Poppy
I was distracted, and like always …
I should have known better.
Distracted was dangerous.
Distracted could be deadly.
When I left work, Happy had found something dead and decaying buried in the snow in the parking lot and he already had it in his mouth and was chewing on it by the time I realized it wasn’t just a stick or rock. Of course, his adventure led to him getting sick all over the backseat of my car, which was gross enough as it was, but the silly dog had to go and turn the disaster into even more of a horror show by trying to lick up his vomit. I couldn’t get to my apartment fast enough, and when I pulled up to the curb out front, instead of checking my surroundings and making sure I had a clear path from my car to the front door, I was preoccupied getting the dog out of the backseat while trying not to get puke all over my coat.
I was bent over at the waist, clipping the dog’s leash on his monogrammed and studded collar, his Christmas gift from Wheeler, when the first blow landed on the back of my head. Immediately I went to my knees, the puppy blurring into a brown blob as red started rolling over my face and staining the snow scarlet in front of me. I went to lift a hand to the burning, bleeding ache at the back of my skull when my wrist was grasped in a grip so tight and painful it made me cry out. Another hand fisted in my swinging ponytail and jerked my head backward.
Even though my vision was fuzzy there was no mistaking the man that was dragging me backward so that he could sit on my chest while he repeatedly banged the back of my head into the icy, unforgiving sidewalk in front of my apartment.
My father had found me and he wasn’t going to leave until I was dead. I should have known this was coming and I should have been prepared for it. Wheeler made me feel safe, made me feel bulletproof and invincible. I forgot I was nothing more than thin skin and breakable bone.
“Dad!” I screamed the word like it would have some effect on the madman that slapped me across the face and furiously ground his knees into my shoulders so I couldn’t hit him back. My heels were kicking uselessly into the ground and I could feel the puddle of blood underneath my head spreading, soaking into my hair and running warm down the back of my neck.
“I’ve been waiting outside of every single veterinary clinic in Denver until I found the one you worked at.” His hands flexed around my throat and I started to choke. I felt my eyes bug in my face as my oxygen supply dwindled down to nothing. I couldn’t get my hands free to push at him or to pry at his fingers, but I could get them into the pocket of my coat where my cell phone was. They were starting to tingle and go numb and he continued to put pressure on my airway but I managed to tap the screen and find the home button so I could redial the last number I called. Of course, it was Wheeler. “You stupid bitch. You and your whore sister were never worth anything. You think I’m stupid, that I don’t know it was you calling the house, that it was you who had that nosy sheriff showing up on my doorstep day after day, demanding to see your mother? You were dead to me, Poppy, dead.” His hands tightened more and more as he spoke and vaguely I heard Happy whining and his nails nervously tapping on the sidewalk as he danced around my struggling body.
I heard Wheeler scream my name from the phone in the pocket, and since I could hear it, so could my father, which had him letting go of my throat just long enough for me to sputter out a raspy “D-ad … st-o-pppp.” It was a plea that went unanswered.
When he leaned over to pull my phone out of my pocket, he lifted up just enough that I managed to flip myself over, my hands hitting the cement hard, palms sliding and skidding as the skin tore. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bloody rock the size of a man’s fist that had bits of my hair still clinging to it. He’d tried to cave my skull in, and from the amount of blood that was splashed across the snow I scrambled across, he had done a pretty good job of it.
Happy tried to jump in my face, which slowed me down as I tried to crawl away. Tears stung my eyes as my hair was yanked once again, pulling me back so that I landed on my ass with a loud cry. My father’s arm clamped around my throat, the curve of his elbow completely blocking any air from making it past his choke hold. I clawed ineffectively at his arm, the stiff fabric of his wool coat keeping his skin protected from the only weapon I had at my disposal. He growled poison at me and spit venom in my ear as he continued to hold me down while I struggled to breathe and escape.
