It Will Always Be You (You Series Book 1) (10 page)

The room is dark, except for the faint light that’s coming from my left. I can’t bring myself to look over at the source. My head feels too heavy to move. I sense I’m not alone, but I’m too tired to do anything. I want to ask who’s there, but I’m so thirsty I can’t even swallow. As I lie still, I become increasingly aware of my body. every inch of me weak and aching.
Where am I?
A wave of air brushes against my cheek. Someone is here. Sharp pain sears my shoulder as I try to move. I give in to the heaviness of my eyelids.

***

The woods are dark, but the light of the moon somehow leads my way. I’m running fast, chest heaving. I look down at my hands; they’re covered in blood. Is it my blood? I keep running, glancing over my body. Where is it coming from? I look back and don’t see anyone there, but I know I need to keep running. I have to get away. I just know I have to keep running. I jump over a downed tree covering the path, and the pain is so much that I stumble forward. My arms are too heavy to lift from my sides and soften my fall. My chest slams hard against the dirt floor of the woods, taking my breath away. I scramble to get back up and keep moving, running to the brightness up ahead.

I reach a narrow river, jagged with ripples of light from the moon above. The water is traveling fast, but I have to get away. I can’t turn back now. I frantically make my way into the ice-cold water. My legs are hard to move since the water is rushing so fast, but I keep on struggling through the moving water until I can no longer touch. I’m drifting downstream now at a rapid pace, but I fight hard to get to the other side. I go down, swallowing water multiple times before I bob back up, coughing and gasping for air.

Just ahead, I spot a branch sticking out over the water. I fight to grab ahold, and as I do, it starts to move. I grab it tighter, fighting to stay above water. I look up, and it’s him, the beady-eyed psychopath who attacked me, cut me, beat me. I need to get away from him. I scream again and again, but my screams are lost. He’s looking down at me, laughing. He just keeps laughing. He won’t stop laughing …

“Elizabeth, wake up.” I feel a hand on mine, and I shake it to try and get away.

I open my eyes, and the first thing I see is my mother.

Tears fill her eyes. “You’re awake. My Elizabeth is awake.” She leans over and kisses my forehead.

“Mom.” My voice is harsh and scratchy.

“Yes, honey, I’m here.”

“I was running through the woods”—I shake my head in confusion—“swimming in an ice-cold river and—”

“Sweetheart, it was only a dream. You’re okay, and you’re safe now.”

Overcome by the uncertainty of what happened to me, I look to my mom in horror.

Seeing my concern, my mother eases my worry, like only a mother can. “I know what you’re thinking”—she strokes my hair—“and you don’t need to worry. Cuts and bruises are the extent of it. That foul demon was put in his place before he was able to do what he had intended. Thank God Krystal showed up when she did. And some guys came to help when they heard you scream. Sounds like those guys beat him up pretty good.”

“I’m so thirsty,” I mumble.

“Let me get you some water.”

I blink away the cloudiness in my eyes, then let them wander around the bright hospital room. I spot my pink duffel bag on the window bench and wonder who packed it, but I don’t ask, because my eyes immediately focus on the table next to my bed. There sits the largest and most beautiful arrangement of flowers I have ever seen. There must be at least fifty peonies in coral, pink, and white. It’s my favorite flower. It must have cost a small fortune. Gavin used to buy them for me when he felt he really screwed up. They were not cheap, so he would only spring for four or five. Gavin wouldn’t have done anything like this. Who else knows that it’s my favorite flower? Marshall had been at the front desk one day when I’d had flowers delivered, but really, what guy pays that much attention? Plus, as soon as I saw him, I disappeared into the office like I usually do when he comes in. He probably didn’t even know they were mine. I wish so much I had read that letter on my door and not chosen to be so afraid of what I might learn.

I stare in awe until my mom reaches the bed with some water.

She notices I’m staring at them. “I came in this afternoon, and those were here. Nobody seems to know where they came from.”

I sip my water and turn my attention back to the flowers.

“Let me go get a nurse and find your father. He went to get a snack. You know how uneasy he is in hospitals. He can’t sit still for too long.”

