Midnight Lily(44)

"I'm sorry, Ry. I'm just too tired," he said, something coming into his eyes that caused a sharp spike of terror to stab through my gut. Something . . . something. I didn't know what. His hand loosened in mine, our sweaty palms slipping apart as I screamed. And as his body hit the ground below with a loud thud, I shattered.

He was gone.

He was gone.

Gone.

My hero was gone.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Ryan

I'd convinced Brandon to take me to Whittington. He'd humored me with a worried frown on his face. But I hadn't cared. I'd been desperate to find Lily. When we got to the gate, though, there was a rusty padlock on it that hadn't been there before. "It was open last time," I'd mumbled. After walking around the perimeter, we found a broken portion of the gate next to the garden and squeezed through.

The garden obviously hadn't been maintained in a very long time, but it was bursting with color, perhaps even more beautiful for its wildness, the way vines grew up the brick wall and everything blended together. Funny the things you notice even when your heart is breaking.

"This is the creepiest shit I've ever done," Brandon had muttered, as he’d followed me inside the building through the front door that was still unlocked from the last time I'd been here. "But kinda awesome, too," he’d admitted, a small chuckle following his words. For fifteen minutes, we'd wandered the mostly empty hallways, stepping around rusted wheelchairs, pushing aside heavy metal doors, looking inside small rooms that must have been cells once upon a time, me calling Lily's name again and again. That's when I'd found the rooms I’d recognized—the rooms I'd detoxed in. They were empty. There was no furniture, except a metal bedframe in the room where I'd made love to Lily.

I had, hadn't I?

I'd sagged against the doorframe, massaging my head, gasping for breath, whispering her name. I knew this place. I'd been here before.

No, no, no. "I don't understand," I'd gasped out.

Brandon's hand had gripped my shoulder. "Man, there's no Lily. Okay, whoever you thought you saw—"

"No!" I’d insisted, shrugging his hand off, despair racing through my veins. "No, I didn't f*cking imagine her. No. Lily! Jesus, Lily, please, please," I’d choked, gripping my head in my hands. God, had I made her up? Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. No, no, she was real. I wouldn't believe otherwise.

"Did you bring drugs with you, Ryan?" Brandon had finally asked. "Did you sneak drugs into your bag?"

I'd let out a shuddery breath. "Yes, but they weren't hallucinogens. They were pain pills. And . . . Look," I'd said excitedly, going over to the fireplace mantle, "no dust. How could there be no dust in here unless someone had been using it?" I’d looked at him expectantly, perhaps a little desperately.

Brandon’s hands had been in his pockets and he’d stared at me piteously and shrugged. "It's in the middle of the building? Sealed up tight. I don't know," he’d said. Clearly he hadn’t been convinced pain pills couldn't make me high enough to see shit, or he’d thought I was completely off my rocker. God, I was. I was off my rocker.

Oh my God. I was insane.

My father had told me I was crazy, and he was right.

He was right.

I was crazy.

I was worthless.

"No," I'd said weakly.

I had let Brandon lead me out of there. No. Lily, Lily, Lily . . .





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


Ryan



I saw her everywhere. Walking down sidewalks, in crowded restaurants, once in the brief flash of dark hair and white lace right before an elevator door closed. Without thinking, my heart thundering in my chest, I'd run up four flights of stairs only to find that it was someone else. Someone holding a little boy's hand. She'd pulled him closer to her side as she’d exited the elevator, looking at me warily as if I might grab him and run.

Those were the times I still doubted my own sanity, still questioned whether she had ever existed at all. But then I'd remember the feel of her fingertips on my skin, the slippery silk of her hair, the sound of her laughter, and the way I loved her still, and I'd know, I'd know, deep down to my soul that she was real.

I dreamed of her, and in the darkness, she held me in her arms. In the darkness, she whispered that I was strong enough to hold on, that I was worthy of the love she'd given, and she reminded me who I was before I was anyone at all.

My Lily of the Night. Only of the moon.

Because now, just as then, when daylight came, she was no longer there.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


Ryan



"During the time you were in Colorado, did you ever question whether you were really Holden?" Dr. Katz asked. She never wrote anything on the notepad on her lap, so I wondered why she had it sitting there. Maybe she vigorously scrawled out notes between appointments and wanted to make sure it was at the ready. Maybe she just held it to look professional. Did I want a doctor who needed props to convince her patient she was professional?

I'd seen a psychiatrist the first six months I was back in San Francisco, but he seemed less interested in hearing my story than in prescribing medication. The last thing I'd thought I needed was more damn pills. And so about a month ago, I'd made an appointment with a psychologist. Maybe I just needed to talk to someone. This was only my third appointment, and despite her notepad prop, I liked her.