Leave Me Love (2 page)

"Detective Gray, it's Catelyn."

"Miss Travis, thanks for calling back. We tested the note."

I held my breath.

"No residue."

I dug my nails into the bed. "But I saw it."

"I'm sure you did. Look, sometimes we see things that aren't really—"

"Shut up."

"Goodnight, Miss Travis." He hung up before I could respond. Stupid detective.

I hadn't imagined the words. I'd read them. The ink had disappeared. It should have shown up in testing. Unless…

Unless they didn't test the same note I read.

Unless someone switched out the original note with a fake one.

THE NEXT DAY
, I was finally discharged.

Every minute in the hospital had felt like torture. They'd tell me to rest, but would wake me up every few hours to give me medication. The medication would make my mind fuzzy, and my thoughts would drift as exhaustion and stress pulled me into a disturbed sleep filled with too many dreams.

When I had a moment of clarity, I'd called Detective Gray and told him my switching note theory. He'd said he'd look into it.

I looked forward to sleeping in my own bed and to more intimate time with Ash. He'd spent most evenings by my side, using his charm to get around visiting hours. But there were certain things you just couldn't do in a hospital.

The doctor, a middle-aged woman with greying hair and kind eyes, handed me a stack of discharge papers. "Someone has to keep you company at all times to make sure you aren't suffering any more concussion symptoms."

"What about work? School?" Already dressed in clothes Bridgette had brought me, I was ready to get the hell out of there.

"Take it easy—and if you notice any symptoms, come back in immediately," she said.

I nodded. In order to get out, I'd had to keep down solids while under supervision, so they knew my insides were working. I'd also had to 'prove my mental stability'—whatever that meant. I hadn't told anyone about the sleepwalking because I didn't want to give the doctors any leverage in keeping me here longer. Besides, it hadn't happened again.

Ash frowned and turned to me the moment the doctor left the room. "You're
not
going back to work, Catelyn."

"I have to. I still have bills, now more than ever with all the medical expenses." I wasn't looking forward to talking sex with people other than Ash, but I would make my own way until the scholarships Professor Cavin promised came through. It was just a few more months. I could handle that.

I looked up at the man before me, his eyes stony and his face hard. I just hoped my new boyfriend could handle it.

Bridgette showed up with flowers and a big smile. "Let's get you out of here. I can't stand hospitals."

"That's always reassuring to hear from future doctors," I said.

"I love the practice of medicine, but I don't think anyone likes hospitals. They're depressing."

Ash pushed my wheelchair through the bleak corridors and carried my bags, while Bridgette chatted away about the week and all that I'd missed. Which wasn't much, except for a lot of press I was happy to have slept through.

But the press wasn't done with us, and they were waiting in hordes when we left the hospital.

Ash stood in front of me like a presidential bodyguard. "Bridgette, bring the car around. I'll handle them."

She pushed through the reporters and cameras to get the car, while Ash blocked me from view, glaring at anyone who got too close. "Miss Travis has been through a trauma and is in need of peace and quiet to heal. She will not be answering questions. Now leave."
Or else,
his stare said
.

One bold cameraman stepped forward, and Ash widened his stance. I imagined him knocking the guy out with one blow to the neck and mentally heard the sharp crack as bone hit pavement. But hospital security intervened, creating a path to Bridgette's car: “Party’s over, guys! Time to go home!”

I slid into the back of the car, Ash got in the passenger seat—the first time I'd ever seen him in a car and not on his bike—and Bridgette drove away, hardly slowing for the assholes trying to get pictures of us.

"If they get hit, it serves them right," she said.

Bridgette and Ash talked all the way back to the dorms, but I was too tired to join in. Sighing, I rested my head against the window, watching the sights of Boston speed by.

***

Once I was settled in my bed, Ash kissed me and stood. "I'll call you tonight. Get some rest, sweetheart."

Bridgette grabbed her keys. "I'm going to drop him off at his bike. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Seeing them leave together made my stomach hurt, and I recognized the faint stirrings of unwarranted jealousy.
Don't be stupid. They're just taking care of me.

