by R. C. Martin
When I return to the main level and head for the kitchen, I glance at the clock. I estimate that by the time I’ve got dinner made, Dane should be on his way home. After pulling out the necessary ingredients, I cook the chicken for our beer mustard pan sauce pasta. Once that’s finished, I set it aside, start the water for the noodles, and get to work on preparing the broccoli. I’m interrupted when my phone starts ringing in the back pocket of my jeans. Thinking it might be Dane, telling me he’s on his way home, I reach for it right away.
I’m surprised to see Ava’s number lighting up my screen, but I don’t think much of it before I answer.
“Hey, Ava. What’s up?”
“Sally—Sally, it’s Dane.”
In an instant, I feel all the blood drain from my face. At the same time, all the air escapes my lungs, and I know he’s hurt. I can hear it in her voice. He’s hurt, and I’m certain it’s my fault.
“He was mugged or something—I don’t know,” Ava explains, confirming my horrifying suspicions. “His phone is here, and his wallet, but someone beat the shit out of him. I called an ambulance. He’s unconscious. Shit, I didn’t want to move him. I hear the sirens now,” she tells me, speaking so fast I can hardly think straight. “Stay on the line, okay? I’ll make sure to tell you the hospital they’re taking him to.”
Feeling frantic, I shift into autopilot as I move around the kitchen, turning things off before I run up the stairs. I race into the closet, kicking my feet free of my slippers before shoving them bare into my boots. I grab my coat but don’t put it on as I snatch up my purse. My heart is pounding against my ribs, and my guilt is so heavy on my chest that I can hardly breathe.
He’s hurt. He’s hurt, and it’s my fault.
I don’t realize I’m sobbing until Ava gets back on the line and coos, “He’s going to be okay, honey. He’s breathing and he’s going to be okay. You’ve got to get it together, Sally—I don’t want you behind the wheel if you can’t handle it.”
“I’m fine,” I hiccup. “I’m fine. Tell me where to go.”
“Sally, are you—”
“Avangeline!”
“Okay, all right—they’re going to Saint Joseph’s. It’s on Nineteenth. I’m going to follow, and I’ll stay with him until you get here, okay?”
“Yeah. Thank you.”
I don’t wait for her to say anything else before I disconnect the call and put the hospital into my GPS. When I get it pulled up, I race out of the house and into the garage. Once I’m behind the wheel, I force myself to take a couple deep breaths. I manage, barely, but my hands are still trembling. Nevertheless, it’s the best I can do. I can’t calm myself down anymore. I have to see him, and I have to see him now.
It takes me nearly a half an hour to get to the hospital. While I’m en route, Ava sends me a message informing me that they are in the emergency room. She instructs me to call as soon as I arrive. After I park and jump out of my car, I make my way across the parking lot, shrugging on my coat as I push a call through.
“Sally, thank god, are you here?”
“Walking in right now. Is he okay?”
“He had a broken nose. The doctor decided he was going to set it—that it would be better if he did it while Dane was out cold. Girl, I almost threw up. I couldn’t hear it over Dane’s roar, but just the thought of that pain…” She pauses, and I imagine her body shaking in a shiver as mine does the same. “The good news is he’s awake now.”
Thinking about Dane in so much pain twists my stomach, and I can feel another sob clawing at my throat. I fight it, sure that I don’t have the right to cry, not after what I’ve done.
“Hey, I see you,” Ava murmurs, breaking through my thoughts.
The doors hiss open, and after a quick look around the room, I spot her. She’s at the nurse’s station, her hand raised to catch my attention. I hang up as I close the distance between us. She pulls me into a hug right away, but I don’t return it. All I can think about is getting to Dane.
“Where is he?”
“Come on. He’s a few beds back.”
Her heels click against the hard, tile floor as she takes me to him. When she throws the curtain open, revealing him propped up in bed, his shirt filthy and bloody, and his swollen face covered in bruises and cuts, the sob I was trying to hold back erupts without warning.
“That my woman?” he mumbles, his swollen, split lip making it hard for him to speak clearly.
