Chapter 23: Gabby

GABBY

"Well, that went better than I expected," Byte said after everyone had gone home.

"I told you it would be fine," I said and tried to carry a plate to the sink using my forearms.

Byte immediately took the plate from me. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to help," I huffed.

"While I appreciate the effort, I'd much rather you let me do it," he said. "I don't want you to get hurt, and I know you don't want to do anything to make your healing take longer."

He had a point. "Fine," I sighed and dropped into a chair. "This sucks."

"You're cute when you pout."

"I'm not pouting," I grumbled. I was totally pouting. "And I'm cute all the time," I said and stuck out my tongue for good measure.

He put down the dishes and turned to study me. "You're in pain." I opened my mouth to say otherwise, but he raised his hand to stop me. "Don't deny it, Gabs."

"Fine," I conceded. "I am. How'd you know?"

"Because you're grumpy and trying to hide it with humor."

"Well, aren't you observant?"

"You should know that by now," he said and left the room to get my medicine. A few moments later, he placed the pills and a drink with a straw in front of me. I could manage a fork or a spoon, but we learned that I couldn't hold a drink in my hands on the first day home from the hospital.

I grimaced at the sight of the pills. "I hate the way they make me feel."

"I know you do," he soothed. "But it's better than hurting. And I hate seeing you in pain."

He was right, and I knew it. You would think the gunshot wound would be the most painful, but my hands hurt far worse than my shoulder did. I tried not to complain too much. Byte was doing everything for me. Well, almost everything. I drew the line at assisting me in the bathroom. Thankfully, my sister suggested installing a bidet so I could take care of my personal business by myself. Otherwise, I would've stayed with her. I don't care what he said; I'd rather have my sister wipe my butt than Byte.

"Do you want to go lay down?" he asked.

"Not yet. I'll keep you company while you finish the dishes. And maybe have a little snack." He immediately went to the cabinet, got a pack of miniature muffins and a granola bar, and opened both before placing them in front of me. Since it took me so long to eat, I was usually tired before I was full, so it seemed like I was hungry all the time. "Thank you," I whispered.

"Hey," he said, and tilted my chin up with his fingers. "What's really going on?"

"I'm sorry you have to do everything for me."

"I'm not," he said vehemently. At my look of confusion, he reached out and gently cupped my face. "I could've lost you that day. If that bullet would've hit you a few millimeters over," he said and shook his head. "Taking care of you for a few weeks is a dream come true in comparison. I'm more than happy I have the opportunity to do it, so let me."

"Okay," I said softly and leaned into the hand cupping my cheek.

"The kitchen can wait. Let's go to bed."

By the time Byte finished helping me change clothes, wash my face, and brush my teeth, the pain medicine had kicked in, and it was all I could do to crawl into bed before closing my eyes.

"Love you," I mumbled.

"Love you, too."

I was flipping through a textbook and reading over my notes when my phone rang with a number I didn't recognize. Normally, I would have let the call go to voicemail, but I decided to answer in case it was something regarding my case against Lauren.

I fumbled with the phone for a few seconds before I managed to answer it, and was met with silence.

"Hello," I repeated.

"This is Manchester Correctional Institution. Please hold for a collect call from an inmate," an automated voice said.

I almost dropped the phone in my haste to end the call and resisted the urge to throw my phone across the room. I only knew one person in prison, and he had no business calling me. Why the hell would he be calling me? And how in the hell did he get my phone number?

I tried not to panic while I picked up my phone and called Byte, but I lost the battle when the same number appeared on the screen before I could navigate to Byte's name. He called five more times before finally giving up. By that time, I was barely holding myself together. To top things off, Byte unexpectedly walked through the front door and scared the shit out of me. I screamed and immediately burst into tears.

"Gabby!" he shouted and dropped to his knees in front of me. "What's wrong?"

"L-L-Lawrence," I stammered and motioned toward my phone. "He's been calling me."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know," I sniffled and looked around for something to wipe my nose. "I didn't answer."

Byte produced a tissue and proceeded to dry my tears and wipe my nose. "Did he leave a message?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't check. I was trying to call you, and he just kept calling," I cried. "I haven't spoken to him in over twenty years. What could he possibly want now?"

Byte pressed his lips into a thin line. "It has to be about Lauren. I seriously doubt his timing is coincidental."

"I don't want to talk to him," I said.

"You don't have to," he assured me. "Do you want me to block the prison's number?"

"Yes," I answered immediately. I didn't need to think about it. There was nothing he could say that I would want to hear.

"Let me get my laptop. I'll be right back," he said.

A few minutes later, he was sitting beside me on the couch typing away on his computer.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He grinned. "Solving your problems and answering your questions. Give me a few minutes."

Those few minutes felt like hours. Since there wasn't much I could do to distract myself while I waited, I basically sat there watching him type.

Finally, he looked up with a proud smile on his face. "First, I blocked the prison's number from your cell phone. Next, I took a look at Lawrence's visitation records. Lauren's been visiting him about once a month for the last year."

"What the fuck?" I breathed. "I'm not sure what to make of this."

"I'm not either," he admitted. "I think it's safe to assume she's the one who gave him your phone number."

"Do you think he knew what she was doing?" I asked.

"I really don't know," he said and paused for a few beats. "I can probably find out if you want."

"No, I don't think I do." It didn't matter if he knew or not. It wouldn't change anything as far as I was concerned. Maybe if he had warned me before she tried to kill me, and that was a big maybe, but definitely not after the fact.

Byte nodded in understanding. "Well, my afternoon's free. What about yours?"

"You're lucky I can't hit you right now."

