After scooping me into his arms like we’re not being eyeballed by patients dying for their daily dose of drama, Maddox’s greedy tongue slices through the giggle rumbling in my chest. I’m in a town bordering the one my uncle reigns, in the hospital where our unborn child lost its life, yet I feel like the luckiest woman on the planet.
It is crazy for me to feel this way. It has me worried I’m mentally unstable, but it’s also understandable. When I woke up alone hours ago, I thought I had lost more than my child, so discovering that isn’t the case is worth celebrating. I’ll most likely regret it when guilt settles in, but for now, I’m going to cherish it.
With one hand on my ass, holding me in place, Maddox curls the other around my IV stand, then walks us in the direction the agents sprinted from before they tackled him. My repentance arrives earlier than expected when he mutters partway down, “You scared me.” His tone hints at the double meaning of his comment. He was terrified long before Agent Brahn orchestrated a horrifying ruse to pull the wool over his eyes.
After rubbing at the deep groove between his brows with my thumb, I assure him, “That wasnevermy intention. I thought a shower would calm everything down. It appears to have made things worse.”
I’m still at a loss as to what happened this morning at the cabin. I remember entering the shower stall and rejoicing how the hot water reduced the pain of the sudden onset of cramps I was facing, but from there, the rest of my morning is pretty much blank. I didn’t recall how I got to the hospital until Maddox returned fragments of my memories only minutes ago, and the reason for my visit didn’t come to light until I woke up in recovery surrounded by unfamiliar faces.
After bouncing his wet eyes between mine enough times to make me dizzy, Maddox asks the one question I’d give anything to answer differently. “Our baby?”
Two little words shouldn’t say so much, but when they’re expressed by a man in the throes of grief, they could fill the pages of a book.
Apologies sit on the tip of my tongue, but before they spill, I realize I have nothing to be sorry for. Despite wishing otherwise, miscarriages occur all the time. I will forever wish our baby had beat the odds, but I learned a long time ago you can’t always have what you wish for.
After ensuring Maddox has seen the remorse in my eyes, I say, “Dr. Falgar said we can try again when ready.” The annoyance darting through Maddox’s eyes has me confident my next set of words need to be shared. “But I’m happy to wait until the timing is right. We’re new, so why not enjoy being ‘us’ for a little bit longer?”
“Is that what you want, Demi? Because if that is what you want, I’ll wait until you’re ready.” His drenched eyes are brimming with both optimism and devastation. “But if it isn’t, I’m okay with that as well.” He smiles at my bug-eyed expression before he nudges his head to the empty suite at the end of the west wing, wordlessly questioning if it is my room.
When I nod, his interrogation delves a little deeper into the murkiness that kept us apart longer than we’ve been the past seven weeks. “What else did Dr. Falgar tell you?”
He places me onto the bed, plugs my IV back into the power switch like he was destined to be a medic before pulling up the bedding so that it maintains my modesty from the three agents watching our every move from the corridor outside of my room.
I take a minute to recall my brief conversation with Dr. Falgar before we were interrupted by Agent Brahn. “He said I have a blood clotting condition.” My eyelids rapidly blink as I strive to recall the name of the hereditary condition I have. “It started with a V?”
“Von Willebrand disease?” Maddox’s tone is clipped but also curious. Although it’s rare to see him angry, his angst isn’t focused on me, so I find it more endearing than upsetting.
I answer Maddox’s question with a nod, unsure I can speak without squeaking. I shed many tears over the loss of our baby and almost just as many when I thought I had to wade through the grief alone. Abandonment isn’t a Walsh trait, but the last couple of days were rocky for us, so I was weary Maddox’s understanding might have been stretched thin.
I should have known better.
While tracing the veins in my hand with his thumb, backing up my claims his annoyance has nothing to do with me, Maddox asks, “Did he say anything about a heart condition?”
I barely move my head half an inch when a voice from outside the room steals the last of Maddox’s nerves. “Reporting that she had AV fistulas was my idea. I knew you wouldn’t believe she had died because of a miscarriage, so I hatched something more convincing.”
When Maddox mumbles, “You fucking son of a bitch,” under his breath, I shoot my hand out to cover his balled one. I’m more than happy for him to exchange words with the man who caused him a world of pain, but I’d rather their conversation be nonphysical. I’ll never have the chance of fully eradicating the groove between his brows if he’s in lockup for assaulting a federal agent.
“I had to do something.” Agent Brahn’s voice is full of angst, but Maddox doesn’t hear it. He’s too angry to let a smidge of remorse weaken his campaign for vengeance. “If I hadn’t, prior incidents left no doubt that she would be dead in under a month.”
Maddox is quick to shut down the fear Agent Brahn’s comment caused his face, but it does little to free his voice of alarm. “I had a handle on things.”
Agent Brahn scoffs like his assurance isn’t close to accurate. “Murder isnotthe solution for anything.”
Maddox balks, but his lips remain tightly shut. That’s more shocking than learning my fifteen-year crush was reciprocated.
Confident he has him where he wants him, Agent Brahn enters the room without the two shadows he’s rarely without. I don’t know the names of the blond agents forever at his side, but Agent Brahn is rarely seen without them. “You played into Col’s hand when you arrived at the warehouse to fight.”
“The warehouse your agency was meant to stormlongbefore I got near the ring,” Maddox fires back, his reply a roar. “I had no choice but to take Igor down. If I hadn’t killed him, he would have killed me.”
The FBI was the reason Maddox was distracted the night he fought in the fight-until-the-death match. He was expecting help to arrive, unaware my uncle has as many law enforcement officers on his payroll as he does thugs.
When disbelief shoots through Agent Brahn’s eyes, skeptical about Maddox’s claims, I back Maddox up. “Maddox was wearing a wire. He dumped it into the waste bin outside of the bar you confronted me at. Why would he do that if he was on my uncle’s side? Ifanyof the men in attendance that night find out he was wearing a wire, his entire family will become extinct. Maddox wouldn’t risk them for anyone.”Not even me.
I wish I could say the medication hazing my mind is responsible for my eccentrics, but that’s far from the truth. The Petrettis don’t leave a body because they can talk. More times than not, grieving family members scream even louder than a corpse, so I am extremely confident about the last half of my statement.
Before I can add more credit to my claims, Maddox’s next set of words pulls the earth out from beneath my feet. “Let me go with her.” When confusion blasts through Agent Brahn’s eyes, Maddox adds, “That’s what you’re planning, isn’t it? To hide her away like you did Ophelia by convincing everyone she’s dead?”
I don’t know what shocks me more. Maddox’s assumption that Ophelia is alive or the confirmation darting through Agent Brahn’s eyes. It could be a combination of both.
