Bound for Nirvana: (The Bound Trilogy Book 3) (33 page)

An unexpected gust of wind hit me full force, and I had the sudden sensation of being out of control, spiraling downwards in a violent vortex. Blurred images passed by me at speed, the narrow vacuum I’d been plunged into devoid of air and causing my lungs to burn viciously. Blood rushed through my body, invading every cell, every vein, and every organ—awakening me to a brand-new feeling of life. Oxygen was suddenly pumping into my lungs, my body sucking it in greedily as muffled noise and fuzzy images filtered into my senses. My body began to shudder violently, the tremors undulating through my overwhelmingly exhausted body, and suddenly there was nothing but black…

Am I dead?

The idea filled me with terror, but at the same time was devastatingly alluring.

I could hear a voice—I think—distant and tinny, as if it were echoing off the surface of a dark, empty chamber. Then I realized I was trying to listen over the distraction of a steady drumming noise that seemed prominent in my audible awareness—the faint beating of my heart.

Your heart doesn’t beat when you’re dead.

The voice came again, and I desperately summoned all my energy, straining my ears to listen.

“She’s mildly hypothermic, severely dehydrated. From what we can tell, she can’t have been in the water for more than three minutes. There doesn’t appear to be any lung damage, and as she was resuscitated at the scene, this significantly reduces the chances of brain damage, although we’ll know more when she wakes up.”

Resuscitated?

I felt a flutter of panic in my chest.

If I’m not dead, then why is it so dark? And why won’t my body respond?

The panic turned into fear. What if I was stuck between life and death? I shrank back into the darkest corners of the blackness. This wasn’t what I wanted. I don’t want to hear, don’t want to think. Where was my oblivion?

Suddenly, I felt exhausted, beyond any kind of tiredness I’d experienced before. Thoughts and questions trickled through my mind like water through my fingers, too flimsy and intangible to be attainable. I was just too tired.

With no choice but to succumb to the fatigue that pursued me, I allowed myself to fall—sinking back into the comfort of the darkness and the silence, oblivion closing around me and sucking me under once again.

What’s that noise?

The sobbing again. This time it was louder than the drumming of my heart, a shattered, dejected sound steeped in misery and anguish.

Ethan.

Now I remembered. I was on my way back to him. Mommy said it was okay to stay. Suddenly my heart bloomed with hope, daring me to see beyond the despair of before. Our love would defeat the demons, could conquer anything—we’d find a way. But I needed to find him. I tried to push my way through the darkness, fighting against the dense fog toward his voice. Then suddenly, I heard him speak.

“Why won’t she wake up?” His tone was strained, broken, as though the words were scraping past an agonizing pain. I felt the pining feeling again, my insides clenching with yearning.

Who’s he talking to?

I tried to open my mouth to ask the question, but the words just wouldn’t evolve past a simple thought.

“She’s just sleeping. She’s exhausted.” It was a woman’s voice, delicate and filled with the concern and affection of a mother. Veronica.

I’m here, E. Come find me. Christ, why won’t the words come out?

The darkness was overwhelming, suffocating. Why could I hear him, but couldn’t see him? Then a thought struck me. Closing around my heart like a sinister, malevolent shadow.

What if this is Hell?

What if I was stuck in a place where I could hear him, but could never be with him? Alone in this darkness with no way to comfort him.

“How do you know?” Ethan’s panicked voice trickled into my fearful thoughts.

“You heard what the doctor said. Her body’s endured a tremendous amount of suffering these past few days. She was probably in a fevered state when she entered the water. The lack of food and water, alongside the mental turmoil and excessive alcohol intake, has taken its toll on her. She needs to replenish her fluids, gain back her strength.”

“You heard what else the doctor said as well though, right? He said in cases like this, the patient has to
want
to wake up. Her body may be healthy, but if her mind doesn’t fight…” His words crumbled into a sob.

Ethan, I’m okay, I’m here.

“Ethan, you have to believe in her. Her body is weakened and her defenses are down, but I’ll bet she’s still the strongest person you ever met. She just needs to rest. It’s only been a few hours. When she’s stronger, her body will convince her mind to wake. She’ll be back, Son. Try not to worry.”

