Page 29 of Give Me Peace

“Thank you.”

“For what?” I quirk an eyebrow in confusion.

“For everything. The things you did for my mom. For never giving up on me. The apology.” Her eyes are bright with emotion again, but I force back the need to go to her. “It wasn’t your fault, but I might’ve used you as something to bitch about while I was down there.” I laugh, my smile wide and genuine, not the least bit offended by her honesty. “And as for everything that happened between us before that day? You’re forgiven.” She shrugs a shoulder, like it’s no big deal to her when it means the fucking world to me.

“You mean that?” I can hear the strain in my voice.

“Yeah. I mean, I always knew this was one of those ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ situations. The ‘me’ in that scenario being you.” She smirks, her eyes full of mischief.

“It was definitely me, Say,” I confess, my fucked up grinch heart growing way too big for my chest.

“Let’s just start over. Okay?” She wavers slightly, nervously biting at her bottom lip. “It’s the past. I think we could both use a clean slate.”

“Hearing that makes me really fucking happy, pretty girl.” I wink and pull the door closed, her soft laugh following me to my own room. I could’ve snorted cocaine and felt a lesser high than the one I’ve got from spending a few hours with that woman.

I’m not a soft man. I’ve never known an ounce of affection outside of Eliza Radley and the men I’ve come to call brothers, and even then, we’re not sitting around, hugging every fucking day. It’s a sense of belonging with them, a level of comfort I’ve allowed myself to enjoy. Because I know, no matter what bullshit I pull or how badly I fuck up, they’ll never turn their backs on me. That kind of loyalty is rare, and I won’t take it for granted.

But Saylor…Saylor feels like home. I’m puddy in that girl’s hands and it fucking terrifies me. She’s got me completely exposed, offering myself to her in whatever way she’ll take me. But that means I’m knowingly putting myself at risk of being absolutely eviscerated if she kicks me to the curb. So, that leaves me no other option but to get my shit together and be whatever she needs me to be.

A best friend.

A confidant.

A goddamn punching bag if that’s what it takes.

Regardless, I’ll never be the Havok she remembers ever again. If Saylor’s going to give me a second chance to set shit straight, then you best believe I’m going to do everything I can to ensure she doesn’t regret it.

Chapter Sixteen

Saylor

I stay in my room for the rest of the day. Aside from Kash bringing me a toasted ham and cheese sandwich in the afternoon, the guys don’t bother me. I’m grateful for the space. I’ve spent the last few hours going through the box of belongings Havok had been holding on to, looking at each item with new eyes. These are the only things I have left of my life with Mom. The Christmas ornaments I made her throughout elementary school, a half-used bottle of her favorite perfume, photo albums and videos. I slide out a picture of us from the Valentine’s Day before our lives imploded and grab one of the empty frames from my dresser. Once I’ve secured it, I flip it back over and run my fingers over both our faces.

We’d been so happy. Mom always said I was the greatest love her life, so who better to spend the day with than me. Crazy how blissfully unaware we were of the impending doom. Like I said, we rarely see those moments coming. Devastation like that, the sort that tips your world on its axis and changes who you are on a fundamental level, gives no warning. Those particular ruinations like to blindside you.

I would have never imagined that three short months after we’d taken this picture everything would change. Who could possibly anticipate something like that? I got all the same talks most kids did about stranger danger, but that’d been my downfall because I’d known the asshole who thought he could steal me, claim me like a stray he’d found on the side of the road. Every time I think about the interactions I had with Liam Price prior to the day he kidnapped me, I start to feel lightheaded. It’s scary to think that some people are skilled enough to pull off the con he did.

I place the picture of us on my nightstand, right beside her urn, then pull the perfume out and uncap the lid. I breathe deeply, smiling at the familiar scent. It feels like she’s right here in the room with me. There are several other trinkets inside the box of memories, mostly things of mine that Mom had been proud of—like the participation trophy I got for soccer—but her jewelry might be my favorite thing. It’s the sentimental pieces she’d coveted—a pair of diamond earrings she’d gotten from my dad and their wedding bands. I set them on my dresser for now, keeping them in the tiny duster they were placed in until I can find a safer spot.

The only thing I don’t look at is the letter. I’m not ready to open it. Those are the last words I’ll ever get from my mother. And she wrote them to me, the Saylor I am today. It’s like I’ll still have her with me for a few minutes, but I know it won’t be long enough. As soon as I read them, she’ll be gone. There won’t be any new thoughts from her ever again, and the current state of my emotional stability is not prepared for that. I need to shore up my defenses, especially after the beating they took today.

I place the box in my closet, sans a few things I chose to keep in my room, and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I can’t believe the day is practically over. It feels like it dragged, but also flew by. I should be concerned with bathing, but I’m too drained to put in the effort it’d require. I take the pain meds Kash dropped off with my early dinner and down half my bottle of water. I’ve grown so used to rationing things that it’s causing me not to drink enough strictly from habit. The last thing I want is to end up dehydrated again.

A sigh escapes me when my sore body meets the cloud-like feel of the mattress. The second my eyes close, thoughts from this morning coming pouring back in. Lochlan’s words play on repeat, but no matter how many times I force myself back awake, I’m just too tired to ward off the nightmare that awaits me. Eventually, I lose the battle. And as predicted, I sink to the pits of my own personal Hell.

I’m back. It wasn’t real—not the guys or the hospital.

No one came to save me because no one knows I still exist. I’m just a faded memory that people think about from time to time. That girl who went missing but no one ever found.

“Poor thing,” they’d say.

And then he’s there—the Devil himself. I can feel the chill of his fingers ghosting across my skin. His hot breath against the back of my neck. Every inch of my body that’s been hurt by him flares with pain, reminding me exactly how vile he is.

The light’s brighter today than it normally is, but slowly, just beyond the glare, faces begin to emerge. They’re strangers, men I’ve never seen before but look at me as if I’m a valued piece of real estate. A blank canvas to mold as they please. I try to hide myself, to cover my nude body from the leering eyes who’d love nothing more than to break me—mind, body, and soul.

But my arms are held behind me, and no matter how hard I struggle to break free, I’m no match against the man spreading me out to be visually feasted on by like-minded evil. I scream; with every bit of air in my lungs, I scream for someone to help me.

I’m right here, damn it. How can no one find me?