If Only (5 page)

Bryan dismissed the anger he saw in his wife’s eyes. He turned to walk away from her. He had won once again. She would never have the courage to fight him. And she would never have the guts to leave him. She was his forever whether she wanted to be or not.

*

She stood up, watching her husband swagger away, dismissing her. She felt an overwhelming rage that had been bottled up inside of her for far too long. She was battered and bruised, hurting on the inside and on the outside, and he couldn’t care less. He didn’t love her; he only used her. To him, she was simply a possession. Just like his expensive car or his solid gold watch. Bryan’s male friends lusted after her, and their wives wanted to be her. Everyone thought she led a charmed life, but she was miserable. And she was beginning to hate her husband more and more with each and every passing day.

“You sick, twisted son of a bitch!” she screamed as she flung herself at her husband, wrapping her body around his back, her legs straddling him from behind. She punched him repeatedly in the shoulder with one hand while grabbing his blond hair with the other.

With one swift movement, he threw her back onto the floor. “You crazy bitch,” he spat out angrily as he kicked her in the stomach.

Bree gasped out loud as she clutched her abdomen in pain. “Bryan, the baby,” she pleaded, staring up at him with tears in her eyes. “I swear, Bryan,” she apologized, “I didn’t mean it.” She gasped, finding it difficult to breathe. Even though she hated to apologize to this monster, her baby’s life could depend on it. “I’m sorry,” she spoke haltingly.

His eyes were dark with anger as he looked down at her and smiled. “Too late, bitch,” he said with a smirk as he kicked her several more times in the stomach. “I’m going to kill that little accident, and then I’m going to kill his mother.”

She cried out in pain, tears filling her eyes as a puddle of dampness dripped down her legs. She looked down, afraid of what she would find. Her worst fears were realized when she discovered she was bleeding profusely. She curled up in the fetal position, willing the unbearable pain to go away.

She was drifting on the edge of unconsciousness when she heard the sound of a knock at the door. “Open up, it’s the police.”

“Go to hell!” Bryan hollered as he slammed his fist into the wall angrily.

Bree was relieved when she heard the sound of the door being broken down. She wished she had the strength to stand up and cheer. She was safe. For the moment, anyway.

She heard the sharp intake of breath as a man whispered, “Maybe instead of arresting him, we should just kill the son of a bitch.” Strong arms reached for her and picked her up, carrying her to safety. She tried to look at her savior to thank him for his assistance, but she was too weak to even lift her head.

She clutched her stomach, the pain causing her to hover on the brink of unconsciousness. She cried out, “My baby! My baby!” She just repeated that phrase over and over, unaware of her husband being handcuffed and led away by the police, not realizing she was being carried into a waiting ambulance.

* * * *

The sound of a shrill scream piercing through the darkness of the night awakened Scott. He jerked upright in bed when he heard the bloodcurdling scream once again.
Oh, my God! Bree!
He was out of bed in an instant, without even bothering to put on his robe.

Bree screamed, “No, don’t touch me! Don’t hurt my baby! Don’t hurt my baby!”

He was in such a hurry to get to his wife he stubbed his big toe on the edge of the night stand. He cursed underneath his breath, his pace quickening when he heard her scream again.

“Let me go, you son of a bitch!”

He flipped on the light switch in the hallway, bathing the hall in illumination. He squinted as his dark eyes adjusted to the light.

When he reached the bedroom door, he discovered it was locked from the inside. Chills ran up and down his spine as he heard his wife scream again.
Is there a burglar in the house? Is she being raped? Is something wrong with the baby?

He backed slowly away from the door, and then he slammed his full body into the wooden frame. He sighed when he heard the wood splitting. After several more attempts, he succeeded in breaking down the door. He entered the bedroom cautiously, realizing for the first time that he was walking in unarmed. With his only thought being for the safety of his wife and child, he had never even considered his own protection.

Scott felt like he had been kicked in the solar plexus when his gaze landed on his wife. Her slender frame was shaking, the mint green sheets twisted uncomfortably around her body. She sobbed into her pillow, muffling her cries. As his gaze traveled around the space, he realized the two of them were in the bedroom alone.

