Steel: (#5 The Beat and the Pulse) (16 page)

N
othing
.

I couldn’t feel anything because if I let it in, I wouldn’t be able to move. I wouldn’t be able to function as a human being anymore. He was gone, and that was it.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone
.

I’d been heartbroken in the wake of Craig’s betrayal, but the gaping void Josh’s absence opened in my heart eclipsed anything I’d ever felt before. The moment he slammed the door in my face, I’d fallen to the floor and sobbed.

He was so hell-bent on self–destruction, and there was nothing I could do to convince him otherwise.

Standing in the middle of the ICU, I stared blankly as a patient was wheeled out of surgery and into a room, nurses rushing to assist in hooking up a plethora of machines. A ventilator was being connected to the bedside monitor, and I suddenly had a vision of Josh the day after I’d found him outside the ER. His face had been so bruised and swollen I could hardly make out his features. His outcome had been excellent, which was brilliant and all, but the memory only served to drive another barb into my heart.

“Dr. Walsh?”

I glanced up at Harper, who was assisting me in the surgery I was about to walk into.

“Ready to go?” I asked him, and when he nodded, I ushered him toward the operating theaters where our patient was being prepped by the anesthesiologist.

Just as I was about to walk through the double doors, I hesitated. Something felt unfinished, and I suspected it had everything to do with Josh. So in a moment of desperation, I texted him.

Whatever’s happening, I can help you. Trust me. Please. I love you, Josh
.

He never replied, and when I came out of surgery, there was still nothing.

I jumped about a mile when my phone went off, my heart leaping so violently I thought I might need to call a code blue, but it was only a page from Nurse Judy.

“Shit,” I cursed. Mr. Simons was back.

I had some time, so I went up to the wards and found his room, wondering if the double hip replacement I’d done on him was the culprit. I hoped not because we’d made a deal never to see one another again. If he wasn’t in the hospital, then he was in good health, which was the way we both liked it.

Though, as far as patients went, Mr. Simons was one of the best. Nothing seemed to bother him, and he was full of enough dirty jokes to last an entire lifetime. After a tough day, his comic relief was always welcome.

“Mr. Simons,” I declared, coming to a halt beside his bed. He was looking very tired, his skin sallow, and his eyes a little more watery than usual, but the cheeky spark was still there.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite doctor,” he said, his voice sounding very thin.

Reaching for his chart, I slipped it off the hook and flipped it open, scanning the notes that had been scrawled there on his admittance.

“What brings you back to us?” I asked. “I thought we had a deal.”

“My ass is just fine,” he replied.

“Well, that’s good to hear.”

“It’s my ticker, they said,” he went on, thumping his gnarled fist against his heart.

Scanning the rest of his chart, I found he was right. Mr. Simons had suffered a mild heart attack, which wasn’t uncommon in men his age but was a little worrying for someone as active as he was.

“The cows giving you a hard time?” I asked, knowing he responded well to humor rather than medical mumbo jumbo.

He laughed. “And that’s why I like you, lass.”

Leaning close, I whispered, “Lucky for everyone I don’t specialize in cardio.”

“Unlucky for me if you really want to know, lass. I’d trust you with my heart.”

“Damn, you’re a smooth operator.” I laughed—
a genuine laugh
—and I was glad to see Mr. Simons, but it was unfortunate it had to be in the circumstance it was.

“How did things go with that young buck?” he asked, and I hesitated, surprised he even remembered the talk we’d had about Josh. It was so long ago, and so much had changed.

“C’mon,” he prodded. “You know I like a good story, Red. Give an old man with a dicky ticker a little something to hold onto.”

I sighed dramatically, milking the moment for his benefit. “You’re a pro at the puppy dog eyes, you know that?”

He laughed again and nudged me with his hand. “So?”

I shook my head.

His watery eyes widened. “No?”

“He left me. This morning actually.”

“
Bugger
,” Mr. Simons exclaimed. “What a fool. Giving up a hotshot doctor like you.”

I shrugged. “I can’t make him do anything.”

“You fell in love with him?”

Mr. Simons stared up at me with hope in his eyes. I desperately wanted mine and Josh’s story to end up like his had all those years ago. I’d wanted forever with Josh—until we were old and gray, and our bones were brittle—but in the end, he hadn’t wanted me the same way. Just like Craig…but this felt a million times worse. I’d thought I loved him, but I’d only been
settling
. In comparison to the way I felt about Josh, he’d been nothing.

Josh had claimed everything, including my soul. I wasn’t sure how I could go on after that knowing it was one-sided.

Mr. Simons smiled and patted my hand that had tightened around the edge of his bed, my knuckles white.

“If you feel that deeply, then there’s still hope,” he said kindly. “Feelings so profound are rarely unrequited.”

“Are you sure you’re a farmer?” I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Because you sound like the Dalai Lama.”

“I’m just an old bastard who’s been around a long time, lass. I’ve learned a few lessons in being an asshole, let me tell you.” Mr. Simons’s swearing never shocked me anymore. It was part of his charm.

“You think I shouldn’t give up?” I asked uncertainly.

