I’d only been home for one week.
Chapter 16
Eyes fluttering open, it took a couple of moments for my brain to catch up to what my eyes were seeing. I was staring at the hospital ceiling and my mouth was still incredibly dry. What was it about hospitals that always made you feel like your throat had turned into the Sahara Desert? During my only other much longer hospital stay, it had been the same every time I woke up. Strange.
I inhaled, expecting the bitter and weird scent, a mixture of cleaning products and sickness of the hospital, but I caught a clean, citrusy scent that so did not belong anywhere in a hospital. My heart skipped, and I shifted my gaze to the left.
And I fell in love.
Right then and there.
I fell in love.
Sounded absolutely crazy and some might believe it was the pain meds I’d been given after Derek had left, but I knew the swelling in my chest, much like an overinflated balloon, was not a result of whatever it was the nurse had shot into my IV. It wasn’t the much-needed nap I’d gotten after Miranda and Jason had visited. As soon as my eyes settled on Cole, I knew what I was feeling was real, and the intensity of that swelling brought tears to the back of my throat.
Truthfully, I’d fallen in love with him ten years ago and never fallen out of it.
Cole was sitting in the narrow, uncomfortable hospital chair. His feet were propped up on the edge of my bed. He had on dark trousers again. Work pants, I guessed. He had a black leather jacket, a dress shirt underneath. One arm was folded across his lower stomach; the other was jabbed into the arm of the chair, and his chin was resting in his open palm. The position he was in had to be uncomfortable, and I had no idea how long he’d been there, but the sky was dark outside the small square window, and the hospital, other than the beeps and clicks, was relatively quiet. His hair was rumpled, like he’d dragged his fingers through it many times. Cole, even with his long legs up on the bed, was cramped in that chair.
And he was the most beautiful thing I’d seen.
He didn’t have to be here. Though I wasn’t surprised that he was, since I knew Derek called him, but he didn’t have to do this, and in that moment, everything he had been doing really hit me. It had started to make sense after talking with my mother, but now I truly realized that he really wasn’t doing any of this because he felt like he had to. It was always because he wanted to.
Apparently it took a fall down a set of stairs to see things clearly.
I inhaled a ragged breath, and Cole’s eyes snapped open. Our gazes connected, and a moment passed before he straightened, dragging his feet off the bed. They hit the floor with a heavy thump.
“Hey,” he said, voice rough with sleep as he leaned forward.
“Hi,” I whispered back.
A half grin appeared. “How you feeling?”
“Perfect.”
That grin spread as he caught a strand of my hair and carefully tucked it behind my ear. “You’re in the hospital after hitting your head. How is that perfect?”
“You’re here,” I admitted in the same whisper.
His brows flew up and then everything about his gaze softened. The hand dropped to my cheek and his thumb swept along my jaw. “Is this a drugged-up Sasha talking? Because I kind of like her.”
I laughed, ignoring the dull flare of pain. “I’m not that drugged up.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His gaze coasted over my upturned face. “Want something to drink? They have some water in here.”
When I said yes, he got to pouring me some into a plastic cup while I figured out how to get the bed into a somewhat sitting position so I didn’t spill water down my front. He handed it over, and the cool liquid soothed the dryness in my throat. I started to gulp it down, but he caught my wrist, slowing me down.
“You might want to take that easy,” he said.
He was probably right. I lowered the cup to my lap. “What time is it?”
Glancing down at his watch, he said, “A little after midnight.”
My eyes widened. “How are you in here?”
He lifted his gaze to mine and raised an eyebrow. “Flashing an FBI badge has its benefits. Plus my charming smile goes a long way.” He grinned. “And nothing was keeping me out of this room.”
My heart did a little tap dance.
Cole got closer and lowered his head, brushing his lips along my forehead. I closed my eyes at the sweet gesture. “Terrified.”
My brows snapped together. “What?”
“I was scared as hell when Derek called and said you were in the hospital,” he explained, pulling back just enough that I could see his face. “Even when he said you were going to be okay, even after he explained what happened, still terrified. Was the whole way here.”
“Cole . . .”
“Had to see for myself that you were okay.” His thumb made another swipe, this time below my lip, sending a shiver down my spine. “Don’t like seeing you here.”
“Don’t like being here,” I admitted, finishing off my water.
His eyes searched mine as he took the empty cup and placed it on the little tray by the bed. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t see you in here last time.”
Last time I’d looked a mess. Blackened eyes. Shattered jaw. Bruises in places I didn’t even know could bruise. And then there were the bandages over my stomach and chest.
Cole picked up my hand, threading his fingers through mine. The hospital bracelet dangled. “Derek told me what went down.”
A cold draft moved through me. “Did he find anything out?”
His lashes lowered, and a moment passed before he said, “How about we talk about this tomorrow. It’s late. You need your rest—”
“He found something, didn’t he?” My fingers tightened around his. “I want to know.”
