My Peace (Beautifully Broken #5) Page 2

  I feel guilty about that now. I mean, my husband was trying to help someone and I couldn’t be bothered to wake up?

  “Stop it,” my sister says, eyeing me. She knows me too well. “This wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know,” I mumble. “It was an accident.” I look up at her. “Can you call Chelcie, and ask her to stay the night with Zu? I don’t know what time I’ll be leaving here.”

  Maddy nods. “Of course.” She disappears around a corner as she pulls her phone out of her purse to call my babysitter, and Gabe falls into step with me as I pace. His big body dwarfs mine, the skull-and-crossbones tattoo on his bicep reading death before dishonor.

  “You don’t have to babysit me,” I tell him. “I’m fine.”

  “I’m not babysitting,” he protests. “I’m pacing. I like to pace.”

  He stays in step with me for a few minutes more before he speaks again.

  “He’s going to be fine, Mila.”

  I nod, because there’s no way he’ll be anything else. Pax is strong, he’s a fighter. He’s overcome so much already.

  The policeman clears his throat, and I had almost forgotten he was here.

  “If you are contacted by anyone, by the girl you stopped to help, for example, will you let us know?’

  He offers me his card and I take it, and I’m confused.

  “Wait. You haven’t spoken with the girl?”

  The policeman eyes me. “No. As I mentioned earlier, she left the scene.”

  I don’t remember that at all. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’m a bit flustered.”

  He nods. “It’s perfectly understandable. Just let us know if, for some reason, she tries to contact you.”

  “Ok.”

  He leaves, and Gabe and I pace together for a few more minutes. Finally, I’m too tired to pace, and I collapse into a chair. Maddy comes back, and holds my hand, and I’m just closing my eyes to rest them when the surgeon emerges from the door.

  I know it’s the surgeon because he’s wearing one of those caps that you see on ER shows, and he looks exhausted.

  “Your husband is going to be ok,” he tells me quietly. Gabe, Maddy and I exhale collectively, a mass release of pent-up anxiety. “His spleen was ruptured in the impact, but we’ve removed it and stopped the internal bleeding. His knee was hyper-extended, as well. He’ll be sore, but he’s going to make it.”

  If I weren’t already sitting, I would collapse from relief. My knees feel numb.

  “Can I see him?” I ask quickly.

  “Yes. I’ll have a nurse come get you when he’s wheeled to a room.” He disappears back through the doors and Maddy hugs me tightly.

  “See? I told you.”

  I nod, and I’m still numb. “Yeah.”

  It’s not very long until a nurse comes to get me, and takes me to Pax.

  I pause at the door, looking at the man in the bed.

  He’s paler than he should be, he’s got tubes hooked up to his hand, and he’s got muscles and tattoos. He’s mine, although being here, reminds me of a night when he wasn’t mine yet. The night I first met him.

  He’d overdosed on the beach, and I’d found him in a pool of vomit. I’d given him CPR and called an ambulance, and then had come to see him the next day in the hospital. I might’ve fallen in love with him that very day.

  His hazel eyes open now, slowly, but they brighten when he sees me.

  “Hey, Red,” he says softly. “What took you so long?”

  I laugh, because I’m his little Red Riding Hood and he’s my Big Bad Wolf. Always and forever. I rush across the room, and grab his hand, the one that doesn’t have an IV.

  “Oh my God, you scared me,” I breathe, inhaling his neck, and kissing his cheek. “Sweet Lord, Pax.”

  “You scare easily,” he points out, and his arm wraps around me, tugging me closer.

  “No,” I answer firmly. “You got hit by a car. A car.”

  “We don’t know for sure it’s a car,” he replies. “It could’ve been a truck. Or an SUV. It sorta felt like an SUV.”

  He rubs at his hip, and I roll my eyes to hide my panic.

  “You’re ridiculous,” I tell him.

  He grins.

  “Yeah. But you love me.”

  “Yeah.”

  Pax tugs me until I tumble over the bed railing and collapse into his side. I snuggle there, into his arm, and he smells unfamiliar, like iodine and sterility. Not like my Pax.

