Immortal Healer (20 page)

Walking to her was difficult, swallowing was difficult, breathing was difficult, existing was just damn painful … and difficult. “Hi.” She forced the word from her mouth as Ember stood and pulled her into a hug. At her touch, Abigail started sobbing uncontrollably like a child. Ember held her tight and stroked her shoulders.

When Ember finally let go of her, she pulled back, keeping her hands on Abigail’s shoulders. They sat, and Ember reached for her hand.

“Does he hate me?”

Ember shook her head, but she took a deep breath as she did, and again Abigail was wondering what was underneath the reaction. Did she know more than what she was willing to tell her? Did they all know something they were simply too afraid to say out loud to her when she was trapped here? More fucking maybes.

“He’s upset. He’s … I don’t know.” She shook her head. She looked frustrated. “How are you? Never mind. Stupid question.” And she started shaking her head again.

“A third of the way through. Just another month.” She was sniffling as she spoke, and Ember offered her a sad smile.

“You don’t look good. I mean, are you eating, are you sleeping?”

“Yes. Too much sleep, and I’m sure I’m not eating enough, but I just feel so tired all the time, and… It’s just this place. Four more weeks.”

Ember stayed as long as she could, but they said little. She didn’t ask about Quentin, because she was afraid Ember’s response would make her paranoid all over again. Ember didn’t offer any new insight, and that alone made Abigail wonder what all wasn’t being said.

Ember hugged her fiercely before she left, and when Abigail made it back to her cell, she stared at her cinder blocks. She was certain in that moment as her eyes wandered over the dimpled and over-painted blocks that she’d destroyed them. She’d done it. She’d destroyed the only person in the world who made her feel whole again. She was also quite certain she’d never get that back without him.

* * * *

“If you try to kick me out, I’m coming in anyway.” Ember’s head was cocked to the side, daring him to be uncivil.

“Well don’t you sound like Brit?”

“Who you owe an apology to, by the way.”

“Save it. I apologized already. Come in.”

She followed him to the living room, and they sat on the couch. She pulled her knees up under her as he turned and leaned his side against the back of the couch. “Well, I’ve been hunting far more than I’ve taken time to since she arrived.”

“She?”

“Stop.”

“
She
has a name.”

“Abigail.” It hurt just saying it, and his gaze dropped to the cushion that separated them.

“How about you tell me how you feel about all this?” Sounding like all the shrink she was.

“Doesn’t angry sum it up?”

“No. Anger is the result of the feelings. I want the feelings.”

He sighed, dropped his head back, and closed his eyes. He thought. He struggled to put any of it in rational terms, but he owed her that. Ember was one of his best friends, and she was good at this.

“Do you remember how you told me once what it was like for you being afraid all the time and not trusting anyone? After you were kidnapped, growing up with this nagging fear of everyone. You said it was like an addiction you couldn’t give up. Like you were addicted to being terrified. Not being terrified sounded good in theory—but you just didn’t know how to give up the need for fear. As though you were more comfortable holding on to it.” It was a conversation from long ago. He and Ember had many conversations during their friendship, and this one had stuck out to him.

“Yes.” She was studying him with a wrinkled brow

“I feel like her addiction to it is … stronger than what we are to each other. Being afraid is more important to her than being with me. I’m sure it sounds stupid, but I feel like she chose that over me … and it hurts. And it’s not true! Or it is, but she can’t control it, and so it’s like trying to love an addict who is so completely sucked into their drug they can’t see you, see what you need.” The words were tumbling out, and he wasn’t even sure they made sense.

“And what do you need?”

“Her. Just her. I need to be enough for her.”

“Then tell her that. Have you even told her you love her? I mean, you do love her, don’t you?”

“Yes.” That was easy.

“But you haven’t told her, have you?”

“No. why? Is love the cure for PTSD?” He was being pissy and sarcastic.

