“Probably so,” I admit. “Like I said, I don’t remember much until I woke up in the hospital with Uncle Mack sitting there with what I thought was an incubator holding my daughter.”
“It was that thing you said, a Cuddle Cot?” he asks. “What is that, exactly?”
“It’s a special cooling device mostly used in hospitals to preserve a baby who has passed away. Because I was unconscious by the time I got to the hospital, the doctors decided to take her by c-section since she was showing signs of distress. Unfortunately, my injuries from my seatbelt were severe enough that they caused her to suffer injuries that were ‘incompatible with life’ according to the doctor.”
My voice is now almost a monotone and I’m mentally back in that hospital, seeing the doctor standing there as he explained what happened and what I could expect. “The Cuddle Cot allowed me to spend some time with her before… before Uncle Mack and Marcella helped me with the final arrangements.”
“Shelly, I wish you never had to endure something that tragic,” he whispers. “I hope you know that neither of them is ever something you have to shy away from talking to me about,” he continues. “Because they’re a part of your past, your history.”
“Thank you, Abyss,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t… I don’t bring it up with Uncle Mack, because it was a hard time for both him and Marcella.”
“Your uncle’s a good man,” Abyss states as he slows to make a turn off the exit toward my house.
“The very best,” I confess. “I mean, how many men do you know who would take on their sister’s toddler after she passed away? He and Marcella never got married, but she stepped in and helped him raise me. She was so good to me, Abyss. She never had kids of her own, but she was so loving, so mothering to me. She was excited about becoming a nana, which is what she wanted to be called. Between the two of them, they helped me while I was recovering and I honestly can never thank my uncle enough for all he’s done for me.”
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Abyss
I’msure I have brothers who would swear my heart is either black as coal or completely non-existent. Shelly may think I’m laidback and easy going, and for her, as well as the other women attached to the club, Iamthat man. My brothers, however, would definitely describe me as a hardass, someone who takes no prisoners. Only the women get that marshmallow part of me, which is what Constance calls it. Whatever.
One of the reasons for that is that my own father betrayed not only me, but my mother and sister. I was away at football camp and my father, never ever to be confused as adad, decided to violate the protection order my mom had against him. He broke into our home, tortured and killed my mom, one of the best women I’ve ever known, then killed my little sister while she slept in her bed. He then set the house on fire.
Remembering that two-hour drive home from camp in the back of a police officer’s cruiser has me shoving those memories back into the recess of my mind once again. He was a mean son of abitch, even worse whenever he drank or shot something into his veins, a habit he developed after a car accident broke his back. Mom tried to stay the course, but when his anger caused a ripple effect and it started causing him to take it out on her, she drew the line, filed for divorce and took out an order of protection.
“Abyss?” Shelly asks, interrupting my thoughts. “Are you okay? I can feel you getting tenser and tenser.”
“Sorry, sweetheart, old memories trying to burst free is all,” I reply.
It’s probably because the anniversary of their deaths is next month, or maybe it’s because Shelly has her own sad tale. Who knows, it could be a repercussion of both for all I know.
“It’s okay, I was just worried.”
“Did I ever tell you what my first name was?” I question, choosing to change the subject. “Keep in mind, when my mom had me, she was enthralled withThe Chronicles of Narnia, okay? Well, she wanted my first name to beCaspianafter one of the story’s heroes. However, she was highly medicated and spelled it ‘Cassian’ instead. The birth certificate was filed with the state by the time she realized what had happened. Thus, I have a weird ass first name.”
“That’s actually a cool name,” she says, giving my waist a firm squeeze, “even if she misspelled it.”
“Thanks, sweetheart,” I reply. “Now, do you have room for some ice cream, or do you just want me to take you by the shop to get your car?”
“Abyss, seriously? There’s always room for ice cream,” she says, giggling.
“Then ice cream it is,” I decree.
“Okay, I didn’t need a triple cone,” she says, her hand using a napkin to wrap around the waffle cone since the ice cream is melting.
“You said there was always room,” I remind her, smirking.
“Not for three scoops!” she exclaims, giggling as she points to my single scoop cone.
Shrugging, I tell her, “Just toss what you can’t finish.”
Her eyes get huge as she starts shaking her head. “That’s… that’s almost sacrilegious, Abyss! Nobody I know throws ice cream away, ever.”
“I promise not to tell on you if you choose to do so,” I reply, chuckling.
I know she’s not really upset and truthfully, if she opts not to finish it, it’s no skin off my nose. My goal was to move us further away from the hard subject we talked about while riding home. I’m glad to see she’s smiling and it actually hits her eyes, unlike how it did when she and I first met.
