Suit

by Jettie Woodruff

  The first half hour of our drive was spent in silence, neither of us speaking a word. Paxton stared straight ahead, one hand on the wheel, one resting on the gray leather console between us. I loved the soft leather, and honestly, I couldn’t have picked out a nicer car. At least one of us knew my taste. I’m the one who broke the ice and finally spoke, only because of the pain. I couldn’t sit like that for much longer.

  “Jesus, how much longer, Pax?”

  His eyes darted so quickly in my direction, I thought I heard the crack of his neck. “Don’t you ever call me that again. Do you understand me, Gabriella? I’m Paxton to you. Unless I tell you otherwise, I am Paxton.”

  “Chill out, dude. I’m asking out of pain. Not disrespect.”

  The car behind us blew a lengthy horn when Paxton cut him off.

  The abrupt movement caused pain to shoot up my leg when he jerked the car to the side of the road.

  “I am not Pax. I am not dude. I am Paxton to you. Do you understand that? I don’t want to have to rehash this again. Tell me you understand. Say ‘yes, Paxton, I understand,’” Paxton ordered in an angry yet subtle tone. One that assured me that he meant business.

  For a split second, I thought he might hit me. After the wreck, my body couldn’t take another beating. Not now. I submissively responded, my gaze moving to my lap. “Yes, Paxton. I understand.”

  “That’s my girl. Now lay your seat back and rest. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

  “We do? Where are we?”

  “We were in Orlando. Home is Hudson, but you probably already know that. Now if you would just tell me where you were going in the middle of a tropical storm.”

  “I don’t know. I told you that already.”

  “Yes, yes you did. At least ten times. Now, I already told you, lay your seat back and rest.”

  I did as I was told, moving the electronic buttons to a reclining positon. My eyes closed and I drew in a deep gulp of air, trying to slow my breathing, relax, and ease the pain in my ribs and my chest. That’s where it got me the most. Directly in my chest and down my right side. The cracked ribs, I supposed.

  My eyes closed and my mind searched for answers. Every time I had asked about the girls, my own children, Paxton shot me down. He wouldn’t tell me anything about them. The only explanation I got was about why he hadn’t brought them to the hospital. He didn’t want to scare them. That was his reasoning. Other than that, I knew nothing. Not that I really tried all that hard. I didn’t feel like anyone’s mommy. I didn’t even ask to see a photo. I must be a horrible mother.

  I didn’t move a muscle when I felt Paxton raise my dress above my knee, high on my thighs. My husband was a nympho. His wife had almost died, and all he had on his mind was sex. I kept my eyes closed and held my breath while he drove, caressing my leg with his hand. That’s when I noticed they were rough. Paxton actually worked for a living. The roughness abraded the skin on the inside of my tender leg. That surprised me a little, and I wondered what he did as a job. Of course I didn’t care enough to ask.

  A burning ignited in the pit of my stomach when his hand crept up, moving farther until he could touch me. But he never did. He got very close, massaging my inner thigh all the way to the crease where my thigh met my groin, but he didn’t touch me there. I waited for it, but it never happened. His thumb swiped back and forth, but only my leg.

  I peeked through a slit in my left eye when the car slowed, coming to a stop behind a semi-truck. I could tell by the buildings and the street that we had gotten off the highway and were in a town. I just didn’t know what town. My breathing halted and my heart stopped beating when he slipped my dress higher.

  Paxton slid my panties to the side. My lids twittered but remained closed while I waited for the contact that never came. He never touched me. Not there anyway. He spread my good leg more and hissed. Even through the tiny slit, I could see the lustful desire in his eyes as he exposed me. It mortified me, but I pretended like it never happened. I never completely opened my eyes, didn’t even acknowledge that it occurred.

  I knew one thing, and one thing only. As soon as I could manage it, I would be getting far, far away from Paxton Pierce. I would figure it out and find a way. I didn’t care what he said, or anyone else. I didn’t belong with—or to—Paxton. Maybe before, but not now. Not anymore. I would never be able to submit to this authoritative figure. I straight-up hated the guy and the way he took the circuitous route to show me who was boss. It wasn’t me, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

  For the time being.

