Come Back for You

My knee comes up, making contact with his groin and he doubles over, hitting the floor beside me. I spring to my feet and rip the door open, sprinting for the stairs. I burst through the door at the top of the stairs into what seems to be the kitchen. Sprinting through the house to the front door but it’s no use, there are four interior locks lining the door and all of them take a key. Shit. I scan the room, anxiously running my fingers through my hair. I could break a window. Looking for something heavy, I hear footsteps on the stairs. Fear grips me as I sprint through the house and into a bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind me.

Oh my god. My stomach rolls as I take in the room. There’s a computer in the far left corner, the screen filled with a picture of the basement, pointed directly at the bed. He’s been watching me this entire time. I slap a hand over my mouth, muffling my sobs. Photographs line the walls, mostly of me. There are pictures of me at the bar, me in my apartment, taken through the window. Some of me outside Deans house or of us walking Ranger in town. There are shots of me at the beach with Lex and Avery in my bikini. But the one that’s making my stomach sour is the picture of Kolby and me. It was taken last year at the bar’s Christmas party. He was dressed as Santa and I’m in a skimpy elf outfit. Everyone took turns sitting on his lap while Fred took pictures, and our picture is hanging above his bed. A soft thunk comes from the closet door. I make my way to it and fling the door open.

“Holy shit,” I drop to my knees and take in Indigo, her one eye is black and blue, swollen shut. Her mouth is taped. “I’m going to take this off, okay?” I whisper, trying to stay quiet so he doesn’t hear us. She nods her head. I lift the tape from one side and rip it off then I go about untying her hands.

“Is he coming?” She whispers, rubbing her wrists where the rope was biting into her skin. A commotion coming from the living room has both of us swiveling our heads towards the door. I help Indigo up and hold my finger over my lip, telling her to keep quiet. She nods her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. I scan the room, looking for anything I can use as a weapon. I grab the lamp off the nightstand, ripping the cord from the wall. A floorboard creaks down the hallway and I step in front of Indigo, raising the lamp above my head. Her hands grip my shirt from behind.

Footsteps move closer to the room, heavy boots echoing on the hardwood floor, sounding his approach. The knob turns and the door opens slowly.

“Oh my god,” I cry, dropping the lamp and flinging myself at him.

“Shh,” Dean says, wrapping his arms around me, holding me tight against him, cradling the back of my head in his hands as sobs rack my body. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” He consoles me. I lean back and look at his handsome face.

“I’m so sorry, so fucking sorry,” he starts but I cut him off, sealing my lips over his, desperate to lose myself in him. He reluctantly pulls away, eyes scanning my face, narrowing on the bruise on my cheek where Kolby punched me, tracing his finger tenderly over it.

“Did he...” he trails off, leaving the words unsaid. I shake my head and bury my face in his neck.

“No,” I choke out, “but I was so afraid he would.” Afraid he’d take something that wasn’t his to have, wasn’t his to take. Dean’s eyes go over my shoulder and he talks to Indigo.

“You okay, honey?” He asks and she nods her head, wrapping her arms around her middle. He ushers her out the door ahead of us.

“Dean, cops,” is called from the living room and he heads that way with me still in his arms, my face buried in his neck. I look around, eyes falling on Kolby’s body on the floor.

“Is he dead?” I ask, almost wishing he were for what he’s put me through, but knowing deep down that’s not the kind of person I am.

>

“Nah, just knocked out cold from your boyfriend's killer right hook,” Zander says, patting Kolby’s pockets until he finds the set of keys, unlocking all the locks on the front door as the police flood in. They clear the house, making sure there isn’t anyone else here. Dean prowls outside with me still attached to him, sinking down on the porch, and not letting go of me even while the paramedics look me over. A growl erupts from him when I tell them about the needle and I grip his face in my hands, pressing another kiss to his lips, effectively calming him down.

“Gonna need you to come to the hospital, Whit. Make sure everything is Kosher, see what it is he injected you with,” the EMT says as he packs his bag up. “I’m assuming you’ll be escorted by your man friend here, just need you to sign saying you refused the ambulance ride.” I fill out the paperwork as more people show up, Ford’s truck barely stopped before Leaf is out of it and he makes a beeline for Indigo and Lex is throwing her door open and sprinting across the yard to where we are on the porch, checking me over to make sure everything’s okay. Avery is right behind her, escorted by Jaxson. Her and I will have to talk about that later. Once everyone is assured that I am in fact fine, they finally disperse, with promises of seeing me later.

Dean loads me into the backseat of Zanders truck, climbing in right behind me. He pulls me across the bench seat to him and tucks me into his side, pressing a kiss to my temple. My body finally starts to relax, the adrenaline rush finally wearing off. And as we weave down the roads, I find myself falling asleep, curled into Dean.

Dean

“Dean, stop. I’m fine,” she says for what has to be the fiftieth time as I fuss over her. Zander chuckles from across the room where he's sitting. Nurses have been in and out, taking Whitley’s vitals and giving her fluids to try and push out whatever was injected into her. We’re still waiting on the blood results. I about lost my shit when the police came in to take their report on what happened. Zander had to drag me out of the room, knock me around a little until I chilled the fuck out. Wouldn’t let me back in until I did.

I slide her hospital tray table out of the way, settling myself on the bed beside her. She leans into me.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just,” I inhale, trying to find the words, “I’ve never been so scared, Whit. Not when Everly died, not when your dad told me to leave you alone, and not when I came back to town knowin’ how pissed you were at me. I was so scared I would lose you again.” She pats my knee and pulls my face towards her.

“And I love you so much, I really do. But honey, there’s only so many times you can try to force feed me jello before I punch you in the dick.” I cough out a laugh, shaking my head. This woman.

“Well, that was an interesting conversation to walk into,” the doctor says from the front of the room. My body shakes with laughter as Whitley’s cheeks turn red.

“I just said the word dick in front of the doctor,” she moans, dropping her head back against the bed and covering her eyes with her hand.

“Twice,” he quips, making his way towards us, shaking my hand and then Whit’s. “I’m Dr. Richards,” Whitley chokes on a laugh.

“No shit?” I say and he grins.

“Nah, just messing with ya. I’m Dr. LaVoy. How’s our patient?” He listens to her chest, checks her breathing, and wraps the stethoscope back around his neck before pulling the stool beside the table.

“I’m fine. Honest. Just tired,” she says, and he nods his head.

“That’s common. Is it okay for us to talk freely in front of him?” He asks, and she nods her head, taking my hand in hers. “Very well. Whitley, when was the last time you had a period?” He asks and my body stills, the same as hers.

“Uh, well. I think maybe eight weeks ago?” She says. “It’s not regular, never really has been. Why?” The doctor clears his throat.