I HATED HIM.
As I stared down at his still body lying in the hospital bed, I hated him.
When I lay beside him, curling against his warm body, I hated him.
And when I lost his baby, I loathed him.
Dale Michaels was everything to me and nothing at the same time. He cracked open my ribs, ripped out my heart, and forced me to fall. I had been sucked into the pits of hell, clawing and digging, trying to find my way out. But the demons of my misery only pulled me deeper. I had fought against them for so long that now I stood beside them and smiled.
Life sucked.
Straight up.
Dale was the beginning of my suffering and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. I loved him. No matter how much of an asshole he was, I couldn’t help but love him. The heart wants what it wants and shit.
It was a week into his coma, maybe longer; I couldn’t remember and I tortured myself by visiting him every damn day. Maybe a part of me had hoped he would wake up, realize he loved me, and we would finally have our happy ever after.
The doctors kept him safe, comfortable, doing everything they could in preparation that he would eventually wake up. The doctor had told me Dale was lucky to still be alive—the bullet he had been shot with missing a vital part of his head.
I remembered when Vice-One came back from their mission. The Navy SEALs I had come to know over the past couple of months looked everywhere but directly at me. And that was when I heard the words. Coby had been the one to tell me. He was Dale’s best friend. All of them were close but those two were the epitome of brotherhood. Dale was the youngest and Coby was the oldest. It was like he took Dale under his wing. A slight twinge settled deep in the middle of my chest over my reaction to his words.
“Dale is in a coma.”
I broke. I screamed. I cursed. I cried. And then nothing. I had beat my fists against Coby as his words washed over me. He didn’t react. He had stood there like a stone wall while I unleashed my wrath on him.
All my feelings over the past couple of months were pulled from me as they shredded my soul. But I no longer cried for Dale.
From the research I had done, they say if you talked to a coma patient, they could hear, maybe even react to a person’s voice. It had been weeks, and I still didn’t talk to him. No words could leave my mouth as much as I tried. As much as the voice screamed inside of my head for me to give him everything I felt and show him the pain he had caused me. I wanted Dale to feel what I felt. I wanted to break him like he broke me. I wanted his bones to shatter as he begged at my feet, pleading for me to forgive him. I wanted everything from him but nothing at the same time. He didn’t deserve me. All of these thoughts rushing through my mind only made me feel guiltier.
I loved him.
I hated him.
I needed him.
I pushed him.
When I first told Dale I was falling in love with him, he laughed in my face. I laughed as well because I was surprised at how stupid I had been. Dale was a slut. How could I ever think he would settle down with someone like me? Well I had. And then I got pregnant. That conversation didn’t go over well no matter how many times I had rehearsed it in my head. He was young. Scared. We only just met. Blah. Blah. Blah.
But now we were in the hospital. With him in bed and me beside him. I wondered if maybe him falling into a coma and me losing the baby at the same time was a sign.
I sat on the edge of the bed, letting my head fall into my hands. The tears had dried up, but I knew it was only because he couldn’t talk back to me. As soon as I heard his voice, I would break, crumbling to the ground because I was weak. So damn weak.
I had no baby.
I had no boyfriend.
Depression had settled in, and I let it, not caring in the least how it had affected me or those around me.
“You did this to me,” I whispered, finally able to speak to Dale after all this time.
He didn’t stir.
I cupped his cheek, the rough stubble scratching my fingers. “You did this to me,” I repeated on a whisper. My heart raced, pounding hard behind the walls of my rib cage.
He looked at peace while inside I was a raging inferno of despair.
Rubbing my hands up and down my legs, I pushed and pushed until a sob escaped me. I shook my head, the tears rolling down my cheeks and dripped off my chin. “You. It’s your fault,” I croaked, my heart thumping hard in my ears.
As each day passed with Dale still being in a coma, my soul crushed with the added weight. As much as I hated him, I would never wish him harm. Unless I was the one doing it. I wanted to beat my fists against his chest. To yell and scream at him. For him to shout back. And then I wanted his arms to wrap around me and tell me everything would be okay and that he loved me. But none of that happened. It would never happen.
I rose from the bed, staring down at him just as a nurse came into the room.
She didn’t say anything while checking his vitals. She didn’t look my way. She didn’t ask me how I was because the fuck if I knew. She learned from the last time. She knew better. The staff had come to know that I could be a raging bitch so they ignored me.
When the nurse left, I glanced back down at Dale’s unmoving form. He was intoxicatingly beautiful; I couldn’t resist him from the first moment he smiled at me. With that delicious dimple that popped out of his cheek when he smirked. The flick of his tongue as it slid along his full bottom lip. The heat in his eyes, reminding me what he could do to me. As much as I hated him, I missed him even more. Even though the past couple of months involved only us fighting, I needed it. I needed him. I needed more.
“There isn’t any change,” the nurse said and left the room. Nothing more. Nothing less. She didn’t give me any sign that Dale would pull out of this. That he would come back to me.
My chest constricted. It wouldn’t be me he was coming back to.
With a heavy heart, I curled my fingers around his, falling to my knees. It had been the same thing every damn day since the first. I would beg. Plead for God to wake him up. But no tears came. Not for him. Not for our baby. Not until now. The only sounds leaving me were screams. Violent tremors tore at my soul, shredding the last bit of hope I had. Terrorizing nightmares left me stripped bare, only to remind me what had happened.
I promised myself that when he woke up he would feel my wrath. My slap against his cheek for hurting me. My fists beating against his chest for leaving me.
