Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks Series Book 2)

by Abigail Davies

  I stare straight ahead as someone knocks on the door of my hospital room and walks in. I no longer have the spot on the wall to stare at that I did in the other room I was in until a few days ago. Now I have a painting of a sunset Harmony hung on the wall after coming to visit me on the first day I’d been moved to this ward.

  She told me all about the painting and what inspired her to make it as she was hanging it, not having a care in the world that she was making a hole in the wall of a hospital.

  All the while she was describing the colors and the techniques she used, I stared at it, not feeling any of the emotion I’m sure everyone else does when they look at it.

  I felt nothing, just like my legs.

  My gaze flits over to the middle-aged man who just walked in, his brown eyes shining bright at me as he smiles, showing me his teeth.

  “Beth—”

  “Amelia,” I interrupt.

  “Oh,” he stutters, looking down at the tablet he holds in his hands. “I have a Beth Waters here—”

  “That’s me,” I reluctantly reply, my voice hoarse. I only talk when I have to, which isn’t often at all. My voice almost sounds like someone else’s now, not being used to the sound of it as it hits my ears. “But call me Amelia.”

  “Ahhh, okay, got it.” I move my eyes from him, having given him enough attention. “I’m here to take your cast off,” he adds, but I don’t acknowledge him any further as he brings over his tools and sets them up on the table. “It must be unbearably itchy now, huh?”

  I shrug, but inside a little more of me dies.

  I wouldn’t know if it’s itchy on account of not being able to feel a goddamn thing.

  Six weeks. Six weeks of lying in this bed, hardly moving a muscle in the hopes that the swelling will go down and I’ll magically wake up one day and have all of the sensation back in my legs.

  I’m still waiting for the magic to kick in, but right now I’m starting to accept the fact I may never be able to walk or feel my legs again.

  He gets to work, taking off the cast and talking nonstop as he does. Once the cast is off, he holds it up, a grin spreading over his face as if we’ve been having the most riveting conversation in the history of conversations.

  “Souvenir?”

  I close my eyes, taking a deep calming breath before shaking my head and waiting for him to gather his stuff and leave.

  I don’t want to be reminded of being inside these four walls or what put me here in the first place.

  As soon as Phoebe’s face appears in my mind, I open my eyes, not willing myself to go down that route. I want to remain numb, because that’s the only way I’m sure to be able to survive right now. If I allow myself to relive the memories there won’t be any going back. I’m protecting myself, even if it means pushing everyone away and letting myself dissipate before their eyes.

  The guy walks over to the door, pulling it open and then turning around to face me. “A doctor should be in to see you soon and talk about when you’ll start your physiotherapy.” I keep my expression neutral, my eyes dead, but it doesn’t faze him as he smiles again. “It was nice to meet you, Amelia.”

  “I’m sure it was,” I think as he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him and leaving me staring at the sunset, hating everything about it.

  The incessant bobbing of my knee isn’t helping the urge I feel to run out of the conference room. I’ve been back at work for six weeks now but every second has felt like a chore. I have no love for law right now, not when justice seems so far away for Amelia.

  They still haven’t found Phoebe and are no closer to. Every day that passes by seems like another day she has to get away with what she’s done. I’m pissed. No, I’m beyond pissed.

  It’s been seven weeks that I’ve had to sit by Amelia’s bed, not knowing what’s going on between us. I’m well aware it’s the least important thing that’s going on in her life right now, but I can’t help feeling like she’s given up on us—on life.

  Apart from one-worded answers without so much as a flicker of emotion, she hasn’t talked to me—won’t talk to me. She lies in bed staring at the same damn spot on the wall and I don’t know what to do anymore.

  I’ve been as patient as possible because none of this is easy, but it’s bleeding into my work life, and I can’t let that happen. This is my business and—

  “Nate?”

  “Huh?” I look up from the papers on the table in front of me into Marina’s concerned brown eyes before looking at everyone else’s sympathetic faces.

  That’s another thing I’m sick of. Once news got around about what happened to my girlfriend, everyone has been giving me a wide berth, scared I’ll flip, but that’s not my personality, it never has been.

  I’m laid-back Nate. Not this tightly wound, vacant shell I’ve been walking around in for the last seven weeks.

  “Johnson?”

  “Right,” I clear my throat and relay the information on my latest case, trying to pretend I’m not thinking about Amelia. I haven’t seen her since she was supposed to have her cast off a few days ago; letting her have a little space.

  Space. I hate that word. None of this would be happening if “space” hadn’t been given in the first place.

  “And that’s everything for today. Keep up the good work, guys,” Marina says, dismissing everyone. I pinch the bridge of my nose when they start to file out of the room, leaving me and Marina behind. She pulls up a chair beside me and leans back in it, crossing a leg over the other. “I think it’s time you took a sabbatical.”

  I know she’s right, but the alternative of sitting in the hospital while Amelia gives me the cold shoulder, knowing there’s nothing I can do or say to change her behavior toward me is something I can’t bear.

  I scrub my hand gently through my three-day stubble. “I appreciate your concern but—”

  “You’re burned out.” I meet her eyes. “I’m not talking to you as a business colleague, I’m talking to you as a friend. You need time to heal.”

