I take a few deep breaths after those incompetent idiots leave the room. Every muscle in my body wants to rush Evie’s bed, hold her against me, and assure her everything will be all right.
Instead, I keep my distance, force myself to be calm, and lower my voice. “When the paperwork is ready for your release, we’ll head over to your apartment and pack what you need for now. I can send movers for the rest of it later. A private jet is waiting to take us back to Sacramento.”
“No.”
Okay. Deep breath. That response is not entirely unexpected from my stubborn wife. This is the woman who invited a psychopath to come and find her, so she could finish him off, after all.
“Evie, I know you’re independent. I know you can handle yourself. But, you promised me a year. We have another eight months to go. I can’t train like you want me to and concentrate on the season when it starts up if I’m constantly worried about you here. I was the last one to arrive. I can’t be in two places at once.”
I don’t want to be like Davis. I don’t want to force her to do anything she doesn’t want. But, if I can’t reason with her, I don’t know that I have any other options.
I won’t leave her behind for Jackson to come back again and again until he wears her down.
“I don’t want you to worry so much you can’t do what you need to do. I’ll come to California,” Evie states, her voice flat. “In forty-eight hours.”
That is a completely unexpected response.
“Baby, why? You don’t belong here. You absolutely don’t need to be restrained and sedated.”
She nods, but the movement lacks any real coordination. “I do. I do belong here. I-I attacked Mike today because I thought he was Jackson. The police who brought me here said they tracked him down through his parole officer. He lives in South Carolina now. He wasn’t here. I’ve…I’m crazy.”
“No, you’re not.” Jesus, what did these people say to convince her of that? Jackson isn’t fitted with a tracking device that I know of. When the DA called to inform me of his release, the only stated term of his freedom was registering with a parole officer in whichever location he settled, in addition to being registered as a sex offender for life.
For all anyone knows, he did his due diligence, then took a little trip up here to do God only knows what. The easiest way for him to get close to Evie would be to fly under everyone’s radar by following the rules.
Until someone gives me hard proof Jackson never stepped foot in this state, I have to believe Evie really did see him today.
I refuse to let my guard down enough for him to get near her again.
“Rob, I wake up every morning under my bed because there isn’t a closet in my studio apartment. Even though I posed for a nude photoshoot, I couldn’t take off my bra to show my scars to someone else in an intimate situation. I can’t stand for anyone to approach me from behind. It’s been over five years, and I’m still not back to normal. I think it’s time to admit what you, Mike, and everyone else has been telling me all along. I need help.”
Okay, okay. I can work with this. I push the revelation about her not taking off her bra for another man to the back of my mind. “Then we will get you help. Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it. But, honey. All those things you listed have perfectly rational explanations behind them. You don’t want to leave yourself open to an attack again. That’s not crazy, that’s a learned defense.”
She seems to turn those thoughts over, but comes to the conclusion she’s already reached. Rather than argue, she simply settles herself further into the bed, a clear statement she plans on staying a while.
I lean back against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest in an effort to stay cool. I hate to play this card, but… “You owe me eight more months. I will always love you, and put you first. So, if I have to drag you back to Sacramento tonight, then…that’s what I’ll do.”
“Why do you love me?” She looks at me with dead eyes, the absolute lack of emotion in them frightening. I don’t know what drugs they gave her to calm her down, and it fucking pisses me off.
It also pisses me off it’s the first time I’ve actually told her I love her in almost a year, and the first thing she does is question it.
As frustrating as it is to say it over and over, I know she needs this from me now. Not only did I not do a very good job of proving my love, but she’s feeling vulnerable, terrified. More than ever, she must feel like a burden to me. I owe it to her to convince her of the truth. From my perspective. “I love you because I don’t know how not to. I loved you from the first moment I saw you, but I fell in love with you over time because of the strong, resilient, confident, intelligent woman you are.”
Her laughter sounds as dull as her appearance looks. “I am none of those things, but that’s not what I meant. I mean why do you love me? What’s in it for you? What possible good do I bring to your life?”
“Oh, I see what this is. You want me to bring my selfish reasons as appetizers to your pity party.” I take a chance and lie beside her on the bed, tucking my arm under her shoulders and pulling her close. And it is selfish, because it’s me who needs this physical connection. For all I know, it’s freaking her out to be touched by anyone, even me, just now.
