Beyond Broken (22 page)

“Freakin’ awesome.”

“Greyson…” I waited, sensing he was on the edge of something.

“So exactly how long did you wait before you moved on? I mean… you know I was really starting to buy into your whole God idea about love and shit and here you were banging the doctor behind by back. Damn, that feels good.”

“What?” I asked, completely confused.

“Dr. Damn Solomon.” Bitterness lent a dark edge to his tone.

“Okay… you think I’m… why would you think that?” I questioned, my confusion growing into anger.

“I have pictures, Sophia.”

“Of…”

“You, him, all close and enjoying the sunshine while sipping your coffee. I can practically hear the damn birds singing in the picture, it’s so perfect,” he spat.

“Ummm… I did have coffee with Dr. Solomon… actually iced tea. And I practically choked to death on it… he patted me on the back…” I tried to piece everything together when a snap in my brain put all the pieces together. The camera, the flash. It hadn’t been a celebrity; the picture had been snapped of me.

“Did you have me followed?” I asked toneless, holding my breath for his answer.

“Damn straight I did.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he asked in a dark humor. “Why, she asks.” He exhaled loudly into the phone.

“Yeah, why? Because I’m not sleeping with Dr. Solomon.”

“Yeah, that’s believable.”

“Pretty sure I’d remember losing my virginity,” I snapped back, hurt and humiliated. How could he even think those things? I knew pictures could be photoshopped, and could often be deceiving, but why would he believe it?

“Whatever.” He snorted into the phone. “What are you, some decoy at the Center? Their secret weapon that takes in the lost and lonely, gives them hope, sends them off into the bite-ass world, all the while happily bedding the golden doctor?”

“What is with you? Why are you being like this? I’m telling you it’s not true. Why don’t you believe me?” To my horror, my voice cracked.

“Because you’re a damn liar.”

“And you know this how?” I asked, my broken heart now growing into a hot fury of anger.

“Because they’re all the same. Alison was right.”

“Alison?”

“Yeah, just forget it. I’m done, okay? Stop calling, texting, whatever. I don’t want to hear from you again. Got it? You win, Sophia.” He disconnected the call and I was left staring at the black screen until it blurred from my tears. Anger and pain soaked the very air around me. It was too much. Between the issues of the day and then Greyson’s venom…I was utterly lost. Despair washed over me and I began to tremble. I was cold, both inside and out. Why had he been so quick to judge the situation? Why had he refused to even listen? I flung myself face-first on the bed and sobbed into my pillow, thankful for the soft down to cover the noise so I wouldn’t alert Bekah. The torrent of my tears ran freely as I poured out my bleeding heart asking God why.

I had never felt so alone. Where was God? My head knew he was there; he was collecting my tears and knew my pain, yet my heart felt alone. And that was the most difficult part… choosing to believe when everything felt the opposite of what I knew to be true. Emotions could be so much stronger than convictions.

Over and over I replayed our conversation, searching for clues. All I could figure out was that guy taking pictures of Dr. Solomon and me having coffee had done something… but what? I fell into a deep restless sleep and awoke to Bekah shaking me.

“Sophia! Wake up, get up, now. You need — Come here.” Her eyes were wide and she was shaking. “Come
on
!” She pulled me out of bed and I stumbled trying to gain my footing. My eyes felt like I had sandpaper in them and were puffy. I fumbled through the hall until I hit the living room. Our flatscreen was lit up with CNN. My world tilted.

“Billionare Greyson Bentley was found in his multimillion dollar mansion last night.” The blonde news anchor began in a clear tone. My heart stopped and everything around me began to spin. The woman continued to speak but I couldn’t hear her voice. A roar began in my ears, deafening everything else. I tried to swallow, but I was numb.
Greyson.

Chapter Fifteen

“Sophia? Sophia, wake up!” Bekah was hovering over me. I saw her outline but all the details were fuzzy, muted, and blurry. I blinked, trying to get my body to respond, to speak but every time I tried to move it was as if I were strapped down. After taking a deep breath I tried to speak.

“Bekah?” My tone was wrong, strained and hoarse.

“Sophia!” Bekah buried her head in my shoulder before quickly leaning back and giving me a concerned expression. “Are you alright? What am I saying, of course you’re not alright! You passed out cold and darn near gave yourself a concussion! Don’t move! I’ve already called 911—”

“Oh, please tell me you didn’t…” I groaned as I heard the sirens.

