Aced (The Driven #5) (45 page)

I nod my head, the words he doesn’t say are reflected in his eyes:
I can’t lose another person.

I understand that more than you know, kid.

“That makes two of us.”

“R
Y?”

Colton’s voice shocks me from the darkness of my mind into the blinding light of the patio.

Everything wars inside me: relief against spite, fear against hope, numbness against pain.

He stands in the doorway. Vitriol-laced accusations scream in my head but don’t form into words. Can’t. It’s too much effort.

“You left me.” My voice sounds hollow, unaffected. Numb.

I missed you like a drowning person misses the air.

The baby monitor clicks as he sets it on the table. The cushion whooshes as he sits beside me. His eyes give an apology I don’t want to accept.

“I had to take care of some things, Ry.” He sounds tired. Rough. Something’s going on and yet I can’t find enough energy to care.

My body begins to hum. The ghost of the panic attack I had when I found out he had left comes back to haunt me. I wring my hands. Try to hold on to my control even though I can feel it slowly slipping away from me.

I can’t breathe.

“I went to see Eddie.”

Air feels like water, slowly filling my lungs with each inhale. Closing over my head and pulling me under.

“It was the first time he’d surfaced so I had to go.”

The deeper I fall the more my body begins to burn with heat from the inside out.

“He won’t be bugging us ever again.”

I fight back. Break the surface. My lungs heaving for the air his words bring me.

My eyes open wide and meet his, a moment of clarity amidst this haze.

“Thank you,” I say, voice hoarse as I try to elicit the emotion to match my words.
But I can’t feel
. When I don’t want to it’s all I can do, and when I do want to, I can’t.

I keep my eyes locked on his. Hope they’ll be the lifeline I need to keep me afloat, and sustain this feeling of normalcy for a little longer. The span of time seems to be less and less as the days go on.

Colton reaches out and runs the back of his hand down the side of my cheek. Tears well. I fight them back. I open my mouth to speak, but the words don’t come out.

I need help.

He moves to sit next to me, pulls me in close to him. I try to find comfort, try to use that hum of our bodies touching to tell me I’m still alive. And if I’m alive I can keep treading water until I can get to the edge.

I close my eyes. A tear slides over. A little piece of me leaving with it.

“Shane is really worried about you.”

I saw it in his eyes: the fear, the memories of his mom, the worry. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t reassure him. He saw right through it.

Guilt. The one constant I feel is back, swims in my head.

“Your mom. I’m not going to be able to keep her away much longer, Ry. She’s worried.”
I am too
. I can hear the unspoken words in his voice but don’t have the wherewithal to respond. “I’ve kept her happy with pictures and videos. Telling her you’re sleeping when she calls. She’s going to come up this weekend.”

“No!” It’s the only show of emotion I can give. The need to keep this under wraps from those who would be disappointed in my failure the most.

“I’m going to call Dr. Steele then.” His voice is soft but slams into my ears like the harshest of noises.

“No!” My voice cracks with panic—the word on repeat in my head—as I try to shove away from him. Struggle as he pulls me hard into him to stop my resistance against the idea.

I fight because I can handle this.

No, I can’t.

And because I’m scared. What if I can’t ever find my way back?

Yes, I can
.

The darkness is so much more tempting than the fight. Less work. Less struggle. But Ace and Colton are worth fighting for. I’m so sick of the dark. So sick of its loneliness. I do the only thing I can: cling onto Colton, my light.

“I’m holding tight so you can let go, Ryles,” he says into the crown of my head, the heat from his breath warming the cold lingering inside me. “Let go, baby. Deal with what you need to. And just know that Ace and I are here for you when you come back to us. Then we’ll get our little piece of peace.”

He still loves me.

He still wants us.

He’s fighting the fight for me.

Even when I can’t.

“H
ADDIE MUST HAVE CALLED IN
the troops.”

My mother’s laugh is deep and rich through the phone. The concern is there though. I can hear her hiding it.

But it’s okay. I am too.

I glance to the extra bedroom where the door is shut and wonder what is taking them so long.

“You have no idea. She only means well.” Then silence.
Fuck
. Here we go. “You should have told us, Colton. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’re here to help you.” I can hear the hurt in her voice, get that she thinks I didn’t trust her coming into our private life enough to tell her what was going on. And if my own mother feels this way, I’m going to have to steel myself for how Ry’s mom is going to handle this.

I clear my throat, unsure what to say. “It’s not like that, Mom. It’s complicated.” Tread lightly, Donavan. She’s not intruding; she just wants to be a mom.