“Of course not. But it’s a pretty damn powerful thing to have on your side.” She smiled sweetly at him, and his lips tugged slightly at the corner “Look, you can be angry. You should be angry. Just because she’s dealing with some heavy emotional issues doesn’t mean the people who love her aren’t allowed to express their hurt by her actions. She needs to understand how this affects you. Does that mean you should guilt trip her? Absolutely not. But you should be honest.”

“What if she can never get past this? What am I supposed to do with this constant threat, her paranoia, fear, and complete lack of rational control? I’m not helping her. Obviously, I’ve not helped her one bit.”

“I can pretty much guarantee you, she wouldn’t agree with that. And I don’t either. Have you missed just how content and at peace she is with you? How can you not see what you’ve done for her? I can’t be the only one who remembers what she was like when she first arrived.”

He studied her, remembering himself just what his first meeting with her had been like. “How is she?” He was almost afraid to know.

Ember bit her lip as her eyes drifted off. “Devastated. And she doesn’t look good. Her color’s bad, she looks weak, skinny, just bad. I know she’s depressed, but I’m worried. She looks sick.”

No. She’d definitely not made him feel any better. “Well, that makes me feel like a piece of shit.”

Ember shrugged. “Sorry. You know, she didn’t choose this over you. There is no doubt in my mind that she would put away all the crazy for you in a heartbeat if she could. You’re everything to her. It’s why she’s so devastated.”

After Ember left, he laid on his bed. He could smell her scent everywhere around him. The hurt of missing her was more intense than he realized possible. It felt physical in its enormity, and as he stared at the ceiling, he imagined her again. He eventually closed his eyes, and let the best images and memories of her he possessed take him away to sleep. It was a risk after the last time his dreams backfired, but he just needed to see her.

When his cell phone rang and startled him back to consciousness, he almost threw it across the room. It was Devlin’s number, which didn’t help his desire to chuck it against the wall.

“Hello.” He snapped.

“You wanna get your crazy girlfriend back a bit early?” Now the man had his attention.

*

“Hey, doll. Lawyer’s here.” It was the same officer who’d escorted her a few days before to the visitor’s room. She was a middle aged black woman named Sophie, and Abigail liked her very much. She treated her like a real person, not that she’d been ill-treated during her time there. Three weeks to go.

She swung her legs over the side of her bed and stood. “You know you’re not expected to stay in your cell all day right? We didn’t forget to tell you that, did we?” Her smile said she was joking.

“No. I just haven’t felt much like socializing.”

She followed Sophie from the cell and back to the interview room. The room had two doors. One led to her half of the world—the world with bars and more metal doors and locks than she’d ever seen, and one door led to freedom—or most likely a series of security checkpoints and then freedom.

When Sophie pulled the door open for her, Abigail stepped in, and the moment her eyes moved up, she yelped in shock. Devlin was there, sitting at the table, and standing just beyond the table was Quentin. He looked serious, and as her hand flew to her mouth, and she started walking toward him, he shook his head in warning before his eyes flashed to the ceiling mounted camera.

She slowed her stride, dropped her hand from her mouth, and took the seat at the table in front of Devlin. Keeping her eyes on Devlin rather than Quentin was damn near impossible. “You’re being released early. One more week, and you’re out. Not sure why your … other lawyer…” He rolled his eyes. “…needed to be here but nevertheless.” Devlin stood from the table and walked to the door, waiting for Quentin.

Quentin took Devlin’s seat and stared at her. She was fighting back the tears, and her breathing was coming in shuttering quiet sobs of breath she couldn’t control. She started to fidget as he continued to watch her seriously. At first she thought he was mad, but then he faltered; he let out a deep breath and raked his hand roughly through his hair, and she knew he was struggling as much as she was.

When he spoke, his voice was measured and quiet. “You
will
see a psychologist when you get out. You
will
listen to them. If they recommend medication, you
will
take it.” He watched her impassively as tears built on the lower rims of her eyelids, threatening to fall at any moment. She was in love with the sound of his voice. She’d missed it more than anything, and while his words were demanding, and his expression was too, he was there for her. The subtlest of smirks passed his lips as his leg stretched and caressed hers. “And you
will
come home to me where you belong.” Then her tears fell, and she nodded. When he mouthed the words “I love you” as he held her eyes, she mouthed them right back. She’d rather hear him say it with that voice she loved so very much, but she could be patient.

