Aced (The Driven #5) (37 page)

An elbow is traded between Auggie and Scooter. The interaction surprises me, and even though my reprimand is automatic, a small part of me smiles at this small step in Auggie’s marathon journey to fitting in. And then the other part of me is saddened I haven’t been there to know of this progress.

“Easy, boys,” Colton warns from where he’s talking to Jax in the kitchen when elbows bump again.

Questions ring out left and right. Does he sleep all the time? Is it my turn to hold him yet? Are his diapers nasty? Is it my turn to hold him yet? Does he really come out of your belly button? Is it my turn to hold him yet? Is it true he eats milk from your boobies?

That one earns some snickers and a few pairs of blushed cheeks.

“Zander, you want to come sit next to me?” I ask, needing to draw him out of his shell some.

“Okay,” he mumbles as he rises from the couch and shuffles over. He sits next to me, and I put my arm around him and pull him in close. Needing and trying to offer some comfort, and pull some from him even in his silence.

“I missed you,” I murmur as I press a kiss to the top of his head that I’m sure embarrasses him, but I don’t care. Affection is something that never goes to waste no matter how much the other person thinks they don’t need or want it.

“Me too,” he says. I rest my cheek on the top of his head and just hold him there as the boys continue to stare at Ace, mesmerized by how little he is.

And a part of me is slightly surprised I’m not as freaked out as I imagined I would be watching all of these typically not-so-gentle boys crowding around him. But I shouldn’t be; these are my boys—my family—and I trust them because I know they’d never hurt something so dear to me.

Then again, I’m so exhausted I think the only thing that pulls me wide-awake instantly is the sound of Ace’s cry. Other than that I feel like I’m walking through a fog.

I’m talking to Zander, asking about school and simple things, trying to draw him out of his shell, when out of the blue a flash goes off.

Something in me snaps and takes over me.

“No!” I shout, flying off the couch as fast as my sore body can go. Heads turn to look at me as shock silences the room. “No pictures!” My voice is shaky but firm. My heart races and fingers tremble, as anxiety owns my body. I’m on panic-riddled autopilot as I jerk Connor’s phone from his hand and delete the picture he took of Ace immediately.

I see the shock in his eyes, the lax jaw, the shake of his head, and yet all I can think of is Ace. All I can feel is the rage I’ve kept in check after losing my shit yesterday when Colton told me about Eddie’s ultimate invasion of our privacy. How it’s eaten at me bit by bit. Made me feel like our life is spinning out of control and will never get our bubble back.

I need our bubble back
. Desperately.

I’m standing in the middle of the family room, Connor’s phone grasped in one hand, and the boys looking at me, unsure what to do. My body begins to shiver as a hot flash of dizziness engulfs me. Sweat beads on my skin. My stomach turns. I look from boy to boy, unable to explain, and worried because I know I just scared them and yet I can’t help it.

The panic attack hits me like a flash flood—instant and yanking me under its pull—magnifying everything I was feeling and then some. But just as my knees start to buckle, Colton’s arms wrap around me from behind and pull me against him.

“Breathe, Ry,” he murmurs into my ear, his warm breath on my flushed skin, a grounding sound when all of a sudden I feel like I’m losing it. And when I can focus again, the looks on the faces around me tell me as much. “You’re okay. Just a little panic attack. I’ve got you.”

His words and the feel of his body against mine calm the anxiety seizing me, limb by limb, nerve by nerve to the point it’s hard to focus or catch my breath. My clothes stick to me as I break out in a cold sweat.

“I’ve got you,” he says again, his voice the only thing I can focus on. The one thing I need. I can see the concern on the boys’ faces but my emotions are paralyzed. I can’t feel, can’t bother to care to explain I’m okay, that they shouldn’t worry. I have a momentary ability to focus. The fact I’m not thinking of the boys first means something is off with me. That’s not me at all.

And that realization—that snippet of reality—causes a second wave of anxiety to hit me harder than the first.

“Something’s wrong,” I whisper so softly I don’t even know if Colton hears me.

“Ry’s okay,” I hear Jax say as he steps forward and reassures the boys like I should. But I can’t. Words are locked in my throat. “Just a panic attack.”

“Let’s go upstairs,” Colton murmurs. His body is still behind mine, and just as he turns us, I lock eyes with Shane. I can see the fear in his eyes, his own panic written all over his face, and yet Colton pushes me to walk toward the hallway before I can unlock the apology in my throat.

“I can’t,” I murmur, lost in a daze. “I’m sorry. I don’t know . . .”

“C’mon, baby.” His voice is soothing as he gently lifts me into his arms once we clear the boys’ line of sight. “I’ve got you.” I start to wriggle, unsure, uneasy, un-everything. “I’m not gonna let you fall, Rylee. I’ll never let you fall,” he murmurs against the side of my face.

I sink into him, hear his words and let him take the reins. Knowing he’s right but don’t want to admit I’m having a hard time dealing with everything right now. Each step he takes is like the hammer reinforcing everything that’s been piled onto my buckling back.

