On Solid Ground

by Melissa Collins

  “The doctors said that he’ll be okay. He’s just resting now,” I explain carefully, certain she doesn’t misunderstand me.

  “So then can I see him?” She jumps down from the bed, adjusting her fluffy skirt. When she came in yesterday, all of her clothes were covered in Nikki’s blood, so the nurses pooled together and bought her a brand new, princess dress. “I want to show him my dress.” She twirls it around, an image of innocence. “And, I want to say thank you.”

  He should rest, and I want to tell her that, but it would crush her not to be able to see him. Even before he left to go back home, they had developed quite the bond. And now, after he came to her rescue yesterday, I’m positive that bond will never be broken.

  We step into his room as quietly as possible. A doctor stands over him, writing notes in his chart. “You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Daxton. That bullet just missed your spleen.”

  Propped up in the bed, Dax is fully awake, eyes wide listening to the doctor go over his progress. When he catches sight of me and Violet behind the doctor, he holds up his hand, imploring the doctor to stop talking.

  “It’s okay. We can come back later.” Adjusting Violet as she sits on my hip, she whines in protest of not being able to see Dax right away.

  “Stop it,” Dax deflects. “Come in. I want you to hear what he has to say.”

  Turning to greet Beck, the doctor extends his hand. “Are you family?”

  He may as well have punched me in the gut. The look on my face is a dead giveaway, but I answer him anyway. “No, I’m not.” Stepping to his side, I walk toward Dax on the bed. “I did call your mom, though. She couldn’t get a flight until this afternoon. She should be landing in a few hours.” In the few inches of space next to Dax, I sit on the bed, careful not to move any of his wires and IVs. Violet sits quietly in the chair next to the bed.

  After he pulls our hands together, Dax looks up at the doctor. “So, you said I was making progress. How long do you think it’ll be before I can be discharged?”

  His eyes drop to our joined hands, his mouth opening and closing a few times in an awkward attempt to say something. “Uh, we should be able to,” he flips through some papers, drawing his eyes away from us. “Yes,” he decides upon reading some vital piece of information, “your staples can come out later today and then possibly tomorrow you can go home.”

  He excuses himself to make the rest of his rounds, assuring us that he’ll be back before the end of his shift to check up on Dax one last time. We look at each other, laughing at the doctor’s reaction. When the laughter stops, Violet inches her way over to the bed.

  “Can I sit with you?” Her voice is wobbly, frail, uncertain. “Are you mad at me?” Eyes cast down, she focuses on the sparkly shoes covering her feet rather than looking at Dax.

  Moving from the bed, I kneel in front of her. Running my hands down her arms, I steady her as her quiet crying wracks her tiny body. “Sugar pop, why on Earth would anyone be mad at you?”

  Shrugging, she refuses to look up at me. “I dunno.”

  “Come up here.” Dax pats the spot on the bed that I just vacated. Violet walks the two steps over to his side, but refuses to climb up on the bed.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.” Looking up at Dax, her eyes fill with tears. “It’s my fault.”

  Shaking his head, Dax seems to war with what to do, how to assure her that he’s okay. In a move even I don’t expect, he twists on the bed, reaching under each of her arms with his hands. He turns his face away from her to hide the pain, but in one swift move, he lifts her up onto the bed. “There. See?” Holding her tiny, tear-soaked face in his hands, he kisses the tip of her nose. “I’ll never be too hurt to take care of you, to talk to you. Okay?”

  Her small smile is all the response he needs. She cuddles into his side, completely unaware of him wincing as she rests against his shoulder. He smiles over her head at me, making my heart burst at the seams.

  Completely in awe of him and everything he means to me, I stand frozen on the spot. The future plays out right before me—our journey, though not easy and not without troubles, will be worth it in the end. Watching Dax comb his fingers lightly through Violet’s hair, as they talk about her pretty new dress, I know he’s my home.