  Once Paxton the perve backed off, I think I dozed off after a while. It wasn’t long. I couldn’t rest because it quickly became unbearable.

  The seat hummed as I pushed the button, bringing it to an upright position. “I have to take something, Pax—Paxton,” I sputtered, swift on the save. God, the pain. It was hard to think about anything but that. Dull in my lower back, sharp between my shoulders, piercing in my knee. I couldn’t take it much longer. I needed a pain pill and somewhere to lay down. I didn’t care where. Anywhere.

  Paxton laced his fingers with mine and brought them to his lips. That hurt, too, bad enough for me to gasp and jerk my hand away. Just because it wasn’t the broken one, didn’t mean I could bend it that way yet. Jesus.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you okay?”

  My neck hurt clear down my spine, but I pondered on the cause. Whiplash from his split personality, or from my car accident?

  “I’m fine. How much longer?”

  “Twenty minutes or so. You should start recognizing where we are real soon. Rowan’s dance class is right up here. One of your boundaries.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, the pain too much to respond. My eyes remained closed until Paxton started pointing out landmarks.

  Nothing looked familiar. Not one thing. Not the market where he claimed that I shopped, the dance studio I supposedly took my daughters to, the park we played at. Nothing.

  “Do you remember?” Paxton questioned as the car turned right. Right into a very lovely area.

  I shook my head back and forth while my nerves began to stand on end, interest increasing. It appeared we lived in an exceptionally nice neighborhood, a cul-de-sac with large lots. Paxton stopped at a four-way stop sign and then turned right again.

  “Are we rich?” I blurted, my eyes widening.

  Paxton laughed and patted my hand. “We’re not rich. We’re okay, but not rich. Not yet, anyway.”

  “But we have nice things.” I don’t know why I said it, really. Rambling. That’s what it was. Nervous gibberish.

  “Yes, love. We live the American dream. Payments and all, but this isn’t our house. This is where our daughters have been staying for the past couple weeks.”

  “Wait. You’re just going to pick them up like this? I need a minute before you just throw them at me.”

  “Throw them at you?”

  “Please,” I begged, pleading for more time. I at least wanted something for the pain first. “Please, Paxton. Can’t we go home first? I need something for the pain, and I want to review my surroundings first and get, uh…used to all this…shock.”

  “They’ve been waiting for two weeks. They miss you.”

  “I know. I get that. I do. I’m just in a lot of pain. I don’t want them to feel like I didn’t miss them, too.”

  Paxton looked down at my hand covering his forearm and caved. Thank God. “Fine, we’ll get you settled into your room with some pain meds first. I’ll come and get the girls while you rest.”

  “Thank you,” I softly said with a relieved sigh. There was no way I could have pretended to be excited to see them. Not with the amount of pain I was in.

  Paxton made a U-turn, heading back the way we had come. He stopped at the same four-way stop and went straight. Our house was on the best allotment, a dead-end street with a long, blacktop drive. The yard got me. The landscaping sprawled in magnificent sego palms mixed
with African lilies. I would have never thought to do that.

  Wait. Why did I know that? How was it that I knew the names of tropical plants but not my own family? I didn’t understand how I knew the bed of stinky flowers were California poppies, either. Who would want fishy flowers that close to their house? Wait. What? I was about to walk into a life I didn’t know, and here I sat cultivating flowers in my head.

  What the hell?

  “What’s that?” I asked pointing to a building a football-field length away from the house. Damn, this place amazed me.

  “The little cottage, or my shop?”

  “Shop?” Out of the corner of my vision, I caught a work truck driving along the dirt lane toward the building, but I didn’t turn my head to look. I was in too much pain to care.

  “Yes. My work.”