“That bleeding-heart lawman took one look at your mother and told me if she didn’t get help he was calling adult protective services. Your mother has always had a roof over her head, food in her belly, and a man of God in her bed. She has nothing to complain about and that’s what she told that policeman, but he still came around.” The arm around my throat tightened even more and Happy jumped up and started pawing at my dad’s legs. I was worried the little guy was going to get hurt. When Oliver showed up to do the exact same thing to me that my father was doing now, he’d kicked Salem’s puppy so hard that the poor thing limped for weeks, but my dad seemed to have a single-minded focus and that was to make me pay. He didn’t even seem to notice the dog. “The last time he showed up at the house with some of the women from my church. They said they were worried about her, that they were concerned for her well-being. Seems your sister reached out to some people she thought might take an interest in your mother’s health, meddling like she always does. They convinced your mother that she needed to leave, both the house and me. It was humiliating. First, I have to suffer the embarrassment of daughters bathed in sin and immorality and then I have to explain to my congregation why the police are questioning me and why your mother is no longer in her rightful place. You ruined everything, you and your sister. I’m going to show you both what happens when you disobey and go against God.” Not only was he mean and violent, but apparently he’d crossed the line into delusion as well. “I never, not once, raised a hand to any of you, even when you so rightly deserved it. Do you see what you’ve driven me to, Poppy? Do you understand that this is the only way you will ever learn?”
God, I loved my sister. She didn’t give two shits about Mom or what was going on in our childhood home. She left it all behind and never looked back. But she loved me and she knew I was worried, knew it was under my skin that I couldn’t do anything to help our mom without going toe-to-toe with dad. She did what she always did and intervened. She got involved, pulled strings, played on sympathies, manipulated and coerced until she got me what I wanted … my mother away from my father. She was the best sister ever and she was going to lose her ever-loving mind if my dad managed to do any more damage to me than he already had. If he didn’t end up in jail for killing me, he was going to end up in a shallow grave when she was done with him.
My entire body bent back as he cranked his arm even tighter around my throat. I gasped and blinked rapidly as starbursts started to shoot off behind my eyelids. Everything around me was fading into a narrow pinpoint, blackening out around the edges, and I could hear the rush of my blood through my head as my brain scrambled for the oxygen it so desperately needed. The chill that was soaking into my knees and shins had more to do with my limbs going numb than it did with the cold. My father’s breath was warm on my cheek and lashed across my skin like a razor blade when he snarled, “That baby was lucky it didn’t make it into this world. You saved it from having someone like you as a mother, you stupid, useless girl. Your mother should have given me sons—strong, loyal, obedient sons. She’s just as worthless as you and your sister.”
I couldn’t see anymore. I could hardly hear, but I could feel that my entire face was wet with blood. I could smell the coppery scent of it and taste the salty wash of it on my lips, which were open, trying to suck in any kind of air and failing.
“Hey! What are you doing to that woman?” I vaguely heard Happy let out a yip and the creak of the front door to my apartment building.
My dad loosened his hold just enough that I managed to inhale a massive gasp of air. More afraid of dying and leaving Wheeler all alone again than I was of the man that had done his best to destroy me, I threw back an elbow with as much force as I could muster and heard a satisfying grunt of pain when it connected with my father’s soft belly. The arm dropped from around my neck as hurried footsteps pounded toward us and multiple voices demanded that my dad move away from me.
“Get away from her!”
“Take your hands off her!”
“I’m calling the cops!”
All of it was a blur and a swirl of things that made no sense as I pitched forward, no longer able to keep myself upright. I was expecting a faceful of concrete … what I got was gentle hands that wrapped around my upper arms to keep me from falling. I blinked and tried to bring the face in front of mine into focus. It looked vaguely familiar, but considering I was bleeding profusely, probably had a concussion, and had been choked out, I couldn’t place it right away.
I heard sirens wailing off in the distance and closed my eyes as tears of relief started to burn in my eyes and leak out over my lashes. Considering the blood all over my face, I was sure I looked like something out of a horror movie.
“She’s my child, my daughter, you have no right to interfere! I’m a man of God!” My father was wailing at the top of his lungs. “Let me go!” I looked over at him and saw that two other men that also looked slightly familiar were holding on to each of his arms as he strained and struggled to get free.
