31. Thirty One - Rebel

thirty one - rebel

. . .

Tate and I are having a little something to eat before we head to the hospital to see Nova when his phone buzzes across the counter. Picking it up, he looks at it and frowns.

"What, what is it?" I ask, wondering what's wrong now? How could things have gotten this bad in less than twenty-four hours. He shakes his head, but I can tell something is still wrong.

With a sigh, he carefully slides his phone across the counter, eyes on me the entire time. My throat bobs as I swallow. What am I going to see on his phone? More bad news? Someone else I know hurt? A slight tremble takes over when I pick it up and take a look at the picture on the screen. Everything in my freezes. A lump of bile gets lodged in my throat. My stomach drops.

I hear the murmured fuck as my eyes find Tate. He knows. I mean… how could he not? The sheer hate in his gaze would bring even the toughest men to their knees. I've seen that gaze filled with grit and determination on the ice. But I know it's not aimed at me. It's aimed at the man who tried to snuff me from existence.

"It's him, isn't it?" There's no hesitation in his question. I open my mouth to tell him, but words won't form. It feels like there's cotton balls in my mouth, closing up my throat. Thank God his phone has a case.

I drop it from my hand like it's a live wire, not considering it's not my phone. No, no, no, no. Thinking it was someone random almost made it better. Knowing it was him… knowing he's been following me for how long now… did Brad have something to do with this, too? Like, he knew my father.

My world crumbles as my mind spins off its axis. I'm spiraling into the abyss of what if's. Strong hands on my shoulders help me to focus on Tate. "Look at me. Nothing is going to happen to you. We're going to find this bastard, and we're going to take care of him."

I wish I could say I'm surprised that he's involved with some underground alpha removers, but I'm not. It seems like something he'd be involved in.

Tate Geekies is such a mystery to most of the world. To them, he's a star ice hockey goalie. One most men want to be and most women want to jump. He's aloof, not letting many people into his inner circle. But the look in his eyes when I told him about my past earlier and the way he's cared for me, whether I truly wanted it or not, is starting to open my eyes to the real him.

He cares more than he lets on, and the domineering, sexy, primal-hunting, sweet-talking alpha has a heart. A smile tips the corners of my lips, and he narrows his eyes at me. "What's that look for?"

"What look?"

"The one you're currently sporting. If you aren't careful I might start to believe that you like me or something."

My teeth dig into my lips, feeling guilty. "Never said I didn't, Tate. I just… didn't want to be with another alpha. You came on strong. Hell, you bit me when I didn't even know you. All I could see was him happening all over again, and it shook me. But these last few weeks with you…"

He goes to speak, but I interrupt him. "Just let me get this out, okay? Feelings are hard for me, especially sharing them. Even from a young age, I've never truly felt safe. When you're looking over your shoulder constantly, waiting for the shit to hit the fan, it's hard to stop and just enjoy life. First, it was life with my parents. People who didn't love each other and felt like they had to stay with each other out of obligation. People who thought it was okay to bring around their mistresses and affairs to parade in front of their children. Then I moved into the foster home, and I hated it, but then Drake was there, comforting me and showing me what a true friend really was."

My hands shake. I hate the vulnerability of telling him all of this information. "But then he left, and I was stuck with a monster. Don't get me wrong, I don't blame Drake for one second. He didn't know, and if he had, he would've given up everything just to keep me safe. When I was wrapped in his arms, I felt protected. It was the first time in my life I remember feeling love. It was an utterly unfamiliar feeling to me."

Reaching up, he pushes my hair away from my face. "Rebel…" His thumb skates across my cheek. "I wish I had been there back then, shielded you from all of the despicable things you shouldn't have had to deal with. You know what I think?"

I dip my head from side to side. "I know with one hundred percent certainty that I am in love with you. I knew it the first night at the bar where I watched you drink yourself silly. I knew it when I walked into that bathroom and saw you helpless on the floor. I knew when you brought me a fucking glittery pink box full of cameras. It's why I bit you. Why I refused to wait to mark you. Should I have? Probably. But I didn't want to wait. I wanted you, Rebel. I fucking still want you, and no matter what shit comes up, what parts of your past try to haunt you… I will still be here, holding your hand, standing beside you. If you fall, I'll catch you. If you break, I'll put the damaged pieces back together. If you need to cry, I've got the perfect shoulder for it."

Tears form in my eyes from his sweet words.

"I know we haven't been together for long, but I like what we're trying to build here."

