My Salvation: A Contemporary Reverse Harem Romance

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My Salvation: A Contemporary Reverse Harem Romance Page 23

by Stella Brie


  Stopping, I take a few deep breaths. Thayer rolls up beside me. “What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

  Shaking my head from side to side, I notice a bathroom tucked under the stairs. “Excuse me, please. I need to use the restroom.”

  Skirting around Thayer, I practically run into the room. Closing the door, I lean against it, my body sagging in relief. I don’t know if I can do this; am I strong enough? Running the cold water, I splash some on my face and wrists, trying to regain my composure. The mirror reflects my fear. Closing my eyes, I work on breathing for a few seconds before opening them. The fear is still there, but hopefully I look calmer if nothing else.

  When I get out, Thayer is waiting for me.

  Damn it, I think. Why couldn’t he leave me to find my own way? I’ve been here several times.

  “Oh, you didn’t need to wait. I know the way,” I tell him, hoping he will take the hint and go.

  Smiling widely, he gestures to the living room. “After you.”

  Steeling my spine, I walk towards the living room. My ears strain to hear the direction of the chair behind me. He’s following close behind me. Too close. Panic creeps up again. Breathing shallowly, I work to catch my breath. Turning my head slightly, I catch the chair in the corner of my eye. Stumbling, I walk into the doorway to the living room.

  “Ouch. Damn it.” My face smarts from the impact with the doorframe. I hear the chair stop on my left.

  “What the hell? Are you drunk?” Thayer peers at me as he tries to figure out what’s going on.

  “No, I’m not drunk. It’s the afternoon.” Glaring at him for a second, I wait for him to move away. Glancing down at the chair, my fear spikes. I grip the doorframe. “I simply ran into the door. Do you mind?” Gesturing for him to move the chair, I wait.

  His eyes narrow in speculation. Grasping the controller, he moves the chair in my direction. I back into the wall. His face lights up with anger. “Are you afraid of the wheelchair? You’re a doctor, for fuck’s sake. How can you be afraid of it?”

  Lev, Lowell, and Shaw stand up in the living room and cross over to us when they hear Thayer’s loud voice questioning me. They take in the scene as they step closer.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Shaw growls, his voice tight as he looks from Thayer to me. Given that Thayer has me practically backed into the corner, I can see how this might look.

  “It’s nothing. I wasn’t paying attention and walked into the doorway,” I interject.

  “You walked into the wall because you’re afraid of the wheelchair.” Thayer’s anger spills over as he explains the situation. “She’s a fucking doctor, and she’s scared of a man in a wheelchair. Wow, what compassion.”

  When Shaw turns his gaze towards me, I close my eyes. I can’t hide from this. Straightening, I pull back my shoulders and open my eyes to face the music. Looking at all four of them in turn, I admit it. “He’s right. But he’s also wrong. Can we all sit down?”

  Thayer wheels himself towards the living room. I indicate someone else to follow Thayer, to put some distance between us. Lev follows Thayer. Lowell reaches down and grasps my hand and pulls me toward the living room, leaving Shaw to bring up the rear.

  Lowell guides us over to the couch, leaving the chairs for Lev and Shaw. They all look towards me as we sit down. “You don’t have to tell us anything, my dear. It’s none of our business. I love you, and I stand by whatever decision you make here. We all have nasty, rotten skeletons in our closets. Yours belong to you.”

  “No, I need to hear this story,” Thayer demands, his anger spilling over. “Not only is she a gold digger, she’s obviously a piss poor doctor, too.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you want,” Lowell states quietly in return, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “She doesn’t have to tell us this story. She owes you nothing.”

  Taking a deep breath, I exhale in a steady stream. My throat tightens, and my eyes burn.

  I clear my throat a few times. “Fuck it. You want the truth? Fine. Then, you can fuck off.” Swallowing, I jump into the beginning. “The gunman shot Collin once, but his aim was perfect. It impacted Collin’s vertebrae and spinal cord. For the first few months, both Collin and I were in recovery. Our only focus was living. Once we were out of the hospital, I went home. Collin went into a rehabilitation center to learn basic functions, as his nervous system had been greatly impacted.”

