Page 15 of Wicked Deceit
With my forehead resting against Zepp’s chest, I take a few sharp breaths through my mouth. Four days after the accident, my body still hasn’t fully recovered. Not by a long shot. The bruising and swelling on my face have gotten a little better. But not a lot. It throbs and makes me want to vomit when I accidentally scratch across the blues and purples. The severity of the break will cause more tenderness and prolonged bruising, but it’ll heal without any other medical interventions. Eventually. But for now, I’ll look like a walking, talking bruise. And with my previous nose break, it was bound to happen again. So, hurray, I’ll have a crooked nose for the rest of my life, but thankfully, they didn’t have to do surgery or set it. So, I win some and lose some. I have to remind myself day in and day out that I’m alive. They are alive.
Dr. Spencer swears my nose will heal in four weeks, and I can only hope it’s the truth. Antibiotics and another doctor’s visit are in my future, thanks to my arm. I’m thankful to get out of the sterile environment they subjected me to for the past few days. I just want to go to the Maze House, relax, and forget this entire situation happened.
Chase and Zeppelin stay close to my side, worry lines wrinkling their handsome faces. I lean into them, taking full advantage of their support and warmth. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here in their grasps. With their arms resting around me, keeping me upright, my muscles loosen. Instantly around these boys, my body relaxes, knowing they’re my safety net, catching me when I fall.
My mom’s white BMW pulls up to the curb of the hospital with a smooth stop. Her eyes dance as she watches the boys assist me towards the vehicle. I don’t know what’s going through her mind, but I can tell that she’s up to something by her evil-mother grin. And I hate it when she’s up to something. It means I’m going to suffer more than I already am.
I look behind me once, a twinge squeezing my aching muscles. The tall building soars into the sky, with eight floors and a thousand windows overlooking East Point Bluff. Swallowing hard, I mentally pray to God that I never have to return. So long, East Point Hospital. I won’t miss you—ever.
The boys walk me to the car, open the door, and help me settle into the passenger’s seat. Zepp even reaches over me and clicks the seat belt tight, pulling a few times to ensure the belt is secure.
“What gentlemen you boys are.” The devilish grin on my mom’s face says it all. I’m so screwed. This car ride is going to be hell on wheels. Is it too late to back out and escape to Chase’s car?
Chase grins back, kissing my cheek. “Anything for her, Mrs. C.”
She scoffs, waving a hand. “It’s Mercy, please.”
Chase nods, confirming he heard her but doesn’t utter another word. He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his feet.
“Look at the time, boys. It’s Wednesday at noon, and you boys are playing hooky. How about you all meet us at Ruby’s for lunch?” My mom raises a brow.
Zepp’s eyebrows raise in surprise as his head jerks back from her request. Chase’s eyes light up, and a grin takes over his face. He practically jumps up and down with glee at her invitation. I’m not sure who is enjoying this more, my mom or Chase.
“Absolutely! That place is the shit—err—I mean, we love that place. It’s delicious.” He grins again, nervously bobbing his head.
“Thank you for the invite. We’d love to have lunch with you.” Zepp gives her a small polite smile, stepping back from the car. I notice the wince he tries to hide, but I can tell he and Seger are still in pain from the crash, too. Although, I don’t think they’d admit it to me. Not with the severe pain I’m in. They’re always looking out for me instead of themselves.
“Then we’ll meet you there. Just have to stop by and get my baby’s prescriptions.” My cheeks heat, burning down my neck and to the tip of my ears.
Ducking my head, I avoid their eyes. God, this is so embarrassing. Can I hide now? Can the world swallow me up before she embarrasses me so much? This insane woman even goes as far as lightly pinching my cheeks with affection, babbling at me like I’m her cute baby until I swat her away. If she’s not careful, she’ll lose an eye. I’m not above maiming my mom for embarrassing the hell out of me.