“I think you should go and box his ears to begin with,” he declared, waving his fists in the air like a boxer. “Then do a little fighting of your own. Tell him how you feel. The L word seems to snap the young ones into reality.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, my heart beginning to ache. “It’s still a little fresh.”

“Don’t give up, Red,” he replied. “Your story hasn’t finished yet.”

As I left Mr. Simons’s room so he could get his rest, I thought about everything he’d said. It rolled around in my mind and heart like a tumble dryer of anguish.

Your story hasn’t finished yet.

The moment Josh slammed the door behind him seemed like a very big
the end
to me. If there were hope that I could bring him back to me, I couldn’t see it.

All I had left was the hospital, so I slunk into the on-call room to catch a few hours’ sleep, old habits coming back as easy as pie.

I’d throw myself back into my work. Yeah, that sounded like a real good idea.

D
ay
two without Josh Caplin was harder than day one.

He got what he deserved
.

The way Josh had said it still haunted me. The words rolled off his tongue with a venom I’d never heard from him before.

He got what he deserved
.

It raised a suspicion I didn’t want to believe, but I couldn’t help but come to the conclusion—was Josh the one to dish out justice for his mother?

Glancing up and down the car park, I was alone in the near darkness, the lights of the deserted hospital entrance lighting the scene from behind. Hardly anyone other than staff came out this way as it was a hell of a long walk to anywhere that meant anything to the general public.

Leaning back against the wall, I cursed. The taxi was late.

Since it was Friday night, I wondered how long I’d be waiting. The dispatcher said fifteen minutes, but it was looking more like thirty. They were probably jammed with jobs.
Great
. I was obliterated and just wanted to go home.

Glancing toward the Brunswick Street exit, I began to contemplate getting a tram. It’d take longer to get home, but I’d probably get there at the same time considering the waiting I was currently doing. I didn’t really want to rub shoulders with anyone, but the urge to be behind closed doors and wallow was far greater.

A hand clamped down on my shoulder, and I jumped a mile. Wrenching away, I turned to find Archer standing behind me, a stupid smirk on his face,

“Hey,” he said.

“Shit, Archer,” I cursed. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “You okay? You were looking down today.”

My skin bristled, and I shook my head. “I’m not in the mood right now.”

He tilted his head to the side. “That guy break up with you or something?”

I shook my head, not wanting to talk to him about it.

“He wasn’t into romance?”

“I’m not really a hearts and flowers kind of woman, Archer,” I said thinly, trying to find a way out of the conversation so I could leg it to the tram.

“So you didn’t like the flowers I sent you, then?”

I hesitated, alarm bells beginning to ring in my head. Archer had been responsible all this time, and he’d said nothing? Something wasn’t right…

“What flowers?”

“The lilies, Hol. Don’t tell me I chose wrong.”

“Those were from you?” I asked, carefully edging away.

“Pure lilies for a pure woman.” Archer shook his head. “I don’t know what you see in the guy, Hol. He’s nothing.”

“And you’re everything?”

A sly smile pulled at his lips, and I was suddenly very aware that we were standing in a secluded, dark, and very empty part of the car park. A tingle went down my spine as my gaze darted around, looking for an escape route.

All those creepy notes were from Archer. Belief, love, confidence… He was trying to tell me he objectified me? That he wanted me to be his? Then why didn’t he just ask me out like a normal person? Unless…

“Archer,” I began, trying to keep my voice even. “There’s a right way to do this.”

“Would you listen to me, Hol?” he asked, taking a step closer. “I tried to talk to you so many times. Show you how I really felt, but you pushed me away.” His lip curled. “You treated me like
shit
.”

His fist connected with the boot of the car next to us with a boom, making me flinch away from him.

Josh wasn’t here. My declaration of love hadn’t been enough to sway him to stay. Nobody was coming to save me. It was just me and Archer, and I had to run now, or… I didn’t know how this would end.

“I’m in love with Josh,” I said, taking a step back toward the lights of the hospital.

“He left you, Hol. He doesn’t love you.
I do
.”

Terror began to rise, and I shook my head more firmly. “I’m sorry, Archer. I can’t control who I have feelings for.”

He ground his teeth, the arrogant, cocky Archer I knew all but gone. In his place was a cold, angry monster. How could I have been so blind? He had the entire hospital under his thumb. Fuck, he was a
surgeon
. I’d operated beside him, consulted on patients,
joked around
…

I had to get away. I’d run back into the hospital, alert security, and call Charlie. It was now or never.

So I ran…but Archer was too big and too strong. He lunged after me, his arms curling around my waist. I struggled against him and screamed, but my cries for help were abruptly cut off as his hand slammed down over my mouth.

“Shh, little one,” he murmured into my ear as he dragged me across the car park toward his car. “You’ll realize how much you really love me when I make you come. You’ll see the truth then, Hol.”

I thrashed against him, but I wasn’t strong enough to break his hold. He’d always been so…
normal
. Archer could have any woman he wanted. He was intelligent, good-looking—albeit arrogant—and rich. He had to have been carrying this secret for a long time. He liked the struggle, the chase, the manipulation… His sick fantasies all culminated in the rape of his victim. A sick, twisted game he thought would make the object of his desire fall in love with him.

