Dark Love (The Two Sides of Me Book 3) (20 page)

“Isaac please, really.
I’ll be ok, can you just stay with him until Dr. Carmichael comes back?” I can see him scrambling mentally for another reason to take me himself.

“What about the security camera?” And there it is, he just found one.

“I’ll stay over here until he comes back. I slide down to the floor and put my head between my knees, I’m feeling a little faint. Cecelia knows the deal; she grabs the tray leaving us there to argue it out.

“How about Mr. Saint? Can I call him and have come and stay with Evan? Mia, you really need to get to bed, I’m sorry, but you kinda look awful.”

“Does he have medical training?”

“He was a Medic in the Marines, that good enough for ya?”

“Ok, yea.” He's dialling and propping the phone with his shoulder while gathering me up in his arms.

“I can walk Isaac,” I whine,
but he ignores me to speak to Saint. “Hello sir, we need you in the chamber, Mia is sick, she needs help getting to her room.” The chamber? Why do they call the mini hospital a chamber?
Ohh God, I don’t get a chance to figure that out before I begin retching all over Isaac. Well, that’s what he gets for being all hands on with a nauseated woman! He’s a trooper though, doesn’t even flinch, just starts toward the elevator, and even lets his phone fall between us into the foul smelling bile.

“Shit, I’m sorry Isaac, that came out of nowhere, your phone…”

“Don’t worry about it, phones can be replaced. Mr. Saint will meet us at the elevator entrance upstairs, Evan will only be alone for a few seconds. I don’t like it but the longer I stay here, the more he’s exposed. I look over at Evan; he’s breathing easily and sleeping. I nod in agreement, and we board the elevator. Inside the confined space, the smell is worse, yuck.

When the doors slide open Saint is standing waiting, and he looks pissed. He reaches for me, but Isaac side steps him. “We’re covered in vomit; I’ll take her.” Saint steps out of the way allowing us to pass. Humph, for a medic he’s sort of a pussy.

“You sure he was a medic?” I ask and Isaac chuckles

“Yea, it’s been a while, and I know for a fact he hates puke.” I’m feeling a little better by the time we’ve made it to the bedroom.

“I’m better now you can put me down.” He opens the door and sets me on my feet, his phone clatters to the floor when our bodies separate. We both go for it and bump heads.

“Shit!”

“Oh God, Mia, I’m sorry,” he's holding his head.

“Wow, it’s really not my day is it?” We both stand and I hand him his gross phone. “Sorry again about your phone.”

“Like I said…no biggie.”

“Um well, you wanna wash your hands or something?” I ask when the silence between us becomes uncomfortable.

“Oh, yeah sure, I guess I probably should, huh?” He heads into the bathroom, and I open one of the wardrobes to look for something comfy and clean to change into. I hear the water turn on and then off a few minutes later. I’ve chosen some cotton sleeping pants and a tank top, man I need a shower. When I turn, Isaac emerges from the bathroom with his shirt in his hands wadded up. Good Lord, he’s ripped! I figured he was in good shape, but jeez… I avert my eyes to the window and clear my throat.

“Ahem, um, Isaac…”

“Sorry, I had to take it off, puke ya know?” He's being genuine, I really don’t think he means to make me uncomfortable, but I am just the same. “Mia?” I look at him but my eyes dart between the door behind him and his chest, it’s impossible to ignore his physique.

“I’m sorry” he crosses his lean muscular arms across his chest. “I needed to get you alone…”

“Oh no, no, no!” I cut him off shaking my head back and forth vigorously. “Mr. Saint told me about your feelings for me. Isaac, you’re going to ruin this, you’re my best friend!” I back away from him my hands out in front of me, focusing on my feet.

“God no, Mia! That’s not why…I mean yea, I love you, shit who doesn’t? I just saw the handcuffs this morning and, fuck!” He drops his arms and begins to pace.