I tried to sleep, tried to read, tried to study—and finally just gave up. I was done being in bed. I needed to stretch, to breathe in fresh air and feel my body move. I also needed to check in with Professor Cavin and make sure everything was on track for next year.

My legs tired quickly as I walked through Harvard Square. The skies were grey, the rain soft, like heavy eyes trying to hold back tears and failing. The droplets trickled down Lucky's abandoned coffee kiosk, a dark shell calling forth even darker memories, weeping for the past. My thoughts had no place for Lucky and pushed those memories away, locking them in chains. But I wept for the girl who took a life.

"They say he was a murderer."

I turned to the voice at my side and hit a cloud of smoke. A man, taller than Ash and bigger, a cigarette on his lips, stared at the kiosk like it held answers to questions that kept him up at night. He was bald, muscular, in his forties. A tattoo peeked out from under his collar and ran up his neck—roses on a vine of thorns.

"You heard about that?" His voice had gravel in it.

I turned back to the kiosk, hiding my face, hoping he hadn't recognized me. I didn't want to be
that girl
again, blood on her hands. "Something about midnight."

The man sucked down on his lips, so loud you could hear it. "The Midnight Murderer. He stalked this girl for years. Sent her letters, set up this kiosk just so he could be near her. I wondered, what's so special about her, huh? And then they showed a photo of this pretty thing. Eyes like chocolate. Lips like red wine. Enough to drive a man crazy."

"She didn't drive him anything."

He grunted. "You ever loved someone so much you'd kill for them?"

"Maybe."

"Then you've been driven crazy, too. Love makes us beasts, hungry for connection. The Midnight Murderer craved this girl. She filled some hole in his ravenous heart."

I chuckled. "So he kidnapped her for the honeymoon?"

The man shrugged. "We all show love in different ways. Love is as love does."

"He hated her."

"I never said he didn't." He turned to walk away.

"Are you a student here?"
Trying to finish your degree after prison?

"A student of history." He disappeared in the growing mist, like a ghost swallowed up by white.

Shivering, my clothes soaked through, I tried to walk, but my knees buckled. The bitter taste filled my mouth again. My ears buzzed. My head spun.

"Catelyn? Catelyn?"

A hand rested on my shoulder, and I jumped.

"It's me, Catelyn. Let me help you."

I looked into the kind eyes of Professor Cavin and gave him my hand. He helped me stand and walked me back to his office. I sat across from his desk, rubbing my head as he made us tea on his illegal hot plate. The peppermint drink gave me focus, warmed me up, and made me think of Ash.

"What were you doing out there, Catelyn? Shouldn't you be resting?"

"I needed to stretch, and I wanted to see how the scholarships were going."

He frowned as I stirred my tea and sipped it. "Catelyn, I'm afraid things aren't going well in that department. You didn't complete your final paper last semester, and that has affected some of the scholarship opportunities."

I set the tea down. "But you gave me an extension."

"I know, and I'm sorry, I didn't know they would weight it so heavily. But don't worry, I haven't given up." He bent over and brought out a thick envelope from a box by his desk. "I do have some good news though. I found these this week and thought you might like them."

I accepted the envelope from him. When I opened it, I found myself staring at a younger version of my mother, smiling and happy. "Where are these from?" I held up one of her by a cabin in the woods, standing next to the professor.

"That's my cabin. I haven't gone there since…" His eyes welled, and he cleared his throat.

"Sorry," I said.

"Don't be. You lost more than me, dear girl." He tasted his tea. "We used to go out there a lot, for research, for… other things. It was a long time ago." His eyes lacked focus as he lost himself in the past.

"Thank you for these." I put them back in the envelope. "Ash showed me a note he found recently, a note my mom left him. She wanted to meet him, before her death. Do you have any idea why?"

"No," he mumbled, lifting his tea to hide his face.

"Professor?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his desk. Then lowered the tea. "I shouldn't be telling you this. I could get into a lot of trouble if anyone found out."

"Please, it's important." My heart thumped in my chest as I waited.

"You should ask Ash."

"I'm asking you."

"Catelyn, your mother, Alice, before she went private, she was a damn good DA."

"Yes, I know."