“Not a chance in hell, Pops. We’re staying right here until the cops show up so we can tell them you were trying to kill her right out in the open.” I wanted to hug the guy that was keeping me propped up but I was covered in all manner of gross things and there was a good chance I might puke on him. I felt my stomach rolling hard.
“She needs to be punished. She never learns her lesson, never.” My dad sounded crazy, just as crazy as Oliver did the entire time he held me captive.
The sound of an angry and powerful motor and big tires coming to a sudden stop had everyone’s attention turning to the big truck that came to a screeching halt in the middle of the road. The passenger door flew open and Wheeler hit the ground running before the vehicle fully stopped.
“Poppy!” My name ripped from him, terror and fury making the word vibrate with enough force that my rescuer wisely let me go so my man could get to me.
He was on his knees in front of me with his arms wrapped around me in the next heartbeat and finally I let myself collapse, knowing nothing and no one else was going to be able to get to me unless it went through him first.
My forehead hit his throat and my arms shook as they wrapped around his neck. He was panting harsh breaths into the side of my neck and I could feel his lips against the angry, swollen skin at my throat. I tried to tell him that I was okay, that I would be all right, but nothing but a scratchy squeak came out. He shook against me and I felt his hands ball into fists at my back. His head lifted and looked over to where my father was still struggling in the hold of the other two young men that had unquestioningly saved my life.
“The sirens are getting closer. You got two minutes max if you want to get a shot in, kid.” I didn’t recognize the voice, but when I looked up at the man that quietly gave Wheeler the warning, I gasped and did a double take. He looked just like Wheeler, only older, with salt-and-pepper hair and darker skin that was sun-weathered and set with attractive lines around his eyes.
“Two minutes is plenty.” Wheeler’s lips hit mine even though they were cracked and marked with spots of drying blood. “Honey, I’m gonna let Zak hold on to you for a minute, okay?”
He was asking but I could see the way rage was making his eyes electric and his freckles pop on his cheeks. I knew he wouldn’t let me go if I asked him not to, but the wild inside of him was wound up and needed a place to go. The wolf that prowled around inside of him wanted to protect its mate and I needed to let it.
“He’s not worth it, Wheeler.” I let the older man help me to my feet and promptly fell into his arms as my legs gave out. The words were nothing more than a puff of air that sounded like sandpaper and smoke. My throat felt like it was on fire.
“No, but you are.” Wheeler’s words were barked out as he took striding, stalking steps toward where my father had gone still, watching his approach with trepidation clear on his face. Wheeler jerked his chin at the other men holding on to the man that brought me into this world and had done his best to take me out of it. “Let him go.”
They complied immediately and took a few steps to the side so that there was no way they would get caught in the torrent of pure, unadulterated fury that was pouring off Wheeler in waves.
A massive hand lifted a red shop rag that seemed to magically appear to the back of my head, and applied soft, steady pressure. “He got you good, didn’t he, sweetheart?” The stranger with Wheeler’s eyes gave me a little squeeze and I closed my eyes as I heard Wheeler tell my father this was the last time he was going to get anywhere near the woman in his life. Suddenly a warm wiggly body was in my arms and puppy kisses were licking across my face as the stranger who felt like I had known him forever cuddled both me and my dog. I needed the comfort as the sound of flesh hitting flesh suddenly filled the air around me.
I wanted to tell Wheeler that my dad hadn’t gotten me good enough because I was still here, still standing and willing to fight. He had never been good enough to take me all the way out. I always managed to fight my way back. The words rattled around my head but they couldn’t find their way out of my battered throat.
I heard a scream.
I heard bones crunch.
I heard my father beg for the mercy he had refused to show me, or my sister … or my mother.
I heard clapping and wolf whistles as the witnesses to this entire ordeal happily encouraged Wheeler to take my father apart piece by piece. Something he was accomplishing with ease if the horrific sounds that were hitting my ears were any indication.
