“We can. I’m just worried about whether or not it’s good for us to be with him right now, while he tries to get everything together.”
“I thought you told me we are supposed to help people when they need it.”
“Oh, sweetie, I did. But sometimes in life walking away is the smartest thing to do. I think that’s the case here. That’s why I asked Zane for time to think things over.”
“We learned about drugs in school. They can kill you.” He paused and wrinkled his nose. “I hope they won’t kill my dad. I like him. He was nice. He’s a good person.” It was incredible to view the world through the eyes of a child. Everything was so straightforward and written in black and white. I missed being able to look at the world in that manner.
“He is a very nice person. I love him, too.” That really was an understatement. Love wasn’t an adequate enough word to describe what I felt for Zane.
“Then why won’t you help him so he can stay?”
“Because he needed to be told to go, so he can do the things he really needs to do. Once he realizes he wants to change his life, things will begin to be so much better for him—for all of us.”
“But what if it just makes him really sad and he gets drunk?”
I shook my head. “Then I’ll have the answer I need. Everything about our future together hangs in the balance of how he chooses to act right now.”
An incessant pounding on the door awakened me and I glanced around finding Dustin sleeping on the bed next to me, the television still on from the night prior. Glancing down, I realized I hadn’t even changed out of my clothes.
More pounding.
Someone was at the door and banging on it in a big way. Immediately, I wondered if something bad had happened. Fear gripped me.
Zane. Jumping from the bed, I rushed to the front entryway, attempting to smooth my tangled hair as I moved along before giving up.
“Coming,” I called out right before I swung the door open, only to be assaulted by massive bright light and the flicker of many light bulbs.
“Aubrey Hart, can you tell us how long you’ve known Z McCartney?” a woman shouted over the noise, shoving a microphone in my face.
“Is it true that Z is the father of your son?”
“How did you reunite with Z?” another voice hollered.
“How long have you two been dating?”
“Are you planning a future together?”
“No comment,” I muttered, stepping backward and forcing the door closed inch by inch with all the strength I could muster and tightly locking it. The knocking resumed.
“What’s going on?” Dustin asked and I turned to find him rubbing sleepy eyes. “Who are those people?”
“Reporters. They’ve figured out who I am and are trying to find out more about it. Your dad is really famous and he attracts a lot of attention. People are going to want to know every single thing about us.”
“Why?”
“Because they sell the stories to magazines to make money. This is a big story in their world, so they all want to be the one to break it and get the recognition.” Crouching down beside him, I tried to ignore the banging and shouts still coming through the door. “Promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Don’t ever talk to any of those people. In fact, don’t talk to anyone who asks you questions about our family. If you see any of these people following you around, you run home as fast as you can, okay? I need to know you’re safe.”
“Okay.” He seemed scared, his eyes constantly flickering over to the door.
“Come on. We’ll sneak through the fence in the backyard over to Grandma and Grandpa’s and eat breakfast with them. How’s that sound?”
Immediately, his face brightened. “Do you think she’ll make me smiley face pancakes like you do?”
“Where do you think I learned to make smiley face pancakes?” I winked at him and rubbed my hand across his hair. “Go get your shoes on and meet me in my room. I need to grab my phone.”
He ran off and I hurried to my room. Searching the messy covers, I finally located the business card with Zane’s number on it, but when dialing I noticed a message from one of the external lines at Sunnybrook. Quickly, I opened it, listening.
“Hi, Aubrey. This is Dr. Wilson. I’m calling for Zane. He wanted me to let you know that he has readmitted himself as an inpatient. Apparently he was having a rough night and was tempted to use again. He refrained though and checked himself in here voluntarily. I was very pleased. I came in and saw him, and while he was pretty broken up about things when I first arrived, he’s doing much better now.
“Feel free to call me if you have any questions over the next ten days. We’ll be strictly enforcing the no visiting rule this time, as per our normal policy. I apologize that there isn’t a way for you to speak with him. I know he left you with a lot on your plate. If you need to talk give me a call. It’s free of charge for you. Chin up, pretty lass,” he added, showing his Scottish roots. “It will all work out somehow.”
There was a click as the call ended and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I knew when I asked him to leave that it would most likely push him toward a crisis point. I just hadn’t known which way he’d break. Would he use again, or would he seek help? Now I knew. While I was sad that he felt sick enough to ask to be readmitted as an inpatient, I was equally happy that he’d recognized where he needed to go for help. He was in the best place possible for him, right now.
And I had no idea how to deal with any of this mess. I couldn’t get ahold of him and didn’t know how to reach Penelope. Maybe her number was listed online under a business website or something.
“I’m ready,” Dustin said, reappearing, wearing his Green Arrow pajamas and a pair of tennis shoes without socks.
“Nice ensemble,” I teased, ruffling a hand across his hair. “All right. Let’s go. Just remember we need to be as quiet as possible.” Grabbing my purse, too, we both snuck out of the house and through the fence into my parents’ yard undetected.
