I’m torturing myself, but I’m enjoying watching her more. She’s trying to grip the wall, but there is nothing there. I stand still a few moments, drawing out her anticipation, trying to get myself under control as she continues to try to push her body closer to mine.
I enter her with my tip only, over and over. As she moans, she continues to call out my name. When I see her body start to tremble, she’s screaming my name, “River, please!” I have no willpower left.
In one swift motion, I grab her and lift her up, pushing her body up against the wall. She responds instantly, wrapping her legs around me as I plunge inside her hard and fast. I have to remember to breathe, she feels so good. I continue to watch her, as her eyes start to roll, and I know she’s so close.
I want to take it slow and make her come over and over, but I need her too much. I start moving faster, thrusting into her over and over again, each time harder and faster. When I see the look of pleasure come across her face, I know she’s there, again. She screams my name one final time as I hold her h*ps in place and yell out her name. Leaning in I kiss her hard as sensation overtakes me.
As our bodies quiver, I swallow her cries of contentment, wanting to taste and feel every inch of her happiness.
Citizens’ song Amazing Grace startles me awake. It’s playing from Dahlia’s cell phone, her ringtone for Grace. Reaching for her, I realize she’s not in bed.
“Dahlia, your phone!” I yell, yawning and covering my head with the pillow.
She doesn’t answer. I call out to her again, but the room is too quiet. Looking around I realize she’s not here.
Scanning the area to find and silence the f**king phone, I see a note on her pillow. I roll over and grab it.
I know how tired you are from ‘skiing’ so I thought I’d let you sleep in. Just running the shorter trail then I’ll bring coffee back. I love you more.
Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I remember she woke me up earlier and wanted to run the lake trails to see the sunrise. I told her to give me a minute, but shit, I must have fallen back asleep.
Lifting my head off the pillow, I see her phone. I sit up and grab it from the bedside table where it is plugged in. The battery must have died again, so she left it to charge. The song keeps playing, and the message light is blinking ten missed calls. The time reads 6:14am.
Scratching my chest, I decide to answer it. “Hello,” I mumble into the phone as I balance it on my shoulder and situate myself on the bed.
I’m surprised to hear Serena’s voice instead of Grace’s. “River?” she asks and then she’s oddly silent.
I flop my head back on the pillow and stretch out. “Serena? What’s . . .” I start to say when she interrupts, “I need to talk to Dahlia.” Her voice is a little off, and she sounds sad or nervous, I’m not sure which.
Taking the phone in my hand, I sit back up immediately. “Serena she’s not here. She went running. Is everything okay? Is it Grace?” I have to ask, but pray it’s not.
“River you need to find her. We need to talk to her now.” Her tone is urgent, and I have to know what’s going on.
With concern clear in my voice, I ask, “Serena, what’s going on? What’s the matter?”
Her voice is muffled through the phone for a few seconds, and I can’t really hear what she’s saying when Grace gets on the phone.
“River, we’ve called the police,” she tells me, her voice quivering as she speaks.
“Grace, I’m lost. What do you need the police for?”
“Didn’t she tell you?”
My heart is racing, and I really just want her tell me what the f**k she’s talking about. “Grace, what are you talking about? What’s going on?”
“I left Dahlia three messages last night. They let him out on a technicality.”
“Grace, who did they let out?”
“The man who shot Ben. He’s out,” she’s telling me this and I’m trying to process what’s going on.
I look at Dahlia’s phone and hit the home button. I see three messages from Grace that haven’t been listened to, and fifteen missed calls from Grace and Serena.
“Grace, she hasn’t listened to your messages yet.”
She’s crying and I think she is unable to speak but she manages, “Hold on.”
Caleb gets on the phone. “Hey man. Where is she? I’m not sure what’s going on but we need to keep an eye on her.”
I’m trying not to get annoyed at this prick and his use of the word ‘we’ as I answer, “She went running. What the f**k is going on?”
I can hear him inhale a deep breath, “Look man, I think the guy that shot Ben is looking for something. I drove by Dahlia’s house last night just to check on it, and someone broke in again. I drove over to your house looking for her, but they wouldn’t let me in the gate and neither of you answered their calls. I called your sister and she gave me your number. I called you all f**king night.”
I bolt out of bed and look frantically around for my pants. Running to the bathroom, I find them on the floor. I pull them on and find my phone still in the pocket. My hands are trembling. “Caleb, I’ll call you back when I find her,” I tell him and hang up.
Calling hotel security, I hastily explain the situation. Whether it’s necessary or not to send someone to find her, I have no f**king idea, but I want her found now.