“Boy is good with his hands. It’s good you gave this moment to him.” The older man gave me a squeeze and Happy barked up happily at him as he reached out to rub the puppy’s head between his ears. “It’s gonna eat at him that he wasn’t here when your old man blindsided you. Letting him do something, anything, to prove he can take care of you, he needs that. We like to think we’ll be able to take on anything, tackle anyone that threatens what we love. The truth is we can’t always be there, but we will always protect what we love.” He swore as blood started to seep through the towel he was holding in a crimson rush. “Your pops is gonna go away for a long time, sweetheart. This is the only shot Hudson is gonna get to show him why you don’t put your hands on women, why you don’t put your hands on anyone that doesn’t want them there. He had to take his shot.”
He was right. I didn’t think there was any way to end violence with more violence, didn’t believe blood for blood was going to make my dad any kinder or more tolerant. But Wheeler obviously had a point to make and he made it by breaking every single bone in my father’s hands. In those two minutes, the man that I never wanted to see again also earned himself a broken jaw, knocked-out teeth, twin black eyes, split and broken lips, a dislocated shoulder, a sprained ankle from where he fell when he tried to run away, and a plethora of other bruises and scrapes he collected while trying to get away from my furious and vengeful boyfriend.
The sirens were suddenly upon us and I was enveloped in a swarm of police and paramedic uniforms. Someone shouted and pulled Wheeler off my dad and I cried out when Happy was pulled from my arms as I was hustled toward the back of a waiting ambulance. The older man that called himself Zak took hold of the puppy and promised me that he would take of my little guy. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Wheeler arguing with a police officer and I was all set to push away from the EMT that was messing with the gash on the back of my head and shining a light into my eyes. I wanted to keep Wheeler from getting arrested. Luckily, the three guys that had rushed to my rescue stepped in and explained the situation, so Wheeler avoided handcuffs.
It took a few minutes for him to get cleared and answer the police’s questions, but as soon as he was free, he jogged over to where they had loaded me into the ambulance. He climbed up into the back without waiting for an invitation and found one of my hands. His were torn, the knuckles raw and bleeding, but I wrapped my fingers around them anyway and held them to my cheek. I couldn’t talk—my voice was gone, my windpipe seriously bruised and swollen—but I think he understood I was saying thank you for standing up for me, for the physical fight I would never win. I could hold my own when it came to the battle for my soul and my heart, but I was always going to be outmatched when it came to swinging fists and powerful punches.
“Shoulda known if we pushed he was going to push back. Shouldn’t have left you alone.” His thumb ran along the curve of my cheek and I closed my eyes only to have the paramedic that was hovering near the top of my head prod me and tell me I couldn’t rest until I had a doctor check me out. He was guessing it was a concussion, as well I gathered.
I wanted to tell Wheeler it was about time I pushed. Pushed my father. Pushed my mother. Pushed against everything that had landed me in an abusive marriage and feeling like that was what I deserved. I pushed and pushed until it was no longer a part of me, and if that meant having to face off with another man that wanted nothing more than compliance and obedience, then I would do it again and again. For myself and for anyone else stuck in a bad situation.
Obviously, Wheeler couldn’t be by my side 24/7 but I couldn’t tell him that until my voice started working. It was sweet that he wanted to be a living barrier between me and the rest of the world, but I was done hiding. I’d been slowly working my way out of the protective shell I’d surrounded myself in after Oliver’s attack and I realized today that no matter how careful I’d been, or how deliberate I’d been in the people I let into my life, danger was always lurking close to home. It was never strangers that did the most damage: it was the men that were supposed to love me the most.
I’d had some really bad people in my life, ones that had left their mark and taken bits and pieces of me that I didn’t want to give. But I’d been fortunate enough to have some really amazing, special people in my life as well. Instead of taking, they gave me what I needed to heal and to make myself whole. They also left marks, but theirs were ones that I didn’t want to hide in the dark. They made me smile. They made me brave. They made me bold. I wasn’t living my life where the scars and wounds were—no, I was living it where the love and light found me every single day. What happened with my father wasn’t going to drag me backward. It was going to propel me forward, knowing he had made his own bed, stuffed with consequences and penance. I would rest easy at night knowing he would never be able to hurt me, my mother, or Salem again with either his words or his fists.