“But what if her mind doesn’t want her to return? When she fell asleep, her heart and soul were consumed by
his
lies. If she doesn’t know the truth, how will she find the will to wake up? What will I do then, Mom? How will
I
find the will to live without her?”

“Then tell her, Ethan. Talk to her. If she can hear you, maybe knowing the truth will convince her to fight.”

What truth? What lies? Tell me!”

Hear me, goddamn it! Where the hell am I?

The sobbing had stopped, replaced instead by a soft humming, a low musical sound—a melody. The darkness wasn’t as impenetrable as before, and I felt stronger, like my heart was glowing again.

Ethan’s words filtered into my thoughts—
the lies, the truth—
my father’s lies. Was my mind playing tricks or had I really heard Ethan tell me my father had got it all wrong? I wasn’t a sinner, after all. My love for Ethan was real, strong—virtuous.

Hm-mm-mm, hm-mm-mm-mm-mm
. I knew the melody. It was from my latest Disney addiction:
Frozen
.

My body felt stiff, my eyelids weighted, but I was certain I could muster the energy to move them. I needed to figure out where that tune was coming from. Slowly, I pushed through the murkiness of my mind, heading for the tiny sliver of light just beyond my reach. The brightness was overwhelming at first, hazy, white light which seemed to become more lucid as I blinked away the thick layer of fog.

My gaze flitted from the ceiling tiles above my head and down white walls, taking in the sight and smell of a hospital room, all the time searching for the humming sound and…

There he was. My E—my Prince Charming.

Sitting in a chair beside me, forehead leaning across his forearm on the bed. His free hand trailed light whispery fingertips over the back of my hand, circling gently around the huge diamond ring that represented our love and commitment to each other. His tousled hair was more unkempt than usual, and I wanted to reach out and run my fingers through it. But his soft humming was hypnotic and the first smile, since I can’t remember when, ghosted over my lips. He must have been listening on the countless occasions I’d watched the movie. I hadn’t realized.

The melody was building to a crescendo as he hummed the final chorus. I swallowed and although my mouth felt dry as sand, I parted my lips, the last line of the song scraping through on a husky voice.

“
The cold never bothered me anyway
.”

Ethan’s head snapped up to look at me. His bloodshot eyes brimming with emotion, propped open only by the bolstering dark circles underneath them. His jaw was covered in days’ worth of stubble, and he was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.

“Baby! You came back.” His words stumbled over a cacophony of muddled emotions, thoughts and unspoken words playing across his eyes and lips.

Shifting my gaze, I glanced around the room, realization of where I was and what had happened steadily percolating through the remnants of the mist in my brain. My body felt heavy—drained—and my head ached. The IV line attached to my right hand made me wince at the sight of it. I hated needles. My first thought was: How much of what I’d heard was real, and how much had been conjured with futile hope by my delusional mind?

“Angel?” A shadow had drifted over his face, his expression becoming suddenly grave with worry.

Fear gripped me, my eyes searching his as his searched mine, both of us waiting for the other.

“Did you find Sloane?” I don’t know where the words came from, or the angry tone at which I spoke them with. But later, I would realize, that in my fear, I was erasing everything that had happened in the hours and days since I’d seen him last. Everything that was potentially, irreparably destructive. I waited for him to speak, the huge gulp of breath I was desperate but too afraid to take lingering at the edge of my lips.

Confusion marred his features, no doubt wondering if I was suffering with memory loss. “No.”

I could sense his gaze reaching into my mind, trying to grasp tiny fragments of clues that might help him to understand where or how to take this conversation forward. And then the light in his eyes came on, his unique, intrinsic ability to read my thoughts enabling him to penetrate the protective barrier I’d built without even knowing.

“Baby… What your dad told you…” His worried eyes watched the tear fall from the corner of my eye and trickle down my stricken face. He took a breath and shook his head. “I’m not…
We
are not... Angel, it was all lies.”

I inhaled the breath I’d been withholding, the floodgates opening as my body began to quake with cathartic sobs. And then Ethan was pulling me into his protective arms and folding me into his endless love—the only place I would ever want to be.