Just as I throw on my shirt and sneakers and head for the door, the hotel phone rings. I’m torn between answering it and running out to find her but since I did call security, I turn around and go back. I silently pick the phone up.
“Mr. Wilde?”
“Yes,” I answer with concern clearly in my voice.
“Sir, we’d like you to come down to the lobby and we’ll escort you to the hospital.”
I swallow a few times trying to catch my breath as all the air leaves my lungs, and my knees buckle beneath me. As I’m searching for the courage to ask the question I already know the answer to, I hear the ambulance sirens in the distance and I don’t need to ask anything.
Wiping a tear from the corner of my eye, I bolt out of the room and take the ten flights of stairs down to the lobby where security is waiting for me. I can hardly think, but I know I can’t lose her. I can’t lose my best friend, my soul mate, my smile, my laugh—my everything.
They say she’s already on her way to the hospital in the ambulance. I want them to take me to see her now. No one knows what happened, just that someone heard screaming and called security. This car ride feels like the longest fifteen-mile drive of my life. My phone keeps ringing, but I can’t answer it. I just have to see her, my beautiful, perfect girl. I need to know she’s okay.
I slide open the photos I have of her. Some are serious, some are funny, some are quirky, and some are downright hot. All of them a reflection of her beautiful face, and the tears I’ve been holding back start to flow like the unease I feel about my inability to keep her safe.
Absorbed in my thoughts and the quiet of the car, I can barely even hear my own breathing. The heat is blasting and even though I’m not wearing a coat, I’m sweating. The security chief is talking to me, but I’m not listening until I realize he’s telling me we’re at the hospital. Rushing through the emergency room doors, I make my way through a very packed waiting room toward the small glass window at the reception desk. As I get closer I think I see Dahlia back behind it, but once I’m there, I realize it’s only wishful thinking.
Holding myself up against the counter, I feel slightly queasy. My nerves are getting the best of me. My heart is pounding a thousand beats a minute, my stomach is in knots, and the chill running through my body is making the shivering painful.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Putting aside any preamble of a greeting, I blurt out what I need from her. “My fiancée was just brought in and I need to see her now!” I’m raising my voice at this nurse and getting looks from others waiting behind me, but I don’t give a shit. I’m desperate to find my girl.
Her standard reply throws me into a tailspin. “Sir, are you family? Only family members are allowed back,” she says, handing me a form to fill out that reads: Non-Family Member Patient Inquiry.
I’m trying to keep my patience but losing the battle as I take the clipboard from her and repeat, “I told you, we’re engaged.”
She looks up at me with an expression that says she’s heard this before. “Sir, like I said, access is for the patient’s family only. Please fill that out, and have a seat. We’ll inform you of her condition once we get her permission.”
“She has no f**king family! I am her family!” I frantically yell through the window.
Taking a deep breath, I pull myself together. I complete the form and hand it back to her. I stand there trying to figure out what to do when I see the doors to the emergency room corridor open, and a patient is being wheeled out with her leg in a cast.
Looking at the nurse behind the desk engaged in talking to someone behind her as my clipboard lays idle in front of her, I know I have to do something. So without thinking of any consequences, I quickly walk through the open doors and enter the never-ending long hallway of drawn curtains. Once inside, I pause for a minute deciding the best way to go about finding her. I’m praying she’s actually back here and not in some operating room. Starting with the first curtain, I poke my head in trying not to disturb the person in there.
After I’ve done this a few too many times, I see a doctor walking down the wall. “Excuse me, doctor,” I say to the short brunette woman in a white lab coat, “Do you think you could help me? My wife is back here and I can’t remember what room she’s in. I had to go out to the waiting room to use my phone to call and check on our daughter.” I’m making this up as I go, and I’m actually wishing it were true, hoping it will be true someday. “And now I can’t remember what room she’s in.”
Smiling, she says, “Sure. What’s her name?”
“Dahila London,” I tell her, and I really wish I was saying Dahlia Wilde.
She walks over to the desk and looks on a clipboard. She then directs me to curtained room number ten. It’s no more than ten feet away, but the walk feels like miles. Memories flood my mind with visions of her dancing in the rain. Her carefree take on life and the beauty she finds in everything is awe-inspiring. What’s ironic is she thinks everyone around her is amazing, but she’s the amazing one. The one I was supposed to take care of and failed miserably at.
My phone is ringing again and the nurse walking down the corridor shoots me a look, “Sir, your phone is supposed to be turned off when you’re back here.”
