Beyond the Horizon (The Sons of Templar MC Book 4) (25 page)

One Week Later

I stood staring at the door. I must have stood there for minutes, but it felt like hours. I squeezed the key so tightly I felt the jagged edges imprint in every one of my fingers. I stared at the swirling colors on the wood. Mom had painted it when we moved in. My gaze moved to the flowerbeds, once blooming with the same color that Mom filled her life with, dead and wilted. It would all be like that. Inside, all the color would be damp, lifeless.

I didn’t want to go in. The heaviness on my chest was almost too hard to bear. I almost reached into my bag for my inhaler, but I stopped, having to remind myself this wasn’t a physical problem. The air trapped in my chest was not a failure of my lungs, but a failure of my mind. Trapped in my own head, I was the only one who could repair it.

I wished Asher was here. That Bex was here. That I could have them beside me, borrow their strength. But Bex was back at the club, practicing her routine for the next night. Her bruises had finally faded, and Carlos had grudgingly taken her back as if she’d inconvenienced him by being brutalized. Asher was away on a “run.” I didn’t get much more of an explanation, only that he would be gone for a few days. We had just lost our constant shadow
“Skid,”
as Asher had been reassured we’d seen the last of Dylan. He left three days ago, and although he called me every day so far, I missed him. That too had left a sour taste in my mouth. Three days. Three days I felt lost without him. How would I handle the rest of my life when something happened to tear us apart?

So I had to find the strength to walk through that door and to withstand the memories. So then I could try to build my life around the ghosts that haunted me. The pain that plagued me. I ignored the pressure in my chest as I took a tentative step forward and put my key in the lock.

I pushed through the sweaty, inebriated sea of people toward the line for the bathroom. I too, may have been slightly inebriated. I situated myself at the end of the line, trying not to focus on the fact that I was alone in the crowded bar, drunk as I may be, being in a place full of people I didn’t know, dressed like I was. It had ants tickling the bottom of my belly. I had to find Bex. She had melted away with the crowd when we were dancing, I hadn’t been able to find her in what felt like hours. In reality, it was probably only a handful of minutes. Time moved differently when you were full of alcohol, and when people kept bumping into you, stumbling around. Apart from this small detail, I was happy with the way alcohol was making me feel. Or more accurately, not feel. The afternoon sorting through Mom’s stuff was nothing short of torture. The pain, I thought could never have gotten worse, showed me a newer depth and a further emptiness. Asher’s absence contributed to it. So it had been a small victory that Bex’s demeanor seemed to mirror mine when I got home and she declared we get, “shitfaced.”

If I’d been of a more stable frame of mind, I might have asked her what haunted her eyes. But I was too wrapped up in myself. A fatal mistake.

I took another deep breath as my eyes darted around me in a line that felt like it never moved.

“Do you think he’s good looking?” a girl in front of me asked her friend.

Her friend squinted over my shoulder, looking toward the bar. “Yeah, I think so….” she paused, swaying slightly. “Definitely.”

The other girl followed her gaze, her eyes glazed over with the slightly vacant look I had seen on myself in the mirror at home. The one where alcohol made everything fuzz at the edges.

“Yeah, I’m so taking him home tonight,” she exclaimed before they both burst out laughing.

My mind started to wonder about my current situation with a man who I didn’t have to ask anyone about his looks. I knew he was swoon worthy. Sexy as sin. I had known for years. Now he was back in my life. Somehow wanted to be part of the mess that was my life.

The dull ringing of my phone was almost lost underneath the pounding of some song I didn’t recognize, the only way I noticed was the buzzing coming from the tiny bag I had clutched to my side.

“Hello,” I shouted as I fumbled to answer it just in time.

“Where are you?” a voice growled on the other end of the phone. His husky voice seemed to cut through the music, the conversations around me.

I stepped forward as the line moved, taking me into the bathroom and away from the music.