This was his end and my beginning.
“You’re gonna be okay, honey … we’re gonna be okay.” Wheeler sounded so sure of the fact that all I could do was believe him. I trusted him and he never lied to me. His wild was still riled up and needed soothing, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it while I was strapped down to a gurney with an IV in my arm. That wolf was going to have to howl just a little bit longer.
ONCE I GOT into the ER, it was a flurry of activity. I was separated from Wheeler, much to his aggravation and very vocal displeasure. Salem and Rowdy showed up to keep him in check and run interference as he snapped at every person that tried to get between me and him even though they were just trying to help. I needed X-rays of my head and throat, plus I’d lost a lot of blood and needed a transfusion. Luckily, Saint Ford, a friend of my sister’s who happened to be married to the guy that painted Wheeler’s garage, was the attending nurse. I managed to avoid having a panic attack when she started fluttering around me and cutting my bloody clothes off. She handled getting me visually checked out and into a hospital gown efficiently and professionally, so I didn’t really have time to freak out. I didn’t know her well but she was super nice, very patient, and treated me like I might break. She didn’t touch me any more than was necessary and she let Wheeler into my little cubicle that was divided from the one next to it by a curtain as quickly as she could. My sister and Rowdy fussed over me for as long as I could tolerate without being able to respond to anything they were asking. Sensing my growing agitation, Wheeler gently convinced them to come back in the morning when I wasn’t holding on to my composure by the very tips of my fingernails.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, one of my hands held in his as his other hand traced over the features of my face like he was trying to memorize each and every one when the curtain swished back and another familiar face made an appearance. I knew I was going to have to talk to the police eventually but I didn’t think I was going to get lucky enough to land in Royal Hastings’s lap. She was also a friend of my sister’s and someone that I knew in passing. She’d been instrumental in starting the manhunt for me as quickly as possible when Oliver snatched me from Salem’s apartment. All the stars were aligning to make this horrific attack as easy on me as possible—the stars and some well-meaning women. Saint let it slip that she saw my name on the intake board and bounced her coworker to another room so she could take care of me. As she gently and lightly laid me back on the hospital bed so I didn’t jostle the stitches and bandage that was now wrapped around my head like a mummy, she told me how she saw too many women come through the doors of her ER battered and bruised at the hands of someone they loved. She frowned as she told me how much it bothered her when they left with the person that put them there in the first place. She was ecstatic to hear that I would be leaving with Wheeler.
Royal watched me with knowing, cop eyes as she told us both, “I heard the call and recognized the name. I told my sergeant you’d been through enough with these men in your life and would probably be more receptive to a familiar face taking your statement than some strange man. Plus, I doubted Slugger here was feeling like letting anyone with a dick anywhere near you. I even told my partner to sit this one out.” She pointed a finger at Wheeler and wagged it back and forth. “Lucky you had witnesses to back up your story that you attacked Pastor Cruz in self-defense, Speedy. You’d be looking at a night in lockup if not.” I wondered at the nickname and made a mental note to ask him about it later.
Wheeler grunted and ran his thumb over the curve of my bottom lip. “She can’t talk. Her trachea is all fucked up and she has a severe concussion. The doc is keeping her for a few days and doesn’t know when she’ll be able to talk.” He sounded so frustrated and overly protective over it all, so I reached up and patted his shoulder reassuringly.
Royal rocked back on her heels and clicked her tongue. She was kind of a goof, and stunningly gorgeous … it was an odd combination for a police officer but it seemed to work for her. She was good at her job and obviously gave a damn about the people she was supposed to protect and serve.