  Looking over at Lev, I request a glass of water. My eyes track over to Shaw, whose hands are clenched. I don’t know if he’s angry or what, but given that he won’t meet my eyes, I’m not sure. Lowell’s thumb caresses my hand. Thankful for that small gesture, I glance up at his green eyes and give him a weak smile.

  Lev comes back with the water and takes a seat beside me. After taking a few sips, I set it down and continue.

  “Even after months of rehab, Collin never regained sensation in his lower body.” Looking over at Thayer, I see his face whiten. “He was diagnosed a paraplegic. And not only did this impact his life, it also impacted his career.” Thayer’s eyes bore into me as he waits for me to continue. “Collin was a neurosurgeon. After the shooting, his muscle control was weak and inconsistent, causing his hands to shake. He would never operate again.”

  Picking up the water, I use the coolness to ease the tension in my throat. I’d never told anyone this part of the story. While my mother had guessed some, she never knew the full picture.

  “When he finally came home, he was so cold to me. I hoped with time he would realize he was alive, and while changed, his life could still have meaning. He could be a doctor, just not a surgeon. Or if he wanted to do something else, I would help him find a new path. I tried to get him to go to group therapy, but he refused. The only time he left the house was to go to rehab. The rest of the time, he researched spinal cord injuries day and night, trying to find a cure. For the rest of the first year, we visited every doctor in the world who specialized in spinal injuries.”

  Knowing the toughest parts were coming, I took a few minutes just to breathe.

  “Each disappointing visit ate at his hope until not an ounce was left. For a month, I think he was just empty. There was little response to anything. He stopped going to rehab. Stopped talking. It’s as if he was frozen, waiting for death. When death didn’t save him, he filled himself with rage and bitterness. All of it directed towards me. I was the reason this had happened, after all.”

  My lips twist in remembrance. Lev puts his arm around me and squeezes me tight. Lowell sweeps my hair back from my face. Taking a deep breath, I turn to each of them and smile in reassurance.

  “His hate was brutal and alive. It’s as if a creature entered our home and took over. He allowed it free reign to spew constant hate and abuse. At first, I fought it. I tried everything possible to get him to counseling or get through to him. Nothing worked. I gave up, and then my brain stopped thinking and started listening and believing. If it wasn’t my fault he couldn’t be a surgeon, then who’s fault was it? A grieving father’s? It was a deliberate act of violence in response to my decisions. I didn’t pull the trigger, but it was my fault.”

  My hands shake as I reach out for the glass of water and take a drink. I don’t trust myself to set it down, so I hand it to Lev to set on the coffee table.

  “Once I accepted it was my fault, the verbal abuse stopped having the same impact. It didn’t stop. No, he had too much fun spewing hate towards me. It had new life, after all. It could see I believed it. But it wasn’t enough for Collin. He needed me to hurt. That’s when the physical abuse began.” Shaw jumps up and starts pacing. “At first, he would squeeze my arm or pull my hair when I was helping him in and out of the chair. It was so subtle; I didn’t even realize it was going on. He would berate me for picking him up the wrong way, or for not putting my hair up so it got caught in his arms. And I believed him. He would never hurt me. And he was in a wheelchair, he needed my help. Until the night when the creature lost control and the wheelchair became a weapo
n.” Looking over at Thayer, I watch as the anger drains from his face. “The last few months of our marriage were hell. Every day. I only got a reprieve at night because I slept in the guest bedroom. During the day, though, he used it to hurt me. He would constantly run into me until my body was black and blue from the waist down. When I avoided him, he used his need for assistance to get me closer.”

  Staring at Thayer, I acknowledge his earlier statement. “You’re right. I’m afraid of wheelchairs. But I can control it at work. I can’t control it around someone who looks like my husband and is full of anger. It’s too many triggers for me.”

  “Why didn’t you leave him?” Thayer’s voice is rough as he asks.