“Where am I?” I repeated. “What kind of way is that to begin a phone call? Most people go with ‘hello,’” I half snapped, surprised at my irritation. Why was I irritated? The sound of his voice, even laced with anger calmed the churning feeling I was battling with being in this place alone. Maybe that was why. He had the ability to control something even I couldn’t grapple with.

“Hello, flower,” he said slowly.

I smiled slightly, despite myself. I took a look in the mirror, the smile was slightly wonky, and my eyes did indeed have that vacant look the girl in front of me was wearing.

“Hello, Asher,” I replied.

There was a pause. “Where are you?” he asked again.

“Why do you want to know where I am?” I hedged, frowning at the fact the dirty bathroom only had two stalls, and only one seemed to have women coming in and out of it, hence the reason for the long wait.

“You’re in a club,” he surmised.

“What makes you think that? I’m not,” I lied, for what reason, I had no idea. Maybe it was the undertone of disapproval in his voice that penetrated my haze. Since we’d officially become a
“couple,”
I’d tamped down on my short-lived partying lifestyle. Snuffed it out completely. I didn’t need it with Asher. But without him, even for three days, after today, I needed something. To feel nothing.

“I can hear the music in the background, flower. I know what a club sounds like,” he clipped.

“I could just be playing loud music at my apartment,” I protested. He was away God knows where with God knows who, why I was lying was anyone’s guess, but I didn’t want to have an argument over me being out. I didn’t want to hear the disappointment in his voice at my choice of coping mechanism. I wished I were stronger to not need this, that I could wade through the thorns of grief that surrounded me without anesthetic. But I wasn’t.

“You’re slurring your words,” he pointed out, sounding exasperated.

“I’ve had a couple of wines,” I replied. It was the truth. A couple of wines and a couple more cocktails.

“Okay, well, I’m standing outside your apartment, which is silent as a crypt,” he half growled.

Shit. He had me there. I didn’t exactly expect to outsmart him, but I hadn’t exactly expected to be talking to him, but I didn’t have the presence of mind to screen his call. Despite being caught out, a small feeling of elation bubbled in my stomach. He was back. At my apartment. I’d see him. I glanced down at my attire. Me seeing him meant he’d see me. I was wearing a tight, body con dress that clung to every bit of my curveless body. My makeup and hair was used to disguise the toll grief had taken on me. To hide me from myself. Not recognizing myself when I looked in the mirror was a good thing. But I felt ashamed. Looking into Asher’s eyes was like looking into the truest mirror that showed me without the trappings I used to run from myself. I couldn’t see myself right now. Not after this afternoon.

“What is going on in there? People need to pee, like badly,” the girl in front of me pounded on the stall which hadn’t opened for the entire time we’d been in there.

I frowned at the door, something starting at the pit of my stomach. Something that wasn’t connected to social anxiety and crowds. Something I had trouble inspecting under the cloud of drunkenness I was struggling to escape.

“Lily, where are you?” Asher demanded, his voice sharp.

My back straightened with irritation. “Why do you want to know?”

There was a loaded pause, even on the other end of a phone call after more than a couple of wines, I could feel it. His intensity.

“Seriously, Lily? Could you stop with this shit? I want to know because you’re mine. Because I want to see you. Because I haven’t seen you four days and I want to touch you, taste you. At this moment, though, I want to make sure you’re not about to be fuckin’ groped at some fuckin’ club,” he bit out.

The girl in front of me went into the only stall that seemed to be working. Again, I frowned at the door that hadn’t opened since I had gotten in here. I bent down, not too keen on getting any closer to the grime and who knows what on the sticky floor, but needing too at the same time.

“Lily?” Asher snapped in my ear, sounding concerned.

“Shhh,” I commanded, bending enough so I could see underneath the stall. So I could see the shoes I’d helped Bex pick out tonight underneath. They were laying at a weird angle. Something sank in my stomach, I shot straight up.

“Bex!” I pounded on the door urgently.

“Flower, tell me what’s going on,” Asher asked, his tone hard.

I ignored this, my stomach curdling at the silence beyond the door.