Bree’s body convulsed as she cried out, “Get off me, you bastard!”

He sat down on the bed and wrapped his arms around her shaking body. “Bree?” he questioned.

She began slamming her fists into his naked chest, mustering up every ounce of energy she had in her weary body. She fought him like a woman possessed, her blows coming short and fast.

He grabbed her wrists, his tone gentle and quiet. “Bree,” he murmured, his voice shaking with emotion. “Bree, wake up, baby. It’s me. It’s Scott.”

She kept thrashing wildly, trying to free herself from his viselike grip. She was caught in the throes of a vicious nightmare, and Scott didn’t know how to bring her out of it. “Red, Red, baby, it’s me. It’s Scott. It’s time to wake up, sweetheart.”

Scott breathed a deep sigh of relief when she opened her eyes and reached for him. Cradling her in his arms, he held her as she sobbed quietly, her tears falling onto his bare skin. He didn’t say anything; he was waiting for her to say what obviously needed to be said. He held her, cradling her in his strong arms, rocking her back and forth with tenderness. He gazed down at her quivering frame, watching tears slowly trickle down her beautiful face. His wife, the woman he had vowed to love and protect, was hurting, and he didn’t know how to make it right. He felt like he was letting her down, like he had somehow failed her.

*

The first thing she heard was Scott’s warm and comforting voice. He was calling to her, begging her to wake up. He wasn’t mad at her anymore, and his words were gentle and reassuring. It wasn’t Bryan; this was Scott. The man she loved. The man who loved her. He would never hurt her. He would never say such vile things to her.

Bree closed her eyes as she pressed her head against the broad expanse of his chest. His strong, pulsing heartbeat beneath her hand was reassuring. She trembled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her body still shuddering from the aftermath of her nightmare.

After a long while, she looked up and met her husband’s stare. She took a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to start an argument,” she forewarned. Her voice was shaking with emotion as she continued, “But I had a nightmare about Bryan.”

He began to speak, but Bree raised a hand to silence him. “Please, let me get this out, Scott. This is a very difficult thing for me to talk about.”

Scott nodded his dark head in agreement, but Bree could still see the doubt in his eyes. She supposed he must be wondering if she had cracked. He might just be about ready to call the men in the little white coats to haul her away, but she had to try to get through to him. She had to make him understand somehow. But for the life of her, she just didn’t know how. She didn’t know what to say or what to do to make her husband believe her, but she knew she at least had to try.

Bree ran her fingers through her red curls, twisting a stray curl around her finger in a nervous gesture. She took a deep breath, failing to meet her husband’s curious brown gaze. “That nightmare was so real,” she murmured as her body shuddered. “It was an actual fight Bryan and I had. It was when I announced to him I was pregnant.”

She took another cleansing breath, and then she wrapped her arms protectively around her slender body. She shook her head before continuing, “He didn’t take it well. We got into a huge fight.” Tears came to her eyes as she remembered Bryan’s cruel words.

“What happened, baby?” Scott asked with tenderness in his voice.

“He told me our baby was an unwanted accident.” She clutched her abdomen, caressing it absently. “He insisted I get an abortion, but I refused. Then the violence began. He grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me backward, slamming my head against the wall. His hands closed around my throat, and I really thought in that moment I was going to die. He struck me with his belt, and then he forced me onto the floor. He smashed his fist into my mouth. Eventually I fought back, but that only made things worse.”

“And you miscarried?” he questioned gently.

Bree nodded, tears filling her eyes. “He became so angry with me he kicked me in the stomach.” She looked down when Scott squeezed her hand. “He told me he was going to kill my baby, and then he was going to kill me. And I believed him, Scott. He really would have,” she insisted. “Apparently, one of our neighbors had called the police, and by the time they arrived, I had already miscarried. I was taken to the emergency room, and Bryan was arrested for domestic violence. He was bonded out almost immediately by his father, who paid one thousand dollars cash for his release.”