  Laughing hysterically, I reply, “Yes, let’s examine why I didn’t leave my husband. Before the shooting, he was the man of my dreams. He thought the world of me. We were the golden couple. Both specialists in our field, young and ready to take on the world. After the shooting, there was so much anger and hate from friends and colleagues, from the press, and from the public, I felt I deserved it. All those people couldn’t be wrong. It must be my fault. So, when my own husband started telling me I was at fault and punished me for it, I believed him. Why would I leave? I was lucky to have him. He was one of only two people left in the world who loved me.”

  Lev squeezes tighter. My voice is soft as I finish explaining. “Thankfully, my mom came to visit, and when she saw what was happening, she made me come home with her for a month. While I was there, she painstakingly wiped clean the abuse from my heart and soul. She made me realize that even if it was my fault - which she could not convince me it wasn’t - that it didn’t give him the right to abuse me. Nobody had the right to abuse me, especially not my husband. She gave me my strength back, and I knew I couldn’t live like this anymore. I went home to face Collin.”

  Rolling my shoulders and neck, I try to ease my tension. Shaw comes over and rubs my shoulders for a few minutes. Looking up, I thank him and notice the tears burning in his eyes. Inhaling, I finish my story.

  “When I got home, Collin was worse. It’s as if my physical ability to leave triggered something fanatic in him. I told him I was divorcing him. He spewed abuse for hours before going to bed.” My eyes drift to the past as I think about that night. “Later that night, I woke up to find Collin sitting by my bed with a gun in his hand.” Shaw’s hands tighten on my shoulders. “He didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything either. We sat there for hours, staring at each other. At first I was terrified, but then anger came to my rescue. In the morning, I told him I was going out to get breakfast and if he was going to shoot me, he should do it before I left. He shook his head. I left to get breakfast. While I was gone, he committed suicide.” Sadness chokes me as I think about that day. Shaking it off, I look at Thayer, anger shining brightly in my eyes. “So now you know the worst of my story. This was fun. Next time, let’s flay you open and pull out your guts, OK?” I watch as his face flushes with embarrassment and shame.

  Standing up, I smile sadly at Lowell, Lev, and Shaw. I don’t know what to think about today. One part of me understands they needed to hear the story, but the other part wishes they had just stood up to Thayer and told him to “fuck off.” I know it’s unreasonable. After all, I insisted on telling the story, but I don’t delve into their wounds from the Army or make them tell me how it felt to have Vanessa leave them and marry another.

  It’s my story. Having to tell them my history in defense of my fear is even worse. It pisses me off. I am tired of defending myself. At least Lowell spoke up and asked if I wanted him to tell Thayer to fuck off.

  Tugging Lowell off the couch, I walk out, holding his hand. When we get to my car, I give him a deep kiss to thank him for offering a way out.

  “I’ll text you later, darling,” I tell him as I get in the car.

  Driving back to the apartment, sobs rack my body so bad, I have to pull off the road.

  Fucking asshole, Thayer. Fuck you!

  My hand holds my stomach, as if to keep my insides from spilling out further. I sit there crying for an hour before I can gain enough control to drive home.

  CHAPTER 35

  THAYER

  Staring outside at the mountains nearby, my mind replays Kate’s story over and over, as if the self-flagellation can abolish my guilt. I pushed her into telling the worst part of her history. And for what? To prove to my brothers she wasn’t who they needed or loved? Why? I’d relied on their sound judgement and gut instinct for years. Hell, in the Army, they saved my life more times than I could count. And yet I doubted their character assessment and feelings for the one woman they’ve known intimately for months and I’ve known only for days. I know they don’t love easily, so why didn’t I take that into account?

  Her story was devastating and remarkable. As a doctor, I empathize with her simple mistake. Medications impact individuals differently, and to have one decision result in the unintended deaths of many was devastating. As doctors, we enter the field to save lives, not destroy them.

  As a previous soldier, I admire her tenacity in surviving and rebuilding her life with the pieces that were left to her. She literally went through a war and came out the other side weary and wounded, but with a renewed determination to survive.

