Taking Her

by R. R. Banks

  He pats me on the leg and then follows the nurse out, leaving me alone with Zoe. She crosses the room and sits on the edge of my bed.

  “When I spoke to Henri, I had no idea what was happening,” she says. “I was so scared.”

  I reach out and take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I'm fine, love,” I say. “It'll take a lot more than that to kill a tough old bird like me.”

  Her smile is forced, and more tears fall from her eyes. I get the sense that the tears don't all have to do with me laying in a hospital bed. Something else happened. Something bad. I can practically smell it on her.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “I was just terrified something bad happened to you.”

  “Two goons jumped me in my driveway,” I say. “What hurts me the most is that they beat the shit out of my beloved Bel Air. If I ever see them again, I'm going to kill them for desecrating that car.”

  I hoped to elicit a laugh out of her, but only received more tears. I don't doubt for a second that she was worried about me, but I can tell she's avoiding talking about whatever is actually going on. There’s no way I’m going to let her off the hook that easily.

  “Zoe,” I say firmly. “Tell me what happened. What's wrong?”

  She sighs and scrubs away the tears before launching into a convoluted story about what happened with Bryant and her father. She headed here from her ambush engagement party with Bryant – that she never consented to. By the time she finishes telling me what happened, she’s in tears once more.

  I pull her close to me, grimacing through the pain, and hold her tight. I stroke her hair and let her cry until the tears have dried up. After a few minutes, she sits up, making me draw in a sharp breath at the sudden sting of pain.

  “Oh, God. I'm sorry,” she says. “Are you okay?”

  I nod. “I will be,” I say through gritted teeth. “Don't worry about it. But…we will have to be less – vigorous – in certain activities for a bit.”

  Again, hoping for a laugh, but all I get is an expression of outright misery. Strike two.

  “Well, it's obvious that you're done working for your father,” I say.

  “I don't know what I'm going to do, Connor,” she says. “It's all I know.”

  “Well, you'll learn something new then, won't you, love?” I say. “I seem to recall you telling me something about wanting to practice family law?”

  She nods slowly. “I – I don't know though,” she says. “I don't know anything about opening a firm. I don't know how to attract clients – and let's not forget that with the way things went today, I'm sure Bryant and my father are destroying my reputation as we speak. I'm not going to be able to attract clients if I paid them. I'm going to be chasing ambulances.”

  “Sorry, love,” I say. “Your father has cornered the market on that. You, on the other hand, have a very bright future ahead of you.”

  “Yeah, it sounds like your pain meds are kicking in,” she says.

  “Can't take most pain meds,” I say. “Addict, remember?”

  She looks at me, her face pale. “Oh God, I'm so sorry –”

  “I'm sure you can find a way to make me feel better though, love,” I say and flash her a flirty little smile.

  She grins and shakes her head. “Keep dreaming.”

  “What? You don't want to play doctor with me?”

  “Not until you no longer need a real doctor.”

  I laugh, trying not to flinch at the pain that follows. “Fair enough,” I say and wince. “It's not a big deal. I'm a fast healer.”

  “So, you can’t have anything to take the edge off?”

  “Aspirin,” I reply. “If I'm really good, the nurse said she'd slip me a few ibuprofen.”

  She puts her hand on my cheek. “I'm so sorry this happened to you, Connor,” she says. “And I'm so sorry for making this all about me and my problems. You're the one lying in the hospital. The focus should be on you.”

  I shrug. “I'm in a hospital bed. No big deal. Nothing to really focus on,” I say. “You, on the other hand, have some pretty serious problems we need to start working through.”

  She gives me a curious look and I see the shadow of a thought pass behind her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak but closes it without saying anything. I cock my head and look at her. I'm no psychic, but it looked like something was on the tip of her tongue and she bit it back. Something else must have happened beside the ambush engagement party.

