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Lucas is back. He’s finally back.
I swallow hard, putting my phone away. I want to run to him and scream at him for leaving when I finally got the courage to tell him about Layla. I want to scream at him for not giving me a heads-up about choosing Prue, for not letting me in on his plans so we could figure it out together, and for giving up when I’ve come home to fight….
I want him to hold me and never let me go….
I bite my bottom lip, my eyes tearing up, my emotions are everywhere. It’s time to clock out; the head nurse already gave the switch over while I was sorting out the discharge papers.
He’ll be at his house on club land….
But maybe he doesn’t want to see me; he left.
But I left first….
My heart pounds hard in my chest, my mind scrambled. I shake my head, muttering, “Screw it,” and quickly make my way to the elevators, determined to go see him. If he’s with Prue, well, I’ll just have to hit her. I know who has the footage; I’ll just break in if necessary. I know Tech has been monitoring the house for a few months, trying to get her routine down so he can search the bathroom, but only I would know where she would have hidden it.
Behind the toilet.
It's where she kept her drugs, so why not the proof of her daughter burying a body in the woods behind the house?
I press the elevator button several times before the doors finally open, then press the button for the first floor. I can feel my body shaking. I need to see him; I need to get my feelings out to finally tell him what he did to me…and about our daughter.
I need to finally have my say and stop running.
I’m in my head when the doors open again, but I notice it’s stopped on the 3rd floor where Lucas’ office is, and a lump forms in my throat, wishing he was already here. Someone walks into the elevator, making me look their way.
The lump that formed in my throat causes me to nearly choke on it and I suck in a breath, my eyes taking in his form.
He looks tired, real tired.
His dark blonde hair is a mess, but his body…the way his white V-neck t-shirt stretches over his muscles, his cut hugging his figure….
Dammit, I’ve missed him so much.
This is why things couldn’t work with Austen; he never made me feel like this, like my whole body is lighting up and pulling me toward him.
He presses the first-floor button then drops his head forward and sighing, not realizing I’m here.
I tilt my head, rasping, “You look like hell,” making his head shoot my way in shock.
He’d normally know when I was near. Are we truly over?
I bite back my tears while he blinks a few times before rasping, “I’ve just got home; I needed to check my case files for next week.”
I nod, his eyes still looking at me like he’s seen a ghost.
I’m guessing Quinn saw him in passing. I know she had a check-up this evening but didn’t realize it was this late.
I go to speak, to say, well, anything, when the elevator shudders. The light flickers several times, making me gasp, before it finally screeches to a stop, the emergency light blinking on after a few seconds in darkness. Lucas jams the button several times to get it to move again, and my breathing becomes shallow. Memories from my time in the closet hits me, and I slowly walk backward until I’m against the wall, sliding down to the floor.
“Damn, I think we could be here for a while,” Lucas mutters, but his voice is drowned out by my mother’s manic laughter, the pain in my head each time she drags me by my hair, the smell of my urine and feces covering me, making me feel dirty.
“Ken….” Lucas starts but stops before suddenly his hands are cupping my cheeks. My eyes connect with his worried ones as he lifts my head from my knees and rasps, “Pixie, talk to me, baby.”
I grip his wrists, holding him to me, his touch bringing me back. My tears fall as I focus on him, his touch, his smell, and I whisper with a broken sob, “I-I missed you….”
He furrows his brows as his hands tighten on my cheeks, his eyes racing between mine before he leans forward, pressing his forehead against mine. I close my eyes, finally feeling at home for the first time in a year. And speak my truth.
“Whenever I spoke of the MC, whenever I asked my mother a question, didn’t have enough money to pay her bills, or forgot to clean the kitchen, I would end up locked in the closet. Sometimes for only an hour, other times, for forty-eight hours, because she forgot about me. It’s only when she realized the house was a mess that she’d remember, and then she’d shout at me for not doing what I was supposed to, even though I was locked away.” His body shakes with anger as my tears fall. “I was never good enough for her. She hated the MC; she blamed Uncle Chris for her downfall, and hurt me daily, and-and Nick paid her for my virginity.” I sniffle and admit, “After you dropped me off that night I had that date with the guy who tried drugging my drink, I spent three days in the closet.”
