|Aveline's POV|
"Can you stop freaking out?" Ryver asks, his question being directed to Nat who's sitting on his couch, mumbling incoherent words to herself.
She's been doing that for the past twenty minutes— ever since we got here. And it's starting to freak me out. Apparently, Ryver too.
I didn't think Ryver would take us to his house but he did considering the fact that it was close to where we were. He said we'd be safe there and I don't know why but I trust him even though he's suspicious and shady as hell.
"No," my best friend looks up at him and shoots him a look. Right now, she's staring at him as if he's insane for even asking her that question. "No, I can't stop freaking out, Ryver."
At least there is a hint of sarcasm in her tone so that's a win. Kinda. I'll take what I get at this point.
I'm sitting on the kitchen counter with a bottle of cold water in my hand. It's unscrewed but for some reason, I still haven't taken a sip. My mind's overwhelmed with questions that I know I won't get the answers to from Ryver. He's barely said a word about it ever since we got here and he made it pretty clear he won't either.
"Fine then," the guy in question huffs, visibly annoyed, "don't. Just don't throw up or something all over my couch. I'd hate to throw it away, it's one of my favorites."
Nat barks out a humorless laugh. "I cannot believe this. Are we seriously having a normal conversation right now?" She flickers her eyes to me, a brow raised in question. "Are we going to ignore what just happened?"
"No, we're not." I answer, finally gathering up the energy to drink the damn water. I didn't know how much I needed it until I feel it hitting the back of my throat, a cooling sensation spreading throughout my entire body. Damn, that feels good.
"We're just waiting for Nick to get here," Ryver cuts in, nodding to himself as he speaks. Then he pulls out his phone from his back pocket, looks at the screen before letting out a string of curses.
"What?" I ask, curious as to what caused that reaction.
Ryver lifts his head, sparing me a glance. "Nothing," he shrugs which makes me shoot him an 'are you serious' kinda look. A groan leaves his lips, "alright, fine. Nick says he won't be coming right now. He's busy with someone so I'm supposed to drop you two home."
I have to physically refrain myself from jumping that motherfucker. "You're kidding, right?"
"Nope." He pushes himself off the wall, "I'm gonna drop your asses to your respective homes."
"They know where Aveline lives, they said it." Nat speaks the words as if she's suddenly remembering them. A look of horror crosses her features, "oh my god. What if they're waiting for her back home? What if they kidnap Rhys and ask for Ave in return? That's how it usually works—"
"I'm gonna need you to calm down." Ryver says once he realises that I'm not going to be the one to calm her down. I've been trying and it seems like getting her to calm down was impossible.
"Don't tell me to calm down," my best friend snarls, baring her teeth at Ryver like some beast. I would've laughed if I wasn't feeling all the shit I currently am.
"Fine. Then, don't calm down." Ryver shrugs nonchalantly, "I don't give a shit. But you can continue to freak out at your place. Stand the hell up, I'm taking you home."
"I want some explanations." She doesn't make any move to stand up and by the way Ryver blows an irritated breath, I know he's starting to lose patience with her.
"Nat, let's just—" the rest of my sentence is rudely interrupted by the woman in question. She abruptly stands up from the couch and points a finger in my direction. "You shot a man, you have people looking after you. They said they know stuff about your dad. Who's their boss? Is he the one responsible for your father's disappearance? Is your dad alive? What the hell is going on?"
"She's losing it," Ryver simply says. "I know a good mental institution," his tone comes out mocking and light.
It's like he doesn't understand the gravity of the situation— or maybe, he doesn't care. Either way I have a feeling that this is all just a big game to him.
Plus, I have to consider the fact that Ryver is not a very serious person in general. He's full of jokes and sarcasm. So, it's really not surprising that he's not taking this seriously but it's scary in the sense that it doesn't look like it's anything new to him. Bet that wasn't what he had in mind when Nick told him to play bodyguard. Or maybe he was given an inkling of what was going on. Regardless, that doesn't explain his nonchalance towards the situation.
Has he dealt with stuff like this before? Has Nick? I know he probably did. Nothing is known about his life before Chicago, there has to be a good reason why. And being involved with criminals happens to be a great and valid reason.
"Fuck you, Ryver." Nat hisses then she shakes her head. "Whatever. I want to go home. But this conversation isn't over yet. I need a shower, food and sleep." She's already at the door when she turns to look at us. "Come on then, let's go already."
**
Ryver dropped me home about five minutes ago. He reassured me that everything's going to be okay before he left.
I seriously thought he'd stayed and continue to play bodyguard for a little longer. Maybe Nick told him not to stay. Anyhow, that's the very least of my concerns.
As usual, Carter isn't home. And this time, neither is Rhys. Staying home alone is probably not the smartest thing to do right now considering everything that's happened but for some reason, home feels safer than anywhere else right now.
Rhys had texted me earlier and said he went to help Zale decorate the tattoo parlour. The latter's been dying to redesign the place and make it look better. I don't get why, it's already perfect as it is.
I haven't been to my room ever since it was thrashed by Brian. I've been staying with Nat or when I'm home, I sleep in one of the guests room. I haven't found the time nor the will to redecorate my bedroom yet. It's still the way it was, torn posters, broken window, broken led lights and whatnot. Or so I think.