  “What?” I ask. “What were you about to say?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing,” she replies. “The focus is supposed to be on you, remember? You're the one who got your ass kicked.”

  I give her a small smile. “Yeah, but there were two of those pricks,” I say. “And one of 'em was carrying a damn baseball bat. But, I still got my licks in. You should see them.”

  “They as bad off as you?”

  “Well, no. Not really,” I say. “I did mention there were two of them though, right?”

  Finally, I get a laugh out of her. And it’s genuine, full-throated laughter. It's good to hear and does more to salve my wounds than anything the nurse was doing for me. I take her hand and bring it to my lips, planting a soft kiss on her knuckles.

  “Any idea who they were?” she asks once her laughter dies down.

  “I'm more interested in what you're going to do,” I say.

  “I honestly don't know.”

  I don't know why I haven’t told her it was Bryant who sent the goons to jump me. Maybe, I don't want to add to her pile of misery – something that has grown exponentially higher since the last time I saw her.

  I can't imagine how tough this must all be for her. She deserves better than having an overbearing father control every facet of her life. Nothing about this situation is fair to her.

  I give her hand a gentle squeeze and flash her a smile I hope she finds reassuring. “It seems fairly obvious to me that you can't go back there – to Bryant and your father,” I say. “I mean, your old man tried to force you into marrying somebody. I'd say that crosses a huge fucking line.”

  “Yeah, I'd say so,” she says, a rueful chuckle passing her lips.

  “And if you stay there, things will only get worse for you,” I continue.

  “Far worse.”

  “I mean, you may take a drink of something, taste something funny in it, and pass out. And instead of waking up in a bathtub full of ice with a kidney missing,” I say, “you’ll be married to a short, smarmy, piece of shit, and pregnant with his hellspawn.”

  She laughs, but it sounds hollow. Something still doesn't feel quite right. She's holding something from me, and I have absolutely no clue what it is. Whatever it is, I’m starting to be slightly worried.

  “I don't know what I'm going to do, Connor,” she says. “There's so much turmoil in my life right now.”

  “Well, one of the things I was taught in rehab, is that when things get too chaotic, you need to step back and simplify. Prioritize,” I say. “Make the problems all smaller and more bite-sized. Make them easier to deal with. And then pick them off one at a time.”

  “Sounds simple,” she says.

  “It actually is,” I reply. “Once you get the hang of it. Once you learn to prioritize and ignore the shit that doesn’t matter. Which begs the question, what matters the most to you right now?”

  “Well, the most pressing concern is obviously the situation at the office,” she says. “It's untenable. I can't show my face there again. Everyone was there. They all saw what happened.”

  I shrug. “The only one who should be humiliated about what happened is that cocky asshole,” I say. “Bryant’s in the wrong here. Not you.”

  “Yeah, try telling everybody else that,” I say. “Especially now that he has time to pour poison in their ears and turn himself into the victim, and me the villain.”

  “Well, you're done there. Period,” I say. “We'll figure out how to get you set up in your own practice.
I promise you that. Whatever it takes, we're going to get your own firm up and off the ground. You're going to do what you want to do for a change. It's time, Zoe. Is there anything at the office you have to go back for?”

  She sighs. “There are some things in my office I need to get, yeah.”

  “Then I'll go with you,” I offer. “Make sure nobody gets out of line.”

  She laughs. “No, you’re staying here,” she says. “You're going to heal up a bit before you go anywhere. Besides, the Jay Hill thing is still pending. And that's a whole separate ball of crap.”

  “Yeah, I'm going to have to do something about that,” I say. “It's time to put that garbage to bed once and for all.”

  Her eyes widen. “If you turn them in –”

  “Relax,” I say. “I'll think of something that won't blow back on you. I'm not going to do anything that will put you in jeopardy, Zoe. I promise you that.”

  “What are you going to do then?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “Not sure yet,” I say. “But, I'll think of something, love. Don’t worry. I've got some pretty brilliant and devious friends I can call on.”

