“I only just got you back.” His voice breaks at the end, and he swallows, tightening his grip on me. My hands come up to grip his wrists, anchoring him to me. “The thought of leaving you makes me physically sick to my stomach. You’re my boy, Ri, and I won’t let you go through any of this alone.”
My eyes sting at his words, and I do my best to blink the tears away, but they gather faster than I can manage and they fall anyway.
“Creed, the facility is over three hours away from home.”
“And you think that’ll stop us from coming to see you every fucking day?” His words echo Collins’ from last week.
“The rehabilitation center has a strict ‘no visitor policy’ to ensure optimal progress with minimal distraction.”
The words that chime in from across the room burst the bubble that had cocooned around us, and Creed immediately stiffens at the sound of Pippa’s voice.
She stands awkwardly and shuffles a bit nervously at the entry to the suite, her eyes on me.
“What the fuck?” Collins whispers behind me, and I feel her forehead pressing into my back a moment later, knowing it could be a shit show now that Miss LeRoc has blurted this painful bit of information that absolutely none of us were aware of.
Creed pushes to stand, blocking my view of the conversation. It’s clear he doesn’t like her orher proximity to me. I don’t think Collins does, either, but she only carries this quiet disdain that’s almost imperceptible if you don’t know her well enough.
“You want to run that tidbit by me again?”
I sigh through my nose, and reach up to tug at his shirt, my fingers fumbling to grasp the material. “Creed?—“
“The fuck do you mean ‘a no-visitor policy’?” Creed snaps while backing up a step to sit next to me, giving in to my silent request. “How the fuck is isolating him going to help?”
“Sir, I?—“
“He’s not fucking going there,” he angrily swipes through his hair before jabbing a tattooed finger at her. “Fuck you, and fuck that.”
He’s panicking. I can see it with every rise and fall of his chest. I can hear it with every decibel his voice grows in volume. My heart pounds in the same rapid rhythm as his when I place my hand on his wrist and feel his pulse.
Pippa looks like she wants to cry, but before shit escalates any further, the door opens and his dad walks through. I’d only met him a handful of times since coming into Creed’s life, and their likeness is still ridiculously uncanny.
Except, where Creed can be a vicious animal with his temperament and words, Garrick’s presence alone is all calm and soothing.
Silence fills the room for a beat as he looks around. “What’s going on, Creed? How come I can hear you losing your shit halfway down the hallway?”
Collins shifts around me so that she’s sitting between me and Creed. Garrick’s eyes soften when they land on her. “Hey,Sunshine.”
“Hey, Taxi Man.”She strokes her hand delicately down Creed’s arm, her eyes following the trail of goosebumps her touch leaves in its wake. I think it blew everyone’s mind when we realized that it was Garrick who saved Collins two years ago.
Her eyes dart between me, Creed, and Pippa. “Um, we just got a…a shocking bit of information handed to us and it’s a little tough to process.”
“There’s nothing to process because he’s not going,” Creed snaps his eyes still glaring fiery holes into Pippa’s forehead, but the heat behind his tone isn’t directed at Collins.
“What information?” Garrick asks, stepping around the therapist that’s still standing in the doorway.
I chime in, “I’m supposed to be admitted to an inpatient therapy center today after discharge, but I can’t have visitors.”
“Its under the code of Involuntary Protective Status, if that helps,” Pippa squeaks, clasping her hands tightly in front of her, doing her best to maintain a professional front. “The therapy facility is designed specifically for those of higher social status, or who need extra protection. It keeps each patient’s stay andpersonal information completely anonymous and the experience close-lipped.”
That actually makes more sense. It doesn’t mean that I like it, though.
Creed’s dad takes a seat in the chair across from the bed where the three of us are sitting and rests his elbows on his knees, his eyes assessing.
“What doyouwant, Riley?”
The question throws me off guard. He makes it sound as if I have any other option but to go. Ineedto heal so that I can be there. For them. ForDark Sins. For myself. But much like Creed, the thought of separating myself from my lifelines feels like a death sentence.
Stupid boy, you’re only going to hurt them. They’d be right to leave you the moment you step through those facility doors.