“I’m so—I’m so sorry.”
“Get over here,” he demands weakly, lifting his hand for me to take.
Hesitantly, I walk to the side of the bed and gently slip my fingers around his. He squeezes my hand, and I swear it’s like he squeezed my heart instead.
“Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”
“How many times do I have to tell you—”
“It’s my fault,” I whisper. “I got another threat. I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think—”
“Babe, listen to me, this isn’t your fault.”
“They warned me, Dane. They told me—”
“What? To drop the case? We’re not dropping the fucking case. You didn’t do this, hear me? They did.”
“But—”
“Babe,” he grunts, giving my hand another squeeze. “I’m in quite a bit of pain right now. Everything hurts, and I’m told I’ll be stuck in this shit bed for a while. I don’t want to argue with you. I just want to hold my woman’s hand while I wait for the doctors to take me up for a CT. Can we do that?”
I nod, even though he can’t see me, the act causing a few stray tears to roll down my cheeks. I wipe them away, sucking in a breath before I manage a feeble, “Yeah. I can do that.”
“I ‘preciate it.”
“Well, that answers that,” Ava says softly, a hint of laughter in her tone.
“Answers what?” asks Dane, stealing the words right out of my mouth.
She grins at me, shrugging as she replies, “I just wondered if you were as bossy in your personal relationship as you are in your professional one. Clearly.”
Dane chuckles and then groans, squeezing my hand as he moans, “Don’t make me laugh.”
“Sorry,” she says, holding her hands up in surrender. “I should actually get going. I only wanted to stay until Sally got here. I believe you’re in good hands now.”
“Thank you, Avangeline.”
She shakes her head, reaching over the bed rail to grab hold of his ankle. “Don’t thank me for this.” She then looks to me and asks, “Keep me updated, all right? And you two stay safe.”
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“Call me if you need anything,” she says with a wave.
I watch her go, all the while wondering what might have happened had she not found him when she did. I wonder how long he might have been in the garage, or what might have happened if someone who didn’t know me found him. How long would I have been at the house, worried about dinner, while he was here—in so much pain that it hurts for him to even smile. Then I think back even further, questioning whether or not all of this might have been prevented had I told him about the letter that’s still hidden in my desk.
“Sigourney?”
“Yeah?” I sniffle.
“I’m okay.”
“But what if—”
“Babe, I’m okay. Will you do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Run your fingers through my hair. Feels good—I could use the distraction.”
I don’t hesitate to drop my bag on the floor as I let go of his hand and gently place my own on either side of his head. Being so close to his face, seeing his eyes swollen shut, it breaks my heart. I know he thinks this isn’t my fault, but I can’t seem to shake my guilt. As I run my fingers through his hair, I lean forward and press a soft kiss against his forehead, hoping it doesn’t hurt him.
“Is this all right?”
“It’s perfect.”
IT’S NEARLY MIDNIGHT by the time I’m released from the hospital.
The police showed up before I was taken up for a CT scan. I told them what little I could, and Sigourney informed them of the letter she’s been keeping in her desk for the last two weeks. It isn’t until she describes the day she got it that I realize it was the same day she asked if we could stay at the house. She was scared; and after what happened tonight, I know her fear has returned.
The doctor lets me go home only because I won’t be going alone. While he found no internal bleeding, and I show no signs of a concussion, he recommended I be woken up every couple of hours to make sure something undetected doesn’t crop up. The only broken bone I suffered was the one in my nose, but I know I must be covered in bruises, and I have a couple cracked ribs. Before the pain meds started to kick in, it felt like every muscle in my body was on fire. Now it’s more like a dull ache, but trying to move still hurts like a bitch.
I’ve never been in Sigourney’s car before. Shoving my tall frame inside is unpleasant, to say the least. I spend the entire ride home telling her she needs something bigger. Every argument she comes up with, I combat without trouble. When she tells me she can’t afford it, I remind her that I can. When she insists I can’t buy her a car, I remind her that Christmas is next week, and I can do what I want. She laughs at me, but I know her heart isn’t in it. Even still, she continues to playfully argue with me until we pull into the garage and she closes the door behind us.