“Of course I did! You’re bleeding, like everywhere and I’m not about to let you die on me.” She narrowed her eyes and moved something on the side of my head.

“What do you mean I’m bleeding?” I questioned. My body was finally responding and I raised my arm to touch my face.

“Don’t! Don’t move. I — you’re the nurse! What do I do? You have a head wound. It’s not too bad, I don’t think, but it’s bleeding like a stuck pig and I don’t know—”

“I’m fine.” I groaned and tried to stand.

“No way. You say right there. Even I know that you’re not supposed to move.” She gently pushed me back down and I was too weak and disorientated to fight her. A knock sounded at the door and Bekah glanced up at the sound, then back at me, narrowing her eyes to small slits.

“You,
do not move.
”

“Fine,” I mumbled, closing my eyes.

“No!”
Bekah shouted, slapping the side of my face.

“What was that for?” I shouted, squinting at her.

“Don’t fall asleep. Stay with me. Okay?” The door was now being pounded on and Bekah rose quickly and opened it. I heard her speak with a few unfamiliar men and then saw one of them hover over me.

They quickly discussed my injuries, and I knew immediately it wasn’t bad. I would have a miserable headache for a few days but nothing serious.

“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” I said in the most rational, clear tone I could muster.

“Miss, you likely have a concussion, I recommend at least an x-ray to determine—”

“I’m an intern nurse. I know the protocol, but this is nothing that needs more than some aspirin and a warm bed,” I mumbled, embarrassment beginning to surface over my situation.

They argued with me, trying to get me to change my mind but didn’t succeed. By the time they left I was sitting up and drinking tea that Bekah had brought me. My head hurt fiercely, but the bleeding had stopped quickly and now all I wanted to do was go to sleep.

“Bekah, can you hand me the remote? I’m exhausted and I can’t sleep just yet. I need to stay awake for a few hours just to make sure.”

“Make sure what?” Bekah asked dubiously.

“That I don’t need to go to the hospital.” I gave her an unamused glare.

“Okay… but no TV, let’s play a game or something.” She was jumpy, avoiding eye contact and while I was watching her, she picked up the TV remote and put it on a shelf far away.

“What’s up with you?” I asked carefully.

“What do you mean?”

“You… hiding the remote. And you hate games.”

“I do not.”

“You do too.” I narrowed my eyes at her.

Bekah bit her lower lip then walked toward me. Sitting down beside me, her expression was wary and sympathetic. Gently she placed her hand on my arm, leaning in.

“Sophia, what do you… what’s the last thing you remember?”

“Falling?” I teased.

She smiled but it was forced. “No, really.”

“Hmm… You woke me up,” I stated, remembering her shaking me and then my stumbling out of bed and into the hall where the TV was blaring— “No,” I whispered, my throat closing up.

“Breathe, Sophia, breathe.” Bekah moved her hands in a circular motion and I tried to follow her instruction. “He’s alive, but in critical condition.” She spoke the words directly into my face, making sure I heard her.

“He’s alive?” I repeated.

“Yes.”

“What happened?” I asked breathlessly.

She glanced down to her lap, chewing her lower lip. With a heavy sigh she made eye contact. “Overdose.”

It was my fault. Everything was my fault. As soon as she said the word I knew that I had been the catalyst for it. Granted it was because Greyson believed something that wasn’t true, but either way… I was to blame. Tears welled in my eyes and I leaned back. My headache screamed as the pressure built from my tears.

“He’ll be okay.” Bekah soothed me as she ran her hand down my hair, then hugged me.

“You don’t understand,” I whispered. Reluctantly, as if I had to coax every word from my soul, I told her everything. About Dr. Solomon and coffee, the picture, the fiasco at work and then finally how Greyson was convinced I had betrayed him. Bekah listened carefully, her wide eyes never leaving mine.

“And I’m the one to blame, Bekah. It’s my fault.”

“No. It’s not.” Bekah shook her head then patted my hand.

“It is!”

“No. Don’t. Greyson made his own choice. He could have asked you, rather than assume. He could have chosen to fight for you rather than believe the lie. Greyson could have chosen a number of other things rather than drugs… but he didn’t. Not to mention, why would he have you followed to begin with? Greyson made his own choices. You didn’t make them for him.”