Reaching for it in my front pocket, I hit the vibrate button. “Sorry, Miss,” I say as I see seven missed calls in the last thirty minutes, all from Caleb.
I hold my breath as I reach to open the blue curtain. Fear and dread flow through my veins until I not only see but also hear the voice of the girl I’ve fallen so deeply in love with.
“River, is that you?”
I yank open the curtain to see her sitting in the bed with her head propped back. There’s a bruise on her cheek, and her lip is swollen. She has a bandage wrapped around her wrist where she wears the bracelet from him. But thank God she’s sitting up and she’s talking to me.
Swallowing hard, I can’t suppress the tears as they instantly start flowing down my face. I jet over to her side and gently wrap by arms around her, careful of the wires connected to her body through the hospital gown.
She pulls me to her even tighter.
I whisper because I’m barely able to speak, “Are you okay?”
Crying, she nods her head, “Yes.”
I gently cup her beautiful face in my hands, and stare at her. I press my lips to hers, careful to not actually apply any pressure. As relief washes over me that she’s all right, I put my head in the crook of her neck and stay there, unable to move. She’s become so much a part of me in such a short period of time; I can’t imagine my life without her.
She holds on to me, and I not only feel the strong physical connection she needs from me right now but also the deep emotional connection that binds us together. Her crying continues as I attempt to soothe her. Each of her tears is a tug I feel in my own heart.
I want to ask her what happened. Who did this? Did he touch you? How did he touch you? I want to f**king kill this man, but right now what she needs from me most is just me. So I hold in my questions until later and just hold her tight thanking God she’s alive and okay.
Her cries turn into my cries as I kiss her on the forehead. “Everything’s okay now, baby. And I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CONNECTED
We’ve taken this journey
Down this happy road
Discovering our love
And we know we will never be alone
We feel connected...connected forever.
River’s POV
3 days after the attack…
Wrapped in her concert t-shirt blanket, she’s wedged in between my legs as we lie outside on a lounge chair with the sunrise and the Hollywood sign as our canvas. Her head rests on my chest, our fingers laced together, and my arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, where they’ve been since the attack.
She was released from the hospital yesterday. Caleb and Xander drove up to Tahoe the day of the incident and stayed until it was time to leave. Caleb asked her more questions than the police, but the story was always the same. It was filled with very few details and a vague recollection of what the guy even said.
I enter her with my tip only, over and over. As she moans, she continues to call out my name. When I see her body start to tremble, she’s screaming my name, “River, please!” I have no willpower left.
In one swift motion, I grab her and lift her up, pushing her body up against the wall. She responds instantly, wrapping her legs around me as I plunge inside her hard and fast. I have to remember to breathe, she feels so good. I continue to watch her, as her eyes start to roll, and I know she’s so close.
I want to take it slow and make her come over and over, but I need her too much. I start moving faster, thrusting into her over and over again, each time harder and faster. When I see the look of pleasure come across her face, I know she’s there, again. She screams my name one final time as I hold her h*ps in place and yell out her name. Leaning in I kiss her hard as sensation overtakes me.
As our bodies quiver, I swallow her cries of contentment, wanting to taste and feel every inch of her happiness.
Citizens’ song Amazing Grace startles me awake. It’s playing from Dahlia’s cell phone, her ringtone for Grace. Reaching for her, I realize she’s not in bed.
“Dahlia, your phone!” I yell, yawning and covering my head with the pillow.
She doesn’t answer. I call out to her again, but the room is too quiet. Looking around I realize she’s not here.
Scanning the area to find and silence the f**king phone, I see a note on her pillow. I roll over and grab it.
I know how tired you are from ‘skiing’ so I thought I’d let you sleep in. Just running the shorter trail then I’ll bring coffee back. I love you more.
Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I remember she woke me up earlier and wanted to run the lake trails to see the sunrise. I told her to give me a minute, but shit, I must have fallen back asleep.
Lifting my head off the pillow, I see her phone. I sit up and grab it from the bedside table where it is plugged in. The battery must have died again, so she left it to charge. The song keeps playing, and the message light is blinking ten missed calls. The time reads 6:14am.
Scratching my chest, I decide to answer it. “Hello,” I mumble into the phone as I balance it on my shoulder and situate myself on the bed.
I’m surprised to hear Serena’s voice instead of Grace’s. “River?” she asks and then she’s oddly silent.
I flop my head back on the pillow and stretch out. “Serena? What’s . . .” I start to say when she interrupts, “I need to talk to Dahlia.” Her voice is a little off, and she sounds sad or nervous, I’m not sure which.