"Me, too," I whisper the truth. Because I am. I like that he's sweet, but he also doesn't treat me with kid gloves. I like that he doesn't pity me.

"Maybe we should wait on going to the hospital today. It's been a rough few hours."

I shake my head. "No, I need to go. Even though I'm going to feel guilty. I need to know how my best friend is doing after dealing with something meant for me. I need to make sure she's okay."

Leaning forward, his lips touch my forehead, and he leaves a gentle kiss. "Okay, then we'll go. You going to change?" He grins. "I mean, that's my favorite outfit of yours. You in my shirt, nothing else, or you just plain naked, but I really don't want to kill anyone today."

I thought it was a weird thing for him to ask until I look down and notice the only thing I'm wearing is his shirt. Yeah, probably not the best idea for a hospital.

Twenty-five minutes later, we're pulling into the parking lot of the hospital. My heart races as he parks the car. I have the urge to beg him to turn around and run, but I remain silent. I need to do this. He tells me to wait as he gets out of the car and walks around the front, opening my door for me, and offering his hand when he gets to the passenger side.

Tate doesn't let go of my hand all the way into the hospital. Not while we're checking in. Not when we stop at the nurses desk to ask which direction Nova's room is in. Not when Gunnar jumps up from his chair in the waiting room and walks over. He's a strong, steamy strength I didn't know I needed.

"How is she?" I swallow the lump in my throat.

"I won't lie to you. She's pretty banged up. She gave him a run for his money. The important thing is that she's still here, and I got there just in time."

A tear slips down my cheek, and I can't wipe it away fast enough. Hearing his words tears me up inside. He reaches out to reassure me, but a growl slips past Tate's lips, warning him against it, and he swipes his hand back like he's been burned.

"Well, let's go see her." Gunnar turns on his heel, expecting us to follow. A quick glance at Tate confirms he's not going anywhere. A squeeze to my hand lets me know he's here for me. So, I take that first step, and then another, followed by a third. Before we know it, we've stopped outside a door. "I'm just going to warn you. It looks a lot worse than it is."

I gulp and nod my head, preparing myself for the worst. The door slides open slowly, and the air around us feels heavy, weighted. Dread pulls in my gut. Hospital staff bustle up and down the hallway behind us, but I can't pull my eyes away from the room in front of me.

The sound of the steady beep beep beep of the machines hits my ears first. The almost bitter smell of antiseptic touches my senses, and my nose wrinkles. I've always hated that smell.

My eyes swivel over the hospital room, taking in everything before me. A TV plays quietly in one of the corners. Some stupid reality TV show on it. That's definitely Nova. She lives for drama. The seat beside her bed sits unoccupied, just waiting for someone to take it. Machines are hooked up beside the bed, providing their own sort of metronome. Tick. Tick. Tick.

My best friend lies helpless in a bed of crisp white sheets. Her eyes are closed.

"Code Blue. Room 506. Cold Blue. Room 506." The words blare through the speaker right over my head, and I cringe. Turning towards the hall, I'm a bystander to orderlies speeding down the hall with a crash cart. Doctors follow behind, yelling orders and giving times.

I think about the patient on the other end of the situation. Code Blue is normally a cardiac arrest code. I've watched enough doctor shows on television to know. Do they know? Are they aware that their heart is failing them or are they in the space between life and death? Do they see a white light at the end of the tunnel, and are they walking towards it or fighting it? I shouldn't be wondering these things.

I'm here to see Nova, to make sure she's okay. But I can't get my brain to stop spinning. Every thought rises to the surface, forcing me to acknowledge it. A firm hand on my lower back brings my attention back to Tate, and he smiles down at me. A pinch of concern is visible in his eyes.

"No, but I will be." It's the God's honest truth. Right now, I'm not okay. I haven't been okay since the moment I found out my best friend ended up in the hospital because of my selfish desires. Tate can tell me til he's blue that it's not my fault, but things have always been my fault. Why would that change now?

Pulling me into him, he tucks my nose into the crook of his neck, and I inhale him like a drug. His scent is like a gentle breeze winding its way through the maelstrom of my mind. Being close to him keeps the demons away. At least for a little while.

They're always in my rear view, and like this morning, they always pop up. Taking his thumb and pointer finger, he lifts my chin to him and leans in, pulling a kiss from my lips. It's tender yet unwavering in its strength and promise of safety. A promise that everything will be okay, and I truly hope it will be.

I let myself fall into his reassuring comfort, holding on with both hands. The weight of my anxieties, all the uncertainty, every demon dissolves into ether. He's a safety vest in this sea of life where the waves keep crashing. The tide comes in and goes back out. Steady, constant.

