Chapter Nineteen
Dylan
Present Day
Tears burned Dylan’s eyes as he rocked Presley in his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his words thick.
“Please,” Presley begged, her body limp. Each sob, each broken breath felt like a stake through Dylan’s chest. “I can’t lose him again, Dylan. I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”
“You are strong enough,” he argued, his jaw set and his eyes filled with determination. “I can’t lose you again. Do you understand me? I have lived without you for six long years. I won’t go another day.”
Presley’s brows dipped in confusion, and Dylan’s stomach bottomed out. He hadn’t meant to say that, but now that he had, there was no taking it back. “What do you mean, six years?”
“Fuck.” Dylan pulled in a deep breath and ground his teeth together.
“What do you mean six years, Dylan?” Her voice was edging toward hysterical as her breaths came in broken gasps.
“Presley, please. I need you to calm down. Here, take this.” Dylan reached into his pocket and pulled out a Xanax. Presley’s expression was a mixture of anger and horror as she slapped the pill from his hand.
“I don’t want drugs! I want answers!”
“And I’m going to give them to you, but I’m not going to get the chance if anyone comes in here and sees you like this. I’ve been slowly cutting your medications back, that’s why you’re remembering. If anyone finds out, we’re both screwed.”
Presley shook her head. “This is wrong. It’s all wrong. I’m not thinking clearly.”
“For the first time in years, that’s exactly what you’re doing. I know you’re scared and I know you’re confused, but I’m going to be here every step of the way. Do you hear me? I’m not going anywhere.”
Looking defeated and exhausted, Presley slumped against the wall. “I don’t remember anything. There’s just…gaps.”
Dylan sighed and offered her the Xanax once more. This time, she didn’t fight him. “It’s going to take time.”
“I feel like I’m losing him all over again,” she whimpered, her arms wrapping around her stomach.
Dylan moved to his knees, and after scooping Presley in his arms, rose to his feet. He placed her on the bed and pulled the sheets around her. “You need to rest.”
Presley grabbed two handfuls of his shirt and pulled him to her. “Please don’t leave me.”
Dylan smoothed her hair away from her face as he kneeled beside the bed. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to her cheek. “I’ll never leave you again, Elvis, but as much as I’d love to, I can’t stay here all night. This nightmare isn’t over yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t let on that you’re not taking your medications. The only pills I want you to keep taking are the one I gave you just now and the bright blue one. Don’t take the others. I don’t care how you get rid of them, just be careful.” Dylan pulled in a deep breath, and when he looked at Presley, he was certain she could feel the regret and sadness of his expression. “There’s something else you have to do.”
Presley’s brows furrowed, and Dylan felt like the lowest piece of scum on the planet. “You can’t act like anything has changed.” When Presley’s expression remained one of confusion, Dylan swallowed around the lump in his throat and gripped her hands. “You have to keep pretending. You have to keep the blanket.”
Presley opened and closed her mouth several times, her eyes searching as she tried to understand. “What blanket?”
“Jesus,” he exhaled. It was still so hard for him to reconcile that, for her, it was never just a blanket. It was a baby. Their baby. “The blanket you always have with you.”
Presley shook her head, and Dylan knew she still didn’t get it. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s—” Her eyes widened suddenly as realization set in. “The baby…” She covered her mouth with her hand as she recoiled from him. “No,” she groaned, her eyes filling with tears. “Dylan, I can’t. Please don’t make me do it. Please, I’m begging you.”
“I’m so sorry, baby. If there were another way, I would never ask you to do something like this, but until I figure a way out of this, you have to. If Dr. Sanders finds out, he’ll tell your parents, and they could move you somewhere else. They have your power of attorney. There’s not a damn thing I can do to stop them.” By the time he finished speaking, Presley was openly sobbing.
“I can’t. Dylan, please.”
A tear slipped down Dylan’s cheek, and he had to look away to keep from picking her up and running out of the hospital with her in his arms. “I’m sorry.”
Presley covered her face with her hands as she continued to cry. With every sob, Dylan’s heart broke a little more. She was in no condition to leave, not yet, but he couldn’t help but worry about the repercussions of keeping her there. He had to say something to remind her what they were fighting for.
“Do you remember the necklace I gave you?” he asked, his eyes pleading. “The butterfly? Do you remember?”
Presley pulled in several gasping breaths before her sadness turned from confusion to curiosity. After a moment, she moved wordlessly to her bed and reached under the mattress, pulling the necklace free. “What does it mean?”