My throat tightened. No. I would not cry. He didn’t deserve my tears. Not anymore. Not ever again.
I still held his hand. I still prayed he would wake up. I would continue to beg until his beautiful blue eyes opened for me. How could I fall in love with a man who wanted nothing but sex? Delicious, life-altering sex. But he had been selfish, only worrying about himself. And yet, I still crawled back to him like some bitch in heat.
My body hummed, images of our time together melting into my mind.
I swallowed hard, pushing them back.
The alarm clock on my phone dinged, alerting me it was time to go back to the gallery before I was missed.
Placing a soft kiss on Dale’s cheek, my lips tingled under the scratchiness of his beard, mentally promising him that I would be back the next day.
As I left the hospital, the further I got away from Dale, the heavier my body felt. It didn’t make sense for me to spend time with him day in and day out. I got that. And as much as I hated him, I couldn’t pull myself away. I needed to make sure he was okay, not that my presence would mean anything.
I wasn’t sure what bothered me most. That the man I loved was in a coma or that I lost his baby. I already regretted the day I would have to tell him. But maybe he wouldn’t even care. It wasn’t like he wanted anything to do with us.
Wind whipped around me, brushing under the hair at my nape and sent a shiver down my spine. Much like the way Dale used to touch me while he held me during our passion.
With my body heavy and my muscles aching and vibrating over my bones, I trudged to my bike. The beauty sat by the curb, shining and bright. The only light in my life. Before Dale’s accident, I loved riding but something kept me from it. Now, I was driven with a need, a want so hard, that I had to ride it out for fear of losing myself. The open wind in my hair curbed the darkness that had settled deep on my heart.
Once I straddled my bike and turned her on, the rumble between my legs sent a shiver down my spine. A part of me was thankful Dale was at the hospital in the city. I could then enjoy the drive back to town. It wasn’t long, but it was enough.
My phone vibrated in the pocket on the inside of my leather jacket, but I ignored it and kicked off from the curb. I knew who was texting me. It had been the same person since Dale fell into a coma.
Jay Gold, my best friend and president of the King’s Harlots, was worried about me. But I was fine. She had no reason to be concerned. I scoffed. Even I didn’t believe that.
Pulling out of the hospital parking lot, I felt a piece of me had been left back with Dale. Since the moment I had heard about him being in a coma, some part of me had followed him into that darkness. Maybe he was better off. The shit storm that had gone down with the human trafficking organization we were trying to shut down only kept getting more difficult to stop.
Once I reached the edge of the city, I glanced in my side mirror, wondering if Dale would wake up when I wasn’t there. It had been the same battle of thoughts in my mind day in and day out.
My phone rang, the jarring sound screeching in the ear piece hooked up to my helmet. Letting out a hard sigh, I tapped the screen on my phone resting on the mount. The speedometer caught my eye, forcing a small smile tugging at my lips. Speeding up at the same time I grunted a greeting into the phone, I let the open road guide me home.
“Don’t you sound fucking chipper.”
“Always,” I mumbled. “What’s up, Jay?”
She sighed. “Listen, I’m just going to come out and say it. I’m worried for you.”
“For me or about me?”
“Same thing, isn’t it?”
Maybe. “I’m driving.”
“You have a hands-free, Max. I’m talking to you until you get home.”
“I’m heading to the gallery. I need to paint.” Painting had been my only solace. It was the one true way I could escape and leave the hell of my mind behind.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You know why.”
I swallowed hard. “Nothing is going to happen.”
“Did you get the image of Zane?”
“Yeah, the fucker is gorgeous,” I muttered, remembering the photo of Zane Birtch. The man we were told was behind this organization of trafficking but I had a feeling it was someone else. Someone on the inside. Someone we knew.
“Well, maybe, but remember, if you see him, call it in.”
“I’ll do that.” We talked until I reached town. Which consisted more of Jay talking and me grunting answers. It used to be the other way around. But since Jay had found her one true love, engaged to be married, and now pregnant with his child, I had become the bitter one. I was happy for her, but I was also jealous. It was the most honest emotion I had allowed myself to feel in weeks.
“Max?”
“I’m almost at the gallery. I’ll talk to you soon, Jay.” I hung up the phone before she even had a chance to respond.
Pulling my bike into the narrow alleyway beside the gallery, I shut her off and waited. The wind whipped around me, brushing over my skin like the touch of a lover’s kiss.
A shiver rippled down my spine, and before I could allow my mind to drift to that pain, I slid off my bike and headed into the gallery.
It was midafternoon on a Thursday. The gallery would open in a couple of hours and go well into the late evening. Artists from our small town and the surrounding cities would come out to see my work or try and get their own art into my space.
It had been the same old routine ever since I started working there a couple years ago. I never went into painting expecting to sell anything. I also didn’t go into it to make a quick buck. I did it so people could see my work if they wanted to and hopefully become inspired in the meantime.
Rounding the corner of the building, I unlocked the front door and headed to the back where my home away from home was.
As soon as I reached my office, my heart stuttered. Blank canvases sat against one wall. A table lined with paint, brushes, and pencils sat against another. And the easel stood in the middle of the room, holding another blank canvas I hadn’t been able to touch since … I swallowed hard and shook myself.
Although Dale was in a coma, I wouldn’t give him the reprieve of shattering. It was unfair of me. I knew that. It wasn’t like he knew what had happened.
Our baby. Our sweet, precious baby girl.
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
Fuck.