I nod as she exits the room.

I gaze at the flowers in stunned silence. No one has ever done anything like this for me before. A lump builds in my throat, and my lips are quivering with emotion. No one besides my parents and Rose has ever cared about me enough to do such a thing. I can’t help it; a sob escapes my throat. My hands begin to tremble with a mix of joy and appreciation, rapidly followed by painful confusion and sorrow for what I have just been through. I was attacked and beaten, nearly violated by a man who is clearly a very disturbed psychopath. The pain in my heart is too much to bear. I hug my pillow as the tears flow in a steady stream that leaves me feeling tired and broken.

***

Sunday, June 6

The police come and question me. My father had asked if it were possible to give me more time to recover before they came at me with so many questions. They declined to wait, said that they needed to act quickly so they could get right down to their investigation. I fill them in on what he told me about the girl from high school having to pay and that I am pretty sure he was watching me from a beat-up red pickup truck at Home Décor that day with Rose.

Nurse after nurse comes in to see me over the next few hours, checking my vitals, asking over and over on a scale from one to ten how much pain I am in, bringing me crappy hospital food, and helping me to the bathroom, which I decline every time, but they insist.

I have several visitors that afternoon: Rose and Derek, Aunt Margaret, several of my cousins, and Krystal. Even my boss, Kiki, stops in for a short visit. I don’t ask about Marshall, but the thought of his smile, the dimple on his chin, and his soothing voice brings me a sense of comfort. It’s so weird, but I almost feel like he has been here. My head injury must be worse than I think.

***

Tuesday, June 8

I’m assured that my attacker is behind bars, and after two nights in my childhood bedroom, I’m excited to be back in my townhouse and feel some sense of normalcy. It feels good to be home. I ask Krystal if she will stay at my place with me the first night. I don’t know how I feel about being alone. It’s been four days since the attack.

I have some stitches on my chin and lip, a bruised cheek bone, and a concussion. I had also dislocated my shoulder while trying to get away. My mom and Rose both offered to stay with me too, and I’m grateful for the offer, but after several days of them fussing over me, it will be a nice change to have Krystal here.

Rose brings me home since my car is still evidence, and who knows when I will be getting that back. Besides, I’m still on pain meds and am told I can’t drive until I’ve switched to just ibuprofen, and I’m not quite ready to give up the good stuff just yet. Maybe tomorrow. I send my reluctant twin home so I can have time to read the letter that has been heavy on my mind since the second I saw those flowers.

I lock the door when Rose leaves, grab the letter, double-check that I locked the door, then head to my room. Rose had put away everything from my duffel bag, made my bed (which I’m sure I hadn’t done four nights ago), and set out yoga pants and my favorite Zac Brown Band T-shirt on the bed for tonight. I smile at her motherly gestures and ease myself on top of my sheets and cover myself up with a blanket from the end of the bed.

I run my fingers over the words
Please Read
before I carefully break the letter’s seal.

Dear Beth,

I feel terrible about the fact that I have upset you. I know I have acted a bit strange at times and haven’t given you a full explanation of my behavior. I wish you would have given me a chance to explain it to you that night on the balcony. I’m still not sure why you left, but I hope you will tell me, talk to me, ask me any questions, and trust that I would never do anything to hurt you.

I would rather talk to you face-to-face, but you have left me no choice. God, this feels so weird to write on paper, but here it is.

I lost my wife, Sarah, my best friend, over three years ago. She was in a horrific accident. She had fallen off a ladder in our shed, and her spine was impaled by a hook that was attached to the shed wall. They thought they could fix her. For eight months, she fought for her life, getting better after each surgery. That was until the last one, the one that they had predicted would be the last one she would ever need. It was her last, but it took her life when she developed a blood clot. One day she was improving, and the next she was gone. After I lost her, I honestly believed I would never be with anyone else again.

Well, that was until I met you, Beth. You are the first person I have dated since that horrible day. I was afraid that if I told you this information, it might make you feel that you needed to treat me differently, just like everyone else in my life has been trying to do since the day of her accident. I didn’t want you to think I was broken or fragile. I wanted you to get to know me first before springing this all on you. It wasn’t fair for me to make that decision for you, and after our first date, I knew I needed to tell you.