To their credit, the boys try to hide their snickers at my expense, but I see the laughter in the traitors’ eyes. I narrow my eyes at them, promising a swift death when they shut the car door for me. Fuckers. They’re leaving me alone with this maniac I call my mother. And they’re getting off scot-free, walking back to Chase’s car with each other. Despite the pain, I turn in my seat and watch them with pleading eyes. Take me with you, please.
My mother snorts, driving off the hospital’s campus toward the pharmacy down the road. Pins and needles prickle at my skin as the world flashes by. Anxiety creeps tension into my muscles, locking them up. It starts with my shoulders and kinking my neck, and makes its way down to my curling toes. Relax, breathe deep. Just relax. Your mother is driving, and no one is following you. I swallow the lump in my throat and lean against the headrest.
Flashes of our accident pour into my mind with stupid, intrusive thoughts detailing the SUV plowing down into the back of us. When the sound of the impact echoes in my ears, I jump and look around. Heavy breaths pour from my parted lips until I realize we’re still safely driving down the road, going the speed limit. There’s no accident. Again. I lived through Hell. I’m safe now.
My heart pumps at a rapid speed, pounding against my bruised ribs. My fingers curl around my mom’s hand, squeezing the life out of her, turning her fingers white. The heat of her gaze spears through me. Ten. Nine. Eight. Breathing through this stupid panic bubbling in the depths of my gut, I blow out a breath and count again. Seven. Six. Five. Four. The world beside me flashes by in a blur as I settle myself, looking out the window. Three. Two. One. My head clears, and the panic subsides—for now.
“You’ll be okay, baby,” she whispers, squeezing my hand again. “I promise riding in a car will get better.” She swears it will, but my body doesn’t respond to her coos of comfort. Instead, my muscles bunch and contract, refusing to believe her soothing words.
“Okay,” I murmur, blowing out a breath again.
Get a hold of yourself, Kace. Mom wouldn’t crash. I thought that with the boys, too, but the Apocalypse had other fun ideas. Shit. I’m never going to get away from this anxiety chasing me wherever I go. It’ll follow me until I die, and hopefully, that’s not soon.
“So,” my mom says, breaking through my mini freak-out. I don’t have to look at her to hear the amusement in her voice. Or the vicious smirk on her lips. Here we go. This is it. The final interrogation. Shit. “Four boyfriends, huh?” I press my head against the headrest, fighting a war with myself, taking a deep breath.
It’s okay. It’s okay. I am safe. My mom is driving. This car won’t crash. We won’t die.
“Yup,” I offer through a tight breath and gritted teeth.
My mom hums under her breath when we pull into the pharmacy's parking lot. She guides us towards a lengthy line of cars waiting in the drive-through, prolonging this nightmare of a conversation. My eyes dart out the window, my hand inching towards the door handle, eager to escape. I could jump out and run like Hell anywhere but here, but I think she’d come and find me. Maybe the boys would come and save me?
“Give me more than that, Kaycee Addison. There are four of them. Four. That’s... That’s insane. I mean—don’t get me wrong, Sweet Pea. They’re lovely. I can tell by how they look at you how much they care about you,” she rambles without taking a breath between her words. “But how does that even work? There’s only one of you and four of them. And, well, I don’t want to know…” she trails off, shaking her head.
I bite my lip, heat crawling up my face at her implication. Yeah, there’s no way I’m telling my mom the specifics of our sexy time. There are four of them, one of me, and only three holes to fill. I shudder, refusing to look at her. I imagine she’d see the guilt and answers written all over my face. So, like a coward, I hide. Call me whatever you’d like, but my mom is like a human lie detector. I clam up, letting her use her imagination and figure it out. Oh, on second thought. That’s worse. Please, don’t let her use her imagination. If she figures out how we conduct our relationship, she’ll keep driving until I’m safely at home—locking me in my room until I’m thirty-five and throwing away the key.
The car lurches forward, stopping again in the line as a breath blows from between my lips. How do I explain this to her without going into detail? Talk about awkward. Where are those weird aliens when you need them? Like, please abduct me now. I won’t mind the probes or exams as long as they take me away from her prying eyes. Lock me in an alien prison and call it a day.