  The ghost of a smile touches her lips as she looks at me. “Don't underestimate the sliminess of my father and Bryant,” she says. “They see you as a walking ATM, and they’re not going to stop until they squeeze some money out of you.”

  I laugh and grimace, taking a moment to collect myself and stop wheezing. “Yeah, well, good luck with that,” I say. “The only thing they're going to get out of me is a boot in the ass.”

  “Yeah, I think it's going to be a while before you can stand up without crying in pain,” she says. “I don't see a boot in their butt anytime soon.”

  “Never underestimate the magical healing powers of the Irish,” I say.

  “I wish I had your confidence,” she says. “And sunny disposition.”

  “I hardly have a sunny disposition,” I reply. “I'm a crotchety prick most days. I've just learned how to separate the shit in my life and understand the things that don't deserve my attention or energy. Being able to cut out the useless shit and not be pissed off twenty-four hours a day has made me into a better person. A happier person.”

  I scoot over to give her a little more room as she cautiously lays down on the bed next to me, careful to avoid jostling myself too much – my goddamn ribs are killing me right now. She lays her head on the pillow next to me, looking at me with a dreamy expression on her face.

  Even though she has a small smile on her face, I can still see a shadow hiding behind those eyes. There's something she's still worried about. Something that is shaking her to her very core. Damn. I wish she would tell me.

  But, that's okay. I don't know what it is, but I trust that when the time is right, she'll say something.

  “Please promise me that you'll take someone to the office with you,” I say.

  “I promise.”

  I nod. “We're going to get through this rough patch, love,” I say. “I swear it. Whatever we have to do to get you to where you want to be in life, we'll bust our asses to make it happen. I'm in this with you, Zoe. I'm in it for the long haul. No matter what.”

  “I hope so,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  I turn my head and look at her, hearing more meaning behind her words than what she's saying. That veiled look in her eyes from before has only deepened. It sends a small current of concern through me, but I’ve already decided that to let her play this out on her terms. I'm not going to force her to tell me until she's ready.

  After all, she's had enough of people telling her how to run her life. I don't plan on adding on to that stack of bullshit and misery.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Zoe

  I've avoided the office like the plague for nearly a week now. I know what's waiting for me there. My father and Bryant have both tried to call me hundreds of times and have left me more messages than that. I haven’t responded to a single one. I called Jenna the day after that ambush engagement party to have her shuffle my workload to the other researchers and junior attorneys.

  It still baffles me that they thought it was going to work. That I was so meek and docile, I'd follow along with their plan. I’m almost certain that since I've always been so submissive and petrified of displeasing my father, they thought that springing that on me in a public place like that, with everyone we know present, would result in me agreeing to marry Bryant. The ultimate version of peer pressure.

  Even now, a week later, I'm still floored by it. Shocked that my own father would do that to me. It not only infuriates me - it breaks my heart. That he thinks so little of me, that I’m nothing more than a pawn in his master game – I can't even begin to express the depth of my resentment and anger. No words will ever do it justice.

  Which is why I was so thankful and relieved when Connor told me I could stay at his place. I'm sure they could have found me there if they'd really thought about it, but other than a billion texts and phone calls, they've stayed away. And it's allowed me to drop off the radar for a little while. I haven't even gone home except for the one time I had to grab some clothes and personal items – and I'm half-surprised that one or the other of them wasn't there waiting for me.

  Instead, I've been with Connor. I would stay with him at the hospital until visiting hours were over. Once I was kicked out, I would go and crash at his place. Rinse and repeat. This was my daily routine until they finally released Connor a week or so ago. Since then, I've been staying with him at his house.

  I haven't told him that I'm pregnant yet. I've tried to muster up the courage several times now, but every time, I let the words die in my throat. It's a fear I've never known before –not knowing how he's going to react. Is he going to be mad? Is he going to tell me to get out? Is he – there are a thousand different scenarios that run through my head each time I think about telling him, each one worse than the last, so I just… don't.

