Page 25 of The Executioners Three

F reddie had only ever entered the tiny Berm hospital twice in her life. Once on the day of her birth. And second, on the day her father had died.

She’d been five years old when Frank had passed away, but the beige linoleum floors and smell of rubbing alcohol had been forever branded into her brain.

She remembered her mother’s swollen eyes, and how Mom had hugged Freddie so tightly that Freddie had thought her ribs might break.

She remembered Steve’s pinched lips, and how he’d let Freddie have an entire Milky Way all to herself.

She never got to say goodbye to Frank Carter.

They told her it was because it was too awful for a five-year-old to see, and she hadn’t argued. The blanched faces on the doctors, the way they had rushed in and out with scrubs and scowls and blood all over…

She’d been scared of what she might find within. Then at 12:46 (Freddie had known because there’d been a clock on the vending machine), her mom had come out and told her that her dad had passed away. The heart attack had been too strong; Frank hadn’t been able to overcome it.

Freddie had tried to feel sad about this. It was what people had seemed to expect from her. But she hadn’t been sad. In the hospital or at the funeral a few days later. How could she be sad when she’d barely known the man?

Grief, she discovered, did come eventually.

Less sharp and wild than in the movies, more textured and heavy.

A sensation only elevated by the unspoken rule that had settled over her house like a shroud.

Freddie hadn’t known her dad; now she never would.

She would forever be the girl whose dad had died.

In the twelve years since Freddie had come to the hospital, the linoleum had been updated to a cool gray, and they’d added fake plants that did give the space slightly nicer appeal. The alcohol smell was the same, though. And the autumn bite outside—she remembered that being the same too.

Freddie went straight to the front desk and asked to see Mrs. Ferris. The nice man told her to head to the third floor, so after an elevator ride and two hallways, Freddie found herself walking into a tiny waiting area.

It looked identical to the one from twelve years ago. So much so that her throat closed up, and her feet stopped working midstride. Over there was the vending machine. Beside it was the muted TV with closed captioning. Even the mauve seating looked exactly as she remembered.

But no. This wasn’t that waiting area. This wasn’t even the same floor. And now someone else was sauntering into the room from the opposite hallway—someone with tawny hair and a navy blazer.

He caught sight of Freddie right as she caught sight of him, and just as Freddie had done three seconds before, Theo Porter drew up short.

Freddie gasped. Theo looked awful . His left eye was swollen and purple, his jaw was worse, and even from across the room, she thought she could make out individual finger marks around his neck.

Without thinking—and completely forgetting what she’d told Divya less than an hour ago—Freddie crossed the room.

Theo didn’t move. He just watched her approach, expression inscrutable.

And the closer Freddie got, the worse he looked.

Stitches cinched across his eyebrow. A gash marring his right cheek, and the top of his lip busted too.

She halted before him and stared up. She itched to reach for him, to touch him. But her mind was smarter than her muscles. She balled her hands at her sides. “You look terrible,” she said instead.

He huffed a laugh. “Thanks?”

“What happened?”

His chin tipped so he could assess her from the bottom of his eyes. “I made the mistake of trying to do a good thing.”

“Oh.” It was all Freddie could say. Especially since she could relate to that sentiment. She’d only wanted the same when she’d called the cops on a bunch of drunk kids in the trees.

But at least that had only earned her the enmity of an entire school. Not a pummeled face.

Theo cut past Freddie, aiming toward a nearby chair. After knocking a backpack to the floor, he sank onto the seat. Freddie eased into the chair beside him. “Does it hurt?”

“I mean, it doesn’t feel great.” He picked at a loose thread on his blazer. “I see you got your camera back?”

Freddie blinked, startled by the subject change—but also willing to play along. “Yes, I did.” She held out the Nikon. “Xena, meet Theo. Theo, meet Xena.” She pitched her voice high. “Hi, Theo! Don’t get too close or me and Gabrielle will getcha!”

Theo did not laugh. In fact, he didn’t react at all.

And Freddie sighed. “No snooty retort for me, Mr. Porter?”

“Not today, Gellar.” His tongue flicked over his upper lip. He winced. Then shifted forward to brace his elbows on his knees.

Which left Freddie staring at his hunched profile, broken and defeated.

It was so strange to see him that way. This was not the perfectly composed Theo of the Quick-Bis, nor the arrogant Theo from pageant practice.