“Bex! Open the door, now,” I yelled, not caring that the other women in the stall were staring at me.

Again, nothing.

“Lily,” Asher repeated urgently.

“How do you pick a bathroom lock?” I asked him, staring at the door in desperation.

“Why do you want to know that? Are you okay?” his voice was alert.

“That’s not an answer,” I snapped with impatience, looking behind me for some help. I didn’t think the women behind me would be much help, considering they looked worse than I did. Ditto with anyone working in this bar, and even if they would help, I’d have to wade through the crowded dance floor.

“I’ll have to kick it in,” I whispered to myself.

“Jesus, kick what in? Where the fuck
are
you, Lily? Tell me so I can help,” Asher’s voice turned soft at the end, I could tell he was trying to mask the glimmer of panic in his voice.

I ignored him again, pushing at the door with my shoulder. It looked flimsy and moved slightly even with the small amount of pressure I was exerting. Maybe my laughable strength would be enough to get me in.

“Bex, I’m coming in,” I yelled again, hoping I wouldn’t give her a head injury if I did by some miracle get the door open.

The silence at the other side of the door gave me the strength I didn’t think I had. I slammed against the door with all my might, stumbling slightly as it gave way, swinging on its hinges. It took me a moment to focus on what I saw.

“Oh my God,” I whispered in horror. “No, no, no,” I chanted, kneeling beside Bex’s slumped body.

“Lily!” Asher shouted, but my phone tumbled out of my hand as my shaking fingers went to the needle at Bex’s arm.

“No. Bex, wake up,” I commanded, shaking her pale body with panic.

A thin film of sweat was covering her face, her lips tinged with blue.

“Someone call an ambulance,” I screamed at the crowd gathering behind me, my phone smashed on the floor, forgotten.

I clutched my best friend. “Please wake up, please be okay,” I chanted at her limp body.

I clutched the coffee cup, taking sips of the awful brew out of necessity more than anything else. I had been shocked sober at what I’d seen in that bathroom stall, at having to see paramedics struggle to revive what looked like the corpse of my friend.

“We’ve got a weak pulse,” had been the only thing that stopped me from collapsing into hysterics.

They let me ride in the ambulance with her, pushed to one side, watching in horror as they connected all sorts of things to Bex, mumbling words like
“overdose”
and “
heroin.”

I stopped my pacing, staring down at the remains of my coffee, eyes blurring at the sides.

Heroin. Overdose.

They hadn’t told me anything, not since we had arrived, hours ago. Terror pulsed through me like a living thing. At the lack of news. At the smell of these sterile walls, ones I had promised myself I’d never see again. Ones that held ghosts and haunted my dreams. If these walls took another person from me, I didn’t know if I could stand it.

Heroin. Overdose.

I swallowed my tears. I didn’t even know. My best friend had been taking heroin, enough to be doing it in club toilets and I hadn’t noticed. So wrapped up in my own despair I hadn’t noticed Bex drowning in her own. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, so they say. Now I think back to those days where Bex had looked twitchy, dark circles under her already dark eyes, her frame skinnier than usual. The fact she always seemed to be on her last dollar, even though she barely bought anything apart from wine and clothes from goodwill.

I sank into a chair in the waiting room, putting my head in my hands.

“Please don’t die, please don’t die,” I chanted to the floor beneath me.

“Rebecca Bennett?” a voice penetrated my sorrow.

I shot off the chair and rushed to an older man in a white coat, glancing over a chart in his hands.

“Is she okay?” I demanded, wanting to clutch his lapels but restraining myself.

He regarded me. I was a mess, I knew. The outfit I was wearing was intended for a club floor, not fluorescent lights and a hospital waiting room. Mascara smudged under my eyes, brought loose from tears. I didn’t care. I didn’t care what he thought of me. He just needed to tell me one thing.

“You’re Ms. Bennett’s family?” he asked skeptically.

I resisted the urge to shake the answer out of him. “Yes, I’m her family,” I said firmly.

