Chapter 20

A few days.

That was what Dalton had promised me when he'd wrapped his big arms around me and pressed a kiss to the top of my head right before telling me everything was going to be okay.

Then, just like that, he'd been gone, leaving me alone in his little red house surrounded by men with guns who were "keeping an eye on things."

A few days had turned into a few weeks and counting, and I could feel myself coming apart at the seams.

Although I'd been able to talk to Dalton on the phone several times since he'd left, our conversations had been stunted and awkward and every time I'd hung up, I'd wondered what the hell was happening.

Three weeks and now I did know what was happening. I was going completely insane.

Dalton hadn't explained much about the rapid detox process that he'd be undergoing but the internet had filled in the blanks for me after he'd left. I'd spent a solid four days reading anything and everything I could about detoxing, withdrawal, and what recovery meant for someone like Dalton. After that, I'd focused on blogs and forums where addicts talked about their own battles to stay sober. I'd gotten so agitated after being online for nearly a week straight that I'd finally taken my aggression out on Dalton's computer by throwing it on the floor and smashing the mouse and keyboard against the wall.

A split second after the unnecessary massacre, the front door had been kicked in and two men, both with guns drawn, had stormed inside to look for the threat against me. I'd lost my shit at that point and had screamed at the men to leave me the hell alone before storming into Dalton's room and slamming the door.

After that, I'd tried to get back to some kind of normal even though there hadn't really been such a thing from the moment I'd met Dalton. Without the internet to terrify me with horror stories about addicts who'd hit rock bottom and stayed there, I'd gone on a cleaning spree like no other. I'd scrubbed every single nook and cranny of the house, washed every piece of fabric that was capable of being washed, and when I'd finished that, I'd started it all over again.

During the first week of waiting for Dalton to come back, I'd managed to drag myself from the computer once or twice to venture outside just so I could catch my breath. I'd already known that there were several men watching the house so they could keep me safe, but feeling their eyes on me even though they kept their distance had been unnerving. It hadn't taken long before my mind had begun playing tricks on me. Since I had no idea what kind of danger Dalton thought I was in, I couldn't stop myself from thinking that the men with dark clothes and big guns surrounding the house weren't trying to keep someone out, but someone in.

Dalton hadn't asked me to stay before he'd left, and I hadn't told him whether or not I would. When it had just been me and Dalton, I'd always felt like I could leave whenever I wanted, even if it meant a long hike through the woods to reach the nearest road.

I no longer felt that way.

Which had dropped me into an all-too-familiar world.

Ivan's world.

I'd tried to deny those fears by sleeping in Dalton's bed, wearing some of his shirts that still carried his smell, and watching all the DVDs that I assumed Dalton had watched at one point or another. Being strong for Dalton had been hard when he'd left but as each day passed, I started to lose my faith in him more and more.

It was a shameful thing to admit to even now, but I couldn't deny it anymore. I knew if I tried to leave, one of the men would stop me. Even if I claimed I just wanted to go for a walk or sit on Dalton's boat, I knew I'd have company. The crazy thing was that I didn't know if I even wanted to go. I didn't know if I wanted to stay, either.

Every once in a while, Jace would return to the house so he could give me updates directly, but after the second week, I'd asked him to leave me alone. I'd also stopped talking to Dalton on the phone because it hurt too much to hear his voice.

Minute by minute, I was losing pieces of myself. I wasn't losing them to Dalton or the past. I was just losing them… little bits that flaked off and crumbled to ash before floating away. There was a shameful part of me that wished I was back at Ivan's. At least I'd known who and what I was as those days had bled into one another.

I didn't know anything anymore.

"Silver?"

I hated the sound of my name unless it was Dalton saying it, and that was only because I could still hear the despair in his voice when he'd apologized for what he'd done. That was one piece I was still trying to hold on to, but it too was slipping away.

I heard my name repeated along with a firm knock on the door.

I knew who it was, but I didn't answer. I wasn't particularly surprised when the doctor who seemed to be in charge of all the men outside stepped into my room. It didn't take long for him to find me since the room was only so big. I was in the corner that was farthest from the bedroom door, my back to the wall.

"Silver—"

"No," was all I said as I continued to cradle my body with my knees tucked against my chest and my arms wrapped around them. The word was my go-to response these days.

No, I wasn't hungry.

No, I didn't want to go outside.

No, I didn't want to talk.

No, I didn't want to hear how Dalton was doing.

I expected the man to do what all the others, including Jace, had done… turn around and walk away. Instead, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. I should have been afraid, but I wasn't. I didn't care if he wanted to lecture me, fuck me, or belittle me for my behavior.

The man didn't speak again as he approached my little corner. I didn't look up, I didn't look down, I just stared into the nothingness that had become my best friend. Instead of putting all my fear, rage, and all the other shit eating away at me into the box in my head that had protected me for so long, I'd figured out how to change things.

I'd figured out how to make that box work even better.

The box where I'd hidden away so many things in wasn't in me anymore. I was in it.

It was quiet.

Safe.

Peaceful.

Easy.

I wasn't sure how long it took me to realize that the man hadn't left the room. Instead, he'd stealthily managed to sit a mere half-dozen feet from me, his broad shoulders leaning against my bed, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

"Things with Dalton haven't gone as well as we hoped," the man said bluntly. I hated that his words pulled me from that dark, peaceful place where I hadn't had to be anyone. Where I hadn't existed anymore.

