Page 52 of Won't Back Down

“We’ll get you fixed up as soon as we get back to Sutter House.”

Because the light was starting to strobe from the pain, I shut my eyes again and tried to focus on literally anything else. Like the fact that Gabi clearly knew this guy. “New Orleans?”

“Remember that situationship I mentioned?” Gabi murmured.

“Yeah?”

“He’s him. I’ll explain everything later.”

“Holding you to that.”

Daniel fired up the motor, putting an end to any easy conversation. The trip to the north end of the island didn’t take long. Soon enough, we were easing up to our private dock. Daniel and Sawyer secured the vessel, then helped us out of the boat.

“We’ll get those knees cleaned, some meds for your migraine, and I’ll finish checking you over. I’ve got something that will help you sleep if the migraine meds don’t do it.”

“No!” Instinctively, I backed away from my friend into Sawyer.

His arms came around me. “It’s okay. Nobody’s gonna sedate you, Wren.”

I knew Gabi was staring. This wasn’t rational behavior, but I couldn’t stop myself. I’d get a little bit of a pass based on current circumstances, but I knew she’d have questions. And at some point, I was going to have to make explanations.

Conversation went on around me as we slowly made our way up to the house.

“—could have been a lot worse. The storm lost a lot of power once it made landfall. There’s a lot of cleanup to do, but the degree of objective damage could’ve been a lot worse.”

“—saying power will be restored in a couple days.”

“Our generator will hold out that long.”

“The roads will take longer.”

Everything felt very distant. As if I was observing it all from outside myself. That was good. Better. I didn’t feel the pain in my head so keenly this way.

It was Sawyer who cleaned my knees where I’d scraped them up when I’d fallen. Sawyer who cleaned my hands. After that, I sat docile through Gabi’s examination, unable to rouse myself to do more than offer one syllable answers.

Dissociation. That’s what my psychiatrist had called this. He’d always said it like it was a bad thing. But I needed the distance. Needed that wall between me and everything I was feeling. It was too much. I’d spent the last ten years actively avoiding exactly this. But maybe, if I could keep the wall in place, I could manage to do the hard thing and face the memories that had caused me so much trauma. Maybe somewhere on the other side of them were answers for all of us.

“I don’t like this, Sawyer. She’s way too shocky.”

“She’ll be better after she’s slept.”

I only half listened as she told him what to keep an eye out for. I was too busy reaching for the blissful tendrils of oblivion as my migraine meds began to kick in.

Sawyer was right. Everything would be better on the other side. It had to be.

CHAPTER 24

SAWYER

The police station made me twitchy. I’d never actually been arrested for anything in my youth, but the Wayward Sons had collectively been hauled in on multiple occasions. Rios and I most often because we didn’t have fine, upstanding parents to defend us. I knew it chapped Bill Carson’s ass that he’d never been able to make anything stick to either of us. The reality was that though we’d flaunted a few rules and raised a little hell, we’d never done anything legitimately wrong. That just flew in the face of how the police chief had always seen us.

But he’d wanted to talk to Willa and me. As it had been three days, we could only presume this had something to do with the preliminary results on the body. Since the water level had dropped and the wash outs had been temporarily repaired, we’d elected to come to him before our meeting with Roland O’Shea. I hoped that wasn’t a mistake and that whatever he had to say wasn’t going to set off another anxiety attack for Willa.

She’d been fine when she’d woken after the migraine. A little shaky maybe, but given that a body who’d clearly met a violent end had been found on her property, I figured that was normal. There were no more signs of shock or lingering trauma. She hadn’t woken with nightmares, and I was finally starting to relax again.

We’d managed to get the house set more or less back to normal, taking down the hurricane panels, cleaning up the debris in the yard, hauling back out all the plants and patio furniture. Electricity and phones were back in service. There were still repairs to be made, and I’d see to those, but I didn’t expect to be able to get supplies for that just yet.

“Miss Sutter. Thank you for coming.” Bill Carson gestured toward his office with no acknowledgment to me.