Scott’s chocolate brown gaze searched her face as if he was looking for answers. “I want to believe you, baby, I really do. But this is just so…”

“Unbelievable? Crazy? Incredible?”

He grinned at his wife as his arms reached out for her. He cradled her in his lap, his fingers gently massaging her neck and shoulders. He laughed when she moaned aloud and dropped her chin to her chest. “How about all of the above?” He teased.

“The funny thing is,” she continued, “you were married, but not to me. Didn’t you say we work with a woman named Monica?”

He nodded at her query, not quite understanding where her line of questioning was going. “Yeah,” he stated. “She’s our editor.”

Bree grinned as she looked at her husband, her emerald green eyes examining him curiously. “Do you find her attractive?”

He shrugged, looking at his wife as though he was wondering if she had lost her mind. “I’ve never really thought about it,” he confessed with a smile. “After all, I’m a happily married man.”

“Good answer!” She teased as she poked him in the ribs with an elbow. “But believe it or not, Monica was the woman you were married to, and the two of you were having a baby together.”

At the incredulous look on her handsome husband’s face, Bree couldn’t help but to laugh. He leaned over and kissed her soundly on the mouth. “Are you ready to go back to bed?” he questioned as he reached over and nuzzled her neck. Raising his dark eyebrows suggestively, he gazed over at his wife. “I have a surefire cure to get rid of a bad dream,” he murmured into the curve of her ear, his voice husky.

“Oh, really?” she asked with a knowing smile as she looped her arms around her husband’s neck and immersed herself in the mesmerizing depths of his chocolate brown eyes. “And just what is this surefire cure?” Her cheeks tinged pink with color as he continued to murmur choice phrases into her ear. She chuckled, her green gaze narrowing in his direction, a challenge clearly expressed in her eyes. “Do you honestly think you could keep up with me?”

Bree got her answer when he grabbed her by the waist and tossed her down playfully onto the bed, his mouth tangling with hers.

Chapter 4

Bree awakened to the feeling of sunshine bathing her face with its warm rays. She rolled over lazily in bed, stretching like a cat with a self-satisfied smile on her face. She reached for her husband and frowned when she realized he was nowhere to be found.

As soon as her feet touched the plush carpeting, her stomach began to churn. She practically ran to the bathroom, only to find her husband was already there, shaving.

“Hey, baby.” He grinned as he lathered his face with shaving cream.

Bree’s hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Please leave,” she begged.

He shook his dark head adamantly. “When I’m done,” he promised. He turned back to gaze at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “If you need to go to the bathroom, go ahead. You won’t bother me.” He gave her a boyish grin as he continued, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“No, it’s not that. Please leave,” she pleaded.

He whirled around to face her. His chocolate brown eyes searched her face with a knowing smile. His hand reached out to touch the soft curves of her face as he murmured gently, “I’m not going anywhere, Bree, so you might as well go ahead. You’re beginning to turn green around the gills. This is my baby too, and I’m here to support you in every way I can.”

Without another word, he ran a washcloth underneath the faucet. He handed it to Bree silently, and then he walked out of the bathroom.

She barely made it in time before she emptied the contents of her stomach. When her husband returned, she cursed her rotten luck. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

He crouched down on the bathroom floor next to her, his large hands holding her auburn tresses up and off her back. His low voice whispered comforting words to her as she continued to be ill. “I love you so much, Red. We’re going to have such a beautiful baby. I think a little red-headed girl would be just perfect, don’t you?”

When she was finally through, he ran the dampened washcloth over her face and then lifted her in his strong arms and carried her back to bed. He had a tray with a glass of ginger ale and a plate of saltines sitting beside the bed.

She looked at him, confused. “When did you buy this?”

Scott gave her an embarrassed grin. “I went to the grocery store first thing this morning while you were still sleeping.”

Bree closed her eyes as he stroked her face. Then his hands pulled up her nightgown and cupped her abdomen, caressing her softly as his head bent down to kiss her bare stomach.

“Now, listen to me, kid. This is your father speaking.”