Chapter 73
Callie
The doctors told me that the psychological scars of the attack would be much harder to heal, and they were right.
Farrah had informed the police that my attacker had fled and she’d found me in our apartment. I didn’t dispute it. I didn’t say anything. Not to the nurses or the doctors or the social workers or the policemen.
I didn’t speak.
They grew frustrated with me, asking the same questions over and over, sometimes changing the words they used as if phrasing something a different way would make me answer. I listened to them argue as if I wasn’t there, sometimes stating that they needed to leave me alone, and other times fighting that someone needed to snap me out of the fog I was in.
I would have liked to see them try.
No one had known what happened when they’d found me because the Aces had taken Deke’s body instead of letting the police do their work. It was a clear case of self-defense, as my broken body could prove, but I was glad that I didn’t have to explain to anyone what had happened.
I was in a fog, not making a noise as they set my shoulder and checked out the rest of my body. My legs and stomach were bruised, my nose was broken, and they were most worried about my eye that was swollen so much that if I looked across the bridge of my nose, I could see the eyebrow on the other side.
They took photos that I knew they’d never need, but I didn’t fight them. I didn’t do anything but move when they moved me, and stared blankly as they tried to get answers.
At some point, Cody showed up at the hospital, and I could hear him in the hallway arguing with Farrah, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything.
Not even my son.
Because when Asa’d left me, I’d successfully retreated to that special place where nothing mattered.
They kept me in the hospital for a few days to make sure I wasn’t going to lose my eye, poking and prodding, and asking question after question as I stared at them blankly. But even after they knew that I would keep it, they didn’t discharge me.
Instead they moved me into the psych ward.
They sent in a nice psychologist who asked me questions while I stared at her, and even though I could see the frustration in her eyes, she kept coming back. I guess she was getting paid for it, though, so it wasn’t surprising that she was tenacious. She had beautiful strawberry-blonde hair. I wondered how Farrah would look with hair that color.
Gram and Farrah rarely left my bedside, taking shifts with Will so I wouldn’t be alone, but they didn’t get through to me and neither did Cody when he showed up. Nothing was getting through—and sometimes I’d hear them quietly arguing about what to do.
Something had broken in me when Deke was talking about my parents. I don’t think anyone understood why I’d just disappeared inside of myself, but I didn’t expect them to, not really. Only I knew what I had tried to ignore, what I’d pushed back so far that I’d rarely thought about it anymore. Only I knew that I’d been building those walls between my memory and myself so that almost nothing could breach them.
No one had hidden with me inside that tiny space, listening to my parents die and their killers calling my name. Only I knew that horror.
Asa was the only one who could’ve guessed where my mind was, we’d had a vague conversation about it years before, but for some reason—he wasn’t there. If I had been feeling anything, I think I would have been sad about that.
I lay there, listening to Gram yell at the psychologist as I thought about the water stain on the ceiling. I wondered if anyone noticed it or if it was only patients that ever had that view and they just never said anything.
“You’ve been doing it your way for three weeks and this shit isn’t helping,” Gram thundered. “I don’t give a shit what you think. I’m going to do this my way, and if you’ve got a problem, I’ll just take my granddaughter home with me!”
The pretty-haired psychologist murmured something soothingly that I couldn’t hear.
“Oh f*ck you and your fancy degree!” Gram shouted. “I know her! I’ve wiped her ass and bandaged her cuts. I’ll do what I think’s best!”
I didn’t hear anything for a while after that.
“Callie,” Gram snapped, hours later, pushing the button on the side of my bed until I was sitting up. “You look like shit and you’re ignoring your son who’s been crying for you for weeks.”
I watched her, detached as she opened the curtains in my room, making me squint as the bright sunlight filtered through. She rearranged my bedding so it was lying flat on my lap, and brushed the hair back from my face as I watched her silently.
“You’ve got a visitor,” she informed me as she strode out the door.
When she came back in, she was carrying my beautiful son in her arms.
His face lit up when he saw me, but it fell when I didn’t react to his presence.
“You hold your son. He misses you,” she told me firmly as she placed him in my lap.
He snuggled into my body, pressing his head against my chest, and all of a sudden I felt like I couldn’t breathe. He smelled really good, like baby shampoo and chocolate, and the warmth of his body seeped into mine until I wasn’t sure where he ended and I began.
“Mama,” he sighed, reaching up to pat my breast like he’d done a thousand times since he’d stopped breastfeeding almost a year before.
“Come on in,” I heard Gram call as I stared at Will, forcing my arms to move around him until I knew he wouldn’t fall off the bed.
The emotions overwhelming me were too much. Hope and fear and love and horror and grief—so strong that I clenched my jaw against them, begging for my brain to send me back. I’d almost succeeded, my vision going gray at the sides, when I felt him reach the head of the bed.
“Hey, Sugar,” he whispered gently, reaching out to run his hand down my hair. “We’ve missed you.”
My entire body jolted and I raised my eyes to his, the tender look on his face opening the floodgates as I began to cry. I cried in loud, obnoxious, gasping sobs that made Will start screaming in fear, and even then I couldn’t stop them. Gram came to get the baby, tears on her face as she kissed me on the head, and in the next minute, Asa was in the bed with me, wrapping his entire body around mine.
“You’re okay, Callie,” he murmured over and over, never once letting go as I let out years of pain by screaming at the top of my lungs and pummeling my fists against his back.
When I’d finally calmed down into sobbing quiet hiccups, he pulled his face away from my neck.
“If you ever scare me like this again I’m going to paddle your ass,” he rumbled, his voice sounding gravelly and raw. “Our boy needs you, Sugar. I need you.”
I nodded once as he rubbed my back, and stuffed my face into my favorite spot between his jaw and shoulder.
My emotions were all over the place, but I let him have that moment. Once my body had relaxed, I noticed that his was trembling, and some place deep inside me wouldn’t let him go uncomforted. I loved him so much, and guilt piled on top of grief when I thought of all the things I’d put him and the rest of my family through over the month I’d been gone.
I didn’t know where I could go from there. I felt too exposed, too overwhelmed to just go back to my day to day life. The walls I’d built to keep me safe, to keep my world sane and ordered, had shattered around me and it felt as if I was standing in the middle of a war zone with no help in sight.
I loved Asa. I loved him so much, and I reveled in the way his arms wrapped around me and held me tight against him. I loved the scruff of his beard against my chin and the way he always smelled like smoke, Armani cologne, and leather. I loved the way he looked at me and our son.
I loved him, but that didn’t seem to make any difference, because the moment he crawled off my bed, I was going to tell him I didn’t want to see him anymore.
I couldn’t bear to look at him.