Saving Hailey: Chapter 35

“She was protecting you,” Hailey says, moving to sit beside me, her feet curled under her butt.

She’s not crying but the sadness shaking her voice guts me. I hate that everything depends on her lost memories. It’s a burden I can’t carry for her. I can’t ease her pain or take away her fear. I can’t do more than hold her and watch as the past slowly eats her alive with every next flashback.

“Me?” I cock an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Broadway, could you get me a glass of wine please?”

He nods, fulfilling the order while the others settle into seats, filling the chairs and couch.

No one speaks. No one asks any question while Hailey gathers her thoughts, looking for the right words to explain what she meant.

“Alex told her he was gathering evidence against your father,” she says, chasing the confession with a sip of wine. “I guess she loved him so much that she offered her help, but she had one condition… she wanted Alex to ensure your safety.”

I scoff, my hands balling into tight fists. The one thing Aalyiah never should’ve worried about was me. Worrying was my fucking job. She was my little sister. I took care of her and made sure she had whatever she needed. It was never supposed to be the other way around.

Looks like I failed on that count.

And plenty of others if she thought I needed her protection.

“I was never in danger,” I snap, gnashing my teeth.

“Refill, boss?” Broadway asks.

He obviously doesn’t expect an answer, at least not a negative one given he’s already snatching my glass.

“I don’t think it was about danger,” Hailey continues. “I think maybe their evidence incriminated you. She just didn’t want you to go down with your father. Alex was working on keeping you out of it but Rhett was getting suspicious…”

“So there definitely is evidence?” Ryder pipes in.

“Yes. Alex couldn’t hand it over without securing Carter because it’d mean losing Aalyiah and he loved her too much to let that happen.”

I down half of the whiskey, reveling in the liquid fire warming my insides and soothing the rage. Whenever Alex is mentioned, a switch flips inside my head and I crave blood.

His blood.

I don’t think there’ll ever come a time when I stop wishing he was alive so I could inflict the most painful death upon him. I will forever wonder what his screams would sound like, how much he’d beg, how he’d apologize for what he did to my girl, my sister, and for agreeing to Vaughn’s plan.

“I guess we still don’t have a clue where the evidence is?” Broadway asks, leaning back in his chair.

Hailey shakes her head, watching her wine slosh by the rim of the glass she holds with both hands, her shoulder slumping as she takes a long, measured sip.

And then another. And one more. Her lips open as if to speak, but instead of words coming out, she pours more wine down her throat.

There must be more to her flashback. She must’ve seen Aalyiah if her pretty, innocent face triggered the memory.

“What else did you see?” I ask, keeping my tone level.

Her nails gouged so hard into my skin at one point that she broke it, leaving half-moon marks in my ink.

“I was worried about him,” she admits quietly, her cheeks red with embarrassment. “He didn’t know how to escape and your father was growing suspicious. I wanted him to leave Aalyiah and give my dad the evidence. He refused and…” She bites her cheek, inhaling through her nose. “He yelled, like always.”

It’s not until a tear drops into her wine that I realize she’s crying. She’s great at keeping her emotions on a tight leash, though, perfectly silent while small, silent tears trail down her cheeks. The sight is enough to flip my stomach.

I hate when she’s this vulnerable… I’m fucking scared to find out what else she saw.

“I stole his phone when he locked himself in the bathroom,” she mutters. “He had Aalyiah’s picture for wallpaper. I’m sure it was the first time I saw her. First time I heard her name.” Inhaling sharply, she straightens in her seat, wiping her tears away before looking at me. “I wanted him safe,” she says, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry… if I knew—”

Confusion knits my brows. “What are you sorry about?”

“I grabbed Alex’s phone to call Aalyiah and tell her Alex was dating us both. I wanted her to stop seeing him so he could hand in the evidence.” She sniffles, more tears escaping those big blue eyes. “You were right. I’m the reason she’s dead.”

“Did you talk to her?”

She pinches her lip, biting so hard it looks fucking painful. I can’t watch. I lean out and pull her lip free.

“Did you talk to Aalyiah?” I ask again, my fingers curled under Hailey’s chin so she can’t look away.

“The memory ended too soon but I must have. I had her number and she found out somehow. Alex wouldn’t have told her about us… I don’t think anyone else knew.”

I turn my head, sending Ryder a pointed look. He doesn’t need an explanation; he knows exactly what I need. Within seconds, he’s up, fetching his laptop. If Hailey called Aalyiah, Ryder will find it in her call log. He’ll know how long their conversation lasted and when it happened.

There’s not much information in a list of incoming and outgoing calls so we only skimmed it during the hunt for Hailey. Maybe we should have probed deeper.

“Even if you did tell Aalyiah the truth, you’re not responsible for her death,” I tell Hailey. “Alex is the only one to blame here. Do you understand?”

“If I didn’t tell her, maybe she’d still—”

“She’d have found out eventually. If not from you then from Rhett once he realized he had a rat in his ranks. If not from him, then from Alex or someone else. It doesn’t matter who told her. The who isn’t why she killed herself. It’s the why.”

“I’m the why,” she insists. “If I weren’t so clingy, if I didn’t need Alex so much, I wouldn’t be in the picture, can’t you see that?! You were right!” She bolts upright, trembling all over.

I don’t have time to react before she spins around and rushes out of the house. The door slams behind her and, through the window, I see her running toward the guest house, the security guys trailing her every move.

