“Okay, okay. I’ll call you later, Tony.”
Paxton drove back to our home and parked in a three-car garage. Even the garage had a brilliancy about it. Clean. Everything in its place. My fingers tapped on the console between us while I waited for Paxton to retrieve my crutches from the back. Emotions mixed with pain, and my heart picked up a little anticipation and speed.
“Did you get my bag with medicine?” I questioned. That’s all I wanted. Something for the pain and a place to lay down.
“Yes, I already told you I would give it to you when we got home. You don’t need to worry about that.”
Easy for him to say.
I struggled my way out of the car, holding my breath as I dragged my stiff leg from behind me. “I’m an adult. I think I can worry about my own medications,” I snapped. Paxton didn’t move, therefore, I couldn’t move.
“I’m going to let that slide because I know you’re in pain. Don’t do it again.”
I didn’t have the strength to argue. Whatever. I didn’t care who gave them to me. I just wanted them. I didn’t have the endurance to check out my house. I know I stepped in from the garage into a mudroom. The washer and dryer on one end, a white bench with blue and white chevron lines in the middle and four cubby holes with all our names—starting with Paxton, of course. Pink and white sandals on the shelves below hooks, holding little white jackets. Holy shit! This was real.
I’m a mother.
The next door opened to a chef’s kitchen. One from Cribs or something, and then an open dining room connected to a living room with more signs of little girls. The table held a Barbie coloring book with a sandwich bag full of crayons on top. A cheap McDonald’s toy, a green whistle, and a pink jelly-bracelet in the shape of a star.
Paxton dropped my one and only bag to the table and picked up the things, putting them in their place, a drawer below a beautiful buffet. Sleek. Shimmering black marble or something. It was gorgeous and complemented well with the rest of the décor.
“Anything? Does any of this feel familiar?” Paxton asked while retrieving the bottle of pain pills from my bag. Thank the good Lord above!
I looked around the room, but I felt more annoyed than anything. I hurt. I hurt so bad, I could barely stand. It’s a good damn thing I had these crutches. Something needed to hold me up.
“Pax, can we do this later? When I’m not ready to pass out and hit the floor, maybe?” I never ever thought about the name. I didn’t think about anything, and I didn’t want to. I just wanted the pain to go away.”
“So, we’re doing this? We’re starting all the way over? From the beginning?”
My right shoulder relaxed a little while I looked at him like he spoke French. Dialect I didn’t understand. “What?” I asked with gravely words, trying to get my facial expression to match my tone.
Paxton took two steps toward me, hard lines creasing his forehead. I groaned from the pain in my lower back when he wrapped his arm around me and tugged me to him. Bastard. My arm was forced over his shoulder when he kicked the crutch out from under me. That one took my breath away, it hurt so bad. Pain started at my knee and shot clear to my hip. The crutch fell to the floor with a loud thump, and his hand tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck. It wasn’t quite a jerk, more like a tight fist. Paxton’s way of being gentle with me.
“I know you’re hurting right now. That’s why I’m going to let you off the hook this time. You call me Pax one more time, and I promise I will teach you a lesson. One that I assure you won’t forget,” Paxton said with hot, threatening words in my ear.
I started to ask why, but Paxton stopped me with his lips. “No, no, baby girl. You talk when I tell you to talk,” he chanted in some sort of deep, dark, sexy tone. No, not sexy. Sultry. Jesus. Now I was delusional, too. There was nothing sexy about this man. Except the way he smelled, and maybe the way he wore his jeans, or the way his hard chest felt against mine. Oh, for Christ’s sake.
My eyes pierced his, but I didn’t speak, not because I was afraid of his threat, but because I didn’t have it in me. Not at that time.
Instead of arguing, I begged. “Can I please just lay down for a little bit?”
Paxton continued to kiss me with soft, loving caresses and cold words. He squeezed my ass in one hand, shoving his hips toward my battered body, and tugged on my hair with the other. Idiot.
“Go to bed. I’ll be right there.”