A muscle flickered along his jaw, and for a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. “He checked out the inn twice. Came back when your mom returned just to make sure nothing was taken. Your mom didn’t find anything missing.”
Not that I expected anyone would.
“When he went there the first time,” he continued, “he checked out the old entrance to the tunnel. The bricks were down.”
I sucked in air. “Really?”
He nodded. “The thing is, he doesn’t know if the bricks came down naturally or not. Your dad put them up there, right?”
“Yeah. It was a long time ago.”
“Could’ve fallen down or they could’ve been brought down, and no one knows how long they’ve been like that. Your mother said it’s been years since anyone has been inside the mausoleum.” He turned my hand in his and moved his thumb along the center of my palm.
I had a feeling there was more. “But?”
Thick lashes lifted and his eyes met mine. “But the doorway that led to the door from inside the cellar was open.”
“Oh God.” I turned my head, thoughts racing. “I mean, the door down there could’ve been open for a while, but . . . someone could’ve come into the inn through the tunnel and gone back out. The question is, why would someone go through all that trouble? Most of the time, they could come right in through the front door.”
His thumb kept moving along my hand. “Because they don’t want to be seen. Someone goes to that trouble when they don’t want to risk it.”
I pressed my lips together. “If you know anything about the history of the inn, you know about that tunnel.” I thought about the mayor, the only person on my not very helpful list of those who possibly weren’t thrilled about my return, but why would he be in the inn?
Why would anyone be in the inn?
My gaze lifted to Cole, and I found him watching me carefully. For some horrible reason, I thought of my time with the Groom and I knew if I hadn’t shut Cole out, he would’ve been sitting right where he was now ten years ago. The rarest thing happened in that moment. For the first time, I wanted to talk about what happened. He continued
to hold my gaze, and the words sort of tumbled out.
“I didn’t think I was going to survive, that I would die in the windowless bedroom,” I whispered, and understanding flared in his eyes. “I wanted to die so many times, and I know that sounds weak, but I couldn’t . . . the things he did. And he saw nothing wrong with it. He was in search of the perfect bride.” Closing my eyes, I turned my chin to the ceiling. “That’s what he wanted—for his brides to want to be with him, to enjoy it. I guess you already know all of that. I heard some of the details were in the papers, but . . . he was like two different people. One minute he was almost kind. He was sick and twisted in the head, so freaking disturbed, but then, when he got into these moods, it was like a different man, one that thrived on pain and hurting others. Those moments were the worst.”
Cole said nothing, but every part of him was focused. His thumb had stilled, but he held my hand tight. The silence allowed me to keep talking.
“He told me once, after I . . . I made him happy,” I said, shuddering, “why the other brides had displeased him. They’d all fought back. So did I. It wasn’t because of that. He insisted that he could’ve trained them, would train me to be obedient.” I spat the last word out. “But it was normal things, you know? One wasn’t a real blonde. She dyed her hair, and for that, she wasn’t perfect enough. Another had told him that she couldn’t have children. I don’t even know if that was true or not, but he ended her life because of it. There was another who . . . who got too thin for his tastes. Too thin because she wouldn’t eat her food.” I swallowed hard before continuing. “He killed one of them because she cried too much. As if he weren’t the reason why she was crying.” Revulsion twisted my stomach. “The one before me, he killed her because he decided suddenly that she was too old. He had to have known her age before, because he stalked them—us. It was like no matter who he picked, they would never be good enough. He’d find some flaw. Something. And that would be it.”
The next breath I drew was shallow and it burned all the way to my soul. “I know I couldn’t have been the only one who told him what I did, but he eventually decided it was the reason why I could no longer be his bride, and when he told me that, I knew what that meant. I was no longer good enough in his eyes.”
I opened my eyes, but I really didn’t see the ceiling. “I knew when he put me in that gown, blindfolded me, and led me outside, I knew he was going to kill me. I can remember those moments like it happened seconds ago. The dress was so thin, nothing more than lace, and I could feel the warm breeze on my skin. I could taste the fresh air, and I could smell fresh rain and the faint scent of manure. I knew I was outside. I knew that was it. It was going to happen.” A tremble coursed through my body and Cole squeezed my hand. “He cried, Cole. He cried while he escorted me outside. Sobbed, and I . . . I begged him. I pleaded with him, and oh God, I said everything and anything, because when I knew that I was going to die, I didn’t want to.”
A knot in my throat almost choked the next words off. “He stopped crying, and he’d let go of me. I didn’t know where he was, but I tried to run. I didn’t make it very far when he slammed into me, knocking me to the ground. He flipped me onto my back, and I felt it, this horrible burning sensation in my stomach, like I was being ripped apart. He’d stabbed me.”
Cole remained silent, but the tension rolling off him was a third entity in the room, a heavy presence of righteous fury.
