Page 37 of Stay With Me
Snapping out of my stupor, I grab Ember’s arms roughly. “What did he say to you? What did he say?!” Dread slides down my throat, wrapping around my heart and constricting until I’m completely numb.
“Stop. Stop spiraling. We have to be ready to go,” Ember says, shaking me off and turning on her heel, heading for her room. Rory and I trail blindly behind her. “It’s gonna be fine. It’s gonna be fine.” Ember repeats the mantra, more to herself than anyone else.
Robotically, I walk to the room I shared with Everett just this morning. Mindlessly, I throw a few things in an overnight bag. Every nightmare I’ve ever had is nothing compared to the fear I feel right now. Is Everett dead? Have I lost him forever? I’m not sure if my mind or my soul could ever recover from that.
Within 20 minutes, Ember is standing in my doorway with her bag slung over her shoulder. Rory stands behind her, hands clasped solemnly in front of her waist. I sit on the edge of the bed, toying with theleather strap of my overnight bag. She wants to say something but won’t. I can see it in her bloodshot eyes, in the agonizing expression on her face. I've always hated being kept in the dark, but for once I want to hold on to my ignorance just a little longer. I want to live in my mind where Ev and I are in love with all the time in the world. No one can touch us there.
“Willow is staying here with Jax and the twins. It’s safer than her place and I trust her with my kids,” Ember’s mouth tips up at the corner, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. I nod quietly, picking up my bag and heading for the living room.
The pulsating sound of helicopter blades rattles the windows on the back wall slightly. Breaker’s backyard, if that’s what you would even call it, is big enough for an entire hanger if he wanted one. As the skids hit the grass, the three of us are equally reluctant and hurried in walking out to meet Helo.
“You girls ready?” He shouts out the open cabin door. We nod, throwing him our bags and climbing inside. He takes his time making sure each of us is secure in our seats before returning to the pilot’s chair and taking off.
“Helo?” I ask into the headphones he gave each of us. He tips his head to the side, acknowledging me. “Is he alive?”
Rory reaches for my hand instinctively, as if she knows I need the support regardless of the answer. Helois quiet for several long moments and I feel the minuscule cracks in my soul spread into deep chasms as his silence drags on.
“If I’m being honest, I don’t know,” he replies.
My jaw clenches painfully. Tears flood my eyes, but I blink them away. I can’t fall apart right now. Not yet. Ember cries quietly across from us, burying her face in her palms. I let his words linger in the cabin of the helicopter, not offering a response. Fear slithers across my skin, wrapping around my neck and constricting until I feel lightheaded. Ignoring the feeling, we all settle in for the hours of anticipation we know are ahead of us.
As soon as we touch down in the middle of nowhere in Louisiana, Ember falls out of the cabin and into Elijah’s arms. His hands spear into her hair as he pulls her into his chest. As he mumbles quiet words of reassurance to her, I feel like the world around me moves in slow motion. Surveying our surroundings, I see a warehouse shrouded in darkness to my left and a large two-story brick building to my right. In front of it is a long row of motorcycles, all parked in a line. I want to ask where the fuck we are, but there isn’t time.
Rory steps out of the helicopter, taking a few quick steps towards Breaker. He looks like he wants to reach for her, but he doesn’t. She brushes her fingers over abandage wrapped around his arm, her expression full of concern. An unspoken conversation passes between them, each assuring the other of their safety.
Two men stand off to the side, one tall and slightly greying around the temples and one looking like the younger version of the other. While I feel uneasy in this new place, especially not knowing where Everett is, I don’t feel immediate danger.
“Who are they?” I ask, motioning towards the strangers.
“This is Owen and Axel. This compound belongs to their motorcycle club,” Elijah replies.
“The same motorcycle club that was trying to kill Everett?” I ask, an edge of attitude clear in my voice.
“Kelsea, it’s ok,” he says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “They’ve helped us. The situation with the congressman is… handled.”
“You must be Everett’s woman,” the older man says, reaching a hand out towards me. “I’m Owen. This is my son, Axel.”
“Where is he?” I shake his hand like the proper southern lady I was raised to be. Everyone’s eyes dim at my question. I’m growing impatient with the silence. I just want somebody to tell me what’s going on. Pity and fear are all I see on the faces of the people surrounding me. “Somebody tell me what’s going on right fucking now before I burn this place to the ground to find him myself.” Axel scoffs, amused by my threat. Only it’s not athreat. I’ll burn this bitch to the fucking ground to find him.
“Easy, child. He’s still in with Doc. He’s been giving us updates every hour or so,” Owen says, as if I have any idea who this doc is that apparently holds Everett’s life in his hands.
“He’s not out of the woods yet. He took a shot to the gut, lost a hell of a lot of blood. It’s been pretty touch and go,” Eli says.
“I wanna see him,” I reply, and every man looks back at me in surprise.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Doc is the best at what he does, doll. He’s in excellent hands.” Owen assures me, as if his words hold any weight with me at all.
“With all due respect, I don’t fucking know you or this doctor. From the looks on your faces, it’s very possible that he won’t survive. I’m not gonna let him die alone with some fucking stranger in the back room of a bayou shack. I want to see him. Now!” I’m direct, but I don’t raise my voice or cry, shockingly. Even though on the inside all I want to do is rage at the world, I keep my composure.
“Let her go, she can handle it,” Breaker grumbles behind me.
“Right this way, cher,” Axel says, gesturing to the two-story building.
We walk through the front door into what I can onlycall a bar. No less than a dozen men watch us as Axel pushes through the crowd. This is the definition of a biker bar if I ever saw one.
“What is this place?” I ask quietly.
“The Bayou Reaper clubhouse. This is my home, cher” Axel replies. We walk down a long hallway with rooms on each side, almost like a hotel.