  “You stink,” I mumble into his arm.

  He chuckles.

  “You don’t.” He sniffs at my hair. “You always smell the same. Like Lavender and vanilla. You’re my home, babe.”

  “The drugs have you addled,” I tell him, but his words warm my heart. They almost make all of the panic and anxiety worth it. Almost. “Did you know the girl?” I ask. “The police said she left the scene.”

  I feel my husband shake his head. “Nope. She was just a random chick with a flat tire. She didn’t know how to change it.”

  “Then how did she flee the scene?” I wonder aloud.

  Pax shrugs. “She was probably freaked out and drove on the rim. Who knows?”

  “We’ll never know,” I agree. “All that matters is that you’re going to be ok.”

  “You should go home and get some rest,” Pax tells me. “Seriously. I’ll be ok, sweetheart.”

  My gut clenches, because God. If the car or truck or SUV, or whatever the hell it was, had been just one more inch to the right, Pax wouldn’t have been so lucky. It makes me sick to my stomach and I clench his hand tightly.

  “No. I’m staying right here.”

  “But what about Zu?”

  “I had Maddy call Chelcie.”

  “Babe, go home. Just come back in the morning. You won’t be able to sleep here.”

  I’m trying to protest when a nurse interrupts us. “Yes, Mrs. Tate. You really can’t be here tonight. He’s in recovery, and I need to monitor his vitals. I’m not sure I’ll get an accurate pulse read if you are in bed with him.” She gestures toward the monitors with a wry smile, and Pax laughs.

  “True,” he points out. “You affect me, Red.”

  “Still?” I ask breathlessly, and he grins again.

  “Do you really doubt that?”

  I shake my head, remembering what we had done in the parking lot earlier. “No.”

  “Good. Go home. Give Zu a kiss for me, and come back in the morning to get me.”

  “I doubt you’ll be ready for release that soon,” the nurse cautions him, but Pax ignores her.

  “I’ll call Roger,” Pax reaches for his phone, but I shake my head.

  “No. It’s the middle of the night. I’ll have Gabe drop me off.”

  “They’re still here?” Pax lifts an eyebrow.

  “Of course. They love you. They’ll take me to get our car tomorrow, too.”

  He nods and I throw my arms around his neck. He winces, then hides it.

  “Are your pain meds wearing off?” I ask, then I turn to the nurse before he answers. “He needs more. Please don’t let him be in pain.”

  “He’s in good hands,” she assures me. “I promise.”

  “Ok.”

  Pax kisses my lips softly, and then a little more insistently. The nurse clears her throat, gesturing again at the monitor. I smile against my husband’s lips.

  “I guess I do affect you,” I sigh. “I’ll be back in the morning. Don’t go anywhere.”

  He chuckles, and I get up, but I pause at the door.

  The nurse is checking the pulse at his wrist, and he’s so big and strong, and he looks so out of place in the hospital bed.

  “I love you,” I tell him.

  His eyes are gold as he looks up at me. “I love you, too, Red. Sweet dreams.”

  “Always.”

  I force myself to leave, and Gabe and Maddy walk me through the hospital corridors and out into the chilly night.

  I’m silent as they drive me home, my eyes hot and red from
lack of sleep.

  “He’s ok,” my sister reminds me as we pull into my driveway. “You can relax and get some sleep.”

  “I know,” I agree. “Thank you for giving me a ride.”

  “We’ll be back in the morning to take you to your car,” Gabe says gruffly.

  “Thank you, guys,” I murmur as I climb out. “Really.”

  They wait as I unlock the door, and then they drive away, their taillights disappearing into the night.

  I glance at my watch. It’s three-thirty a.am.

  Chelcie is asleep on the sofa and I hesitate to wake her.

  “I’m home,” I tell her softly. “Feel free to stay here tonight, if you’d like.”

  “Is Pax ok?” she asks worriedly, sitting up. I nod. I know she’s sincerely concerned. She’s like family now. She was our waitress over a year ago in a tiny dive café, and after talking with her, we found out that she was an orphan, that she had no money, and she was trying to put herself through college.

  That was all it took. Pax paid her tuition the next day, and she’s been our babysitter ever since.