She was the luckiest Lindsey in the world.

Chapter 21

She pounced into his arms as he waited for her. She felt disgusting, and she was so ready for his warm shower that she was dreaming about it. But she was more than ready for him. If she could mount his body and fuck him in the lobby, she would, and given the hard erection tight between their bodies, he was thinking the same thing.

But she didn’t fuck him in the lobby, nor did she climb into his lap in the car. He held her hand on the way home and didn’t let it go until they were in his bedroom and she was pulling away from him for the bathroom. “Please. I really need a shower.”

“No you don’t.”

“I really really do. I promise I’ll be quick.” He rolled his eyes but let her escape. She shaved with the speed of Earnhardt, she lathered like there was no tomorrow, and she rinsed as though she really didn’t give a shit if she got all the soap out. And when she found him standing naked in the doorway leading out to his bedroom terrace, she sighed loudly.

He smirked as he turned to her, and he scooped her up and plopped her down on his bed in a microsecond. He pulled her on top of him, but as she started to work her way down, he stilled her. He led her with a hand to each cheek up along his body and held her lips hard to his as his tongue thrust into her mouth. She was straddling his hips, thanking God she’d only put on underwear after showering.

When he pulled from her mouth, he held her eyes calmly. “I’m going to be rough with you, and I’m going to go deep.” She shuddered at his words. She nodded her head. She wasn’t nervous. She was exhilarated and ready for whatever manner he chose to take her.

When he harshly pushed his hand between their bodies, she sucked in a deep breath. He yanked the fabric between her legs swiftly to the side, before thrusting his hips up and sinking his length inside her. The invasion was intense, and he held her, clutching the cheek of her bottom roughly in his hand as his hips pounded into her. He thrust over and over, pistoning into her from beneath her body, and when he abruptly pulled from her, she cried out.

He rolled their bodies, leaving her pinned under his strong frame. He stripped her underwear from her legs, and when he entered her again, it was slow, and he plunged deep into her, pushing one last final inch she didn’t know existed and left her gasping and digging her nails into his shoulders. He rolled his hips against her sex, not withdrawing but stirring her core at its depths. It was pain, but it was such intense pleasure at the same time she didn’t want him to stop. When he eased back slightly, it was just to grind his hips hard into her again. The pressure he inflicted deep inside left her groaning and wanting to beg for more. It was as if he couldn’t get close enough, deep enough to satisfy himself, and she understood that too well. It was desperate and so needy.

His face was buried in her neck, and hers was against his as well. She couldn’t loosen her hold on his shoulders, and she clung to him as he tried to force out every last ounce of space from between them, from within them. He grinded and pushed and forced himself into her, and as his arousal mounted, he gave her the first separation of their bodies when he pulled halfway out and thrust hard to his hilt. His speed quickened, his thrusts lengthened, and before long he was jolting her body forward.

He pounded into her, consuming every inch of her depth, and he watched her face closely with every swift penetration. He was waiting for her to come, and the moment her orgasm tore through her with a deep aching stroke, he pushed as far as her body could bear, unleashing himself with a loud groan. He stayed deep within her as she spasmed and shook underneath him. He was pulsing inside her, and she held tight to his clenched buttocks as he stayed still and deep.

He finally pulled from her as she groaned. She throbbed deep in her core, but she’d never felt more satisfied and complete.

“Too much?” Nothing could ever be too much with this man.

“Just right.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

*

He knew she was sore. You didn’t fuck like that and walk away feeling anything but raw. He gently parted her lips, holding his cool fingers against her skin to soothe the pain he’d inflicted on her. He kissed her gently and smiled as he pulled back from her. When he pulled his fingers from her pussy, he reached to rest his hand on her chest, and that’s when he caught a scent that stopped his hand dead still in the air.