Taking the phone in my hand, I sit back up immediately. “Serena she’s not here. She went running. Is everything okay? Is it Grace?” I have to ask, but pray it’s not.
“River you need to find her. We need to talk to her now.” Her tone is urgent, and I have to know what’s going on.
With concern clear in my voice, I ask, “Serena, what’s going on? What’s the matter?”
Her voice is muffled through the phone for a few seconds, and I can’t really hear what she’s saying when Grace gets on the phone.
“River, we’ve called the police,” she tells me, her voice quivering as she speaks.
“Grace, I’m lost. What do you need the police for?”
“Didn’t she tell you?”
My heart is racing, and I really just want her tell me what the f**k she’s talking about. “Grace, what are you talking about? What’s going on?”
“I left Dahlia three messages last night. They let him out on a technicality.”
“Grace, who did they let out?”
“The man who shot Ben. He’s out,” she’s telling me this and I’m trying to process what’s going on.
I look at Dahlia’s phone and hit the home button. I see three messages from Grace that haven’t been listened to, and fifteen missed calls from Grace and Serena.
“Grace, she hasn’t listened to your messages yet.”
She’s crying and I think she is unable to speak but she manages, “Hold on.”
Caleb gets on the phone. “Hey man. Where is she? I’m not sure what’s going on but we need to keep an eye on her.”
I’m trying not to get annoyed at this prick and his use of the word ‘we’ as I answer, “She went running. What the f**k is going on?”
I can hear him inhale a deep breath, “Look man, I think the guy that shot Ben is looking for something. I drove by Dahlia’s house last night just to check on it, and someone broke in again. I drove over to your house looking for her, but they wouldn’t let me in the gate and neither of you answered their calls. I called your sister and she gave me your number. I called you all f**king night.”
I bolt out of bed and look frantically around for my pants. Running to the bathroom, I find them on the floor. I pull them on and find my phone still in the pocket. My hands are trembling. “Caleb, I’ll call you back when I find her,” I tell him and hang up.
Calling hotel security, I hastily explain the situation. Whether it’s necessary or not to send someone to find her, I have no f**king idea, but I want her found now.
Just as I throw on my shirt and sneakers and head for the door, the hotel phone rings. I’m torn between answering it and running out to find her but since I did call security, I turn around and go back. I silently pick the phone up.
“Mr. Wilde?”
“Yes,” I answer with concern clearly in my voice.
“Sir, we’d like you to come down to the lobby and we’ll escort you to the hospital.”
I swallow a few times trying to catch my breath as all the air leaves my lungs, and my knees buckle beneath me. As I’m searching for the courage to ask the question I already know the answer to, I hear the ambulance sirens in the distance and I don’t need to ask anything.
Wiping a tear from the corner of my eye, I bolt out of the room and take the ten flights of stairs down to the lobby where security is waiting for me. I can hardly think, but I know I can’t lose her. I can’t lose my best friend, my soul mate, my smile, my laugh—my everything.
They say she’s already on her way to the hospital in the ambulance. I want them to take me to see her now. No one knows what happened, just that someone heard screaming and called security. This car ride feels like the longest fifteen-mile drive of my life. My phone keeps ringing, but I can’t answer it. I just have to see her, my beautiful, perfect girl. I need to know she’s okay.
I slide open the photos I have of her. Some are serious, some are funny, some are quirky, and some are downright hot. All of them a reflection of her beautiful face, and the tears I’ve been holding back start to flow like the unease I feel about my inability to keep her safe.
Absorbed in my thoughts and the quiet of the car, I can barely even hear my own breathing. The heat is blasting and even though I’m not wearing a coat, I’m sweating. The security chief is talking to me, but I’m not listening until I realize he’s telling me we’re at the hospital. Rushing through the emergency room doors, I make my way through a very packed waiting room toward the small glass window at the reception desk. As I get closer I think I see Dahlia back behind it, but once I’m there, I realize it’s only wishful thinking.
Holding myself up against the counter, I feel slightly queasy. My nerves are getting the best of me. My heart is pounding a thousand beats a minute, my stomach is in knots, and the chill running through my body is making the shivering painful.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Putting aside any preamble of a greeting, I blurt out what I need from her. “My fiancée was just brought in and I need to see her now!” I’m raising my voice at this nurse and getting looks from others waiting behind me, but I don’t give a shit. I’m desperate to find my girl.