“And what?” I peek up at him fuzzy headed and sit on the floor before I fall on it.

“I don’t know what all he remembers from his old life, and I don’t know how much he’s told you but Mia, he’s the most dangerous man I’ve ever known, and I’ve known some pretty fucking nasty people. I thought he’d changed; I thought he was going to be all right after his accident after he met you. But if he’s hurting you, Mia, I swear I’ll fucking kill him!” I press my hand on my forehead; this is too much, this situation, Evan, Isaac,
my life has become too fucking much! Isaac crouches down in front of me. “Mia, Dr. Carter might have had the wrong intentions but he wasn’t lying, Evan was a murder
er, he tortured people in this very house, he abused women, moved drugs for the Ndrangheta, do you even know who they are? No, of course you don’t because he didn’t remember until now, that’s the problem, Mia. If he remembers the old Evan, who’s to say he won’t
become
that man again?”

A nuclear bomb explodes in my head; I don’t want to hear anymore, I don’t want to know anymore! “Ahhhhhhh!” I pull at my hair and scream, piercing the air around me, squeezing my eyes shut tight until sparks burst inside my lids. My scream like a ripple in a still pond reverberates through the house. Pond water is so sensitive, so easily disturbed, like me. Arms circle me in a tight embrace but I kick and fight my way free, pulling myself across the floor wildly with my arms, backing away from Isaac until I smash my back into the end of the bed and yell out again in pain. So much fucking pain, swarming like bees around a hive, I attract it, I can
’
t escape it. It just keeps coming and coming faster and more furious every time, teasing me with happiness only to slam down and crush me again. This is my life.

“Don’t you touch me! Go! Leave me alone, I can’t believe you would betray him that way, you love him, he’s your friend!” I continue chucking my hysteria at Isaac, but he doesn’t stop coming toward me. Scrambling to my feet, my back is throbbing now, I crawl across the mattress to the other side of the bed where the handcuffs are in the night table drawer, I hop off the bed and yank it opens roughly snatching them, shaking them at Isaac.

“He didn’t hurt me!” I yell. He bows his head shaking it back and forth and thrusts his hand into his hair with frustration. “He fucked me while I was cuffed to the headboard,
Isaac, is that what you need to hear? I spit the
venomous words at him, and they hit the target with perfect accuracy. Shock rolls
through him as he stumbles back a step, my words physically moving him.

“He was gentle and kind and tender and loving! The same way he’s always been when we are together!” I throw the cuffs at his bare chest and watch them bounce off and fall to our feet. Anger pulses through me, and I want nothing more than to inflict more pain on Isaac, the same way he just hurt me.

“I loved it, his hands all over my naked skin, I rode him nice and slow while he took control,” I say dragging my words out slowly, seething mad, cutting and wounding him with every detail. I can’t think past the moment, hurting Isaac is my only focus, my soul purpose and from the looks of him I’m succeeding. Cecelia bursts through the door gasping for air. Her eyes scan my body from head to toe looking for some sort of physical injury. “Ms. Mia, are you ok? I heard you screaming from the kitchen!”

“She’s fine, Cecelia, just tired and sick; she needs to rest.”

“I do not! Isaac’s an asshole who stabs his best friend in the back! He’s just jealous; he wants to get into my pants, so he’s trying to turn me against my own husband!”

“
Wha..?” Cecelia stammers in confusion.

“Never mind, Cecelia, she probably has a fever,” he turns to face me narrowing his eyes to glare at me when he speaks his next words. “She. Just. Needs. To. Rest.” he pauses pointedly between every word making it very clear what he expects me to do. I grit my teeth so hard I’ll probably need a dentist tomorrow but between the fury and nausea it’s my only outlet for the stress. The room falls quiet with the three of us looking from one to the other, waiting for someone to end the stalemate when I realize in a few seconds it’s not going to be me.