  “He’s fine,” I tell her. “His spleen ruptured, so they had to take it out. He’ll be in the hospital overnight, but he’s fine.”

  “Oh my God,” she breathes, and her eyes are huge. “I can’t believe it. Did they catch the guy?”

  “No. Not yet. It was a hit and run.”

  “Jesus,” she breathes, pulling off her blanket. “What can I do?”

  “You’ve already done it,” I tell her. “You stayed here with Zu. Thank you, Chelcie. I mean it.”

  “Anytime. Of course.”

  She rubs at her eyes and I glance around the room. It’s large, comfortable, and nice. It’s not over-the-top fancy, because Pax and I aren’t like that. But the furnishings are expensive, tasteful and classic. Our house is large, but it’s still homey.

  “Zuzu is sleeping,” Chelcie adds needlessly. “She went to bed at nine, and she’s been asleep ever since.”

  “Thanks, Chels. You can stay in the guest room, if you want. You probably shouldn’t drive so late.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m fine. I’ve got an exam at eight, so I should go.”

  “Ok.” I walk her to the door, and when she’s gone, I set the alarm. We live in a nice neighborhood, but I’ve always been careful. Maddy says I’m paranoid, but it’s not that. I’m just realistic.

  After finding out that Pax’s mother had been murdered in cold blood so long ago by their mailman, I’ve learned that life can be tragic and random, and it’s smart to be cautious. People can be sick, and you never know what a person is really like until you truly get to know them.

  I strip off my clothes and brush my teeth and climb into our giant bed alone.

  With only me in it, it is enormous, and Pax’s side is cold.

  I stare out the wall of windows facing me, at the view of the gardens. I watch the treetops sway in the night, and I know that in a couple of hours, the sun will come up, and when it does, when the first fingers of dawn stretch into my daughter’s room, Zuzu will be wide awake.

  My phone buzzes on my nightstand.

  Go to sleep. I love you.

  I smile at my husband’s text. He knows me well.

  Quit being bossy, I answer. But I love you, too.

  Across town, Pax is lying awake in a hospital bed, and he’s just as unable to sleep as I am, because we’re so used to falling asleep entwined together.

  I’ll see you soon, I add.

  Closing my eyes, I let the darkness swallow me up, enveloping me in its silent void.

  Sleep comes quickly.

  4

  Chapter Three

  Pax

  I groan as I move.

  “Son of a bitch,” I mutter, as I attempt to get dressed. My fucking back feels like it was twisted into a pretzel and then chewed on by iron teeth. I groan again, and the young nurse walking in notices.

  “You ok?” she raises an eyebrow, her dark eyes showing concern. “I don’t think you should’ve signed yourself out.”

  “I’ve got things to do,” I tell her. “And being here isn’t going to help anything.”

  “You could rest here,” she makes her way across the room, and stops next to me, her hands on my shoulders. She palpates my tender body, feeling for… I don’t know what. Her fingers linger on my chest. “I would take very good care of you.”

  I’m startled because her tone has just gotten very suggestive and I know I’m not imagining it.

  She smiles slightly, and I move away, out of her reach.

  “That’s ok,” I tell her firmly. “My wife will take good care of me at home.”

  The nurse isn’t bothered. “She’s not trained like I am,” she points out, and she turns off the monitors, and bends slowly in front of me to straighten the pillow that I’m not even using. Her ass is in the air in front of me. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  Holy shit.

  “How unprofessional,” I say. I’m not harsh, and I’m not mean, but there’s one thing I’ve learned in life. You have to be direct for people to understand you.

  She pauses, assessing me, assessing my interest.

  When she sees that I’m not interested, at all, she straightens and is back to business, pretending that she hadn’t spoken.

  She hands me a paper. “These are your discharge instructions,” she says, and she’s perfunctory now. “You need to follow up with your physician, you should avoid physical activity until your doctor clears you. Take it easy because you’re going to be sore for a while. Here is a script for pain medication. Because of your history, they are non-narcotic, but they will still help. You’re going to need them. You’re pretty banged up.”