Her standard reply throws me into a tailspin. “Sir, are you family? Only family members are allowed back,” she says, handing me a form to fill out that reads: Non-Family Member Patient Inquiry.
I’m trying to keep my patience but losing the battle as I take the clipboard from her and repeat, “I told you, we’re engaged.”
She looks up at me with an expression that says she’s heard this before. “Sir, like I said, access is for the patient’s family only. Please fill that out, and have a seat. We’ll inform you of her condition once we get her permission.”
“She has no f**king family! I am her family!” I frantically yell through the window.
Taking a deep breath, I pull myself together. I complete the form and hand it back to her. I stand there trying to figure out what to do when I see the doors to the emergency room corridor open, and a patient is being wheeled out with her leg in a cast.
Looking at the nurse behind the desk engaged in talking to someone behind her as my clipboard lays idle in front of her, I know I have to do something. So without thinking of any consequences, I quickly walk through the open doors and enter the never-ending long hallway of drawn curtains. Once inside, I pause for a minute deciding the best way to go about finding her. I’m praying she’s actually back here and not in some operating room. Starting with the first curtain, I poke my head in trying not to disturb the person in there.
After I’ve done this a few too many times, I see a doctor walking down the wall. “Excuse me, doctor,” I say to the short brunette woman in a white lab coat, “Do you think you could help me? My wife is back here and I can’t remember what room she’s in. I had to go out to the waiting room to use my phone to call and check on our daughter.” I’m making this up as I go, and I’m actually wishing it were true, hoping it will be true someday. “And now I can’t remember what room she’s in.”
Smiling, she says, “Sure. What’s her name?”
“Dahila London,” I tell her, and I really wish I was saying Dahlia Wilde.
She walks over to the desk and looks on a clipboard. She then directs me to curtained room number ten. It’s no more than ten feet away, but the walk feels like miles. Memories flood my mind with visions of her dancing in the rain. Her carefree take on life and the beauty she finds in everything is awe-inspiring. What’s ironic is she thinks everyone around her is amazing, but she’s the amazing one. The one I was supposed to take care of and failed miserably at.
My phone is ringing again and the nurse walking down the corridor shoots me a look, “Sir, your phone is supposed to be turned off when you’re back here.”
Reaching for it in my front pocket, I hit the vibrate button. “Sorry, Miss,” I say as I see seven missed calls in the last thirty minutes, all from Caleb.
I hold my breath as I reach to open the blue curtain. Fear and dread flow through my veins until I not only see but also hear the voice of the girl I’ve fallen so deeply in love with.
“River, is that you?”
I yank open the curtain to see her sitting in the bed with her head propped back. There’s a bruise on her cheek, and her lip is swollen. She has a bandage wrapped around her wrist where she wears the bracelet from him. But thank God she’s sitting up and she’s talking to me.
Swallowing hard, I can’t suppress the tears as they instantly start flowing down my face. I jet over to her side and gently wrap by arms around her, careful of the wires connected to her body through the hospital gown.
She pulls me to her even tighter.
I whisper because I’m barely able to speak, “Are you okay?”
Crying, she nods her head, “Yes.”
I gently cup her beautiful face in my hands, and stare at her. I press my lips to hers, careful to not actually apply any pressure. As relief washes over me that she’s all right, I put my head in the crook of her neck and stay there, unable to move. She’s become so much a part of me in such a short period of time; I can’t imagine my life without her.
She holds on to me, and I not only feel the strong physical connection she needs from me right now but also the deep emotional connection that binds us together. Her crying continues as I attempt to soothe her. Each of her tears is a tug I feel in my own heart.
I want to ask her what happened. Who did this? Did he touch you? How did he touch you? I want to f**king kill this man, but right now what she needs from me most is just me. So I hold in my questions until later and just hold her tight thanking God she’s alive and okay.
Her cries turn into my cries as I kiss her on the forehead. “Everything’s okay now, baby. And I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CONNECTED
We’ve taken this journey
Down this happy road
Discovering our love
And we know we will never be alone
We feel connected...connected forever.
River’s POV
3 days after the attack…
Wrapped in her concert t-shirt blanket, she’s wedged in between my legs as we lie outside on a lounge chair with the sunrise and the Hollywood sign as our canvas. Her head rests on my chest, our fingers laced together, and my arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, where they’ve been since the attack.
She was released from the hospital yesterday. Caleb and Xander drove up to Tahoe the day of the incident and stayed until it was time to leave. Caleb asked her more questions than the police, but the story was always the same. It was filled with very few details and a vague recollection of what the guy even said.
