Rock the City: A Midnight Fate Novel (26 page)

I look between the two of them, trying to get a read on what could have possibly happened to make Lemon so upset. Although their eyes are full of compassion, there’s only so much they can do for their patient if she’s not willing to follow through.

I turn away from them, praying it’s not the last time I see their faces. I’m two steps from the door when Lane yells my name from the hallway, his voice more panicked than I’ve ever heard it.

Lemon’s in the corner, next to the vending machine, with Lane standing in front of her, doing his best to keep her from getting away. After a few more seconds of struggling back and forth, she finally gives up with one last guttural groan.

“What happened?” I ask them.

“I don’t know,” he says, with more bite than he intended. I don’t let it bother me. Not when he’s absolutely petrified for his sister.

Instead, I duck under his arms and crouch down in front of Lemon. I don’t try to brush her hair away from her face like I want to or ask her questions she isn’t ready to answer. All I do is let her get each sob out of her system, praying she’ll be okay.

When she has a chance to catch her breath, she raises her head and says, “They think I’m crazy. They want to lock me up. You swore to me they wouldn’t.”

I crane my neck to look up at Lane. His eyes are so determined and I can tell he’s on the verge of saying something stupid to the doctor. With my eyes, I beg him to stay here with me.

“Lemon, what did the doctor say that upset you?”

With her blond hair sticking to her wet cheeks, she’s barely able to whisper, “I need to go to therapy.”

They weren’t the words I was expecting her to say, but I realize they’re ones I was hoping would at least get mentioned. She’s not equipped to handle this baby on her own, not after a good portion of her life being spent with Rusty and Trey and God knows what else.

Still, no matter how much I agree with the treatment plan, I have to make it seem like I wasn’t thinking the same exact thing as the doctor. I realize it’s time to pull some skeletons out of my own closet as I gently ask her, “I was in therapy, Lemon. Do you think I’m crazy?”

She swallows hard before saying, “You’re so strong, Noelle. I never would have guessed.”

“Strength isn’t one particular thing, Lemon. It’s something you gain little by little until you have enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other without feeling like it’s impossible. It’s looking out your bedroom window and seeing the sunshine when your world is covered in thick, black clouds. It’s accepting your weak moments and believing they won’t always define you—that someday you’ll be so much bigger than every one of them.”

“And you got to that place? Therapy worked for you?”

“I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“You are.”

“The thing is therapy will never take away what happened to you. No matter what preconceived notion you have about it, everyone has a different experience because we all carry around different baggage.”

“How does it work if it’s always different?”

“Because your journey to the finish line will always be uniquely yours. Nobody can ever take it away from you.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had something that only belonged to me. Not even my body.”

Lane cringes as she says it, but her honesty is the only way she can do this. I’m already proud of her for realizing something so profound all on her own.

“Lemon, some really terrible people took away your control. Now, your baby needs you to do whatever it takes to get your life back.”

“And then I’ll be free?” she asks, with newfound hope and determination.

“You’ll be so full of light that you’ll finally understand the darkness.”

“Lemon.”

She raises her head and stares at my outstretched hand like she desperately wants to latch on and never let go. Her world may be upside down and backwards right now, but despite all the background noise in her head vying for the chance to speak, I want her to find her
own
voice. Not the voice of Trey or Rusty.

My real sister is lying dormant inside this shell of a body that’s too thin, too fragile, and all too familiar with heartache. Her hope’s been held captive by her pain long enough for her to see the real sunlight and never confuse it with the bright lights of Lola’s again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and for a minute I think I’ve lost her completely. But after one last moment of reflection, she places her tiny hand in mine and lets me help her off the floor. “I got scared.”

“Let me take you back to the doctor. It’s time you took your freedom back.”

“I don’t remember a life without them. When I close my eyes, I still feel Rusty touching me. I can hear Trey’s voice reminding me I’m still his, even though he’s behind bars. I can’t get either one of them to shut up.”

I pull her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her, as I try to make up for ten years’ worth of affection she missed out on. My voice is scratchy when I tell her, “I won’t let them hurt you ever again. You’ll go to treatment and find
your
strength. As soon as you do, you’ll come back to my house and we’ll take it from there. This isn’t me walking away from you or trying to get rid of you. I just miss you, Lemon. And I want my sister back.”

“I miss you, too, Lane, so much. It means a lot to me that you think I can do this.”

I wish I could tell her I haven’t once doubted her, but even when she’s agreeing to go back inside, I still worry she’ll change her mind at any given moment. It doesn’t stop me from continuing the fight though. Not when she has more to lose and so much left to gain. “We’re the one thing Mom and Dad got right. We’re not going down without one hell of a fight, you hear me?”