I go straight to the guest room I'm staying in. After taking a shower and having changed into a set of fresh and comfortable clothes, I lie down on the bed and stare blankly at the ceiling.
Boss wants to talk to you. You can't get away from us. We know who you are, where you live, who your friends are, where you work. We know everything about you. We've been keeping an eye on you ever since you were like three years old.
You've got our boss to thank for your life. He sent Carter to you.
He sent Carter to you.
The words of that man keeps ringing in my head, like they're stuck in a some sort of loop. They won't stop, no matter how much I try to block them.
He sent Carter to you.
What does that mean? Carter was sent to me by whoever that boss man was? Oh my god. Does he work for him?
Moreover, who's that boss man's son? Is it Nick? He's the only guy I'm messing around with. It can't be him, can it?
So many questions. So many lies. So many secrets. And I'm stuck in the middle of it. Has anyone ever been truthful to me in this godforsaken life? Am I living a lie? Was I too blind to see it? Or did I just choose to ignore it?
A familiar feeing suddenly fills my entire body. This can't happen right now. Not now. Fuck.
I can feel my heart pounding against my chest like a frantic drumbeat, and each breath becomes shallow and labored. The world around me starts to crumble. The room suddenly feels as if it's closing in on me, and I involuntarily sit up straight, my breathing getting harsher. I desperately clutch my head, trying to find some semblance of control.
Yet, I can do absolutely nothing as my mind becomes a chaotic whirlwind of irrational thoughts and fears. It feels as if an invisible hand is squeezing my throat, making it harder and harder for me to draw in even a gasp of air. I know the panic attack has me in its merciless grip, and all I can do is hold on and hope it will pass soon.
Somehow, despite the chaos, I feel a gentle touch on my trembling shoulder. Startled, I look, and there stands a familiar figure. I blink. Once, twice yet the person still remains. He's not an illusion, he's really here.
Nick's standing there with concern etched across his face. "Aveline?" His voice comes out muffled but I'm pretty sure it didn't and I'm the one hearing it that way.
Tears fill my eyes and the image of him is not so clear anymore. I look away and try to focus on my breathing again. I feel like I'm dying. But I know I am not. It's just a temporary shit, it'll pass. But it's in no hurry to do so.
When I feel a pair of strong arms around me, I have no time to react and the next thing I know, I'm being pulled into a comforting embrace. I don't dare move or break away. Black dots is starting to appear in my vision and I have a feeling I'm going to lose it pretty soon.
But surprisingly, the warmth and solidity of Nick's presence instantly calm my racing heart. I feel the tension in my body slowly ebbing away, replaced by the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek. I relax in his hold, a hand fisting the front of his shirt. Nick holds me gently but firmly as my grip only tighten more and more around him. I'm pretty sure my entire body is shaking but I can't even tell anymore.
"Breathe, love." Nick whispers softly, his breath warm against my ear. I hate how much I missed him despite all the lies he fed me and all the information he withheld from me. I hate how much I missed his voice and how much my body reacts to him. "Just focus on your breath," he speaks again, "inhale deeply and exhale slowly."
His voice is like a lifeline, guiding me through the storm that rages within me. I mindlessly follow his instructions, inhaling deeply through my nose and exhaling through pursed lips. With each deliberate breath, I feel the anxiety loosening its grip, allowing me some respite from the suffocating panic.
"You're doing great," he encourages, his voice filled with a hint of relief. "That's it. Focus on my voice only, okay? Ignore everything else."
His words give me involuntary strength and I hate it as much as I love it. He continues to hold me and I feel his fingers gently combing through my hair, soothing me with their touch. I hate this. I shouldn't be letting him doing all that right now. But I can't help it. I need him.
"Focus on the present moment," he says, his voice steady and reassuring. "You're safe here with me." Am I?
I ignore that little voice in my head and do just what Nick's saying. I'm safe with him, I convince myself. He might've lied or whatever, but he won't hurt me. Not physically, at least.
With each stroke of his hand through my hair, I let go of the thoughts that had been tormenting my mind. The panic gradually subsides, replaced by a sense of calmness that spreads through my veins like a gentle breeze.
I don't say anything. I don't move, I don't look up at him either. How'd he get in? I locked the door. Or did I?
As the panic attack finally loosens its grip completely, I finally pull away from his embrace, my eyes finally meeting his.
"Thank you," I whisper, my voice coming out lower than ever but as sincere as it can get. Maybe I don't want him here but he still helped and that counts for something.
"You don't have to thank me," he clears his throat, making no attempt to get away from me. "You okay?"
I nod. He narrows his eyes, his lips pursed. "You've been ignoring me."
"I've been busy." I allow myself to take in his appearance. He looks tired as hell and I don't like that I feel bad for him. I have no idea what he's been up to these past few days but knowing him, it'a been probably nothing good.
"Yeah," he stands up, taking a hand through his messy hair, "busy ignoring me. You've been acting like I don't exist, and normally I wouldn't give a shit since people tend to do that a lot when it comes to me." I have no idea where he's going with this but I don't interrupt him. He releases a shaky breath, "but thing is, I do give a fuck. Ignoring me isn't gonna fix whatever's wrong. They say conversation is key."
"Right," I try to keep the bitterness away from my tone but I know some of it still got out. "So start talking. And let's go with the truth this time."