“Z McCartney Team Confirms! He is the Father!”
~Glitz Magazine~
Chapter Twenty-Three
Aubrey
Nervous, I straightened my wig and clothing, hoping it would be enough to confuse the reporters constantly trying to get at me. We’d discovered early on that my parents could leave their house with little to no harassment, while I was basically stalked through the streets of town.
Penelope had even come and offered an official statement to the press, asking them to please give our family some privacy, while Zane was gone taking care of some business related items.
Unfortunately, that didn’t stop anything and the harassment continued the entire time Zane had been gone. He was finished with his initial ten days now, and I was supposed to join him shortly for a session. Our problem was how to get me out of the house without leading a paparazzi parade straight to him.
Once again, Penelope arrived with a solution. “I thought you might need some help,” she said, reaching into her giant Malcolm Rich designer bag and pulling out two wigs, one salt and pepper colored and the other brown. “I noticed you and your mom are about the same size. We’re going to have her standing near the window, peeking through the blinds while she’s wearing your clothes. You’re going to sneak out wearing her clothes and this wig that matches her hair color. Hopefully we can throw people off enough to create a diversion.”
“I’m willing to try anything,” I’d replied, and the transformation began.
Now here I was, praying that this was going to work as I pressed the remote control on the visor and the garage door began sliding up. Instantly the press of people crowded around the driveway, some even standing directly behind the car.
Penelope warned me that this might happen and to not stop or slow down, but to keep moving as if I were willing to run them over. I was too scared to not follow her instructions, and just as she said, angry reporters began hitting the vehicle, but
they did move out of the way.
One second everyone was around me, and the next they were all running back to the front door, cameras flashing and microphones extended. Smiling, I realized our diversion was working and pulled from the driveway without anyone giving me so much as a backward glance.
The drive to Sunnybrook was without event, but I couldn’t help my continuing nerves as I constantly checked my mirrors expecting someone to be following me. I didn’t take my wig off until I was standing inside the facility, too terrified that someone might still be watching somehow.
“That’s a new look for you,” Skip said, greeting me with a laugh and raised eyebrows.
“Oh my gosh. I had to wear a disguise just to get here! You have no idea what my poor family has gone through for the last ten days.”
“Actually, I do. I saw some stuff on the news. Do you want me to start swinging by after I get off work and checking on you? Maybe run some people off?”
“I’m telling you, we’ve tried everything—from being polite to calling the police. As long as they stay off any private property though, nothing can be done. Someone must be watching for them, though, or have someone in the police department. They disperse every time a patrol car comes through only to congregate after it’s gone. It’s been crazy. We snuck Dustin over the fence to stay at the neighbor’s house. They’ve been hiding him in their vehicle and taking him to school every day. I don’t want these nut jobs following him there.”
“Wow. That sounds insane,” he replied, taking my bag and pouring out the contents and sifting through them. “I’m glad you were able to get away okay.”
“I was afraid to remove my disguise, in case someone spotted me, even though I didn’t notice anyone following me. I have no idea how Zane lives like this.”
“He pays for the protection he needs, I’d imagine.”
“Still, what kind of life is this, holed up all time, or praying you aren’t discovered when you’re out? It’s been ten days for me and already I want to pull my hair out.”
“He probably felt the same the first time it happened to him. He’s most likely used to it by now.” He handed me my purse, smiling. “You’re all clear. Go ahead and go in. It’s nice to see you again, too. It’s not the same around here without you.”
Touched, I leaned over the table and hugged him. “That means a lot to me. I miss you, as well.”
“I hope everything works out for you, Aubrey. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”
“Thanks, Skip. You’re the best.” Releasing him, I stepped through the security gate. “See you in a bit.”
My pulse rate quickened as I moved along, but it had nothing to do with the mess I’d just been through and everything to do with seeing Zane again. Being away from him had only reaffirmed that I wanted to be with him, but I was anxious to see how his therapy had gone. I hoped he was feeling more stable and on his way to handling things better. Glancing at my watch I noticed it was still a little early, so I made my way straight to Zane’s room and knocked.
The door opened, revealing a pretty blonde hair woman with a sour expression, her lips pursed together in an irritated fashion. I stepped backward, shocked.
“Yes?” she asked.
Glancing at the number on the door, I saw it was the right room. “Is Za—John Carpenter here?”
“Not in this room,” she replied shortly and shut the door in my face.
Standing there bewildered, I wasn’t sure what to do. The door to the next room suddenly swung open and Zane stepped out looking amazing in a black t-shirt and jeans. “Aubrey?” he breathed out, stopping short as a grin spread across his face.
I smiled. “You switched rooms.”
He laughed. “In the time I was gone, they’d already put another patient in my old room.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Involuntary admit. She’s not very happy to be here.”
“I noticed.” I couldn’t stop staring at him. Was it possible that he’d gotten better looking in the ten days he’d been gone? It seemed absurd even to think so, yet something seemed different about him—almost lighter, or more relaxed. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Whatever it was, it looked fantastic on him.