“He hadn’t bound my hands. He was that confident of handling me, and I . . . I don’t know exactly what happened next. All I know is that I fought back. There was this fire-type pain again here,” I said, waving my hand over my breasts. “We were struggling on the ground, and he dropped the knife at some point. He had his hand on my throat, choking me. I got ahold of a rock. Dumb luck,” I whispered. “That’s what saved my life, dumb luck. I hit him on the head, and he let go. I remember jumping up and running, tugging off the blindfold at some point, and I just kept running until I reached that farm . . .”
The farm that had the horses I could hear. Dumb luck had also sent me in that direction, and a round of extremely good luck had Mr. Mockerson, the older owner of the farm, out mending a fence around his cattle.
Turning my head toward Cole, I drew in a deep breath. “If he had killed me, he would’ve cut off my ring finger. He would’ve stripped me out of the gown, put me in a new one, and that gown . . . and my finger would’ve hung in the room with the rest of them.” I blinked slowly. “I don’t know why I told you all of that.”
A muscle flickered along his jaw. “I’m glad you did.”
Some of the ten-year-old tension seeped out of my muscles. My therapist had touted the therapeutic benefits of opening up about what had happened, and I hadn’t really believed her. I’d been wrong, because the next breath I took was cleansing.
“Got a few things to say though. That wasn’t a damn bit weak,” he replied quietly. “There is nothing about you that is weak. You survived hell and it wasn’t just dumb luck. You fought back and you survived. You’re a survivor. You earned that title, baby. You own it.”
A faint smile pulled at my lips. “Own it. I like that.” I paused. “You know, I never knew what he looked like until afterward. He always kept his face hidden. Either I was in a dark room or he blindfolded me. I don’t know why he did that, but when I finally saw a picture of him, I was blown away. Messed me up in the head a lot, because he . . . he looked so normal. Like he could’ve been teaching one of our classes at college. He was someone you saw in the grocery store behind you or you smiled at when you saw them on the street.”
“That’s how they usually look,” he said, raising his hand and mine. He kissed the back of my knuckles, each of them. “Serial killers tend to look like the guy next door, someone you wouldn’t judge as unsafe based on appearances.”
“Everyone was surprised, weren’t they?” I asked.
Cole nodded. “Not a single person who knew Vernon Joan suspected he was the Groom,” he said, and I flinched at the sound of his name. “None of his neighbors or his coworkers down at the plant. He didn’t have any family around these parts. Don’t think he had any alive.”
Vernon Joan.
The Groom.
Serial killer and rapist of at least six women. Some people believed there could’ve been more, but it was unlikely that anyone would ever find out. My escape had led to his arrest. Even as bad off as I was, almost dying on the way to the hospital, I managed to tell them what I knew, and it had been enough to lead the authorities to his home at the base of the Appalachian Mountains. Instead of being arrested, he’d taken the hunting knife he’d used on me and slit his own throat in the room that I and many other women had been held in.
I didn’t know how to feel about that, probably never would. Part of me wanted him to go to trial, to answer to the families and loved ones of the lives he robbed from them. The other half was simply glad he was dead.
My eyes came to his again. There was something else I hadn’t shared with Cole. “I told him that I was in love with someone else.”
The skin around his mouth tightened. “What?”
“That’s what I told him—the Groom,” I clarified. I hadn’t used his real name and I wouldn’t start. I wouldn’t give him that. “I told him that I was already in love with someone else.”
For a few seconds, all Cole did was stare. Those pale, frosty eyes warming by several degrees. When I’d told the Groom that it had partly been me pleading with him, trying to get him to see me as a human being that people loved and would miss—as a person who would miss those she loved. In a twisted way, it had worked, enabling my escape, but it hadn’t been far from the truth. I’d been falling in love with Cole back then, maybe even in love with him.
Just like I was now.
Cole’s eyes drifted shut and he lowered his forehead to where our hands were joined. He didn’t speak. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but as I lay there watching him, I knew what I felt upon waking and seeing him sittin
g there was true. How he felt wasn’t going to change it.
I was in love with Cole Landis.
Cole stayed the night in my hospital room, and I was guessing that badge and charming smile really went a long way with the nurses. I was discharged in the morning and Cole drove me home.
He didn’t bring up what I’d told him last night, but it wasn’t like what I shared was hanging between us. It was just there, now out in the open, and it changed me, how I was around him. I don’t think it was noticeable, and it wasn’t like I wore a sign on my head that announced I’d done the whole sharing-is-caring thing, but it was different for me. It felt . . . good.
I didn’t regret it.
Mom insisted on making him breakfast and fawning all over him while she heaped fried bacon and sausage onto his plate. The grin said he liked the attention, and I liked watching him receive the attention. After breakfast, I followed him out to the entryway.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said, placing his hand on my hip. He angled my body toward his. “Got to take care of a few things. Shower being one of them, and I’ve got to pack a bag.”
“A bag?” I inquired.
The half grin appeared. “Staying the weekend here with you.”
“Really?”