"When Ash was fifteen, he was arrested."

"I knew he had some trouble with the law when he was young."

Cavin leaned forward. "Your mom was the prosecuting attorney on his case. She put him away."

I USED THE
walk back to my dorm to clear my head. Or at least I tried. My mind spun with questions about Ash. My gut trusted him. He'd saved my life. He'd saved my best friend's life. But there always seemed to be too many secrets hanging between us, creating a wall that felt impossible to penetrate.

Part of me wanted to walk away from him entirely, to avoid the drama and inevitable heartbreak that would come from loving a man like him. But that part did not have majority sway over my heart, mind or body, and so I clung to the idea of me and him, the idea of
us,
forever. Naive? Maybe. It didn't matter. I'd given myself to him and nothing I said to myself now could undo that.

Beads of sweat dotted my face by the time I made it back to my dorm. I should have stayed in bed and rested like I'd been told. The strain of that walk—
how could a walk be so hard?
—took its toll, and I collapsed into my bed shaking and short of breath.

When my cell phone rang, I wanted to ignore it, but when I saw the number I picked it up. "Hello?"

I could sense Donna from The Pleasure Palace smiling through the phone. "Cat, it's good to hear your voice. We've missed you. Is everything okay?"

I filled her in on the drama of the last two weeks.

"Oh, God, Cat, I'm so sorry. I figured something must have been wrong, but this… I'm so sorry."

Bridgette opened the door and threw her purse on her desk. "Catelyn, I—" She noticed the phone and sat down on the bed, biting her lip, hands folded on her lap.

I spoke back to Donna. "I hope I still have a job?"

Bridgette frowned. I ignored her.

"Of course. When would you like to start back?" Donna asked.

"How about tomorrow night? I just got back from the hospital…"

"Yes. You should rest." She hesitated.  "Are you sure you'll be ready?" She sounded concerned, and I didn't blame her.

"I need to be. I've lost too much time already."

We hung up.

Bridgette verbally pounced. "Catelyn, you cannot go back to that job!"

"Brig, nothing has changed. I still need the money and nothing else is available."

She tossed a blond lock of hair over her shoulder, her ice blue eyes narrowed in critical judgment. "You're dating a billionaire."

Seriously? "It's his money, not mine."

"You think he's going to be okay with you getting other guys off every night?"

I worried about this too. Maybe we could talk about it… but Bridgette was being such a bitch. "He'll have to be okay until I can find something else."

"You're going to blow it with the best thing that's ever happened to you." Her voice escalated with each word.

I wanted to pace the room, but my legs still wobbled, so I sat up and glared at her. "You seem awfully emotionally invested in my love life, Brig."

She stood, clutching her purse. "At least one of us is. Don't blow it, Catelyn. A guy like him isn't going to come around again."

She slammed the door behind her as she left and I sank into my bed, holding back tears of exhaustion and frustration. I hated fighting with Brig and hated knowing a similar fight was in store with Ash. I didn't blame either of them. If roles were reversed, I wouldn't want Ash doing this job while dating me—but he'd
have
to understand, because I didn't know another way.

My head hurt, and I eyed the prescription pain medication on my nightstand, trying to decide if I should take one or tough it out. After an hour of tossing and turning, fighting the pounding in my head and buzzing in my ears, I caved and took a pill, then propped myself up with pillows and powered up my laptop.

Google had to know something about Ash's early criminal history. Such a high profile family couldn't have kept it out of the news.

I searched every variation of Ash's name, dates, family, everything I could think of, but learned nothing new. That first arrest happened when he was younger, so it was possible that without the prevalence of social media it
had
been keep quiet.

Disappointed, resigned to talk to Ash about it tomorrow, I closed my computer and used the private bathroom—one perk of being roomies with Brig. The pain meds kicked in, filling my body with a heavy warm buzz. After washing up and changing into sweats and a t-shirt, I was ready to crash.

Until I saw a manila envelope near the door. Had someone pushed it under?

I picked it up and ripped it open, trepidation giving me goose bumps.

The envelope held several eight by ten glossy pictures.

The pictures were of Ash and Bridgette.

Leaving a mansion together.