Dylan smiled. “I gave it to you. You used to tell me that I gave you butterflies, that I made everything flutter. I gave you that so you’d never forget.” Dylan looked toward the door and took a deep breath, letting his eyes fall shut. He had already broken every rule he could; one more couldn’t possibly make things worse. With that thought, he stretched the material of his shirt collar, revealing the red and black butterfly tattoo over his chest. “I never forgot,” he whispered. Presley gasped, her red-rimmed eyes wide as she stared at the ink marring his chest. She reached out, the tips of her fingers tracing the angry, broken lines.
“Is this me?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“I thought it was,” he whispered, releasing the material of his shirt. “I was wrong. This is why I need you to fight. Do it for us, Presley.
After several moments, Presley’s tears began to ebb, and her body relaxed into the bed. Whether it was the medication or exhaustion, resignation finally won out.
“Promise me?” he whispered.
She answered with the slightest dip of her chin before rolling to her side away from him. With a tentative touch, he pulled her tear-soaked hair from her face before standing. Her breaths had evened out, and her face, although blotchy and red, looked almost peaceful. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek before stepping away from the bed. “I won’t let you down.”
Heavy steps carried Dylan out of the room and into the open hall. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he pulled in a deep breath and turned toward the lounge. His steps faltered, and his eyes widened when he saw he wasn’t alone.
Milly stood with her arms crossed over her chest, an expression on her face that Dylan couldn’t decipher. “Care to explain what I just saw?”
In the nurse's lounge behind the Plexiglass wall, Dylan and Milly sat on either side of a long white table. It was the same table where, an hour earlier, they’d shared a lighthearted dinner. This time, however, the tension in the air was suffocating. Dylan had no idea how much she’d heard, but having heard any of the conversation with Presley was far too much. He didn’t know what to say. Luckily for Dylan, Milly wasn’t interested in waiting for him to come up with an excuse.
“She’s a patient, Dr. Walker.”
“I know.” He nodded, his eyes downcast.
“She’s sick.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because if I’m not mistaken, I just saw you kiss a sleeping patient.”
There was a pause before a look of horror crossed Dylan’s face as he understood Milly’s implication. “Oh God, Milly. It wasn’t like that. She’d had a nightmare. When you walked in, I had just gotten her back into bed.”
“She’d been awake? How on earth is that possible? She takes enough medication at night to knock out an elephant.”
Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you kissed her. I know she’s fond of you, but Presley isn’t in any shape to deal with that kind of attention. And even if she were, you’re a doctor. You know better.”
Dylan leaned forward and clasped his hands, his expression pained. “Most of the patients here haven’t had any type of human contact in years. It’s a scientific fact that touch is crucial to human’s well-being. I shouldn’t have done it, but she’d been crying. I only wanted to comfort her. I would never take advantage of her or any patient like that. You have to believe me.”
Milly stared at him for several moments before releasing a tired sigh. “You can’t do anything like that again. Your career will be over before it even begins.”
“I understand.” The look on Milly’s face told Dylan she wasn’t one hundred percent convinced of his intentions. He hated that Milly thought he was some kind of creepy predator, but telling her the truth wasn’t an option. Not yet. “I guess I’ll start on the round charts.”
Milly nodded. “Be sure to leave a note for Dr. Sanders about Presley’s nightmare. He’ll want to know.” Dylan knew Milly was only doing her job, but if he didn’t hurry up and find a way out of this mess, everything would be ruined.
The rest of the night passed quietly. A few times Dylan caught Milly watching him, a hint of suspicion on her face. The entire atmosphere surrounding them had changed. He hoped once everything was out in the open, she would forgive him for keeping her in the dark.
By the time shift change rolled around, Dylan was a knot of anxiety. He exchanged hellos with Katherine, his eyes fixed on Joel as he put his things away. When Katherine and Milly started chatting, Dylan walked to Joel and pulled him to the side. “Hey, man, can you do me a favor?”
Joel grinned. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Presley had a rough night last night. Would you just keep an eye on her? I’m sure Dr. Sanders will adjust her medication when he hears about it, but until then, I’d appreciate it if you could watch her a little closer.”
Joel’s smile slipped and his brows dipped. “Man, she’s had it rough. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on her.” He paused for a second then leaned closer. “How is it? Working here almost exclusively?”
Dylan sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Proving to be much more difficult than expected. It’s good, but also taxing.”
Joel clapped Dylan on the shoulder. “Well, if you need a break, I’d be happy to pick up some of your hours. Sure beats the hell out of Grace.”