“Well, let’s see.” I pretend to think it over, though I don’t have to. “You saw me when no one else did. I mean, sure, I was too shy and nervous to notice half of what you did to try and snag my attention, but you were the only person I hadn’t been friends with for years who noticed me. It wasn’t until I popped some muscles and got recognition on the field that other girls even cared about my existence. Too bad for them, you were already the sole focus of every extra ounce of energy I had to give. So, I know if I went back to being a skinny dork, you’d still love me.”
She laughs a little even as she sniffles. It sounds more genuine this time, so I keep going, wanting to lighten the mood any way I can. Wanting to tell her I know how much she loves me, even if she doesn’t remember telling me herself in a state of fear for her life.
“What else? Oh, yeah. I don’t want to test out this theory, but I have a feeling if I got kicked out of the NFL in total disgrace and ended up living on the streets instead of a high-rise condo with money to burn, you’d still love me. Actually, I take that back. You’d be kicking my ass into gear to not give up and to do something else productive with my life.”
“You’re not going to be kicked out of the league.” She elbows me a little in the stomach, but there’s hardly any force behind it. “You’re already getting your shit together. After the suspension is up, you’re going to have an amazing season.”
“Ah, yes. That reminds me, you’re also my biggest fan and the best cheerleader I’ve ever known, even when I’m not doing so great.”
She gazes up at me with a frown. “That would be your mother.”
“But, don’t you see, baby? That’s the difference.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “My mother loves me and cheers me on because she’s my mother. Lousy examples of parents aside, she has no choice. You do. You don’t owe me anything. You love me, anyway.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Her voice catches, but she doesn’t look away. “I owe you everything. I wouldn’t be sitting in this psych ward right now if you hadn’t saved my life.”
“So, you admit the only reason you love me is because you have a severe case of white knight syndrome?” I mean it as a joke, even if it’s poorly timed. Honestly, I want her to remember why she got her tattoo in the first place. I want to punch through the sedatives in her system and see the same fighter who accidentally Maced Mike. The woman who wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
“I don’t know when I fell in love with you.” Her voice is back to dazed, her eyes glazed over. “You made an impact on me from the start, yes, but I can’t pinpoint when it turned into something more.”
I can’t help but laugh at her word choice. Impact, indeed. “Hey, you wanna hear another secret I’ve never told you before?”
“Now would be a good time to confess anything,” she mumbles. “It’s so weird to feel this detached, and not by my own choice.”
Sheer fury threatens to crack my calm, but I pull it together. For Evie. “I kind of ran into you on purpose in that hallway freshman year.”
“Huh? No. I ran into you…” Her hair is covering her face, and she doesn’t even seem to notice.
I swipe it behind her ear, so I can see the beautiful blue eyes I’ve been obsessed with since that first glimpse. “I saw you leave your homeroom, all that hair everywhere. It was impossible not to notice you in a crowd of everyone who seemed to look the same. You were so far away, but then you turned toward me, and I swear my heart practically beat out of my chest. I knew the second you looked up, only for a moment, you’d be someone important in my life. I just didn’t know that day you’d turn out to be my everything.”
“Okay.” She seems unconvinced. That could either be her or the sedatives. “Not sure how we ran into each other if you saw me coming.”
A sick part of me is glad she might not remember this, since it pretty much confirms what a stupid idiot I am. “I, uh, kind of hid around the corner to see where you’d go. When I realized you were going to walk right past me, I jumped out. I thought you’d look up, maybe say hi and tell me your name, but you were so busy studying your schedule you just plowed right into me. I didn’t mean for you to fall on the ground and drop everything.”
Her expression barely changes with my revelation. “So, I did run into you.”
“Baby…”
She’s totally missing the point because she’s too drugged up to really listen. Although, maybe that’s just typical Evie. Somehow, I need to find better ways of getting her to hear me. To understand.
I wrap my arms around her tighter. She doesn’t even tense. Her body feels like a ragdoll. “Do you think you can sleep until they release you?”
She shrugs in my embrace. “Maybe. I just feel so weird. Is this how you felt the night you got drugged? I’m so aroused physically, but mentally I’m just…not here. I understand now more than ever how you did it.”
“Did what, honey?”
No response.
I shake her a little, only to find she’s out.
I’m not sure what she was babbling about, but a sinking sensation creeps over my exhausted muscles. I don’t remember the night I was hazed with drugs during college, but I distinctly remember the distant way Evie acted afterward.
I push those suspicions to the back of my mind. Right now, I need to figure out how to get Evie across the country with as little notice as possible. A private jet can only do so much. Then, I need my agent to make sure no one at this hospital or at the responding police precinct breathes a word of this.
God only knows how the media would spin it.
More importantly, it’s information Jackson doesn’t need to have to use against us.