“They love me. You love me, too. You just don’t remember yet, but you will. There’s a lot you’re going to have to learn. You want a play games? You’ve gotta play by the rules, doll,” Paxton said as he slid from my bed, delicately moving me from his chest.
I squirmed my way to a sitting positon with the help of the bed. I didn’t know what to say. How the hell did you reply to something like that? The rules? What the hell? I chose to steer around that one. Avoid it altogether. “Where’s my mom?”
Paxton poured water from the pink pitcher to my cup. “How the fuck would I know? Drink.”
I sucked cool water from the straw when he held it to my lips only because I was thirsty. Not because he insisted. “We’ve been married for six years and you don’t know where my mother is?”
“You didn’t come with a mother. You didn’t come with anyone. Just you.”
“How can that be? Surely I have a family. Surely someone gave birth to me.”
“I’m your family. Rowan and Ophelia are your family. You’re good at this,” Paxton smirked with a finger, wiggling in the air toward me.
“And you’re an idiot.”
“Now you’re just stupid. Don’t ever call me that, or anything else again. Do you understand me, Gabriella?” Paxton questioned with a stern tone. His fingers dug into my chin and he held it there, forcing me to look into his pine-green eyes.
“It had to be lust. There’s no other explanation,” I said with a jerk. My neck hurt from the sudden jolt, but at least he knew I wasn’t about to cower to him. Not for one second.
The cold-hard-look on his face softened and he smiled. “Lust?”
“Yes, why else would I marry someone like you? Certainly not for your charm.”
“You love my charm. You just need to remember how much.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll show you,” Paxton assured me as Dr. Mirage finally came to see me when I was actually awake. About time. I mean the doctor of all people should know you can’t talk to a patient right after a high dose of narcotics.
Paxton stood by my side and held my hand. I tried to pull it away, but he squeezed, keeping it right there in his. I was no match to his strength. Not in this condition.
“How do you feel?” the short doctor asked in broken English.
“Better I think, but I still don’t remember. What’s wrong with me?”
Dr. Mirage addressed me like he was giving a lecture to a class of medical students. “The brain is a very complex organ. I wish I could answer that. It took five days for the swelling in your brain to subside. I chose to keep you in a coma for four more days after that. Your body needed the deep NREM sleep in order to heal. It helps with repairs, regrows tissues, builds bone and muscle, and strengthens the immune system. I’m very pleased with your progress. You’ve got a couple good gashes on your head. You took a pretty hard hit, but if you keep up the progress, I’ll release you to go home? Maybe Friday.”
Paxton squeezed my hand when I spoke. I could tell it was to shut me up, but I wasn’t shutting. Go home? “What day is it?”
“It’s Tuesday,” Paxton answered.
“Go home? You can’t be serious. I don’t even know my name. You can’t just send me home with someone I don’t know.”
“I know it’s frustrating, but really all we can do is wait. I’ve seen these things cure themselves over night. I’ve seen them take months, years, and sometimes never. The best thing for you is to get you home where you’re familiar with things. Your home, and I hear you have a couple kids. That’s the best place for you right now.”
“I’m not leaving!” No way. No way in hell.
Chapter Two
I made Paxton mad so many times during the next few days. Intentionally. I was so sick of hearing him talk. I didn’t care how hot he was, how built, or how alluring he was. I didn’t want to go with him. He wouldn’t talk to me about anything important. Like my own kids. He was still on the game kick, thinking I feigned a brain injury. Freaking idiot.
I’d put up enough fight over the past couple days to get someone from social services in there. They wouldn’t help me, either. Paxton showed his charm when they talked to us both first. He had the two women eating out of his hand in a few seconds. And then politely excused himself so they could talk to me alone.
“This guy’s whacked in the head. I’m not leaving with him,” I assured the middle-aged women, jutting my thumb toward the door. It hurt too much to put any more effort than that into it.
The taller one offered little help. “We can make a home visit if you’d like. I can’t imagine what you must be feeling, but I really do think you should go home. Your family is the best place to be.”