  “Heal?” I scoff. “I’m not the one lying in a hospital bed unable to move my legs.”

  “Don’t be facetious, it doesn’t suit you.” She pauses. “What I meant was that you had a few days to come to terms with all of this before you threw yourself back into work. You’re working five different cases and I’m not saying you’re not doing a great job, because you are. But that’s all you’re doing and focusing on. I understand you need to keep your mind busy, but it’s okay to delegate some of the work like you would normally do.”

  I tear my gaze away from her, my teeth grinding together. Every minute I’m not in the hospital, I’m working. What she’s telling me isn’t anything new to my ears. My mom and dad have been telling me the same thing. I haven’t been for family dinners since the accident, or hardly spoken to them. It took my dad coming into the office to get me to call my mom two weeks after because she was so worried about me.

  “Nate?” My gaze snaps back to Marina.

  Admitting defeat, I sigh. “I can hardly concentrate on anything else but her.”

  “Everyone understands that you need to be there. We picked our staff because they were resilient and more than capable of picking up extra work if need be, so lay it on them and go see your girl.”

  The dark cloud hanging over my head brightens as I pick up my pen and write down a list of things that need to be done and who to hand them over to. At the end of the list, the pen hovers over the paper as I think over Tris’s case.

  They’re finally on the register as foster parents and we’re in the midst of getting baby Frankie in their arms, but the truth is, Kayla has been the one taking the reins on that; she deserves all the credit and her name on it.

  I decide to talk to Tris before Kayla and slide the paper over to Marina who reads it over.

  “I want updates on each case.”

  “Of course,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “This isn’t my first rodeo, we’ve been running the firm for over fiv
e years now. I can handle everything else.”

  “Thanks.” I stand, already feeling like I’m shedding a huge burden.

  She follows suit and places her hand on my arm comfortingly. “We built this business together because we trust and respect each other. I don’t know about you but it’s not just because you’re one of the best damn lawyers I’ve ever seen in a courtroom that I respect you. Your willingness to help people and better their lives coupled with the love you have for the people around you is something I’ve always admired.” She pauses before adding, “Now go take care of those people you love. I have everything handled.”

  Handing the reins over isn’t an easy feat; the stress is lifted but it comes with a small burden of guilt for up and leaving everything in my wake. I know and trust that everything will be okay, but the guilt is still there nonetheless.

  After leaving the office, I know I need to talk to Tris about his case so I message him while stuck in traffic on the way to the hospital. I couldn’t think of anywhere else I wanted—or needed—to go other than to see Amelia.

  As I park in the lot, my cell beeps and I pull it out as I exit the car and walk toward the front doors of the hospital.

  TRISTAN: I’m on my way to the hospital, too, I had a spare hour or two from work. See you there.

  I don’t bother replying, sliding it back into my pocket and greeting the receptionist with a small wave as I head toward the ward Amelia is on.

  “Come to see your girl?” Freda, one of the nurses, asks as I walk toward the desk.

  “Yeah. You’re looking lovelier than ever.” I finish with a wink and she blushes, shaking her head.

  “Oh stop, you!” She taps my forearm gently.

  I give her a tentative smile. “How is she?”

  The one she returns is strained. “Still no change I’m afraid.”

  I sigh. “Can I go in?”

  “Sure.”

  Walking down the hallway to her door and opening it, I paint a bright smile on my face but Amelia doesn’t turn her head toward me, choosing to stare out of the window as I close it behind me.

  “Hey.” Her shoulders stiffen at the sound of my voice but I ignore her reaction and sit down on a chair, picking up a magazine off her nightstand and flicking through it. “I don’t know how you can read these things.”

  I throw it back down where it was and she jumps at the little slap it makes against the wood, finally turning to look at me for the first time with a glare on her face.

  The dark circles under her eyes tell of the sleepless nights she’s been having and the sallowness of her skin adds to my need to scoop her into my arms and hold her.

  I look around the room; apart from a TV that’s sitting in the corner of the wall and a few magazines and books scattered on a unit, there’s not much here for her to do; she must be going out of her mind.

  “Is there anything I can get you?” I find myself asking. “Drink, food, entertainment?”

  Her lip twitches and I see her gaze briefly flick over to her empty glass before moving back to the wall in front of her, refusing to talk to me.

  “If you’re thirsty, you only have to ask.” This is our routine every time I visit. I try and coax her into snapping at me because it’s the better alternative to sitting in tension-filled silence with all the questions and things I want to say to her rattling around in my head. “Come on, just say, ‘Yes, I’m thirsty,’ and I’ll go and get you a drink.” Her hand clenches around the blanket and I smirk; any reaction is better than nothing. “No? Then I guess we’ll sit here and I’ll tell you about my day then.”

  I go into a detailed account of my boring day, leaving out the fact that I’m taking a little time off work. I don’t want her to know just yet, I don’t want that burden put on her because I know how she’ll react. If she knows I’ve taken time off to be with her then she’ll only blame herself and possibly push me away more—if that’s possible.

