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He hangs up, and I move closer. I’d have to do the first part here, to get her in the house. Time is ticking since it’s a short drive.
“Everie?” I stick with the nickname since the asshole outside called her Everest. It also helps that it’s a name she associates with Tucker. She tenses when I take her hand. “It’s me, Walton Cambridge.” lift her hand and put it on my check. “You’re touching my face.” I use my free hand to release my top knot. My hair falls around my shoulder. Her fingers flex when some of it brushes her hand. I move her hand to my hair. “Look, my hair is out.” I cup her wrist and use it to run her hand over and down my hair.
“Disney?” she asks while still avoiding eye contact. She glances briefly at me, then down at Coco.
“Yes, baby. It’s me.” She nods but keeps her attention on her dog. “We’re home. I’m going to let you go just so I can get out and take you inside. Okay?”
She nods, but she’s still not herself. Quickly, I get out and move to her side, but opens the door slowly and gently to keep from spooking her.
“I’m about to pick you up,” I explain. “Coco is coming with us.”
I scoop her up and Coco follows with Mayhem trailing just in case someone made it through the gates. Whit holds the door open for me. He and Rowe have matching worried expressions, but Rowe looks down at something on his phone. Sparrow and Moonlight are inside worried in their own ways. Moonlight is holding a cup and Sparrow is wringing her fingers.
“I need a pitcher,” I say it to no one in particular, but Sparrow dashes off.
“I’m almost done making an elixir for her that’ll help her sleep,” Moonlight announces.
“Thank you, Rockstar. Give us about thirty minutes.” We both pause and look at each other.
Why did I call her that? She shakes her head to recenter her focus. It’s probably something from when we dated but I don’t have time for that right now.
“Okay, I’ll bring it up once it’s done,” she finally tells me.
“Thank you. Oh, easy on the lemon.” Her mouth drops open, but I’m on the move again.
I’m guessing it’s something I’ve said before. Maybe some of my memories of her are shaking loose since I’m in her presence often. Sparrow catches up with me at the top of the stairs and gives me the pitcher.
I kick my room door closed to give us privacy. “No, don’t lock me up. Don’t trap me.” Everie complains. Her eyes are glassy as she stares into the distance.
“I wouldn’t do that. I have to put you down to get water.”
Gently, I place her on the bed, and she’s back in the fetal position. “I don’t want water. Please let me go home. I want to go home. I’ll be good, I promise.”
I want to assure her, but the best way to end this is to follow Tucker’s instructions.
“I’m going to take off my clothes so we can get in the water.”
I’m only successful with taking off my boots because she gets up and runs to the door. I catch her before she can get far, but she screeches like I’m taking her.
“Don’t hurt me! Just let me go!”
“It’s me, Walt.” I repeat over and over as I walk us backwards into the bathroom.
“I can do it myself. I didn’t mean to pee myself. I’m a big girl. I now know how to hold it.” She wails while clawing at my forearm. I’m sure she’s breaking skin, but I refuse to let her go. Her mind is clearly somewhere else because she hasn’t peed.
She fights me again when I turn on the lukewarm water to fill the pitcher. I’m able to hold her to my side, but the exertion of holding her in place is making my arm burn. Her struggles knock over the pitcher and it takes every sane part of me not to follow her into hysteria. I’m not versed in this kind of therapy, and I’m failing miserably. My anxiety rises and I know it’ll be a problem if I don’t get a handle on this situation.
I turn Everie holding her to me in a bear hug and walk backwards into the shower. The sudden spray makes her jump. My chest mutes her wails as her body shakes from her sobs. I take a few deep breaths and bend until we’re in the correct position. The water softly pelts both of us as my eyes water from my own mental shit I’m trying to keep at bay.
“Oh my God,” she cries as if someone is breaking her heart and the only thing I can do is hold her to my chest and stroke her hair.
I hum, then singing the only song that popped into my head. By the time I get to the chorus of Stand by Me, she relaxes a little and joins me. We’re both crying by the end of the song.
I don’t know what happened to her, but every part of me wants to fix it. Her breathing slows to normal and I loosen my hold to look down at her. She sniffles but reaches up to wipe my tears as I check on her for signs of panic.
“Hi, Walt,” she whispers.
“Hi,” I respond, still scared to release her or look away.
She twirls some of my wet stands around her finger. “You stare too much…”
Relieved laughter bubbles in my throat as I pepper her with kisses on her forehead, nose, and cheeks.