  He’s our home.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” Chloe calls out from the door, shaking me from my dreamy stare. “How are you feeling?” She keeps her voice cheery, but I can see the anguish on her face. She almost lost her best friend. I almost lost the man I love. Violet almost lost her superhero.

  Chloe moves to the other side of the bed. “Wow, those are the prettiest shoes I’ve ever seen,” she gasps dramatically, making Violet’s face split in a proud smile.

  “Thank you.” Violet glows, primly adjusting her skirt.

  “What time did you say Mom was coming in?” Dax asks, looking between me and Chloe. “Maybe Chloe can go get her.”

  Tapping on my phone, I pull up her flight information. “Soon. I’ll let you two catch up while I go get her.”

  Dax’s face shifts in uncertainty. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know,” I defend, stepping in between him and Chloe. Bending down, I kiss his forehead. “I want to. Besides, I’d like to talk to her before she gets here.”

  He eyes me suspiciously, but my returning look reassures him that it’s nothing he needs to worry about. Honestly, I want to be able to tell her about what happened without Dax being there. I want to give her the space she’ll need to react to it without breaking down before her son.

  There are a few things I’d like to ask of her, anyway—things for which Dax can’t be present.

  “Okay, then I guess I’ll see you later,” he dismisses me with a proud smile.

  Turning around briefly before leaving the room, I watch as Dax and Violet rest together on the bed, animatedly chatting with Chloe.

  Suddenly, the word family takes on an entirely new meaning.

  Shit. Reading the board above my head, I realize I haven’t given myself enough time at the gate. Her flight arrived ten minutes ago, so I make my way to baggage claim, hoping I can find her there.

  Weaving my way through the crowd, I find the carousel where she should be. Scanning the crowd is pointless since I don’t exactly know what she looks like. As I’m scrolling through my phone to call Chloe, a hand falls lightly to my arm.

  “You’re Beck.” Her words are a statement, not at all a question. When I shoot her a weary look, she explains, “He showed me a picture.”

  Bumbling like a fool, I can’t seem to get a word out. “Oh, uh, hi. Yeah, I’m Beck. Hi.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Pulling me into a tight hug, she envelopes me with her motherly warmth, instantly putting me at ease.

  “I’m so sorry about your husband, Mrs. Daxton. I’d loved to have met him.” Wanting to make the best first impression possible, I err on the side of formality. The meaning is still there. Chloe filled me in on what happened when Dax went home. My heart broke for him that I couldn’t be there for him, that we were both being too stubborn.

  “And I’m so sorry about your sister.” Holding me at arm’s length, she tilts her head to the side, concern pulling at her brows. “It’s . . . I don’t know . . . I mean I don’t know what to say,” she stutters with great sadness.

  “It’s senseless and you’re right, there isn’t anything to say.” We exchange a sad look before I bend to pick up her suitcase.

  We walk to the car in relative silence, but I notice the tired and worn-out look on her face. In the span of just a few weeks, this woman has dealt with the illness and ensuing death of her husband. Then she learns of her son being shot—the son whose safety kept her up many nights while he was at war, I’m sure.

  Turning all of that over in my head, I don’t even realize she switches off the radio and turns in her seat to face me. Even with the light traffic on the freeway, it will still take us at least a half an hour to arrive at the hospital. She’s clea
rly decided to make use of the time with getting to know me.

  “So,” she says, letting the one word hang out there like a piece of bait. “How is he holding up?”

  Visions from earlier today, of Dax caring for Violet when he needed the care himself, warm my heart and bring a smile to my face. “He’s actually doing okay. The doctor said he might be able to come home tomorrow.”

  She asks a few questions about Violet, but there’s not much to say there either. Only time will tell how much support she’s going to need. Changing topics, I ask her if she’s willing to make a quick stop before getting back to the hospital. After I explain where I need to go, she’s more than willing to come along with me. With our cargo in tow, we make our way to the hospital.

  After killing the ignition, I rake my hands through my hair, trying to figure out how I can say what I need to say.

  “Mrs. Daxton–”

  Dropping her hand to mine as it rests on the gear shift, she pats it gently. “Call me Karen, please.”