  “You think?” I ask dryly, wincing again as I move.

  “Don’t try to be a tough guy,” she advises. “You need to stay in front of the pain. So if the instructions say take two every four hours, do it.”

  I nod. “Fine. Thank you.”

  She pauses at the door, and looks at me one more time. “Do you need anything else?”

  She appears to be hopeful. Jesus.

  “No, thanks,” I tell her.

  “Well, if you change your mind, press the ‘call’ button.”

  She disappears and I exhale. Is that what women are like nowadays? I’ve been off the market for five years, but I swear, some women see a wedding ring as a challenge.

  I am quickly distracted though, because I hear the thud of small sneakered feet and then girlish shrieks.

  “Daddy!” Zuzu bounds into the room, her blond curls bouncing as she leaps up next to me. I swallow hard from being jostled.

  “Punkin,” I hug her with one arm, and she smells like sunshine and little girl. “I missed you.”

  She looks up at me with green eyes just like her mama’s. “Mommy says you hurt yourself.”

  “Well, yeah. I guess I did. But I’m ok,” I assure her.

  Mila steps into the room. “If you’d stop stepping in front of moving vehicles, you’d be perfect.”

  I chuckle. “I hope you’re here to spring me out.”

  “Only if you promise to be a good boy,” she says sassily, and her eye gleam as she approaches. “Be careful with daddy,” she tells Zu. “He’s fragile.”

  I roll my eyes and heft myself up. “I’ll show you fragile,” I grumble under my breath. My wife just laughs.

  “You ready to go home?” she asks, her eyebrow raised. “Or were you wanting to sleep here another night?”

  “Let’s get the f…” I pause, eying my daughter. “Flock out.”

  My daughter leads the way, skipping down the corridor, making nurses smile at her. Every step I take hurts like hell, but I try not to show it. I’m not a pussy, and I’m not going to act like one.

  Once we’re loaded into Mila’s SUV, she glances at me. “I’ll go get your meds after I get you home. I don’t want you to have to wait at the pharmacy.”

  “I’m not an inv
alid,” I tell her, but Jesus, the seat makes my back scream. Every muscle in my body feels like it is contracting, twisting, and has been shredded though a meat grinder.

  “No arguments,” Mila says firmly as she pulls out of the parking space and onto the road. “You’re my patient now, and I’m a strict nurse. Some might even say militant.”

  “You’d better listen, daddy,” Zuzu advises from the backseat. “Momma knows everything.”

  I raise an eyebrow, even though that hurts, too. “Everything?”

  Zu nods. “Yup.”

  “Listen to your daughter,” Mila laughs. “She’s wise. She gets that from me.”

  We drive over a bump and I suck in a breath as the pain reverberates through my ribcage. Mila glances at me.

  “How bad is it?” she asks.

  “Not at all,” I lie. “It’s great. Refreshing, actually.”

  My wife rolls her eyes. “Reminds you you’re alive?”

  I nod. “Exactly.”

  She runs over another bump.

  “I’ve already been reminded,” I tell her. “Avoid the potholes.”

  “Sorry,” she says. “I’ll try.”

  We sail through the morning traffic, and when we get home, I’ve never seen anything so welcoming as our cozy Cape Cod. Even the wrap-around porch looks All-American, and I exhale as I climb out of the car.

  Mila rushes ahead to unlock the door and I climb the stairs gingerly.

  “Daddy, I’ll read you a story,” Zu offers as we walk inside. “I know two of them.”

  “She memorized them,” Mila tells me quietly. “But that’s ok. It’s how I learned to read, too.”

  “I’d love that,” I answer Zuzu. “Go get your books, sweetheart. I’ll be on the couch.” I head to the kitchen first to grab some icepacks, and then settle in the family room.

  Surrounded by the familiar artwork and our comfortable furniture, I finally relax. Home has a way of doing that to a person.

  Zuzu tucks in next to me, and ‘reads’ me her Dr. Suess books while Mila runs out to get my prescriptions filled, and the sweet childish voice of my daughter lulls me to sleep.

  I’m awakened hours later by Mila shaking my shoulder gently, a bottle of water in her hand.