He brings me back to life with each press of his lips. Reminding me of his promise to keep me safe. To be my anchor. To trust him. To be the one who is there when the rest of the world falls away. He'll be the last one standing with me.

A throat clears behind me, grabbing my attention. A blush crawls up my face at being caught because I don't know if it's Nova or Gunnar who's done it. "Can you all, like, get a room or something? I know I'm in a hospital with a readily available trash can, but that doesn't mean I want to use it, okay?" A smile forms on my lips. That's my Nova. Straight to the point.

I turn around, my heart in my throat as I look her over. She has bags under her eyes from the lack of sleep and stress. She has bruises littering her body, and all I want to do is pull her into me and hug the shit out of her.

Walking over to the side of the bed, I take the empty chair from earlier and lean against the bed. She reaches out to grab my hand, and suddenly, I can't make eye contact with her. The guilt creeps in as bile forms in the pit of my gut. You're the reason she's here, the voice in my head reminds me.

She squeezes my hand, and I still don't want to look. My eyes trace the bruises on her wrists, each divet and fingerprint-sized black mark.

"Look at me, Rebel. You're in your head right now, and I need you to know that this is not your fault."

My eyes meet hers and tears form. "But it was…"

"Not your fault. Did you know he was going to come last night? Did you have any knowledge about his plans?" I shake my head no, but it doesn't change how I feel.

"I'm not going to allow you to blame yourself for this. Look, Gunnar got there before he…" Her body goes stiff, and words fall to the wayside. I know what she's saying.

"I am so glad he was there for you." Her eyes find Gunnar as he sits in a chair in the corner of the room just watching us. He takes up the chair like a typical alpha does, meaning one wrong move and he's on the ground. Hospital chairs aren't made for hockey playing alphas. Tate has made his way over, and they're silently chatting. I watch the exchanged frowns and realize he's probably telling Tate what happened.

"Reb." Nova catches my attention again, and I turn to look at her.

"I know. It's not my fault. But… I saw a picture of him, Nova. I know exactly who did this to you."

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What are you saying?"

"Remember when I was sent to the last foster house with Everly?"

She tenses. "Yes."

"He was there. He…" I choke on the words, not able to say anything.

She squeezes my hand. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, hun."

"He raped me for years, Nova. He's… a monster." A tear slips down my cheek, and I choke on the air I'm breathing. My chest is pounding as my heart tries to take flight and leave my body.

Her jaw drops, and she just stares at me. I never told Nova about him, about the situation. I kept it to myself because I didn't want anyone else to have to carry the burden of knowing what was happening and not being able to do a damn thing about it. I sure couldn't.

"Oh, my God, Rebel. I…" The tears are flowing freely, but this time, I'm not alone. She's crying with me, feeling the pain of what could've happened to her had Gunnar not gotten there when he did. Realizing the trauma I experienced as a teenager.

"Come here." She opens her arms, and I crawl onto the bed with her. She has her arms wrapped tightly around me, and like with Tate, I feel safe. I tip my head to rest on her shoulder, and she runs her fingers through my hair, stroking it softly like she used to do when we were younger.

"I'm so sorry, Nova." I sniff at the snot currently trying to run a train down my face.

"Look, eventually, you were going to move in with Tate anyhow, hun. He's your alpha. You're mated to him. As much as I'd love to keep you with me forever, you finally have something stable. After all the shit, you found someone who loves you. Grab onto it with both hands, and don't let go."

I snort. "He doesn't love me. He hasn't said it."

"He doesn't have to. It's in the way he looks at you. The way he fights for you; for your heart. He wants in, and you need to let him."

I tilt my head up to look at her. "This coming from the girl who got into it with him the night he marked me without permission."

"He's changed. I don't think he marked you to trap you. I think he saw you, and he knew from the very first night at the bar. You were meant to be his. You're his scent-fated mate. You're it for him. Full stop. I approve. It's time for you to find your own happiness."

"How are you sitting here comforting me when you're the one in the hospital bed?"

She laughs. "Technically, you're in here with me, too."

I fake a frown. "Do not dare bring technicalities into this, ma'am."

"I'm glad to see you happy. That overbearing, domineering, slightly over-the-top alpha is wrapped around your finger." I don't realize I'm crying again until she reaches up to wipe a tear away. "Hey, what are these for?"

"I'm just… thinking, I guess. For the first time in my life, I don't feel like a burden."