Zane’s eyes traveled over me, pausing when he got to the wig in my hands and then looking at me again. “What’s that for?”
“Let’s just say all hell broke loose while you were in here and I had to disguise myself as my mother to escape the house.”
“Shit. The press found out.” It wasn’t a question. Just the fact that he knew what I was talking about without me elaborating was telling in itself. He’d obviously dealt with this a lot. I didn’t know if I could.
“Yeah, and it’s been awful.”
“Let’s continue this inside.” Glancing around, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into his room after him. Immediately, I noticed the packed suitcase on the bed.
“Going somewhere?” I asked.
“Home, with you, I hope—if you’ll have me. If not, then I will return to my lonely penthouse in the sky.” There was the tiniest bit of humor laced through his voice, but it wasn’t enough to disguise the fear behind his question. It radiated through his eyes. “They’re putting me back to outpatient status as of today. I’m free to come and go.”
“That’s good. How are you feeling?” I continued to study him, attempting to figure out what exactly was different about him.
“Like I’m gonna die if you don’t let me hug you right now.” Stepping closer, his eyes bore into mine. It was as if I could read everything he was thinking, and it had nothing to do with getting a hug.
Heat flooded me. “I’d like that, but we aren’t supposed to really have contact here unless we are in a session together. You know that.”
“I don’t care.” Slipping his hands to either side of my face, he pressed his lips to mine, landing there for only a second before his tongue was seeking entrance.
Willingly, I opened to him, allowing my senses to once again be filled with his essence and consumed by him. The smell of his delicious cologne, mixed with the sound of his breathing, enticed me to pull him even closer. His fresh minty breath tasted wonderful as his tongue tangled with mine, lighting a fire inside me, as the well-groomed stubble on his face brushed against my tender skin. I wanted to feel it touching me everywhere while I watched him do wicked, wicked, things to my body.
“Aubrey,” he whispered against my lips, his voice sounding needy with longing. “Tell me you still want me.”
“I still want you,” I muttered without hesitation, seeking out his lips again. All sorts of feelings swirled in a mass inside me, from excitement and lust, to longing, love, and even fear. Right now everything seemed so uncertain and unstable, though. We needed to talk, but I didn’t want to. I simply wanted to be in his arms and forget about everything else for a while.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he said, one of his hands sliding lower and palming my breast.
Instantly my body reacted, my nipple straining through the fabric. Automatically, I arched forward. “We have an appointment,” I reminded him, trying to keep a coherent thought while he was playing with me this way.
“It got postponed for an hour. Dr. Wilson needed to see another patient having difficulties first. It sounded like an emergency.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t think of what else to say as his other hand moved lower, grabbing my butt and hiking me closer against him.
Slowly, he ground his hips, along with that giant bulge in his pants, against me. “And my discharge papers have been signed already, so technically, I’m not a patient here.”
“Oh,” I repeated, my vocabulary gone. My knees were trembling.
Eyes roving over me again, he gave a slight snort. “How would you feel about getting out of your mom’s clothes for a while?”
Giggling, I glanced down, staring at the ensemble. “Is it that obvious?”
Laughing, he nodded. “Yes. They’re hideous. Plus, you never wear tiny flora
l prints like that.”
“Hey now. This would be high fashion back on the farm,” I said, jokingly.
The smile slid from his face and he pulled away, moving to sit on the bed. “We aren’t on the farm anymore.”
The humor inside me faded away, replaced with reality. Sighing, I sank into one of the chairs at the table. “I know. It would be nice if we were, though. I miss it a lot. It was so much more relaxed there.”
“I agree.” He continued to stare at me and I could tell he was trying to decide if he should tell me something.
“Is something wrong?”
He shook his head. “No, not really. There are things I want to talk to you about, but I don’t know if it’ll be better to just wait for the session.”
“You can talk to me about anything, wherever and whenever you want. You don’t need anyone’s permission.”
“Yeah, I know that. I just didn’t want to upset you.”
“An answer like that doesn’t upset me, but it will worry the crap out of me for the next little while. Just tell me. I can take it.”
He studied me for a moment before he spoke. “I had a big break through in a hypnosis session.” Pausing, he stared at his hands for a moment, and I waited for him to continue, not wanting to interrupt his thought process. “My mom didn’t die in an accidental shooting. She killed herself after she found out my dad was gay and planning on leaving her for another man.”
“Oh my gosh!” I gasped, my hand covering my mouth. After a second to process the shock of his words, I moved to the bed, sitting next to him and placing my hand on his leg. Covering my hand with his own, he squeezed it gently. “Zane, I don’t know what to say. Are you okay? I had no idea.”
“No one did. And when Mom died, I think the secret died with her. Dad must’ve changed his mind about hooking up with his love interest, or maybe the other guy backed out. I don’t know. I’ve never heard another word about any of it my entire life.”
“Me, neither. Oh, how terrible that must’ve been for him! No wonder he was always so . . . so . . .”