“Leave her,” Dante says when I twitch to follow. “Give her time. All you’ll end up doing now is screaming at each other.”

I ignore him. Not because he’s wrong. He’s most likely right, but I’m not letting Hailey blame herself for Aalyiah’s death. I made that mistake, so I know it’s a mistake.

All she’s guilty of is needing someone in her corner while her life was falling apart. She was still grieving her mother when her father dragged her halfway across the country to Ohio and jumped headfirst into work, forgetting he had a daughter going through the same hell he was.

Aalyiah would still be alive if Alex had chosen a different way to infiltrate my father’s organization.

He didn’t need her.

He could’ve posed as a soldier. He could’ve gained Rhett’s trust, but he chose the path of least resistance, using a teenage girl to do his dirty work.

I can’t even blame Vaughn for planting Alex. No way would a man with his moral code allow a cop to use a girl like Aalyiah… a girl like his daughter. Innocent, easily manipulated, oblivious to the monstrosities men like my father are capable of.

He wouldn’t approve, which is why Alex kept his relationship with my sister from him. Only Hailey knew. He gave her a burden too big for her grief-ridden mind to carry.

She’s not downstairs when I enter the guesthouse, or in the bedroom when I climb the stairs. She’s in the en suite, water running, door closed. I grab the handle, cursing when I bounce off the hardwood instead of entering.

“You think that’ll stop me?! Think again. I’ll come in whether you let me or not.”

She doesn’t respond, and rather than coaxing her out, I back up a few steps before using the momentum and bulk of my body to wrecking-ball the door off its hinges.

Hailey sits in the corner of the showcase shower, fully dressed and soaking wet. Water drips down her hair and chin, pooling at her bare feet. Her shoulders shake. Sobs mingle with the drops pattering the tiles and the visual makes my heart split down the fucking middle.

She doesn’t look up, breaking down all on her own.

I’m not even surprised.

She’s bottled up her fear, frustration, and grief so long that the dam had to burst. There’s only so much one person can take before the corks start flying.

Hailey reached her limit.

She’s spent weeks piecing together her past, reliving her mother’s death, learning to trust me—only to realize she shouldn’t have. Throw the danger she’s in, her time with Blaze, and the gore she’s seen into the mix and then add the absurd thought that she’s responsible for Aalyiah’s death… no wonder she’s snapped.

I round the pane of glass, crouching before her. “I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. I don’t blame you. You’re not why Aalyiah’s dead.”

Water rains down my back, wetting my clothes in seconds. It’s not warm but scalding hot. Nothing but choked-back sobs escape Hailey’s lips as I reach under her arms, hauling her up.

“Come on, pretty girl. You can cry in bed just as well.”

I could calm her, but I think she needs a moment of weakness. She’s been holding her head up high too fucking long and the strength she’s clung to was slowly dismantling her from the inside out. Especially while she wouldn’t let me close enough to help.

I wrap a towel around her the best I can using one hand before I carry her out of the bathroom. She sniffles, shaking softly, but doesn’t try wiggling out of my arms. If anything, she burrows into me harder when I maneuver us onto the bed. We’re both wet, soaking the sheets as I rest against the headboard and move Hailey to lie half on me, half beside me.

It’s not enough, though. Too much distance. She nuzzles closer like a baby animal seeking comfort, her cheek in the crook of my shoulder, one hand by her face, grasping my waistcoat, one leg draped over my middle. She makes herself as small as possible, her warm breath tickling my neck.

I want to kiss her head, hush her cries, and tell her I can’t fucking cope when she’s suffering… but I don’t. This isn’t about me. No words will help her as much as letting the pain out will.

Instead of whispering sweet nothings in her ear, I hold her a little tighter while she falls apart at the seams.

It’s a new dynamic for us. For me.

She’s mine. Her happiness is my top priority. I want her calm and comfortable every single day. Allowing her this space, this outlet for her anguish, goes against my instincts. Simple assurances and complicated promises dance on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them all.

Words can wait.

She needs a moment of weakness. And even though listening to her whimpers physically hurts me, I let her cry because there’s not one thing I won’t do for her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers a while later, her voice croaky. She’s not crying anymore, just quivering like an injured kitten.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

She falls silent again, shuddering more frequently the longer we sit there. I’m itching to dress her in some warm, dry clothes, then tuck her under a fresh comforter, but she’s holding on to my waistcoat so hard her fingernails are white.

She’s not ready to let me go. It’s clear in how she moves a little closer, nuzzling her face into my neck, breathing me in as if my scent keeps her sane.

The bathroom door stands ajar, burst from its hinges, the lock torn from the frame. I doubt it’ll close again… Broadway will need to look at it.

“I’m cold,” Hailey murmurs what feels like hours later.

“How about a warm bubble bath? I’ll change the sheets while you’re in there.”

She moves away, those beautiful blue eyes rimmed pink. “My head hurts…” she whispers, angling herself my way to press her sweet, swollen lips against mine.

Everything inside me goes perfectly still. It takes immense effort not to grab her face, pull her onto me and claim her mouth. She’s not kissing me in carnal desire.

It isn’t foreplay… it’s an apology.

I curl my fingers under her chin, breaking away. “Don’t apologize, pretty girl. I don’t blame you.”

With that, I head through what’s left of the bathroom door to fill the tub.