Nor even the restless Theo—the one she’d seen outside of Sheriff Bowman’s house and beside the water mill too.

This was sad Theo, and even if he was her enemy, Freddie didn’t like to see him this way. “Is… is your grandmother really bad?” It was the only explanation she could conjure.

But he shook his head. “Actually, she’s doing okay. The doctors were able to stitch up the cuts on her back, and they don’t think the knock on her head will leave any permanent damage. Though…” He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s hard to know for sure until she wakes up.”

Freddie frowned at her hands, guilt unspooling in her belly. “So she hasn’t woken up yet?”

“No.” Theo glanced her way. His expression softened. “She’ll be alright, though. Thanks to you. You are the one who found her, right?”

“Yeah,” Freddie tried to say, but it came out tight. “The thing is, though… I just…” She wet her lips. Fidgeted with Xena.

“You just?” Theo nudged.

“It’s just… Well, it’s basically my fault she’s here at all.

” Freddie covered her face with her hands.

Then in a torrent of words, she told Theo all the terrible things she hadn’t had the guts to admit to Divya.

About how she should have stopped Mrs. Ferris.

About how she should never have gone back to get Steve.

About how if she had just been stronger or smarter or remembered she had a phone now, Mrs. Ferris wouldn’t be in the hospital at all.

Freddie didn’t know why she told Theo all of this. Maybe it was because she didn’t feel like she deserved his gratitude, or maybe because the guilt was finally boiling over.

Or maybe it was just because he looked like a wreck and she felt like one.

There was something comforting in that. Either way, she reached the end of her story and, face still in her hands, she mumbled, “So you see? If I had just been more forceful, then maybe she would never have gone down that trail and whatever attacked her—”

A hand landed on Freddie’s shoulder. She broke off.

“You know everything you just said is really stupid, right?” Theo bent over and tried to meet her eyes.

“Uh…”

He smiled—the first smile since Freddie had walked in here.

It was nice. “Most people would’ve gone by and ignored her, Gellar.

In fact…” He straightened, pulling Freddie upright with him.

“I bet people did go by and ignore her. But you didn’t.

You saved her life and I’m grateful.” He shrugged. “I don’t have much family left.”

“Huh,” Freddie replied. Not her most clever retort, but it was hard to think straight when Theo was looking at her like he was right now. He had a very intense stare (clearly, that ran in the family).

Plus, his fingers were still on her shoulder. They were warm.

“Do the police know what happened to her? Or the doctors?” Freddie was relieved she sounded like a normal human. She didn’t feel like a normal human with his hand touching her like that.

“They’re saying it was a wild animal. Maybe a wolf.”

“That was not a wolf.” The words slipped out before Freddie could stop them. But Theo didn’t contradict her. If anything, he seemed to agree.

His hand was still resting on her shoulder.

“Whatever it was,” he said slowly, “I’m not sure we’ll know for certain until Grandma wakes up. My aunt is kinda preoccupied with something else right now.”

Not just your aunt, Freddie thought. Something was bothering Theo too—something more than his injured grandmother. Something that explained the shiner swelling around his left eye.

“What happened to you?” she asked softly.

Theo’s lips parted, as if he might answer. As if he wanted to. But a heartbeat later, he only wagged his head. His hand fell away.

For some reason, Freddie wished it hadn’t. “Hey, Theo,” she said before he could retreat within himself. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Maybe.” A smile flitted over his lips. “Although my favors don’t come cheap.”

“Is that so?” Now Freddie was the one smiling. “Well, how much would this cost: I need you to call me when your grandmother wakes up.”

“Ah.” His smile dissolved. “ That I will do for free.”

“Oh.” Freddie swallowed.

“Here.” He crooked over and yanked a spiral-bound notebook from his backpack. After flipping to the last page and slipping a pen from his blazer pocket, he offered both to Freddie. “Write down your phone number.”

“Oh,” she repeated—although it came out a bit squeakier this time. This was the second instance in one week that she had given her number to a boy. And sure, Theo only wanted it because she had just asked him to call, but something about the way he was looking at her made it feel different.

Remember your vow to Divya! STAY STRONG.

Freddie was extremely careful not to brush Theo’s fingers as she took the paper and pen. Then, after scrawling down Sabrina’s number, she glanced up. “What’s your phone number?”

“No number,” he murmured, watching Freddie and not the paper. “I lost my phone last night.”