“Thanks.”
Waving goodbye to Katherine, Dylan made his way out of the building. His grandmother’s flight was scheduled to arrive in a few hours, which didn’t leave him much time to rest. After straightening up a bit and making sure the guest room was set up, Dylan crawled into bed and closed his eyes. As tired as he was, his mind refused to shut down. Over and over, the night before played on a loop. He had to figure a way out of the situation, but there seemed to be a roadblock at every turn. With a groan, Dylan rolled off the bed and walked into the bathroom, having given up on sleep. After a quick shower and a bite to eat, he drove to the airport.
He was hit by a wave of emotion when he saw his grandmother, quickly followed by a burst of laughter as she not so gently elbowed her way through the crowds of people heading toward baggage claim. “Dylan!”
“Hi, Grandmother,” he said with a smile as he pulled her into a hug. “How was your flight?”
“Long.” She scanned his face and shook her head. “You look awful.” She pulled away and pinched his side. “You’ve lost weight. You’re not doing anyone any good if you’re not taking care of yourself.”
Dylan shook his head. “I haven’t lost any weight. And I look like shit because I worked last night and haven’t slept yet.”
“Language,” she scolded before narrowing her eyes. “I don’t think I believe you one bit.”
“Of course you don’t,” Dylan chuckled, moving to the luggage carousel. Lifting the bag, Dylan let out a grunt. “What did you pack in here?”
“Hush. I’m an old woman. Half that bag is full of medication.”
Dylan shook his head. “You take vitamins.”
“Your point?”
It was a complete waste of time to argue with her, so Dylan said nothing else as he hauled her massive suitcase to his car. “Are you hungry? Tired? We can grab something to eat or go back to my place if you’d like to rest.”
His grandmother shook her head and smoothed her hands over her pants as she looked at him from the passenger seat. “I’d like to see Presley.”
Dylan sighed. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea today. Last night was…rough.”
“What happened?”
The front seat of his car wasn’t the ideal place for the conversation they were about to have, but he knew his grandmother wasn’t one to be deterred. Pulling onto the freeway, Dylan explained everything that happened over the last few days, as well as the previous night. He didn’t look in her direction as he recounted the night before, but her quiet sniffles and broken breaths let Dylan know she was crying.
“Oh, Dylan. I’m so sorry. This has to be so difficult for you both.”
“I just don’t know what to do now. She’s not in any mental state to be removed from the hospital, but every day I leave her there, the risk becomes greater that her doctor or, worse, her parents find out. Until she can verbalize for herself what she wants, I just have to wait.”
For several moments, there was only silence. “Dylan,” she began. “You’re not going to want to hear it, but the only way out of this is to confront her doctor. You can’t sneak her out of there like a thief. A confrontation is the only way.”
“And say what? Dr. Sanders, you’ve been drugging my not-so-dead girlfriend for the last six years, and I’d like you to stop?”
“Don’t be a smartass,” she bristled. “You might not want to admit it, but that’s exactly what you’re going to have to do. You’re going to have to call him out, let him know you’re onto him, and inform him that if he stands in your way, you’ll go to the authorities.”
“It’s not that simple.” Dylan exhaled and ran his hand through his hair. “But you’re right, I’ll have to confront him eventually. It’s her parents I’m worried about.”
Dylan’s grandmother laughed. “Oh, I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about them at all. They have far more to lose if they try to fight you.”
“I just want her to be ready,” he whispered. “There’s still so much she doesn’t remember.”
“Then let’s help her remember. Take me to the hospital. I have something for her that I think will help.”
A sad smile crossed Dylan’s face. “You brought the book?”
She nodded and patted his hand. “I brought the book.”
“I haven’t seen it in years.”
“I know. I think it will help.”
Dylan thought about the photo book. He’d finished it about a year after Presley had been committed. It was full of pictures of them growing up, but mostly from senior year. When her parents had released the statement that she’d been killed in a car accident in Italy, it had been too painful to look at, so he’d left it with his grandmother. Until then, he’d held on to the hope that Presley would come back to him. It didn’t matter that the hundreds of letters and emails he’d written her over the years had gone unanswered, or that his incessant calls and unwanted visits to her parents’ apartment begging to know where she was had resulted in the Coopers threatening him with a restraining order. He’d hoped. He’d always hoped.
“Let’s swing by my place first and drop off your stuff then we’ll head that way.”
“Do you need to rest first?”