  As a man, though, I cannot reconcile her capacity to love and trust my brothers after all she endured at the hands of her husband. How? And not just one, but three men. After the cruelty and abuse her husband heaped on her, I cannot fathom her ability to take another chance with them. The guts of it all.

  I need to cultivate some of that trust myself. Instead of moving on from Vanessa, I allowed her life decisions to shape mine, my anger and bitterness driving me from one adrenaline-fueled stunt to the next, until finally driving me into a reckless accident.

  Air displaces behind me, and I know Shaw is standing there. Turning around the wheelchair, I brace myself for his anger. Instead, I find a mix of emotions swirling in his eyes. Anger, fear, sadness, and even understanding.

  Raising my hands, I stare at him in misery. “I don’t even know what to say. I knew she was hiding something, but I never expected she hid such hate and abuse. And I didn’t trust you to know your own damn minds. To know whatever she was keeping from you wasn’t because of you, but because she couldn’t speak of it.” He says nothing, as if his words are muted. “Fuck, I wish you would just punch me.” Raising my jaw, I move closer to him. His hand clenches with anger, as if the need is there, but he doesn’t move.

  “I’m not going to fucking punch you, Thayer. Although I did think about it. This whole situation is so unlike you, I don’t even know where to begin digging. Given your background, you know skeletons are real.”

  Nodding, I think about my shit childhood. While I didn’t lack for anything money could buy, I lived in a house full of secrets not fit for the outside world. Thinking about how they would look to an outsider, I shudder. I would hate the person who shined a light on those secrets.

  “All I can think about is her story. All of it. Not just the part about her husband. To go through all of it and come out the other side? It’s a miracle she loves and trusts you bastards at all.” Rolling back over to the windows, I wince as I hear the whirring noise of the chair. After hearing Kate’s story, the sound haunts me. “You’re lucky to have found each other.”

  “What is driving all this, Thayer? Help me understand, man.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. I was in the hospital, scared I wouldn’t walk again, and suddenly you are all speaking about finding one woman to share again. This inescapable feeling of fear, anger, and despair rose up in me.”

  Shaw’s quiet as he thinks about it from my angle. “It’s a hell of a lot to take in when you haven’t been around for the last six months.”

  “It’s not that I haven’t been around for six months. The passage of time is different for me. One day I’m skiing recklessly downhill, trying to outrun my demons, and the next day I’m hearing I have been in a coma fo
r six months and may not be able to walk. For me, it’s as if two days passed, not six months. And then to hear my brothers have found someone to love? Without me.”

  “I’m sorry, Thayer. I know it doesn’t help, but I truly mean it.” Standing beside me, he drops a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “But this can’t continue. We need her. I need her. I’m here to help you in whatever capacity you need. But you need to figure out your shit. If by some miracle she doesn’t run, then she will be a part of our lives.”

  “Where should I start? I feel like I have three strikes against me. I look like her husband. I am in a wheelchair, the instrument of her torture and abuse. And I have only shown her my asshole side. It feels hopeless.” My fingers pick at the controller on the chair as I wait for his answer.

  “Mm. I’ve been giving it some thought, but I wanted to be sure you were open to hearing it first.”

  Motioning for him to continue, I turn the wheelchair around to face him.

  “We need her to see past the physical to the man underneath.” Shaw’s voice is distant as he reasons out the strategy for moving forward. “When I first met you, I thought you were an entitled prick. Your arrogance when speaking to others was astounding. Hell, I didn’t like you at all.”

  Grimacing, I give a half-hearted laugh. I never knew he didn’t like me. “What made you change your mind?”

  “After that first big skirmish we were in together. When those wounded men were brought to you, you were relentless. Your determination to save their lives was astounding. Nothing could hold you back. Not the sheer number of hours you worked, the conditions, or the type of wound. It didn’t matter. If there was a possibility a soldier would live, you were there to drag them away from death. Over and over. I knew then I wanted you at my back and as my friend.”

  My face heats as I listen to his words. I never knew why we had become such close friends. Shaw has always been picky about who he lets in his inner circle. At the time, I just felt lucky he’d picked me.

 

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