  I know I'll have to tell him eventually – eventually, it's going to be impossible to hide. Until I'm forced to make that decision though, I justify it by telling myself he's got enough on his plate to deal with right now.

  He's hurting but is doing his best not to show it. When he thinks I'm not looking though, I can see the grimaces and winces. I can hear the low moans he tries to hide as he moves about. It hurts my heart to see him in such bad shape. He'll heal, but in the here-and-now, when I look at how bruised and damaged he is – and that he has to suffer through it with nothing but aspirin to take the edge off – I want to cry for him.

  Never once through this whole ordeal has he complained though. He jokes and laughs about it instead. He doesn't sit there and wallow in it, crying, “Why me? Why me?” Connor is a very private man. He’s reclusive by nature. And I know that to most people, he comes across a little aloof, perhaps. A little dark and brooding. He hides everything with sarcasm and wit, but if you look, you can see the darkness and pain in his eyes. They're the eyes of a man who's lived through tragedy. A man who's seen too damn much.

  But, in private, once you get to know him, you start to see the real Connor Grigson. And it's something to behold. He's warm, funny, charming – and way more intelligent than he ever lets on at first. Given his introverted nature, he reads – a lot. He processes and absorbs the information faster than most Ivy League-educated people I know.

  Part of me wonders what he could have been, what he could have done, if he'd opted to not go the rock god, “party all night, do drugs all day” route, and had applied himself to something else. But then, perhaps all that he'd endured during that time made him who he is today. Maybe a different path would have fundamentally altered the man he’s become.

  It's the whole Butterfly Effect theory in action.

  Regardless, the man he is today is someone I find entirely amazing. And it's his strength and positive outlook on everything – something I know very few people get to see – that helps give me courage and strength of my own.

/>   Strength and courage enough, at least, to get me through today.

  I let out a long breath, trying to compose myself and steel my nerves when the bell chimes and the elevator doors slide open. My heart thundering in my chest, I step into the lobby and give Tabby a polite smile. She looks back at me with wide eyes and shakes her head – trying to warn me, maybe?

  Maybe it was a little cowardly, but I'd timed my visit to coincide with their usual lunch hour. Obviously, my timing sucked, and my grand plan had failed. Tabby and I have always gotten along. She's a sweet girl and I appreciate her giving me the heads up – and the chance to climb back into the elevator and slink away.

  But, it's time. I'm going to have to deal with this sooner or later, so as long as I'm here, I might as well bite the bullet and handle my business.

  “Thanks, Tabby,” I say and give her a small shrug. “Can't win 'em all, I guess.”

  She gives me a sympathetic smile. “Good luck.”

  I smile and walk down the hallway. As soon as I step into the main section of the office, all conversation stops. And although everyone in every single cubicle I pass is making a pointed effort not to look at me, I can't help but notice them stealing glances.

  Yeah, clearly, I'd made quite the impression at Civello's. I'm sure it's been gossip-fodder around the office all week. Much to my father and Bryant's dismay, I’m sure. But, that's what you get when you pull a stupid stunt like that. I refuse to feel bad for taking control of my life and my future. I refuse to let the fact that I embarrassed my father bother me. He should have known better. He should have known me better than that.

  It doesn't mean I like being the center of attention or the epicenter of gossip though. I have no idea what fairytale Bryant spun to explain what happened, but I know it's something that can’t be flattering to me in the least. I can smell it on the air. I just keep my chin high and tell myself that I’m above it all, as I walk down the hallway.

  I step into my office and close the door behind me, leaning against it to let out a long breath, giving my heart a moment to catch up. Turning on the lights, I take a couple of boxes out of the closet and set them on my desk before I start opening drawers and cabinets, taking out all my personal effects. I don't have much – some photos, my diplomas, and a few other trinkets, but I'm not about to leave them here.