  My hand grasped the handle and I squeezed, trying not to flip out. I was in excruciating pain after riding for two hours. Do you think my husband cared? No, not at all. He turned and drove through the side yard until we, too, were on the same path as the truck. As much as I wanted to, I didn’t say anything. I clenched my jaw and took long, deep breaths.

  Paxton rolled down his window and talked to the guy about a filtration system and a fountain. I tried to care. To pay attention to detail and regain my memory, but I couldn’t. The pain going up my leg, through my hip, and to my lower back was too much for me to care. Or was it the pain in my neck? I couldn’t even tell anymore.

  “Hello, Gabriella. How do you feel?” a short guy with broken English asked.

  “Hi, I’m okay. Thank you,” I lied with a smile. I was ready to cry. I just wanted to lay down.

  The older man showed me his bright white teeth and nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. I saw your car. You’re very lucky.”

  “You saw the car?” My excitement may have been a little high. My voice was anyway. I wanted to see the car. Maybe that would jar something.

  Paxton didn’t let his employee answer. I could tell by the two-minute conversation that he powered over him, too. This guy lived on a constant power trip. Paxton gave me a look that I learned very quickly meant shut up, continuing with his important conversation. I gathered from the discussion that Paxton did landscaping, maybe something to do with pools and water features. I didn’t care. I wanted to go home. Wherever that was.

  I searched my surroundings. My surreal surroundings. We truly did have the best lot. It was huge, and although I couldn’t see it, I could tell the ocean was in our backyard. I could feel the sea breeze on my face, smell it in the air, and hear it in the distance. Waves lapping a beach in the distance. Holy shit. I lived by the ocean!

  But my excitement was short lived when pain shot through my back. I’m not sure what Paxton and the guy that I now knew as Tony, talked about. I’m not sure what the rest of my surroundings looked like. All I knew was, I hurt like hell and I needed to rest.

  As much as I tried to keep my mouth shut and let Paxton explain what he wanted done on some jobsite, I couldn’t. Not for one more second.

  “Paxton, please,” I quietly pleaded in a faint voice, white knuckles squeezing the handle of my door.

  Paxton glanced over at me and then back to Tony. “I’ll call you later. Try to get the Boteler job done tomorrow so we can start on the one in Wellington come Monday morning. Did you get that stone delivered over there?”

  “Paxton!” I pleaded again. I had to.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll call you later, Tony.”

  Paxton drove back to our home and parked in a three-car garage. Even the garage had a brilliancy about it. Clean. Everything in its place. My fingers tapped on the console between us while I waited for Paxton to retrieve my crutches from the back. Emotions mixed with pain, and my heart picked up a little anticipation and speed.

  “Did you get my bag with medicine?” I questioned. That’s all I wanted. Something for the pain and a place to lay down.

  “Yes, I already told you I would give it to you when we got home. You don’t need to worry about that.”

  Easy for him to say.

  I struggled my way out of the car, holding my breath as I dragged my stiff leg from behind me. “I’m an adult. I think I can worry about my own medications,” I snapped. Paxton didn’t move, therefore, I couldn’t move.

  “I’m going to let that slide because I know you’re in pain. Don’t do it again.”

  I didn’t have the strength to argue. Whatever. I didn’t care who gave them to me. I just wanted them. I didn’t have the endurance to check out my house. I know I stepped in from the garage into a mudroom. The washer and dryer on one end, a white bench with blue and white chevron lines in the middle and four cubby holes with all our names—starting with Paxton, of course. Pink and white sandals on the shelves below hooks, holding little white jackets. Holy shit! This was real.

  I’m a mother.

  The next door opened to a chef’s kitchen. One from Cribs or something, and then an open dining room connected to a living room with more signs of little girls. The table held a Barbie coloring book with a sandwich bag full of crayons on top. A cheap McDonald’s toy, a green whistle, and a pink jelly-bracelet in the shape of a star.

  Paxton dropped my one and only bag to the table and picked up the things, putting them in their place, a drawer below a beautiful buffet. Sleek. Shimmering black marble or something. It was gorgeous and complemented well with the rest of the décor.