“But—”

“No. No buts. But what we do need to do is pray. Because we don’t want his rotten choices to end him. Rather, Sophia, we want this to be what brings him life.”

****

Bekah and I prayed for Greyson. My heart broke each time I said his name. After a few hours I knew I was okay to get some sleep. I asked Bekah to wake me up every couple of hours until morning, when I’d need to call in sick to work. Being the amazing friend she was, she slept on my floor with her Hello Kitty alarm clock set for every two hours.

True to her word, she woke me up periodically and when it was time, I called in to the Center and let them know I was out sick. The morning went by slowly as I camped out on the couch watching CNN for any reports on Greyson’s condition. At ten-thirty my phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with Greyson’s name. I almost dropped the phone in trying to answer it as quickly as possible.

“Greyson?” I asked quickly.

“I’m sorry, miss, but this is Gregory. I’m not sure if you remember me, but—”

“Yes, yes I remember you.”

“That’s grand, miss, but I’m afraid I have some news. I’m sure you’ve seen it on the television by now, but Mr. Bentley is in the hospital.”

“I know.” Tears fell in streams down my face and I wiped them away quickly.

“I’m going against protocol calling you, miss, but I need to know something.”

“Anything.”

“Did you speak with Greyson last night?”

“Yes, well, yesterday afternoon,” I whispered and closed my eyes, reliving the entire conversation.

“Do you know what could have perhaps caused him to relapse?”

“Yes. He… he thought I was betraying him, seeing someone else. It’s not true, but he wouldn’t listen—”

“Ah, I see.” Gregory’s tone was clipped.

“Why, Gregory?” I asked in a hesitant whisper. “Why would he do that? He knows… He’s been down that road, Gregory. And he didn’t even listen to me. It was like his mind was made up—”

“It was, Miss Holton. I’m afraid that Greyson is much like his father in that particular aspect. Once he is convinced of something, he doesn’t change his mind easily. That is both a blessing and curse.”

“I see.”

“Indeed. Could I ask a favor, Miss Holton?”

“Anything.”

“In a few days, I trust that Greyson will be well enough to recuperate at a different facility… if you get my meaning.”

“Yes.”

“Can you possibly oversee, make sure that the transition is smooth? I’ll make sure all is well on my end—”

“I’m on it,” I said with confidence.

“Thank you, Miss Holton. And for what it’s worth, I don’t doubt your integrity. Give Greyson time and he’ll come around.”

“Thank you. I hope you’re right.”

“So do I, Miss Holton. I’ll text you with any changes.”

“Thank you,” I murmured into the phone.

“Of course.” He ended the phone call and I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the couch.

Greyson was alive, he was healing, and he was coming to me. All I had to do was convince him that the things he’d thought were wrong.

Around noon, someone knocked on the door and I got up to answer it. Bekah hadn’t been able to get out of work, so she was gone till that evening but was calling me every hour or so just to check in. I started calling her Mother Hen. Either way, the door knock was a welcome interruption to my stalking of CNN.

I peeked through the hole and was surprised to see Dr. Solomon.

“Hi.” I waved self-consciously as I opened the door.

“What the hell?” Dr. Solomon’s eyes widened before the doctor personality took over and his gaze narrowed into a study of my injury.

“I’m fine. I smacked my head and the table won.” I shrugged. The movement caused the faint throbbing to increase momentarily. I glanced at the clock gauging when I’d need to take more aspirin.

“Wicked table,” he replied as he reached out and tenderly touched the side of my head around my wound. “But you did get a nice shiner out of the deal.” He gave me a weak grin, but his eyes were concerned.

“Hooray for me.” I gave him a thumbs-up sign and moved aside, inviting him in.

“Seriously, what were you doing, though? If you’re that clumsy…” He trailed off.

I smiled but glanced down, not sure of how to answer. But I that moment, I decided I didn’t care anymore. “Greyson Bentley is in the hospital because of an overdose,” The words started to draw tears.

“I heard…” Dr. Solomon watched me for a moment then glanced away.

“He’s going to be alright but…”

“I didn’t see that update.” Dr. Solomon glanced to the TV.