuck you at our place. Because I
know that when I strip you down, you'll be a screamer. Won't you,
Pey
?"

"If
that's what you want," she whispers as my hand trails up her leg, and she
shifts, her legs spreading a little in obvious invitation. "But you have
to actually fuck me to find out."

"You
want that. You want me to fuck you until you scream." I lick the shell of
her ear and catch it with my teeth. "Does it turn you on that he'll listen
to
you, that
he'll get off listening to me fuck
you?" She whimpers and reaches for my hand and I twist, dumping her from
my lap unceremoniously.

“Come
on,” I say, rising and adjusting my hard-on. She glares at me, shoving her hair
out of her eyes and I grin.

“No
one likes a tease,” she says and I smirk, leaning down to brush her lips
lightly.

“Maybe
not. But you, sweet girl, like me.”

She
growls lightly and I slap her ass before steering her toward the door.

“We’re
going now?”

“You
ok with that?”

She
shrugs, nibbling at her lip nervously
Something
I
didn’t expect from her. “Hey,” I say softly. “What’s going on in that pretty
little head of yours?”

“What
if he doesn’t like me?”

I
hesitate. I could tell her that it wouldn’t matter, but this girl knows me well
enough to know better. She’s picked up too quickly just how important Scotty
is. She won’t buy my bullshit and maybe that’s what I adore about her.

She’s
so fucking different from every girl I’ve ever met.

“Why
don’t—” I say, catching her by the hand and lacing our fingers, drawing her
into me “—we figure that out if it becomes a problem? And until then, we agree
that neither of us will worry about it. Ok?”

She
bites her lip, and my dick, still hard, twitches in my jean. I nod at the door,
and nudge her slightly. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”