"You know you love me," he grinned and gave me a quick kiss. "How about we spend the rest of the day watching movies and eating junk food?"

"Yes, please."

The next morning, I was woken up far earlier than was acceptable by my ringing phone. It took me longer than usual to answer due to my sleepiness coupled with my bandaged hands. "Hello," I finally croaked.

"Hey," my sister said. "Sorry for waking you."

I was wide awake at the sound of her voice. I knew she wouldn't call and risk waking me for something trivial. She reminded me frequently that I needed to rest. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Well, not exactly. I have news. It's not good news, but it might not be bad news either," she rambled.

"Just tell me," I said and waved away Byte's hand that was reaching for my phone.

She exhaled heavily. "Luke Johnson called a few minutes ago. Lawrence was stabbed by another inmate last night. He's in the hospital, but they're not sure if he's going to make it."

"He called me yesterday," I said quietly.

"What?" she yelled, causing me to move the phone away from my ear for a few seconds. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was going to mention it when I saw you later today, but there isn't much to tell. He called several times in a row. I didn't answer, and he didn't leave a message, so I don't know why he was calling."

"Do you want me to find out?" she offered.

"No, but thank you. Byte asked the same thing, but I don't want to know."

"Tell her about Lauren," Byte said.

"What about her?" Keegan asked.

"Byte checked Lawrence's visitation records. She's been visiting him about once a month for the last year," I told her.

"What the hell?"

"That's exactly what I said," I laughed. My sister and I were a lot alike and often said the same thing at the same time or had the same reactions.

"I don't like this," Keegan said.

"I don't think I care one way or the other."

"Come on, Gabby," she said. "You can't tell me these events aren't connected. Lauren tries to kill you. Lawrence calls you multiple times out of the blue, and then he's stabbed by an inmate. Wait. How did he get your phone number?"

"That's actually why Byte decided to look at his visitation records. We're assuming Lauren gave it to him."

"Who else was visiting him?" she asked.

"Hang on," I said and moved the phone away from my mouth. "Who else was visiting Lawrence?" I asked Byte.

"No one. It was just Lauren," he said.

"Tell him to check it again," Keegan said urgently.

"She said you should check it again," I relayed.

"Why?" he asked.

"See if anyone visited him yesterday," Keegan said before I could pass the phone to Byte so the two of them could talk. "If the records aren't updated until the end of the day, you might've missed someone."

I'd barely finished repeating Keegan's words before he jumped out of bed and hurried down the hall. He returned moments later with his laptop balanced in one hand while he typed with the other.

"Son of a bitch!" he cursed.

"I think he found something," I told Keegan, who was now on speaker.

"What is it?" we asked in unison.

"Lawrence did have a visitor yesterday. About an hour before he called you."

"Who was it?" Keegan and I asked at the same time.

"The records have a Michael Fuller listed," Byte said.

I heard Keegan gasp through the phone. "That's not possible," I insisted.

"Obviously, it wasn't me," Byte said. "I'm guessing Chad created a fake ID using my name. I know they scan the IDs and keep a record of them. Give me a few minutes to find it, and we'll know for sure."

"If he knows your name, he knows where you live. I think y'all need to stay at the clubhouse until we find this prick," Keegan said.

I sighed. I knew she was right. There was little to nothing I could do to defend myself with two broken hands and a wounded shoulder, but I was also tired of living in a different place every other week. "Yeah, you're probably right," I conceded. "We'll get some stuff together and head that way."

"I'll meet you there," she said.

I had just ended the call when Byte sat down beside me and showed me his computer screen. "Is that Chad?"

"Yes," I confirmed as I stared at the driver's license displayed on the screen. It was Chad's picture, but with Byte's name and address.

"All right," he said and closed the laptop. "I'll start getting our things together."

Once he had our bags packed and loaded, he locked up the house and helped me into the truck. Shadow jumped into the back seat and looked around excitedly like we were going on a new adventure.

Keegan was waiting by the doors to the clubhouse when we arrived. She hurried over to Byte's truck and opened the door for me. Yet another thing I couldn't do without help. "Thanks," I grumbled.

"Hang in there," she said. "It won't be for much longer."

"I know," I sighed. "I'm just frustrated with the whole thing. And I'm hungry. Someone woke me up and indirectly booted me from my home before I had a chance to have breakfast."

"You can have breakfast now," she said and led me inside with Shadow trailing along behind us.

Byte took our bags to his room before he joined us at a table in the common room. "I need to go talk to Phoenix. Do you need me to get you anything?"

Keegan answered before I could. "I've got her. Go do what you need to do."

"I'm not sure how long I'll be," he said.

"I'll be fine," I assured him and waved him away.

Once he was gone, Keegan leveled me with her serious look. "Are you really okay?"

I attempted to shrug and grimaced when a pain shot through my wounded shoulder. "If you're referring to the man who was in cahoots with the crazy bitch who tried to kill me posing as my boyfriend and visiting my birth father in prison the same day said birth father was stabbed, I think I'm appropriately disturbed by the situation. If you're referring to my inability to care for myself because of said crazy bitch, I'm frustrated and more irritable than usual," I said and inhaled sharply as a new issue occurred to me. "Byte doesn't have a bidet in his bathroom."

Keegan pulled out her phone and started typing. "I'm ordering one for pickup right now. As long as you don't have to poop before noon, it shouldn't be a problem."

"I never thought pain pills causing constipation would be a plus, but here we are," I said flatly.

"Is it really that bad?" she asked.

"I guess not. It's only been a day or two."

"Not that. I meant everything else," she said.

"What do you think? I'm drinking coffee through a straw."

Her face scrunched in disgust. "Eww."

"Exactly."