“Wait, baby, let me help you,” she murmurs as I start to unfold from out of the passenger seat.
I open my mouth to tell her I can manage, but she’s at my side with her arm around my waist before I can protest. The look in her eyes when she asks me if I’m okay makes me want to wrap her in my arms and kiss her—hard. I want to fuck that guilt right out of her, but I know I can do none of those things. Not right now. Right now, all I can do is let her help me. It’s what she wants—it’s what she needs, and I’ll let her have it.
“I just want to get out of these clothes, take a shower, and lay in bed. Some food would be good, too. I’m fucking starved.”
“I can help with that,” she assures me with nod.
The trip up the stairs kicks my ass. By the time we reach the landing on the top floor, I decide I’m working from home tomorrow. I’m hoping it won’t take more than a couple of days for my muscles to stop protesting so goddamn much, but the doctor prescribed enough pain killers to imply he thinks it’ll take a bit longer.
Sigourney guides me straight to the bathroom, and soon all of my clothes are in a pile on the floor. She starts the shower for me and then immediately begins undressing herself. I watch, a small smirk pulling at my split lip when I realize she plans on joining me. As soon as she slips her panties down her legs, she returns to full height, sweeping her hair behind her ears when she looks up at me.
Reaching for my hand, she murmurs, “I’ll wash. You just—try not to move too much.”
With no intention of protesting, I allow her to guide me into the large stall. I stand underneath the hot spray of water, allowing it to ease my sore muscles. When Sigourney starts to rub her hands all over me, soaping me down, it’s not long before my aches and pains aren’t exactly at the forefront of my mind. She doesn’t notice my erection right away, but I hear her gasp when she does. Her head pops up, her gaze finding mine, and I shrug.
“Can you blame me?”
She studies me for a minute, and I wonder what’s going through her mind. I lift my hand and graze my knuckles across her cheek. It kills me to see her this way. All the guilt and fear she’s experiencing right now, I want to take it from her. I’m about to ask what she’s thinking when she surprises me and sinks down to her knees.
Fuck.
I groan the moment her tongue makes contact with the head of my dick. She licks me teasingly and then takes as much of my length as she can manage between her lips. Her eyes trained up at me, she begins to work me with her mouth—sucking and twirling her tongue just the way I like. The muscles in my abdomen and my chest contract, but the ache I feel is nothing compared to the pleasure she’s giving me. I ignore it, burying my fingers in her soaked hair. When she moans, the vibration of her voice turns me on even more, and I have to fight the urge to ram my dick all the way to the back of her throat.
I know what this is. I know what she’s doing, and I won’t take it from her. I let her have control—I allow her to work out some of her guilt, even though she’s got nothing to feel guilty about. With that in mind, I won’t let this moment pass without making sure she’s taken care of, too. We’ve always been generous and fair with each other. If I get off, she gets off as well, and tonight won’t be any different—even if I can’t be the one to get her there.
“Are you wet, Sigourney?” I ask, knowing she is. She hums her reply, and I slide my tongue across my cut lip before I demand, “Touch yourself. I want to see you come while you’re sucking my dick.”
She hesitates at first, but then she drags a hand through her breasts and down her stomach before tucking it between her legs. She whimpers when she fills her own pussy with her fingers. As she begins to pump in and out of herself, I can tell she’s enjoying it. Her mouth tightens around me and she sucks me harder, her head bobbing faster, moving in tandem with her own strokes. I can feel my cock growing stiffer, the sight of her on her knees bringing me to the verge of an orgasm, making me so aroused I’m not sure how much longer I can hang on.
“Rub that clit, baby—come for me,” I grind out between clenched teeth.
She obeys, wrapping her free hand around the back of my thigh as her body begins to tremble. When she comes, I lose her mouth, her neck arching as she frees her cry. Ignoring my body’s protests, I reach down for her wrist, bending enough to capture her fingers in my mouth. She moans when I suck her desire from her skin, and then we’re both sucking—our eyes locked as she beckons my release.