"That's why it's taking so long to get him back to you," the man continued. Ronan… that was his name. I'd met him more than a few times. I'd even seen him at the funeral with another man and three children standing solemnly among the other mourners.

"The detox went well, all things considered, but the reason it's taken so much longer for him to get back is because the doctors have been trying to figure out how to manage his pain without feeding into his addiction," Ronan said, his voice even and steady. "Dalton insisted on being discharged today, even if he had to do it AMA. That means against medical advice."

I told myself that I didn't care. It didn't matter what happened to Dalton. Every word spilling from Ronan's lips could be the truth just as easily as they could be a lie.

Despite the internal conversation I was having with myself, I couldn't deny the small spark that flickered to life somewhere deep inside my chest as Ronan spoke. The truth was that I was hungry for information on Dalton. Starving for it. I just didn't want to admit it. Not to the man in front of me. Not to myself.

"Jace managed to get Dalton to agree to allow the doctors to run some tests on him," Ronan continued. "The doctors found something."

The change in Ronan's voice was subtle, but it was there. He was worried.

"What?" I managed to choke out. Just like that, the little spark inside me turned into a full-on inferno.

"He told you about the shrapnel?—?"

"No, Jace told me," I cut in. Ronan nodded briefly but thankfully didn't keep me in suspense.

"Two of the three pieces of shrapnel have shifted. They're now pressing directly against the nerves in his back. It's the reason the pain has gotten so much worse in the last couple of years. That's about the same time that he began drinking and taking more pills than what had been prescribed," Ronan explained.

"Wha… what does it feel like?" I stammered. "The metal against his nerves?"

"Like razor blades slicing up and down his spine every time he moves."

I didn't even try to stop the silent tears that began to slide down my cheeks. "Why didn't the doctors do something sooner?"

"Because he never went back to the hospital after he was released and discharged from the army. He'd already decided not to have the surgery to try and remove the pieces, and he didn't go to any of the regular appointments his doctors had set up for him. If he'd gone, they probably would have found the problem sooner, but Dalton had already resigned himself to his future. The medication he was taking was highly addictive, so popping an extra one here and there made him feel better until it didn't, and then he'd take a bit more."

There was no judgment or harshness in Ronan's voice, which I was glad for. The idea of the man blaming Dalton for anything that had happened would have had me seeing red.

"He's not in any immediate danger. The shrapnel won't just suddenly move and sever the nerves, but the longer he ignores the problem, the higher the probability that surgery won't be an option anymore," Ronan added.

I felt like I was going to throw up. Anger, fear, and despair had joined together to form a huge knot in my stomach.

"Silver, none of this is your problem."

"Then why did you tell me?" I asked.

"Because you have a right to know. You've been kept in the dark long enough, and not just about Dalton's condition, either. I'm not here to influence any decisions you need to make, but I do want you to have all the information you need to make those decisions. You've probably already figured out that the men watching you and the house work for me."

I nodded because I'd known the doctor had been in charge from the moment I'd stepped off the private jet and onto American soil.

"My team and I have a lot of resources when it comes to situations like this," Ronan said before becoming silent for several long seconds. He seemed to be lost in thought. He shook his head and his eyes met mine. "You and Dalton aren't a situation. You're family. Whether you want to be or not."

I nearly choked as my throat instantly closed shut. Ronan chuckled. "If Jace hasn't already told Dalton that, I suspect he'll pretty much have the same reaction." The big man paused for a moment, which gave me time to remember to breathe.

"It's scary, isn't it?" he asked with a smile. "To want to believe it's true… that you're no longer alone." Ronan shook his head back and forth slowly, the smile still there. I had a feeling the man was thinking of his husband and children. "That you have someone to come home to," he finally said. He hesitated for a few seconds before saying, "I don't know what your relationship with Dalton is and it's none of my business. I don't know for sure that you're in any kind of danger, but it wouldn't matter either way. Dalton believes it. That's enough for me, Jace, and every man standing outside that door." Ronan pointed toward the front door.

"I need to be with him," I admitted as I dropped my eyes to my hands which I'd started twisting together at some point. I was glad when Ronan didn't interject. He didn't make a move to get up. He wasn't calling in one of his men to update them. He was… listening.

"I can't move," I said with a shake of my head. "I… I can't…" I struggled to find the right words. "I'm lost," I whispered shamefully.

Ronan leaned forward just a bit. "Then you hang on to whatever the fuck you need to inside here," he ordered as he pointed at his own head. "One thing, Silver. Hold on to one thing. An image, a memory, a smell, a voice… anything. Hold on to it with everything you're worth and I promise you that a day will come where you'll hear that voice or see that light or feel that hand that will show you the way home."

I managed a nod even as more tears slid down my cheeks. This man got it. He understood the battle that was raging within me. Maybe not the specifics of what was running through my tired brain, but he knew.

"What was yours?" I asked.

Ronan smiled again. That soft smile that shouldn't have looked right on such an intimidating face but did just the same.

"A kiss," he simply said.

I didn't ask for details because not only was it none of my business, but I didn't care what those details were. I was already looking for something of my own to hang on to, to keep me from slipping beneath the black waves that kept crashing over me, each one threatening to draw me under. I found myself smiling when I found the thing I needed to cling to until the storm was over.

I opened my eyes and saw Ronan watching me with pride. It felt strange and good at the same time.

"Will you take me to see him?" I asked. "Now," I added. I had the thing I needed to hang on to, but I needed to make sure Dalton had his too.

I just hoped I was his anchor.

Just like he was mine.