  I nod, letting out a deep sigh. Shifting nervously in my seat, I gather my emotions. “Before we go up there.” I tip my head at the gigantic building behind her. “I just wanted to say thank you.” Confusion pulls at her face. “For him. For everything about him. He’s brave and courageous. He’s funny and good-hearted. And I know that all didn’t happen by chance. It happened because he was raised in a good family. So thank you.”

  “Beck? What exactly–” Keying into the touch of nervousness in her voice, I interrupt, cutting her off.

  “If you’re going to ask where I see things going, what my plans are, just know I love him. And he loves me. He may have been a little drowsy from the anesthesia, but he said the words.” Taking a deep breath, I try my best to recover. “Even before this cluster fuck of everything happened, I loved him more than I was willing to admit to. But now, well, it’s just . . . I can’t explain it. What I feel for him—love, gratitude, peace—it’s just everything I never thought I’d have and everything I’d ever wanted.”

  Her eyes crinkle in the corners as she smiles warmly at me. “I think you explained it beautifully. And I know he loves you, too.”

  “You do?” The pitch of my voice mirrors my surprise.

  “Of course I do. There are things a mother can tell.” She laughs, “Besides, he told me, so he may not have been as drowsy as you thought he was.”

  “You can have my Jell-O.” Holding out the small cup of red Jell-O, I wait for Violet to take it from my hand. “I know red is your favorite,” I coax, egging her on.

  Like I knew she would, she snatches it from my hand, peels the foil lid back, and dives into it. Chloe sits next to me, watching Violet with a look of longing on her face.

  Just as Violet licks the last scoop from her spoon, one of her nurses walks into the room to ask her if she wants to go play in the Kid’s Care Center. Though she seems a little reluctant to go at first, I convince her that I’ll be here when she gets back. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” Holding out my pinky for good measure, she twists her finger around mine before climbing out of the bed.

  When they’re gone, I shift in the bed, readjusting so the sharp pain in my side can fade to at least a dull ache. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting?” Chloe stands, moving around me in a flurry to readjust the pillows behind my back. “Let me get the doctor. Maybe you can have some more pain medication.”

  “Thanks.” With one final adjustment and one last wince, I finally manage to get myself comfortable. “I just didn’t want Violet to think I was in pain. It’s not worth it for her to blame herself any more than she already does.”

  While Chloe scans the hall searching for someone to help me, I pour a glass of water. The last two days still haven’t sunk in yet. Since most of the first day was spent in a fog of surgery and medication, I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything. Honestly, it’s going to take me much longer than a hospital stay to heal, but I would stay here forever if it meant that Violet wouldn’t have to deal with what she’s got to deal with.

  “Look who I found,” Chloe chirps from the door, peeking into the room.

  “Jake,” Mom gasps, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “Do I really look that bad? It’s not like I was shot twice, or anything like that.” It’s a lame joke, but at least it makes her laugh a little as she walks toward me. She sits next to me, pulling my hands into hers.

  Despite the fact she tells me I look fine, better than fine actually, I can see it in her eyes. She was scared of me dying. I hate I caused her to fear for my safety when I was in the Army, and I hate that I did it to her now. Lost in my own self-loathing, I don’t even realize someone else walked in behind her.

  With his leg all bandaged up, Tonka is wiggling in Beck’s arms, whining like crazy when he sees me on the bed. “Tonka.” His name gets stuck behind the lump of emotion knotting my throat closed. Fearing he was killed in the attack, I hadn’t built up the courage to ask anyone about him.

  Beck carries him over to me, barely able to hold on to the overly excited bundle of energy. Scooting over on the bed, I make room for Tonka. Careful not to lay him down on his injured leg, Beck places Tonka next to me. “Hey, boy.” Despite the pain in my shoulder, I wrap my arms around Tonka’s neck, letting him lick my face.

  “What happened?” I ask, looking at Beck over Tonka’s head. He’s wiping tears out of his eyes.

