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“I did.”
“You didn’t sleep well?” Sawyer turns around to question me.
“Just had a nightmare. I’m fine.”
They all share a look before Sawyer looks back to me. “My doctor is coming this morning, and if you give me your sizes, I’ll have some clothes brought here for you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can look up the nearest thrift store and get some clothes.”
“We don’t think it’s a good idea for you to leave the apartment for a couple days. Just in case Tripp thinks to look for you here.”
“Oh.” I didn’t think about that, but they might be right. I look around the apartment, a couple days to rest here wouldn’t be bad. “Are you sure it won’t be an imposition?” I ask Sawyer. “I don’t want you guys to change your lives or schedules because of my problems.”
“Liv,” Sawyer sets down the spatula and walks over to me, “you are our priority right now. Getting you divorced, keeping you protected, we’ve already discussed it, and we all want to help you.”
I’m assuming the ‘we’ he is referencing is the three sitting in the kitchen with me. Grant doesn’t seem to care one way or another.
“We’re going to keep our regular schedules so as to not tip anyone off, but you are welcome to stay here, with us, as long as you need or want.”
“We’re each going to give you keys to the four apartments, so you can move between them freely.” Lake stands and walks over to me. “I have to go to work at my compound upstate. I’ll check in tonight once you have a phone.” He kisses my forehead and walks out with a wave for the guys.
“I’ll pick up a phone and get it set up for you,” Nolan says as he leans against the counter sipping his coffee.
“Thank you. As soon as I get my inheritance back from Tripp, I’ll pay you guys back for everything you’re doing.”
“Don’t even worry about that. Between the four of us, we have more money than we’ll ever be able to spend in this lifetime.”
“It’s pretty crazy, huh?” I glance back and forth between them. “That you guys are so successful and still so close all these years later.”
“Some bonds never break.” Nolan pins me with a heavy look. I know, without a doubt, he’s talking about him and me.
Sawyer turns with three plates of biscuits and gravy. “Let’s eat,” he looks pointedly at me, “especially you. While we do, send a text to my assistant with your size and clothing preferences.” He hands me his phone, opened to a messaging app.
Three hours later, I’m staring at a bedroom full of designer bags. Everything from athleisure to fancier dresses, multiple pairs of shoes and sets of matching lingerie, a purse, and enough cosmetics to fill the bathroom counter.
“This is crazy, Sawyer.” I look at everything spread out. “I definitely didn’t need this much.”
“Sure you did. Nolan is on his way home with your phone, too.”
Both of our heads turn when there’s a knock at the door. He smiles down at me. “That’s Dr. Lawson.”
I follow him out of the bedroom andhe opens the door to an older woman with her gray hair pulled back in a sensible bun. She’s holding a leather bag in two hands in front of her. They speak quietly for a minute before she moves toward me.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Sandra Lawson. Sawyer called me in to check you out.” She smiles warmly at me. “Shall we go speak privately?”
“You can use the other guest room.”
All of the comfort I had earlier evaporates as I lead her down the hall. A wave of nausea hits me, the anxiety of having to show her my bruised body and describing the abuse I’ve been subjected to is almost too much to handle.
She goes to close the door behind her, and I hold out a hand to stop her. “Leave it open a crack, please.”
“Okay. I’m going to start with the basics,” she says with a calm and reassuring tone. She takes my blood pressure and pulse. As she’s listening to my heart and lungs, she places the stethoscope on my injured ribs, causing me to wince. “Did that hurt?”
“Yes, I think I might have bruised or broken a rib about a week ago.”
“How?”
“My husband,” I look down and pause, too embarrassed to witness her pity, “he hit me.”