  After my speech, she lies with her arms crossed over her chest, chewing her bottom lip as she stares ahead.

  I stand and get a flick of her gaze before it’s back on the wall. “I’ll get you that drink, but only because I don’t want you getting dehydrated.”

  I grab the glass off the nightstand and walk out of the room, leaning back against the door as I close my eyes.

  “Rough day?”

  Tris’s voice has me opening my eyes. “She still won’t talk to me. I had to leave the room before I blew a fuse.”

  He motions toward a few seats and we walk over, sitting down. “I know you’re trying to spare her feelings but I don’t think she realizes how much she’s hurting you by freezing you out.”

  I wait a few beats before saying, “I’m taking time off work.”

  He shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest. His reaction isn’t what I expected from him. “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long.” I raise a brow at him and he chuckles. “Understandably you’ve been a little out of it since the accident and I know you’ve wanted to be by her side every second of the day.”

  “I’ve been here as much as I can.”

  “And it isn’t healthy for you. You can’t be in two places at once.”

  I nod. “Which is why I need to take a step back from your case with Frankie.” His brow furrows. “Kayla, will take over. She has a lot of experience with cases like yours. You know I wouldn’t hand it over to her if I didn’t think she would take care of you.”

  He puts a hand on my arm. “Nate, it’s okay. I understand and so will Harmony.”

  I swallow down my guilt and smile. “I guess you better get on in there. Hopefully she’ll take to you being there better than she did with me.”

  He stands. “She’ll get there, she’s hurting.”

  I give him a tight smile and watch as he walks into her room. I know she’s hurting, but I’m hurting, too.

  Nate takes ahold of my hand, bringing it to his lips, his gaze not moving from mine as he places a gentle kiss on my knuckles.

  The air around us crackles with tension so palpable I’m sure I can almost see it.

  I step toward him, laying my hand on his shoulder. “I love you,” I whisper before lifting up onto my tiptoes and pressing my lips against his.

  His arms snake around my waist, pulling me against him as he takes control of the kiss.

  I can’t remember the last time I was kissed like this. He makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world that matters, like I’m his oxygen and his only way of surviving.

  He pulls back and opens his mouth, his lips moving but no sound coming out.

  “Nate?” I ask, my smile starting to slip as his gaze bats around us in panic.

  He tries to talk again, but no sound comes out.

  “Nate?” I ask again, my voice louder this time as I grip onto his biceps. “What’s going on?”

  He shakes his head as he slowly steps back, hanging his head as some invisible force pulls him away from me.

  “Nate!”

  I reach for him, but the closer I try to get, the farther he moves away from me.

  His head lifts and his eyes focus on mine, pain and sorrow reflected in their depths before he shakes his head and mouths, “I’m sorry.”

  My eyelids spring open, the dream slowly dissipating as I search the hospital room for Nate. His coat hangs over the same chair he’s been sitting in for the last seven weeks, but there’s no sign of him. I must’ve fallen asleep when he left to get me water.

  My heart starts to pound faster in my chest the longer he’s not here. It doesn’t matter that I’ve hardly spoken to him, I still selfishly need him here by my side.

  I hate to admit it, but after waking up and him not being here, it hits me like a ton of bricks. I need him; more than I ever thought possible. He’s stayed true to his word and hasn’t left me as of yet, but there’s still a niggling voice in the back of my head telling me it’s only a matter of time.

  “Hey,” someone murmurs from the other side of the bed
. I jump out of my skin, a squeak leaving me as my gaze lands on Tris.

  “How long—” My voice breaks so I clear my throat. “How long have you been sitting there?”

  His lips lift up into a small grin. “I’ve been staring like a creeper for the last hour.” I nod, my gaze still batting around the room and landing back on Nate’s coat. “He’s gone to the cafeteria,” Tris tells me, almost like he can read my thoughts. “He only just left.”

  I don’t answer him, instead just staring at his gray eyes.

  “How you feeling?” He shakes his head as soon as the words are out and runs his hand through his hair. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

  “It’s okay,” I whisper, moving my hand closer to him. He takes the invitation and grasps it in both of his.

  Silence wraps around us as we stare at each other before I tear my gaze from his, looking over at the painting for what feels like the thousandth time.

  “Harmony?” he asks, and when I look back at him I see the glint in his eye and the secret smile on his face as he stares at it too.

  “Yeah,” I murmur.

  Tris blows out a big breath, seeming to gear himself up for something. “How…” he trails off before squeezing my hand and looking directly at me. I keep my focus on the painting, not wanting to give him my full attention.

  This is the first time I’ve seen Tris on his own since before I moved out of his house a couple of months ago. It’s never been awkward between us, but right now, I know this isn’t going to be an easy conversation, and the person I’ve become since being in here wants him to leave.

  “How is everything?” he finally manages to ask.

  A laugh escapes me before I cut my eyes to his. “Everything is wonderful. Can’t you tell?” I wave my hand at myself and in particular the legs I still can’t feel. “Life is just spiffy.”

  “Spiffy?” His lips quirk up at the corner and I can’t help a genuine chuckle leaving my throat.