I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I have to tell you that from the very first time I saw you, I knew I needed to get to know you. You do something to me that I can’t quite explain, but it’s amazing. It makes me feel alive, hopeful, and, well, makes me feel like me. I haven’t felt like me in a long time. I feel a connection to you, and I sensed you felt it too. I would really like to keep getting to know you and to have another chance to kiss that sweet mouth of yours.

I don’t only want to dream about you anymore, I want to know you, learn you, and make you feel as happy as you make me every time I’m near you.

Marshall

I hug the letter tight to my chest and stare at the wall, feeling heavy with regret. I could have saved myself from this mess. Had I only read the letter, I may not have left that night and could be in Marshall’s arms. But that doesn’t explain Aubrey or the girl in his bed, though. He said he hasn’t dated. Does that mean Aubrey is just his plaything?

A loud bang wakes me in my bed where I had fallen asleep with Marshall’s letter still held tight to my chest. It’s a quarter after six, so Krystal must be here. I struggle up off the bed with my good arm. My other arm hangs limply by my side while my shoulder screams with fire.

I look through the peephole just to be sure before I open the door for Krystal, who is still banging wildly.

“Damn, Lizzie, you trying to give me a heart attack? I was beginning to think I’d need to break down the door.”

“I fell asleep, Krystal. Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. You just scared me, that’s all.”

My friend’s uncharacteristic worry warms my heart. I try to take one of her bags from her, but she demands I go sit my ass down on the couch. I lock the front door before I do. Krystal dumps her overnight bag by the door of my spare bedroom/office and heads into the kitchen to drop off the food. She comes out with a glass of water and a giant white pain pill.

“I’d imagine you need one of these.” She drops the pill into my hand.

I pop the pill in my mouth, take a sip of water, and lean back.

“I have something for you from Marshall.” She reaches into her back pocket. “But you can’t read it until you’ve read the other letter.”

I take the letter and look up at her. “How do you know about the letter?” I say, studying her face.

“Marshall and I have had a few conversations in the past few days.”

I look down at my hands, where I’m holding his letter, feeling slow to process what this means.

Krystal places a hand on my knee. “After you had left the other night, I had planned on giving that son of a bitch an earful, but turns out, there are a few things about Marshall you should know.”

“I read the letter when I got home today,” I tell her, but a wave of jealously washes over me when I realize Krystal knew about his wife before I did. “What other conversations did you have with him?”

“At the hospital and on the phone earlier today.”

My eyes snap up at her. “He was at the hospital?”

“I went out to the parking lot with the intention of dragging you back in to talk to him that night. When we didn’t come back, he came out to look for us. He showed up just as you were being wheeled into the ambulance. He was in no shape to drive, so I drove him to the hospital.”

I rest my head back on the sofa. Had he been in my room like I had sensed in the hospital? Again I look over at her. “So my parents met him?”

“Well, no. We sat in the waiting room along with your parents and Aunt Margaret. He sat there so still and quiet that I figured your parents didn’t even notice he was there, so I stayed quiet and skipped introductions. He was still sitting there when I came back from your room. He still looked the same, like he hadn’t moved a muscle since he’d sat down. I filled him in on your condition. He asked if I would take down his number and keep him posted. The next morning, he was there in the waiting room. You would have thought that he’d sat there all night, but I had brought him to his car, and he’d changed his clothes.” Krystal got up. “Why don’t you read that letter.” She points at the letter gripped tightly in my hands. “I’ll get us some dinner.”

I nod, and she heads to the kitchen. This time, the envelope says, “Beth, Please Read.” I turn it over and break its seal.

Dear Beth,

I hope your recovery is going as well as Krystal tells me it is. I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve just been through. I’m here for you if you ever need anything. You were so angry with me, and from what your friend Krystal has told me, I understand why. I would really love to see you when you feel up to it and explain it all to you. I will be in town a few more days since I was able to stay busy at work. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, Beth. I hope you can forgive me for everything. I hope to hear from you soon.