“That’s okay. We’ll talk when you’re better, Poppy. I just thought you might want to know that the D.A. is looking at charging your old man with attempted murder. We found the rock he hit you with and it was obvious he stalked you until he found an opportunity to attack. That’s not a crime of passion, that’s a plan, one that thankfully, backfired. You’re lucky those college kids that live in the building were headed out for happy hour when they did.”
I made a noise in my injured throat and blinked. That’s when I recognized where the guys that stepped in came from. They were the rowdy group of guys that I’d done my best to avoid and had almost flipped out over the first night I invited Wheeler up to my apartment. I had spent so much time scared of people and things for no reason. The entire world wasn’t out to get me; in fact, there were lots and lots of people that seemed interested in protecting me, and I was so very thankful for that.
“Anyways, I’ll let you rest up and check in on you in a few days. Wheeler, I need you and your grandfather to swing by the station and give formal witness statements as well. Pastor Cruz is going away for a long, long time. I’m thrilled we get to do that for you, Poppy. I hated that we couldn’t get to you before your husband hurt you.” She shook her head, dark brown eyes going soft and sad. “That’s the worst part of the job, wanting to help and not being able to.” She pointed at Wheeler again and told him, “Take care of your girl.”
Royal left the room in a whirl of police blues and fiery hair, leaving me and Wheeler alone again. If I had a voice I would have asked about the grandfather revelation Royal had just dropped. I knew the older guy looked just like my guy, but my guy was a lone wolf … at least he had been until he met me. There was a story there I needed to hear, but it wasn’t the one he wanted to tell me.
“Never been so scared of anything in my entire life.” His breath whooshed out and he lowered his forehead so that it was barely resting against mine. “Not when my mom drove away from that fire station. Not when I got bounced from my first foster home or my fifth. Not when I met Kallie’s parents the first time or when she cheated on me the first time and I realized there was no way she could love me the way I needed to be loved. Not when I bought a house knowing the woman I was buying it for didn’t want me. Not when I found out I was going to be a dad. Not when we went to bed and I realized you were it for me, you were the one I’d been waiting for, and it was never going to be me and only me again. Nothing has ever ripped open my heart and made time stop the way it did when I got that call.” He lifted his head and his eyes met mine. They glistened like blue glass under the crystal veil of unshed tears. “I could have killed him and not felt a single ounce of regret over it.”
He said that but I knew it wasn’t true and so did he. He was lying with his words but his eyes always told the truth. The reason I loved him and had let him in when all I wanted to do was keep everyone out was because he was a man that wanted to take pain away, not cause it. I loved him because the last thing he wanted to do was hurt anyone, unless of course they were a direct threat to someone he loved. He was a lover not a fighter, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t protect what was his until his last breath.
He used his heart, not his fists, to win wars.
I couldn’t respond with words, so I reached up and cupped his cheek. I tapped the spot where his dimple was missing until he took the hint and lowered his lips to touch mine. I didn’t want to waste a second worrying about what had hurt either of us in the past. Those things weren’t changing and there would always be reminders to keep us humble and keep us kind. It was the things that made up happy, the things that restored us, that I wanted to focus on from this point on.
We deserved happy.
We fought for it and we won.
He was my victory and I was his triumph.
I couldn’t tell him that I loved him, that I loved that he took better care of me than anyone else ever had, myself included in that. I couldn’t tell him that I didn’t know what a life worth living looked like before he came into mine. I couldn’t promise him my future and forever—whatever that looked like—even though I knew it would be absolutely beautiful because it had me and him right in the center of it. I couldn’t whisper that he was the best I’d ever had, that no one compared in or out of bed to him, and I couldn’t scream from the top of my lungs that the best thing that ever happened to me was him deciding he could rebuild me.
I couldn’t say any of those things because I had no voice, but I knew they were all shining out of my eyes, that he could see them, because he always saw. When I was hiding, when I was afraid, when I was worried, when I was lost and looking behind me instead of where I was going, he still found a way to keep his eyes on me. It didn’t matter that I built walls to keep him out … he walked right through them.
He was looking at me the same way I was looking at him and I knew that no matter what we faced from here on out, we would always, only, have eyes for each other.