Page 5 of Devoted

The shrubby landscapeprovides a simple yet effective camouflage. My vantage point above the site gives me an unobstructed view of the police activity below. I watch as they carry out the few remaining pieces of Lace Underground. We worked hard to clear everything away, to erase any traces, leaving only a maze of empty passages and rooms. This chapter of my life has been wiped clean with only the memories ofherleft behind. She came to destroy me. She succeeded in more ways thanone.

Her cinnamon red hair looks fiery in the daylight. She is thin and pale as she sits on the gurney. He's there too. If only he didn't exist. If only there wasn't a Detective James Maddox. No doubt he'll stay close to her during the hell she'll go through the next few weeks. Once the nectar is out of her system, she'll be back to normal. Back to the way she was before she met me. I'll just be a bizarrememory.

The search team is making its way through the unsuspecting landscape. Birds and lizards and other critters skitter out of the way. I kick aside the shrubs and step on the button. The trap door opens. I drop inside, push the button to seal it shut and head through the emergency escape tunnel, away from the police, away from my underground complex, away from the woman who, in just a few short months, stole both my heart and myworld.

4

Maddox

Nurse Hopkiss,a woman with an adorable name but not so adorable personality, scowls angrily at the greasy bag and shake in myhand.

I lift the bag to prove to her that I'm not sneaking it in but rather walking boldly past her with it in plain view. "Look, let's not waste time with this," I tell her before she can start her repetitive lecture about the importance of good nutrition while the patient is dealing with her 'situation'. Hopkiss insists on using the wordsituationfor the grueling weeks of withdrawal. "I think we can both agree that the patient is severely underweight. The food in this place is about as appetizing as a soggy bowl of cereal, so let's just say I'm bringing her some much needed calories. Besides, she sent me a text telling me if I didn't show up with French fries and a chocolate shake there would be hell to pay. And if there's one thing I'm scared of in this whole world, it's the one hundred pound fireball behind that door on theright."

Hopkiss sighs resignedly. "Fine but I didn't see you and get rid of the evidence. I don't need a lecture from Dr.Tully."

"That's the spirit, Hop Skip and aKiss."

"And stop calling me that," she says with a hiddengrin.

I turn to leave but stop and lean over the counter at the nurse's station. "By the way—how isshe?"

Hopkiss peers up at me over the rim of her glasses. "Let's just sayfireballmight be anunderstatement."

"Right. Glad I'm armed with a chocolate shake." I head to Ten's room andknock.

The door swings instantly open. Ten reaches for the greasy bag and yanks it away before I even step into theroom.

"Hello to you too." I follow her inside the private room. The rehab center's attempt at making the room look cozy and inviting is laughable. Ten claimed the bright yellow and blue curtains actually made her head hurt worse. They've since been covered with a gray bed sheet. The oak bed frame has a matching nightstand. A small table and two chairs are positioned under the window shrouded in bed linens. Visitors have a short blue couch that matched the curtains back when they weren't covered by the graysheet.

Ten wastes no time cascading packets of ketchup over the fries. I place the shake down next to her and pull my hand away quickly like I might do if feeding a tiger at thezoo.

Ten pops the lid off. "Hmm, chocolate." She dips one of the fries into the shake and closes her eyes as it passes her lips. "So good. It was nice of you to bring me this." Her tone is soft and sweet, but after three weeks of watching her go through the torture of withdrawal, I know too well that can change in an instant. She has entered a phase that Clark and I have termed politely as 'edgy'. And not in a cool, hip way. But it's a phase that thrills me because shades of the real Ten are showing through and I fucking missed every 'edgy' bit ofher.

"Good of me? I believe there was a threat about hell to pay if I didn't show up with fries and a shake." I sit down on the couch and watch her gobble the food. Her gray t-shirt hangs on her bony shoulders like it's sitting on a coat hanger. But there is a sparkle in her brown eyes that I haven't seen in a long time. "Watch you don't choke. It's been a while since I took that Heimlichtraining."

She picks up the shake and stirs it with the straw. "Trust me, if I choke I will stumble out into the hallway to look for help. I took that training with you. You spent the whole four hours flirting with the woman sitting next to us. You didn't learn a fucking thing except her phonenumber."

"Whoa, someone is gaining back all of her memory. Try to gather up some of the stories where I wasn't being a totalasshole."

Ten sits back to consider my suggestion. She pushes the straw between her lips. My focus is instantly drawn to her mouth. Was it possible to miss watching someone drink from a straw? Apparently itwas.

"Nope," Ten says after a swallow. "No asshole free stories come tomind."

The old banter habit comes back naturally to us but deep down I worry that we're using it as a way to avoid the hurdles we still face, the hurdles she faces. There is so much behind the last few months besides an aggravating drug addiction. Right now, everything is focused on her physical recovery. The rest of it will take longer. My guess is that it'll be much harder. I only hope I have the strength to face it along with her. Especially now that I've finally gotten through my thick skull just how I feel abouther.

Ten sucks the last few drops of shake through the straw and puts the cup down victoriously. "That ought to put some round back on my hips andthighs."

"Think you're still a long way from that, but a chocolate shake is a goodstart."

Ten eats one more fry and curls her nose before pushing it away. "I think they are only tasty if dipped in chocolate shake." She gets up from the chair. For the hundredth time, she pulls the drawstring on her sweatpants attempting to keep them on her slim hips. The skin on her arms is slightly raw from rubbing, but the crazy skin crawling reaction is slowly disappearing. Her first two weeks in detox were almost unbearable to watch. She writhed in pain morning until night. When she wasn't feeling the pain, her body would tremble uncontrollably. In between the misery, she had to keep from scratching herself raw. The nurses kept trimming her nails. They kept her in soft, mitten-like gloves morning through night. When she refused to wear them, Nurse Hopkiss told her it was gloves or having her arms strapped to the bed. Wisely, Ten chose thegloves.

She sits down on the couch, turns to face me and crosses her legs kindergarten style. "I need to ask you a big, big, super bigfavor."

The phrase is so Ten-like, it makes mesmile.

"Ooh, you're flashing that Hollywood bad boy smile already. Good start," she says. "I like your enthusiasm. Keep it blooming as you figure out a way to get me the fuck out ofhere."

I stare at her a second to see if a laugh or the infamous Ten smile follows. They don't. She'sserious.

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