  “You weren’t in great shape by the time the ambulance arrived. Luckily, they said you had probably passed out from the pain, so even though you were out cold, you were stable. You didn’t hear anything going on?”

  “No.” Trying to piece together what I do recall, I shake my head.

  “Once they had you loaded and ready to go, they were able to work on Tonka. The paramedics were able to stabilize him at the house. They called an emergency animal hospital and that’s where he’s been for the last two days. They had to remove the bullet. I called them early this morning to check on him.” Beck inches onto the bed, scratching behind Tonka’s ear. “Poor guy wouldn’t eat or drink. They said he looked depressed and I figured it was because he didn’t know what happened to you. So since you weren’t going to be able to get to him, I brought him to you.”

  “Thank you.” Those two words carry more weight than I can possibly convey. I can tell Beck hears what I really mean to say.

  After a slight pause to gather my shattered emotions, I ask, “What about the guard? I mean there was no one at the gate when I walked there with Tonka.”

  Beck scrubs a hand over his beard, huffing a pissed-off sound. “Carson had him hog tied in the supply closet at the guard station. He wasn’t more than a rent-a-cop, so it didn’t take much on Carson’s end to get into the complex.” The stilted silence that follows is one laced with anger. If they had better security, would Nikki still be here?

  In the midst of the conversation that follows, my nurse lightly taps on the door. “It’s time for your pain meds.” Announcing her entrance into the room, she shakes a small cup of pills.

  “We’re going to go. Let you get some rest.” Mom stands, looking at Chloe and Beck. “We need to work on getting the apartment ready for you to come home, anyway.”

  “She’s right. Plus, I need to figure out a hotel for a few days.” Beck pushes off the bed, a sad and deflated sigh passing his lips.

  My brows pull together for the briefest of seconds. With his new apartment covered in blood, still very much an active crime scene, he’s homeless. Fortunately, Chloe doesn’t need the pause I do to make sense of it.

  “That’s pointless, Beck.” She loops her arm through his and the other through Mom’s. “I’ll stay with Devon. There’s plenty of room for you and Violet and even Karen at my place.”

  Before the pain meds kick in, Violet races into the room, filled with excitement over the painting she did in the Kid’s Care Center. “What’s this?” Beck asks, pointing to the three blobs of paint on the paper.

  “It’s
us, silly.” She rolls her eyes, making Mom laugh in hysterics at her attitude. “That’s me,” she says, pointing to the smallest blob. “I’m pink because that’s my favorite color.” We all make the required ooh and ahh noises before she continues, “These two,” she moves on, pointing to the two blue blobs who seem to be holding hands, “are you and Dax.”

  Kissing the top of her head, Beck hugs her tightly. “It’s a beautiful picture, sugar pop.”

  She hands it to me and I put it on my side table, propping it up so I can see it from my spot on the bed. “It’s the best get well card I’ve ever received.”

  With a slowness that usually doesn’t characterize her movements, Violet shuffles toward the bed, leaning across to me. She cups her hand and wiggles her finger at me, telling me she needs to tell me a secret. “It’s a thank you and I love you card.”

  She smiles brightly when I tell her I have a secret for her, too. “No, thank you And I love you, too.”

  When everyone leaves, I fall asleep looking at Violet’s picture. A new-found sense of calm bathes over me. The image of the three blobs is a perfect reflection of the place I’ve found in the world—right here, with Beck and Violet at my side.

  “I can do it on my own.” The pain in my side is like a searing hot iron pressed against my skin, but I want to climb the stairs to my apartment on my own.

  “Will you stop being a pigheaded bastard for just one second?” The look on Beck’s face suggests that if I wasn’t legitimately hurt, he’d knock me on my ass simply for giving him a hard time. “You woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning,” he admonishes, wrapping his arm carefully around my waist.

  On a loud huff, I agree to let him help me. A smug look of satisfaction dances on his face. “See? That’s not so bad, is it?”

  “Whatever,” I laugh, secretly relishing the feel of his body next to mine.