Just like Rylee does.

“I know it is.” Her voice is softer. Her hurt feelings back in check. Being a mom again—pushing away her hurt to help me deal with mine. “Has the doctor finished talking to her yet?”

I glance at the door again. “No.”

“I’m sure she’s just reassuring Rylee. Sometimes when you hear things you don’t want to hear and they’re spoken by someone else, you actually listen to them.”

“I miss her, Mom.”

God, I sound like such a pussy. You can’t miss someone who is right in fucking front of you twenty-four/seven.

“Of course you do. You’ve all had a lot of changes over the past few months.”

“Changes?” I snort and then press a kiss to the top of Ace’s head. Use him to calm me. “I feel like we’ve had the shit beat out of us so much in the past month I’m surprised we’re not black and blue.” Sarcasm she doesn’t deserve is thick in my voice.

“You’re only alive if you bruise,” she says softly.

Then I must be thriving.

“Yeah.” I sigh. My eyes are back on the door but her comment sticks in my mind.

“You can’t do this all yourself, son. Let all of us help you. We’re setting up a schedule so we can come and—”

“I don’t know about that, Mom. I appreciate it, but Rylee—”

“Sorry. This is what family does. We rally the troops and take care of our own,” she says, the no-nonsense tone in her voice taking me back twenty years to when I was a punk kid getting reprimanded. “You don’t have a choice. Ry’s mom, Quinlan, Haddie, and I will take shifts if need be. Anything it takes. And you’ll take the help and not argue. Understood?”

Yep. Right back there to being ten and getting caught trying to light firecrackers in the backyard.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you need the break too. You’ll burn yourself out. A proud man is a good man. But he can also be stupid one.”

I can’t help the laugh that falls from my mouth. My blunt mother telling me like it is. One of a very few women who can.

“Mom, I have to go,” I say as the door opens.

“Let me know what she says so I can let everyone know and—”

I hang up the phone. Cut her off. I need to know.

“Dr. Steele?”

“Walk me out, please?” she asks.

“Sure.” We head to the front door. This doesn’t sound good. My dread builds with each footstep. My heart is in my throat by the time we walk outside and shut the door behind us.

“He is an adorable little guy, isn’t he?” she says as she focuses on Ace when all I want her to do is tell me about Rylee.

“Doc?” I finally ask, hoping she’ll have pity on me.

“You were right to call me, Colton.” The breath I’m holding burns in my lungs. “She’s definitely struggling with more than the typical baby blues.”

I feel a flicker of relief. I don’t know why. She hasn’t said she’s going to be okay, but at least I’ll know the beast we’re facing.

“Okay, so what do I need to do for her?” Something. Anything. I’m a guy. I need to fix things and this not being able to fix Rylee is fucking me up.

She smiles softly at me. “To be honest, there’s no clear-cut answer here. I talked with Rylee. Explained how she’s not alone. That a lot of women go through this and that getting help does not mean she’s failing as a mother.” She reaches out and plays with Ace’s hand as she continues. “Sometimes, postpartum depression is triggered by a sequence of events that seems out of the person’s control. Add in the rush of hormones. Then there’s the pressure of trying to get a newborn—who couldn’t care less about a schedule—to be on a schedule because every book you’ve read says that’s what you should be doing or you’re not doing it right. All of those combined are like the perfect storm of uncontrolled chaos. In Rylee’s case, her mind has internalized it all and has fallen into a little downward dip of depression.”

I blow out a breath, hear her words and know it’s not my fault. But I’m a guy so I blame myself nonetheless. “Is she going to be okay?”

She nods. “I’ve written a prescription for some anti-depressants and—”

“Can she still nurse?” I ask, knowing that nursing is the only time she feels somewhat connected to Ace.

“Yes. There is much debate on this. In my opinion the trade-off is worth it: getting Rylee on the road to recovery versus a trace of the drugs passed on through the milk.”

“Okay.”

“She’s a fighter, Colton. Get her out in the fresh air. A walk on the beach. A drive in the car. Anything you can think of doing to get her up and about without triggering her panic attacks.”

I chuckle. She does realize who we are, right? Did she forget there’s a reason she’s making a house call and we’re not going to her office?

“I know. It’s difficult in . . . your situation, but the more stimuli, the better.”

“Thanks,” I say quietly. “I appreciate you making the house call.”

“She’s going to be fine, Colton. She just needs a little time. It’s not going to happen overnight. The drugs take some time to take effect, so be patient like you’ve been so far, and soon enough you’ll have your wife back.”