Remembering.
A voice in my head is telling me to get up, to call for help, to go inside so I don’t die here from frostbite and exposure… but it’s faint. And it’s getting farther away by the second, replaced by much darker thoughts that whisper maybe I should’ve died with them, all those years ago.
They’re gone.
Maybe you should be, too.
I curl in on myself a little tighter.
Feel the shadows close in a little darker.
And for the first time since I was five years old… I stop fighting.
* * *
“No, no, no, no, no. Zoe! Goddammit, Zoe, open your eyes!” Arms are sliding around me. Lifting me from the snow. Cradling me tight against a chest. “Honey, look at me! Are you still with me? Fuck!”
The voice sounds desperate. Almost shattered. There’s something about hearing that voice breaking on words, filled with worry and panic, that makes me sad.
His voice was made for laughter and light. He shouldn’t ever sound sad.
I can’t focus on much of anything as I shiver and shake in a set of strong hands, hands that feel like fire against my cold skin. There are more words, but I’m slipping in and out of consciousness, barely able to hear over the rush of blood inside my aching skull.
“Nate? It’s Parker…”
We’re moving. He’s holding me one-handed like some kind of superhero and muttering frantically into his phone. I only catch some of what he’s saying.
“…snow… blood… shivering… skin is fucking blue… like ice… Luca… okay… see you soon.”
I hear the distant clanging of my ancient elevator. Feel the warmth of a man’s mouth at my ear, the pressure of his big hands on my back as he whispers words into my neck. I know, even in my disoriented state, that he’s not talking into the phone anymore. He’s talking to me.
“I’ve got you, honey. I’ve got you.” There’s a pleading note in his voice. “Don’t you fucking leave me. Didn’t even know what I was looking for, until I met you, Zoe. I didn’t even think it was possible to feel like this about someone. So you stay with me, okay? Stay.”
I open my mouth to tell him I’m still here, that I won’t leave him, that he makes me feel more alive than anyone I’ve ever met, that his presence is enough to remind me why living in this brutal, ugly world is worth it, despite the pain and the heartbreak…
I find I can only manage one word.
“Parker.”
My murmur is so quiet it barely makes it past my numb lips. But he must hear me, because his arms crush me a little tighter against his chest and I hear his voice crack with emotion again when he says, “That’s right, Zoe. I’m here. And I’m not ever letting you go.”
The last thing I feel before I slip unconscious once more is his mouth ghosting over mine in a kiss that feels like a promise.
* * *
When I finally wake up, I’m in my bed. Every lamp in the loft is lit, basking the space in light as if to banish the shadows outside. Blinking to adjust to the sudden brightness, I hear several voices nearby, speaking in low whispers. The hostility in their tones is apparent despite the controlled volume.
Beneath the mound of blankets swaddled around my body, my hair is wet. They must’ve put me in a warm shower, at some point, but I don’t have any memory of that. Nor do I recall putting on the pair of yoga pants and sweater covering my limbs, which means they probably dressed me.
I don’t have the energy to feel embarrassed that any number of people potentially saw me naked.
There’s a bandage of some kind stuck to my neck, taped over the spot where my assaulter’s knife dug into my skin. It’s sticky and uncomfortable, placed at the point where my jaw curves beneath my ear, and I plan on removing it as soon as I can find my way out of the stack of blankets pressing me into the bed.
The voices are angry, biting words at each other in clipped, quiet tones.
“…maybe we should take her to the hospital…”
“…think I know what she wants better than you do, rich boy…”
“…need to focus on whoever attacked her…”
I can barely move, what with the seventy-five blankets on top of me, but I somehow struggle into a sitting position. The conversation across the loft goes silent instantly as the three men notice my movement and stride to the side of the bed.
Parker, Luca, and Nate.
They’re wearing identical expressions of anger and concern as they approach.
Parker reaches me first, settling in on the bed at my side and wrapping an arm around my back with such care, you’d think I were made of glass. Luca comes around my other side and stands by the edge of the bed, looking down at me with a mix of disapproval and worry. Nate stops at the footboard with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes locked on my face, hyper-alert and highly intelligent.
“Hi,” I croak, attempting to smile at the trio of badasses surrounding me.
They all frown deeply.
I sigh and feel Parker’s arm tighten around me. “Are you okay?” he asks intently.