Tunnel vision and no hearing, yea,
I’m going to pass out. Cecelia yells and shakes her hands gesturing in my direction for Isaac to catch me, the last thing I see is him coming toward me and then…nothing. Once
again, my body protects me from pain and possibly the crippling truth about my husband.

When I come to, I hear the spattering of running water hitting the tile floor, I open my eyes to a very worried Cecelia. “I’ll help you get cleaned up, ok? Let’s get these smelly clothes off of you.” I look down, and I’m still dressed in my jeans and vomit covered sweatshirt, I smell horrible, and I feel worse. My tummy lightly churns, my head throbs, my throat is sore from screaming and my heart pounds.

I’ve been carried upstairs to the shower in our original room, by Isaac no doubt. The bathroom in our makeshift quarters has only a tub. Thank God it’s Cecelia in the shower with me and not Isaac, at least he knows enough not to cross that line! Sitting on the stone seat
in the shower I close my eyes and sigh while I allow Cecelia to remove my clothes and point the soothing spray of water in my direction. She pays no mind to the fact that the shower soaks her in the process. Instead, she just works at removing my clothes with an occasional bit of help from me. Handing me a puff with a large amount of body wash to clean myself with she silently begins working on my hair, shampooing, rinsing and using damn near an entire bottle of conditioner. She toils away until the wide toothed comb she’s been using glides through my hair effortlessly.

It’s been a long time since I’ve needed help bathing and managing my hair; my mother had to do it for months after I was attacked. I was so grateful for her help then, and I’m grateful for Cecelia now, she’s like a substitute mom. When we are done, she shuts the water off and steps out grabbing a towel to wrap around me before she dries herself. “Cecelia, thank you, please go dry off. I feel bad that you’ve gotten all wet.”

“I’m ok, don’t worry about me.” I have no fight left in me, none, zip, zero, so I let her lead me to the bench that sits facing the bathroom mirror. Only when she has me off of my feet does she grab a towel for herself and dry off. I watch her behind me in the mirror throwing the towel in the laundry shoot and returning to me without a word she and braids my hair down my back after toweling it dry.

When she’s done, she looks into the mirror catching my eyes before speaking. “I know you don’t want to hear what Mr. Isaac told you, whatever he told you, but you need to know this.” She pauses to give me a chance to refuse her, but I don’t, I can’t, it feels like whatever she has to say is important.

“Mr. Lawson…Evan, he was a good boy. I have taken care of him since his mama and papa died. I watched him change from a sad, sweet, shy boy into a monster. I know the things he did but I know this too. God makes miracles. Evan drove off that bridge, and God gave him a second chance for life. He took that troubled girl to heaven, and he took the monster from Evan’s soul. What he did in the past is the past;
he’s not that man anymore. You’re married to the Evan I always prayed he would be. The man with no mafia to ruin him.”

We look at each other in the mirror for a time, her hands on my shoulders her eyes begging me to forgive Evan for his past and Isaac for caring enough to risk his life warning me. There is no doubt in my mind, especially after the incident with Dr. Carter that Evan would pummel Isaac within an inch of his life if he knew he had spoken to me, no… warned me… about him. I nod a slow, shaky, agreement to let this go and make amends with Isaac. How am I going to erase my husband’s past from my memory? The information Dr. Carter tried to poison me against my husband with, the stories I’ve been trying to deny ever since were all confirmed by Isaac today.

“I can’t do it yet, Cecelia,” I admit and drop my chin to my chest. She massages my shoulders silently and kisses the top of my head before leaving and pulling the doors together with a gentle click. I return my eyes to the tired woman in the mirror staring back at me. “What are you going to do?” I ask myself before pulling myself up and making my way back downstairs to our alternate bedroom.

Opening the doors to our room, I slip inside shivering from having wet hair and walking through the drafty house in just a towel but surprisingly I feel much better. The T.V. is on; it’s set to the security system and the camera is focused on Evan, zoomed in as close as it can probably get I am able to watch his every breath.