Dylan shook his head. “I don’t think I could sleep if I wanted to. Not after last night. I need to see her.”
“Very well.”
After hauling his grandmother’s suitcase to the guest room and the quick nap she’d sworn she hadn’t needed, Dylan drove them to Hilltop. His nerves were obvious as he scanned his card with a shaky hand.
“She might not recognize you,” he cautioned, his expression weary.
His grandmother gave a sharp nod and adjusted the stack of books under her arm. She’d brought children’s magazines, books, and, of course, Dylan’s photo album. “I know. She looked straight at me the last time I was here and didn’t even blink.”
Dylan’s stomach tightened at the mention of his grandmother’s visit. He understood her reasoning for keeping the truth from him, he really did, but there was no room for logic where emotions were concerned. He couldn’t help but feel betrayed.
“Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours. I’m more than happy to remind you why I did what I did, but I’d rather not waste my time on such trivial things when we’re so close to having everything as it should be.”
Dylan cut his eyes to his grandmother, who stared at him with pursed lips, her eyebrow arched in challenge. Dylan shook his head and placed his hand on the small of her back. “No, Grandmother, there’s no need to rehash the past. I just want this to be over.”
“As do I.” She nodded. “Now, take me to my granddaughter.”
Her words caused an ache to swell inside his chest. The image her words painted was something Dylan wanted more than anything in the world, but reality didn't always cooperate with desires. Leading her down the hall, he scanned his card at the entrance to the lounge and pushed open the door. His eyes darted around the room, his shoulders not relaxing until he saw Presley. Any comfort he felt at seeing her, however, was quickly erased. She was in the same chair as always with Cody sitting across from her. To anyone else, it would seem completely normal, but Dylan knew better. In her arms, instead of cradling the blanket like a fragile baby, she had it clutched to her chest so tightly that even across the room he could see her white knuckles and the pained expression on her face as she stared out the window.
Cody leaned forward and brushed his fingers against her arm as he spoke quietly and nodded toward Dylan. Presley’s head snapped in his direction, her brows creased with confusion as her gaze bounced between Dylan and his grandmother.
“Hi, Dr. Walker, I didn’t expect you so soon.”
Dylan smiled at Katherine. “Grandmother and I just grabbed a bite to eat, and I thought I’d show her where I worked.”
Dylan’s grandmother smiled and extended her hand to Katherine. “I might have bullied him a bit,” she joked. “When you get as old as I am, you take advantage anytime you’re able to get out and about.”
Katherine laughed and shook her hand. “You sound just like Milly. I’m Katherine, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”
Dylan’s grandmother nodded. “Likewise. To this one, I’m Grandmother, but you can call me Ann.”
Katherine clasped her hands in front of her. “You got it. I understand you plan on doing a little volunteering while you’re here.”
Dylan’s grandmother shifted the books out from under her arm and hugged them to her chest. “I’d love to, if that’s okay. Since this one grew up and moved away, I’ve found volunteering for story hour at hospitals and libraries to be very rewarding. And highly entertaining, if I’m being honest. Kids are always full of surprises.”
“That they are!” Katherine looked at her watch and groaned. “I hate to rush off, but I have some paperwork to catch up on. Dr. Walker, can you have her sign the logbook and the other volunteer forms?”
“I’ll take care of everything.” After exchanging goodbyes, Dylan turned to his grandmother. “Come on, let’s get the forms out of the way.”
“Forms?”
Dylan nodded. “You have to sign a waiver that the facility is in no way responsible if you are injured while volunteering. You also have to sign a code of conduct form that you won’t, in any way, try to counsel the patients, as well as a nondisclosure agreement that you won’t speak to anyone about the patients you will interact with.”
“Heavens,” she muttered. “That seems a bit like overkill.”
Dylan shrugged. “It’s actually necessary. Some of the patients can have outbursts where others might be harmed. It’s a liability. As far as the other forms, well, they don’t want just anyone coming in off the street and giving advice to a patient. You never know what kind of effect it might have on their recovery. And the nondisclosure, well, I think you have a pretty good understanding as to that one. Some families don’t want anyone to know the whereabouts of their loved ones.”
His grandmother pressed her lips into a thin line as understanding colored her expression. “People like the Coopers, you mean.”
“Exactly,” Dylan whispered, his voice hard.
Once she’d signed all the necessary papers, she turned toward Dylan, her eyes pleading. “Can I talk to her now?”