We stayed like that for an age, Ethan soothing me with whispered reassurances, his hands gently stroking my hair and back. Eventually, the nurse had insisted on checking me over, before being shooed back out of the room so he could be alone with me.

We talked, or Ethan did, relaying the details of what had happened when he and his parents had confronted my dad. He told me about the note and how it might have been open to misinterpretation—especially by an unstable man already consumed with unreasonable jealousy. He told me how they’d found me, how the minutes had been precious, and how he’d saved me from the jaws of Hell with only seconds to spare.

Over the course of our conversation, I encountered a multitude of emotions. From shame that I’d given my dad’s crazy allegations even a shred of consideration—it all seemed so ludicrous now—to feeling mortified at what I’d done to myself and how they’d had to find me. And finally, to helpless bouts of emotional purging when I just couldn’t prevent the deluge of tears from falling.

Later, I’d been allowed to bathe, and Ethan had wept silently as he’d gently washed my depleted frame with a soft cloth. He cleansed my skin, my hair, and my soul, his voice breaking through convulsive breaths to utter threats of how he was going to feed me, and promises to keep me from harm, to heal my soul and love me for eternity. I watched as his eyes skimmed over my body before wrapping me in a towel, the sight of me annihilating him with a fresh wave of sadness and anguish. He seemed consumed with remorse, apologizing endlessly for not being there through my grief, for not finding me sooner. The pain in his voice was unbearable, and so I would cover his lips with mine and kiss him until the trembling abated. I would allow neither him nor me to shoulder the guilt of the misery and sufferance bestowed upon us. Only one man was to blame for that.

In between, I slept and Ethan never left my side. He successfully managed to stave off the queue of eager visitors, insisting they waited until I was home. And after a good night’s sleep, and proof that I could keep a light meal down, the doctor finally allowed me to go home.

A blazing trail of shimmering orange zoomed around the delicate colored corals—Nemo, with Dory hot on his tail. Their frivolity brought a smile to my lips, a calmness warming me from the inside.

This morning I’d supplied a sample of my DNA for analysis. Although I didn’t need a piece of paper to confirm who my father was, Harley Lawson, it seemed, needed further convincing. Even now, after everything that had happened, he would still deny me.

But it wasn’t going to budge this smile from my lips. I’d shed my last tear over Harley fucking Lawson.

“Soup,” Jackson announced. “Sit up, kiddo, and tell me this isn’t the best minestrone you ever tasted.”

My sleepy eyes drifted up to find his, crinkled at the edges with a genuinely affectionate smile. Ethan, after much persuading, was in his office making a few urgent calls, but refusing to leave me alone, had left me under Jackson’s watchful eye. Jackson, along with everyone else who’d laid eyes on me, had insisted on feeding me—again. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted minestrone soup, period.”

He scowled. “You haven’t lived.”

Cautiously, I lifted the spoon to my mouth, the steaming vapor carrying the array of delicious aromas into my nostrils. I took a sip. “Wow. Tastes like a slice of heaven, Jackson. I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Sure I can. That’s my grandmother’s recipe. She taught me everything I know.”

“She taught you well.” I began to eat heartily, eager to build up my strength again. “How come your grandmother brought you up, Jackson?”

A flicker of something flashed in his eyes, gone before it could be named. “She was all I needed. Now eat. Apple pie for afterwards.”

“You’re as bad as Ethan.”

“Did somebody mention my name?” Ethan’s sultry tones drifted into the room before he did, his face lighting up when he saw me eating. “Oh, good, you fed her.”

“I’m not a cat.”

Settling on his knees next to my chair, he leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose over mine. “No, you’re definitely not a cat. Although, I would swear I’ve heard you purr once or twice.” He hitched a brow suggestively, and I felt my cheeks heat in response.

“I’ll take off if you’re all done, boss,” Jackson called from the kitchen. “Pie in the oven, if she eats up like a good girl.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I’ll make sure she does. Thanks, Jackson, you’re the man.”

“No problem, boss. Everything else in order?”

“To the letter.”

“Fantastic, I’ll be on standby.”

“Standby for what?” My curiosity piqued.