He paused a second then glanced at the chart in his hands. “Your sister is lucky to be alive,” he stated, eyes moving back to me. “A heroin overdose causes the body to forget to breathe, it doesn’t take long for brain damage to set in when the brain is deprived of oxygen,” he told me with clinical detachment.

I didn’t hear much beyond,
“alive”
which made my whole body sag. I felt it tighten back up at his words.

“She’s going to be okay, though, isn’t she?” I asked in desperation.

The doctor nodded. “Luckily, the paramedics could administer the right drugs and we could treat her. As I said, she’s lucky. This could have easily gone another way.”

“Can I see her?” I asked. I didn’t want to sit at another hospital bedside. Not again. But I had to see her with my own two eyes.

The doctor nodded again. “For a short while. Then I suggest you go home, get some sleep. She’ll need to be in here overnight at the very least.”

I followed him down hallways that seemed like a second home, welcoming me with their sick satisfaction. I swallowed the lump in my throat at the memories that came with them.

When the doctor stopped outside the room, he turned to me. “Your sister needs help,” he told me flatly. “We don’t refer these cases to the police, but I urge you to get her into a rehab facility before they become involved, or before we are too late next time.”

I nodded. “There won’t be a next time,” I replied firmly. I had been blinded by my own demons for long enough. I’d help Bex conquer hers. It didn’t matter that mine hadn’t been defeated yet.

The doctor’s face softened slightly, and he seemed to regard me with a sort of pity.

“I hope that’s true.” He gave me a nod before he left.

I walked woodenly to the bed where someone vaguely looking like my best friend was lying hooked up to machines. The beeping of her heart monitor gave me hope.

I clutched the hand with chipped black nail polish. “You’re going to be okay,” I whispered to her sleeping body. “We’re going to get you through this.”

By the time I got out of the hospital, daylight was kissing the horizon. A new day. One I couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for. I should have taken the bus. Should have realized that a taxi was an extravagance I couldn’t afford. But I felt dead on my feet. To my bones tired. So I took the taxi, deciding I would worry about my dwindling funds later. After I caught enough sleep to make me mobile enough to get Bex home and to figure out how to take care of her. When I fumbled my key in my lock, my thoughts were of bed, of researching rehabs that we had no way to pay for, of figuring out how to get more time off work to watch Bex. How to eat if I wasn’t going to work. They weren’t on being aware of another person in my apartment. I nearly crawled up the wall when Asher stood from the sofa, staring at me. It wasn’t just a stare, his blazing eyes tore through me, running over every inch of me. His tight form relaxed slightly when he made it back up to my eyes as if he had been expecting me to be damaged in some way.

We gazed at each other for a long while.

“What are you doing here?” I asked after my heart had returned to its normal rhythm. “Did you break in? I added on an afterthought. Despite everything, my body yearned to touch him, to run into his arms. I stayed rooted to the spot, his stiff form and angry gaze communicating that he might not be feeling warm and fuzzy toward me right now.

“What am I doing here?” he repeated. His eyes ran over me once more, and he must have seen it, whatever was painted on my face to give me away because his face softened and he advanced on me. My body immediately relaxed when it became enveloped in his musky scent, when his large hand rested on my hip, the other spanning my chin.

“Fuck, Lily. What happened? Are you okay?” His gaze flickered over my scantily-clad body in concern, looking for an outward sign of injury. Only it wasn’t the outside of me that was bleeding, or that was damaged. Luckily even his eagle gaze couldn’t spot that.

His eyes met mine.

I ached to tell him. To let his strong shoulders carry the weight that settled on top of me. I knew he’d do it. Take everything off he could, carry it for miles if he had to. I knew he was strong enough to help. That he would in a heartbeat once I uttered the truth. But I couldn’t. This wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t what I wanted us to be. Him constantly having to pick up the pieces of the life that always seemed to be in tatters. He couldn’t fix this anyway.

“Lily,” he said softly, firmly. His tone was saturated with concern, though the hard edge hinted at anger.