Dylan cut his eyes to Presley, who hadn’t taken her eyes off him since he’d entered the room, and nodded. “Yes, but let’s get you set up and bring Cody over as well. There are a few others here who might want to come listen to you read. If that happens, you’ll have to wait to have any kind of one-on-one time with her.”
“I understand.”
“I’m going to talk to her first, then I’ll bring her over.”
Giving a sharp nod, his grandmother thrust the photo album into Dylan’s hand and walked to the reading area, settling into one of the chairs. After making sure she was okay, Dylan crossed the room to where Presley and Cody sat.
“Are you okay?” Dylan asked, crouching beside her chair. Presley’s eyes shimmered with tears as she shook her head slowly.
“No,” she rasped. “I’m not okay.”
Dylan’s heart fluttered as he lifted his hand to her forehead. “Are you sick?”
Presley jerked away, turning her head from his touch. “Don’t.”
Dylan pulled his hand back as if her rejection had physically hurt him. If he was being honest, it had. “Did I do something?”
“Joel is watching you,” Cody murmured, causing Dylan to startle.
Dylan cleared his throat and stood. “Cody. Presley. My grandmother is visiting and decided to spend some time volunteering here. She’s about to begin reading if you’d like to join her.”
Presley’s eyes snapped toward Dylan, a mixture of confusion and recognition in her expression. “She brought something for you,” Dylan added, dipping his head toward the book in his hand. “I’d really like to show it to you if you’ll let me.”
Presley hugged the blanket to her chest, her eyes burning with unshed tears as she gave a slight nod. Cody stood from his chair, and Presley followed suit as the three of them joined Dylan’s grandmother and a couple other patients who had found their way to the reading mat.
“Well, hello,” his grandmother greeted as Cody and Presley took a seat on the floor.
Cody responded in kind, but Presley remained quiet as she studied the woman in front of her. Dylan took the open spot beside Presley, grateful that he would be out of Katherine’s and Joel’s lines of sight.
“She’s missed you,” Dylan whispered, his stomach tightening when he felt Presley flinch. Pulling in a deep breath, he turned his attention to his grandmother as she began to read. He didn’t understand what had happened since he’d left, but he knew he didn’t like it. Presley seemed angry, distant. Several moments passed before he felt the slight brush of her fingertips against his arm. With extreme restraint, he kept his reaction nonchalant as he looked in her direction. She wasn’t looking at him, however. Instead, she was looking at the album in his lap. After sweeping his gaze around the room to make sure they weren’t being watched, he opened the book to the first page.
A small gasp slipped through her lips when he opened to the first pictures. They were kids, no more than ten. Snow covered their boots to their knees as they stood on either side of a terribly built snowman on the playground. Both were smiling, red-cheeked and bright-eyed. After a moment, Dylan flipped to the next page. He didn’t speak as he showed her their lives, how they’d grown and drifted apart, moving farther away from each other in the pictures as they moved from grade to grade. Dylan couldn’t help but notice how many pictures had caught him looking at her. She’d always been like gravity for him. It didn’t matter where they were or who they were with, she pulled him to her.
When he reached the pictures from their senior year, her stoic demeanor finally broke. She pressed her shoulder against his and placed her hand on his thigh, her nails digging into the material of his jeans. “You were so mad at your parents that day,” he whispered. “I’d come over for lunch, and to say they’d been displeased to hear we were dating was an understatement.”
“They hate me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “They left me here.”
Dylan’s throat tightened. “This isn’t your fault.”
“I disappointed them so much, they didn’t want me anymore.”
Dylan’s jaw set as he turned to look at Presley, his eyes blazing. “Your parents are horrible fucking people, and they are going to pay for what they did to you. What they did to us. They don’t deserve you, they never have.”
Presley dropped her gaze to her hands. The silence that followed made Dylan want to slam his fist into a wall. Like he’d done time and time again, he pulled in a deep breath and exhaled. He couldn’t allow his anger toward her parents to upset Presley more than she already was. Her recovery was his priority; everything else would come in due time.
“Do you want to see the rest?” he asked, his voice soft, soothing.
Presley shrugged and wiped under her eye. “It all goes downhill from there, doesn’t it?”
“It wasn’t all bad,” Dylan murmured, leaning closer. “I loved you more than anything in the world. I still love you more than anything in the world.”
“I’m not ready for this,” Presley choked, hugging the blanket to her chest.
Dylan clenched his teeth and stared straight ahead, his heart slamming inside his chest. “I know. I just want you to know that, for me, nothing has changed.”