I’d unknowingly been the object of his dark desires, an oblivious victim in waiting. A victim he could watch in close quarters.

As I was being dragged away, all hope slipped through my fingers that someone would save me—that Josh would come—and I wondered if Archer had planned to strike so close to home. What did that mean for me?

If I made it through this, then… Then what? There was no making it. I was going to become a statistic and a blurry photograph on the front page of tomorrow’s newspaper. There was no way Archer would let me go after he’d had his way with my body. It would blow his secret right out of the water. I was a liability.

I was done for, and that was that, but at least I wouldn’t go quietly. Like an act of defiance, I’d fight until the last. I owed myself that much.

End of the line, Holly,
 I thought to myself.
 End of the line.

H
e shot my mum
.

I stood there and watched my father put a bullet in her head, his eyes wild with rage.

He’d turned on me—a nineteen-year-old kid and his own fucking son—and pointed the gun right at me, the gun that had killed the only person who believed I could be anything I wanted.

His pupils were blown, and I knew he was high again. Ice, coke, heroin. It didn’t matter how ‘only’ he was.

Don’t you move, boy.
 Don’t move so I can kill you.

The same rage that had run through my father’s veins ran through mine. I lunged for him, and we struggled, the gun going off with a boom. Plaster rained down on us as the bullet hit the roof, but I was possessed with anguish as blood pooled underneath the body of my mother.
He’d killed her
.

I don’t remember much about how I got the gun from him, but I did. My hands shook so much I wasn’t sure what to do with it now that I held the upper hand. I was a fucking kid who shouldn’t have had to make the decision I was forced to make.

He’d lunged for me again, and at that moment, I knew if he got the gun from me, he’d kill me just like he’d killed her. He’d go on living while we were busy dying.

So I pulled the trigger.

I killed him like he killed her.

He deserved it. Like father, like son.

How could a man like that deserve a spark like Holly Walsh?

I was so terrified of losing her I’d hidden my shame from the one person who might be able to help me come to terms with it. I’d done everything to try to keep her away from the darkness, but I’d lost her, anyway.

Even as I pushed her away and spat empty words to hurt her, she still fought for me.
Me
. Could she understand if I explained it to her?

I wasn’t sure what made me get into my car and drive across town to the hospital. I was in a daze, the absence of Sparks messing with my head like nothing else. I’d never experienced loss like this, not since I lost my mum.

Pulling my car into a free spot near the west entrance of St. Vincent’s, I killed the engine and slid out into the murky light of the multi-level concrete lot.

What could I even say to her? The look of absolute anguish on her pretty face as I smashed her heart was the only thing I could see. How the fuck could I repair that? At least I had nothing left to lose if she couldn’t handle the truth of how murderous her boyfriend really was.

A scream split the still air of the car park, echoing off the concrete before being abruptly cut off. I stilled, my repair falling away until all I could see was my mother in my mind’s eye. If someone was in trouble… My head whipped around, trying to pinpoint the direction the scream had come from, but the echo made it near on impossible.

Jogging down the row of cars, I scanned the lot for movement. A boom echoed from ahead to the right, then the definite sound of a female screaming for help, and I burst into a sprint. 

Thundering along the concrete, I caught sight of movement ahead. Weaving through the row, I almost died when I saw a flash of red hair. Wild, fiery locks that I would recognize anywhere.
Sparks
.

Skidding to a halt, my heart leapt into my throat, and I froze. I just froze like that scared boy who held a gun on his own father. It was Holly, but it was my mum.

Sparks’s gaze met mine, and she thrashed violently against Archer.

Holly, Holly, Holly
…
SPARKS
.

Don’t you move, boy.

The sound of my father’s voice haunting me from beyond the grave snapped me out of my daze, and I shot forward. If I didn’t move now, what would happen to Sparks? Something more terrible than a bullet, that’s for sure.
I could save her
.

I grabbed Archer’s shoulders, wrenching him off her, and she fell to the ground, but I couldn’t let him go. Not yet.

Turning his pathetic ass around, I punched him square in the face, and his head snapped back, blood erupting from his nose.

“
No!
” he roared, lost in his own rage.

Like the fucking idiot he was, he lunged for me, but he probably didn’t know he was going up against a cage fighter, 
retired
but still used to fighting guys ten times his size. I sidestepped his pathetic attempt at a punch and fisted my hand into his hair. I slammed his head against the boot of the car, the sound of his skull connecting with metal echoing through the parking garage. He flopped like a rag doll, sliding to the concrete in a heap.

Dead to the fucking world.

Assholes like him preyed on the weak to disguise their own pathetic asses. I should do the world a favor and cave his skull in on the concrete.
He was dragging Sparks off into his car
. He was going to—

“
Josh!
”

I stumbled as Sparks leapt into my arms, her sobs a mixture of terror and relief as she held onto me for dear life. I should do the world a favor and cave his skull in on the concrete.

“I’ve got you,” I murmured, “
I’ve got you
.”