  “Anything? Does any of this feel familiar?” Paxton asked while retrieving the bottle of pain pills from my bag. Thank the good Lord above!

  I looked around the room, but I felt more annoyed than anything. I hurt. I hurt so bad, I could barely stand. It’s a good damn thing I had these crutches. Something needed to hold me up.

  “Pax, can we do this later? When I’m not ready to pass out and hit the floor, maybe?” I never ever thought about the name. I didn’t think about anything, and I didn’t want to. I just wanted the pain to go away.”

  “So, we’re doing this? We’re starting all the way over? From the beginning?”

  My right shoulder relaxed a little while I looked at him like he spoke French. Dialect I didn’t understand. “What?” I asked with gravely words, trying to get my facial expression to match my tone.

  Paxton took two steps toward me, hard lines creasing his forehead. I groaned from the pain in my lower back when he wrapped his arm around me and tugged me to him. Bastard. My arm was forced over his shoulder when he kicked the crutch out from under me. That one took my breath away, it hurt so bad. Pain started at my knee and shot clear to my hip. The crutch fell to the floor with a loud thump, and his hand tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck. It wasn’t quite a jerk, more like a tight fist. Paxton’s way of being gentle with me.

  “I know you’re hurting right now. That’s why I’m going to let you off the hook this time. You call me Pax one more time, and I promise I will teach you a lesson. One that I assure you won’t forget,” Paxton said with hot, threatening words in my ear.

  I started to ask why, but Paxton stopped me with his lips. “No, no, baby girl. You talk when I tell you to talk,” he chanted in some sort of deep, dark, sexy tone. No, not sexy. Sultry. Jesus. Now I was delusional, too. There was nothing sexy about this man. Except the way he smelled, and maybe the way he wore his jeans, or the way his hard chest felt against mine. Oh, for Christ’s sake.

  My eyes pierced his, but I didn’t speak, not because I was afraid of his threat, but because I didn’t have it in me. Not at that time.

  Instead of arguing, I begged. “Can I please just lay down for a little bit?”

  Paxton continued to kiss me with soft, loving caresses and cold words. He squeezed my ass in one hand, shoving his hips toward my battered body, and tugged on my hair with the other. Idiot.

  “Go to bed. I’ll be right there.”

  Paxton held my hand until he had the crutch secured under my arm. My eyes searched out my room, hoping it wasn’t the loft up the stairs. I would have never
made it.

  “All the way to the end of the hall. The downstairs suite,” Paxton said, eyes shifting from mine to the white double doors. His nod directed me where to go and I hobbled away. As much as I wanted to remember who the hell I was, and why on earth I would marry someone like Paxton, I didn’t look around. Not even after I opened the doors to a large room with a king-sized bed right in the middle. I didn’t look around there, either. I went right to the bed and laid down, letting the crutches clink together and fall to the floor.

  The bed was soft, covered by a fluffy white comforter, and I sank into it, appreciating the relief as the pressure was released from my broken body. I rolled to my side and closed my eyes, breathing long, deep breaths, trying to control the pain. I shouldn’t have been home yet. It was in too much for someone with my injuries. They should have never let me out of the hospital. I knew the night I had ahead of me, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  I vaguely remember taking the two pills from Paxton. I know I swallowed them with a glass of water, I know Paxton covered me with a quilt, and I know he kissed my forehead. That’s it. Darkness followed, and that was the last thing I remembered. At least it was peaceful

  Chapter Three

  My eyes opened to darkness. Thick, navy-blue curtains kept the light from spilling into the room. First, I assessed the pain. Most of it was gone. At least the shooting pains in my hips and lower back had departed. My ribs and chest hurt a little, but not too terribly.

  Pressure with my hand against the mattress helped me sit up as I blinked away blurriness in search of the nearest bathroom. The pain did become almost unbearable when I had to bend to reach my crutches. I wouldn’t be doing that again. I’d make sure they were propped close by, not on the floor.