“There was a small incident. At the club. Bex is in the hospital,” I said slowly, knowing parts of the truth would be the best way to go.

Asher’s body stilled. “Is she okay?”

I nodded. “She’s fine,” I lied. “I’ve been with her, just making sure.”

“Who do I have to kill?” he growled. It unnerved me that he sounded serious. The gun poking out the side of his cut reinforced the seriousness. The irony of the fact there was nothing the big bad biker and his equally bad gun could do to repair this situation was not lost on me.

“No one. It was an accident like I said. No heads for you to crack,” I told him quietly, the only honest part of this conversation. I hoped this was an accident. The bile that I tasted over the fact it could’ve been done intentionally didn’t go away with any rational thought. I focused on Asher. On getting him out of here.

“Jesus,” he muttered again. “Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been out of my mind with worry, flower.” The hand at my hip tightened.

My foggy mind thought back to the fate of my phone. “I smashed my phone, dropped it,” I explained, mentally groaning. There was no way I could afford another phone.

“Payphones exist for a reason,” he shot back, an edge to his previously soft voice. “I’ve been tearing up this town lookin’ for you, babe, worried out of my mind.”

I cast my eyes downward. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. My mind was preoccupied,” I told him honestly.

He looked at me, stared into my eyes in a way I was worried he’d see through all of my lies, he’d see the truth playing beyond my haunted gaze. I knew he had power, power over me, but I didn’t think that translated to supernatural mind reading abilities. Lucky. Or else I’d be screwed. The man who was quickly consuming my entire shattered soul may have been hard on the outside, but the soft center was filled with a man who wanted to protect, to take care of me. The weak girl who couldn’t even breathe without help.

He paused. “You’re dead on your feet, let’s get you to bed,” he declared finally.

It wasn’t lost on me that anger seemed to simmer below the surface. He had swallowed it for me, out of concern, despite his inner alpha that screamed at him to demand I tell him where I was at all times. I wanted to hate both parts of him. Instead, I loved them. Therein lay the problem.

All I wanted was to surrender to the pressure at my hips, to crawl into bed with him and forget the world. I couldn’t. I had responsibility.

“I think you should go,” I said slowly.

Asher’s expression changed. “What?” he clipped.

“You should go home. You’re right. I need to sleep, alone,” I told him firmly, stepping out of his embrace, I felt the warmth leave me, the comfort of his presence. I held my back up despite the exhaustion knowing at the edges of my mind.

He stood woodenly, staring at my retreating form. “I thought we were done with this shit,” he uttered quietly. “That you were done running from me, from us.”

“I’m not running,” I whispered.

He gave me a cold glare that chilled my already frozen bones. “You fucking are,” he clipped.

“Having one night to myself, to catch my breath, to fricking sleep, is not running,” I snapped in irritation. My emotions were raw, needing an outlet. Asher was the closest thing. “I can’t have you claim every inch of me, every inch of my time when I need it. I need some time to myself. To rebuild the remains of my pathetic life. To figure out who I am,” I yelled.

Asher stepped forward, his face soft. “I know who you are, flower,” he began softly.

I stepped back my emotions exposed, like a raw nerve. Everything came tumbling out. “What? Yours? Some ideal version of me you’ve constructed in your head from our time together. You can’t know who I am when I don’t even know. People keep telling me who I’m not, who I should be. I’m so tired of it,” my voice was hoarse.

“I’m not people,” he growled. “I’m your fucking person,” he continued fiercely. “Yours.”

I let him approach me, breathing heavily, my soul open, speaking more words than I ever had before.

“The emptiness, I don’t feel it when I’m with you,” I whispered brokenly.

Asher stroked my face. “That’s good, Lily, ‘cause you fill me up, to the brim. Never thought I was unfinished, till you came to complete me.”

I ignored those beautiful words. I had to. “No, it’s not good,” I muttered, looking down a moment. I took a breath then looked into his eyes. “If I only feel whole when I’m with you, I open myself up to the emptiness whenever you’re gone, whenever you leave.”