She nods against my chest and, after another minute or two, she’s strong enough to let go of me and lead the way back into the office, all on her own. I couldn’t be more proud of her, but no matter how strong she’s being, I can’t risk leaving her alone again. This time, I sit with her in Dr. McHugh’s office, ready to answer any questions and offer her as much support as she needs from me.

As the doctor scribbles notes on Lemon’s chart, I break the ice with the question I’m sure we want the answer to the most. “Where will Lemon go for treatment?”

Dr. McHugh sets her black-rimmed glasses on top of the desk. With her hands folded overtop the paperwork, she says, “Lemon tells me she’s been staying with you here in the city, and after a thorough examination today, I’m comfortable with allowing her to continue that arrangement until we get her into an inpatient facility. I think both you and Noelle have proven your willingness to see this through.”

“Thank you, but how long does this sort of thing usually take to coordinate? We’re in this every step of the way, but I don’t think waiting is going to do her any good.”

“I have the nurse calling three different places right now. Each one comes highly recommended. Placement can be immediate if they have the space, or it could take a couple days, even weeks to find the right location for her. It depends on the severity of the case sometimes.”

“And how would you rate Lemon?”

“Given her pregnancy and history, I’d say she’s urgent.”

Just when I think we’ll be playing the waiting game and working against the clock, the nurse hurries back in the office with a few papers in her hand. Dr. McHugh takes one look at the one on top and smiles. “Turns out having friends in high places has its benefits.”

She jots down the address of where we’ll be taking Lemon, who’s still quietly sitting with her head down in the chair beside me. I hate seeing her so defeated.

Handing the papers to Lemon, she tells her, “They’ll take you today. I’m sending you home with a list of what you can take with you and what you’ll need to leave at home. They’ll be expecting your arrival.”

Lemon holds the paper between her fingers and simply nods. She’s hearing what the doctor is saying, but I can tell she’s already having second thoughts about agreeing to go through with this.

As much as I want to make this happen for her, she’s the only one in control from here on out. She’ll make her own decisions, and hopefully they’ll be ones she can live with. Because if she’s not careful, she’ll be taking all of her failures to her grave, never even having a fair shot at redemption.

“Good luck, Lemon.”

“Thank you,” she says, though still in a daze.

The entire walk back to the condo, she stays close to me, and each time I glance down at her, her eyes are busy scanning over each face that passes. She’s so focused on making sure she doesn’t miss a single one that she almost walks right into the side of a cab waiting at the intersection.

“That’s him,” she says in a wave of panic, her legs giving out as she falls to a heap on the edge of the sidewalk.

I grab her under her arms and turn her toward me. “Who is it?”

She looks back at the cab that’s pulling away and starts shaking in my arms. “Rusty. He’s been following me. I knew I felt him, Lane. I tried to convince myself it was just my imagination, but I’m positive that was him in the back of the cab.”

Noelle reaches in my pocket and pulls my phone out, scrolling through the contacts until she comes to Reed’s number. I don’t even need to tell her what to do; that’s how in tune she is with my thoughts—and hell if it doesn’t make me feel better that she trusts Reed to keep us safe.

While she handles the call, I tuck Lemon against my side and we keep talking the half block back to the condo. People see all sorts of things in the city—hell, there’s a Naked Cowboy and Sesame Street characters roaming around Times Square on any given day, and a giant bronze bull on Wall Street. Pretty much wherever you go, you’ll see something a little outrageous or unexpected, but no matter how odd all those things are, Lemon still gets a couple of strange looks as she walks down the sidewalk with tears streaming from her eyes.

“We’re here, okay? You’re safe and nobody’s going to hurt you.”

Nodding, she eases her grip on my hand a little bit when she sees Reed’s waiting for us as soon as we walk into the lobby. Staying close but far enough away that he doesn’t scare my sister any more than she already is, he gives her a warm acknowledgement and a silent hello. He may not have heard the details of her past, but he’s able to read between the lines well enough to figure out she’s dealing with some pretty heavy shit.

“We’ll all go upstairs and have some lunch. Then you can get your stuff together and we’ll get to the center. Okay?”

“I don’t have much to pack,” she says, like she’s ashamed she stole a bunch of shit and then left it at home.

Wanting her to go into treatment feeling like she’s fully prepared, I pull her in the opposite direction, away from the elevators and toward the row of boutiques lining the other side of the corridor.

Reaching into my back pocket, I hand Noelle my credit card. She looks at me like I’m crazy, mostly because she’s made it clear she doesn’t want my money. This is the one time I’m going to insist. If Lemon sees she’s okay with it, she won’t be as hesitant to buy what she needs and maybe a little something she wants.

Noelle listens when I tell Lemon, “Go do some damage. Noelle will help you pick out some clothes and shoes. I need you to help her pick out a couple things, too. She’s stubborn and doesn’t always listen to me.”