Dr. Bitch will be put on probation for her behavior, something no fifth-year surgical resident wants. I tried to object when he mentioned that she’d no longer be working with Trick, before I could tell him we were getting divorced, his phone rang, and he dismissed me. He said he would be calling Dr. Bitch to his officethis afternoon for overstepping her authority and abusing her position.
Man, I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.
Chuckling a little, I get off the elevator and walk towards the ER, freezing when I see Trick storming towards me with determination, and a lump forms as my heart pounds.
He’s wearing his cut instead of a doctor's coat, which could only mean he’s either here with his girlfriend, because let’s face it, she isn’t his mistress anymore, or he’s here to confront me.
“Hey, Trick,” Dr. Bitch purrs as she tries to intercept him, but he shoves her hand away just as the hospital speakers announce, “Dr. Lavish to HR, Dr. Lavish to HR,” and I smirk at the confusion that etches her features.
“We need to talk,” Trick says as he stops before me, and I completely lock up, my humor with what’s about to happen to Dr. Bitch completely gone.
For a whole week, I haven’t heard from him, and I haven’t seen him, not even at work. Belle or Drew has been the in-between for us, and while yes, I knew this was coming when I realized he wasn’t going to contest the divorce, I didn’t think he’d do it at work.
“I can’t, I’m working,” I say, then go to walk around him, but a thousand little sparks rush up my arm as he shocks me and grabs it before he pulls me towards the storage closet, and I gasp in shock, being shoved inside, stumbling as Trick slams the door shut.
What the hell?
I spin, ready to shout at him, but he speaks before I can and demands, “I want fucking answers, and I want them now!”
Okay, so maybe he was giving me a week so he could catch me off guard.
Jackass, alpha hole.
“I never wanted to marry you, Trick, and vice versa, so what answers are there that you need? I’m only correcting something that never should have happened,” I say as calmly as I can, despite the fact that I’m trembling being this close to him, despite the fact that my heart is currently bleeding with pain.
Being this close brings up the fact that I assaulted him and physically hurt him, it brings up heartache when I know he’ll never be mine.
When he doesn’t say anything, I take a deep breath and calmly remind him, “You have a mistress, Trick, one who has now claimed she is pregnant, and I know you feel obligated to protect me because of Willow, but I don’t need your protection, I never did. I already had it because of who my father and brother are, your mistress doesn’t have that, so just sign the papers, and we can try to co-parent.”
He chuckles darkly and snaps, “If you think I’m signing anything, then you have another thing coming, buttercup. I’ve already torn the papers up.”
What?
“Why?” I exasperate, “You don’t love me, Trick, you have a mistress!”
Trick’s face morphs from determination to pure anger within seconds before he completely takes me off guard as he snaps, “I don’t have a mistress, I haven’t fucked anyone since the night I raped you!”
Shock renders me speechless as he growls and punches the wall before he storms out, and my tears fall instantly while one word echoes loud enough that I’m beginning to feel deaf.
Rape?
***
“Hi, Mama,” Willow whispers four and a half hours later as she walks over to me with less excitement than the other children, and I sigh, getting ready for another battle.
After Trick walked out, no, stormed out, I spent the remainder of my break crying to Belle, who had to calm me down while telling my brother to stay clear of me after he threatened to come to the hospital, hearing my breakdown.
He thinks he raped me.
Never mind the fact he’d just admitted he hasn’t been with anyone else since me, that he basically allowed me to believe he was sleeping around, but he believes he raped me…
He didn’t, and no, it isn’t lost on me that I thought I assaulted him, but I guess for us both, it’s the natural reaction because we were both drugged.
Crouching down when Willow gets close, I take in her sad little features, and I grab her hands. “Are you okay, little dancer?” I ask with concern, and she sniffles, “I was mean to you…”
Ah crap.
“It’s okay, I understand you didn’t mean what you said, I understand you were upset,” I whisper, and I wipe away some of her tears that break my heart.