When I come, I grip the back of her neck tightly, holding her to me, roaring through the pain and the ecstasy of my climax. She swallows my seed, licking me even as I start to go soft, and then stands to her feet. I want nothing more than to devour her mouth, but I refrain, all too aware that I shouldn’t with my lip and my broken nose. Though, giving little regard to the rest of my battered body, I pull her against me. She touches her forehead to my chest, her hands hesitantly resting against my sides as she starts to cry. I don’t speak a word. Instead, I smooth my hand over her hair until she calms down.
A few minutes later, she helps me out of the shower and dries me off before I head for the bed. She pulls the covers up around my waist and then turns toward the bathroom. I catch her wrist, and she looks over her shoulder at me.
“Leave it. Get in here.”
“I thought you were hungry,” she sniffs.
“I’ll live. Get in here.”
She breathes a sigh but doesn’t argue before crawling into bed next to me. When I lift my arm, inviting her into my side, her eyes drop down to look at my chest. Her fingers are cool to the touch as she traces the outline of my biggest bruise, and she shakes her head at me in denial.
“Nothing’s broken,” I grumble, wishing she’d stop worrying.
“It looks really bad. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Sigourney—”
She twists and takes hold of my outstretched arm, lacing our fingers together as she brings my hand to rest against her chest—right between her bare tits.
“I’m afraid. I’m afraid of next time. I’m afraid it’ll be worse. I don’t—Dane, I don’t want Janet to settle; I don’t want her to lose. But I don’t want to lose you, either,” she confesses, her green eyes swimming in tears.
“You’re not going to lose me,” I declare, squeezing her fingers assuredly. “They’re just trying to scare us, babe. They didn’t take any of my money, they left my phone—these are not death threats. I’m not going anywhere. In two months, this will be over.”
“What if it had been me? What if you had gotten the call about me? What if you do next time? Dane, this feels too
dangerous. I don’t like it.”
I let go of her fingers and slide my hand up and around the side of her neck, pulling her a little closer. Holding onto my wrist with both hands, her eyes remain glued to mine as I speak. “There will be an officer assigned to our building, and you and I will come and go together. It’s already been established. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, understand? Nothing. We’re going to win this fucking case and clean those motherfuckers out. You hear me?”
She draws in a shuddered breath and seals her eyes closed tight. A couple tears spill over her cheeks as she nods and whispers, “Yeah. Okay.”
“All right, then. Lay down with me a while.”
This time, she does as I request, stretching out beside me. Resting her cheek against my shoulder, she holds my arm, careful not to touch any other battered part of me. It’s not as close as I’d like, considering her emotional state, but I’ll take it. After a few minutes of us laying in the silence, my eyes grow heavy, and I feel sleep descending on me like an unstoppable force. Exhausted as I am, I don’t fight it.
I DON’T SLEEP. Not for a moment. The only reason the doctor let Dane come home is because I’d be with him. I didn’t want to fall asleep and miss checking up on him. Besides, my mind is too busy for sleep, anyway.
As soon as the sun is up, I slip out of bed and go to the bathroom. After I do my business and wash my hands, I throw my hair up in a messy bun on top of my head. I look like shit, but I don’t really have the wherewithal to care. Once my hair is out of my way, I brush my teeth and then go about cleaning up our mess form last night. I have no idea what Dane’s going to want to do with his suit and his coat, but I gather it with my clothing and deposit all of it in the closet hamper.
There’s no way we’re going into the office today, so I don’t put a whole lot of thought into my clothing as I dress. I don a pair of fresh panties and a bra, then pull on my black leggings. Plucking an oversized t-shirt from the shelf, I throw it on before searching for a sweater. I find one among my new stash, but change my mind before taking it off the hanger. Heading to the other side of the closet, I pick one of Dane’s sweaters instead. After pulling it over my head, I hold the collar to my nose and breathe in his scent.