“It’s just all too much, too fast,” he murmurs.

Step.

The video release. Invasion of privacy. Exposed. Embarrassed. Violated. Helpless.

Step.

Taking a forced leave of absence from my job. Lost. My purpose gone. Betrayed.

Step.

Zander’s uncle stepping forward. Handcuffed. Inadequate. Taken advantage of.

Step.

Ace’s birth. Emotional overload. Intense joy. Unconditional love.

Step.

Eddie in the hospital room. Fear. Panic. Betrayed.

Step.

First night home as a new mom. Overwhelmed. Exhausted. Changed.

Step.

The reappearance of Colton’s nightmares. Unsettling. Disruptive. A wild card.

Step.

Eddie selling Ace’s picture. Violated. Used. Exploited. Helpless.

Step.

Zander today. Distant. Scared. Reticent.

Step.

The flash of Conner’s camera. Out of control. Protective. Scared.

Too much, too fast
. Colton’s words keep repeating in my head.

“Stop thinking, baby,” Colton says. “You keep tensing up. Just shut it all out for a while.”

I close my eyes as he clears the landing, my pulse racing and body still trembling, but I feel a bit calmer with the staccato of his heartbeat against my ear. He lays me gently on the bed, the softness of the mattress beneath me nowhere as calming as the warmth of his body against mine.

“A little better?” he asks as he brushes my hair off my face.

I nod my head, hating the sting of tears and the burn in my throat. “I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing I can manage to say as I attempt to find myself through this panic-laced fog.

“No . . . don’t be sorry,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re exhausted. I know you’re used to being so strong but stop fighting it. Allow yourself a couple hours not to be. Okay?”

I open my eyes and look into the crystalline green of his. I see love, concern, compassion, and more than anything I see
his
need to take care of me. So as much as I’m feeling a little less shaky, I sigh and nod my head. “I need to apolo—”

“I’ve got everything under control.” He presses a finger to my lips to quiet me. “Just close your eyes and rest.”

And I do. I close my eyes as I hear his footsteps retreat down the hallway. Follow them down the stairs and onto the tiled floor below. I force myself to relax, to try and quiet my head.

For some reason I don’t think it’s going to happen.

Ace is crying.

I just shut my eyes.

The crying is getting closer.

Then why is it dark outside?

And it’s getting louder.

How long have I been asleep?

And louder.

Please leave me alone.

I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. Roll on my side away from the doorway. I just need to sleep. Don’t want to think. Just want to drift back into the blackness of slumber and shut everything out.

“Ry? Ry?” Colton’s hand pushes gently on my shoulder. Ace’s cries hit a fever pitch.

“Yeah,” I murmur, eyes still closed, but my breasts tingle with the burn of milk coming in as my body reacts instinctively to the sound of my baby.

“Ace is hungry,” he says, pushing my shoulder again.

And even though he says the words and I can hear Ace cry, that innate instinct isn’t there. There’s cotton in my mouth. I can’t tell him no. I’m not sure that I want to either. But at the same time the only word I can use to describe how I feel is listless.

You’re just tired
. You got an hour’s sleep when you really need twelve. Your body is sore, changing, working overtime to produce milk and heal, and is making you more groggy than ever.

That’s all.

“’Kay.” It’s all I say as I roll on my side and lift up my shirt on autopilot. My breasts ache they are so heavy with milk. Colton lies Ace down beside me in the middle of our bed as I guide my nipple into his mouth.

Ace latches on, and I wait for that feeling to consume me. The one I’ve gotten every other time we’ve connected like this in the most natural of actions. There’s usually this soothing calm that spreads throughout me, like endorphins on speed. And this time when Ace latches on, all I want to do is close my eyes and crawl back into sleep I desperately need.

“I’ll be right back,” Colton says, causing panic I don’t quite understand.

Don’t go
! I shout the words in my head and yet my lips make no sound. My throat feels like it is slowly filling with sand. My chest feels tight. Sweat beads on my upper lip.

Get it together, Ry
. It’s just your hormones. It’s the adjustment period. Mixed with exhaustion. And feeling like I don’t know what in the hell I’m doing even when I do.

Tomorrow will be better.

And the day after that even more.

“Y
OU WANT TO TELL M
e what we’re doing here, son?”

I glance over to my dad and then back to the garage across the street from us. I don’t say a word. And even if I wanted to tell him, I’m not sure exactly what to say. My body vibrates with uncertainty. Head and heart an ocean apart on this decision. My leg jogs up and down where I sit in the passenger seat. Jet Black Heart conveniently plays on the radio and all I can do is hum the words that hit too close to fucking home.

My dad’s car stands out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood. Sleek and red, subtle as far as my standards, but flashy for this rundown part of town. Guess I should have thought about that when I called him up and said, “I need you to drive me somewhere.”

No other details given.

And of course within an hour he was at my house, passenger door open for me to scoot in. No questions asked. Almost as if he knew I needed time to work through all the shit going on in my head.