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.”
Paxton held my hand until he had the crutch secured under my arm. My eyes searched out my room, hoping it wasn’t the loft up the stairs. I would have never made it.
“All the way to the end of the hall. The downstairs suite,” Paxton said, eyes shifting from mine to the white double doors. His nod directed me where to go and I hobbled away. As much as I wanted to remember who the hell I was, and why on earth I would marry someone like Paxton, I didn’t look around. Not even after I opened the doors to a large room with a king-sized bed right in the middle. I didn’t look around there, either. I went right to the bed and laid down, letting the crutches clink together and fall to the floor.
The bed was soft, covered by a fluffy white comforter, and I sank into it, appreciating the relief as the pressure was released from my broken body. I rolled to my side and closed my eyes, breathing long, deep breaths, trying to control the pain. I shouldn’t have been home yet. It was in too much for someone with my injuries. They should have never let me out of the hospital. I knew the night I had ahead of me, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
I vaguely remember taking the two pills from Paxton. I know I swallowed them with a glass of water, I know Paxton covered me with a quilt, and I know he kissed my forehead. That’s it. Darkness followed, and that was the last thing I remembered. At least it was peaceful
Chapter Three
My eyes opened to darkness. Thick, navy-blue curtains kept the light from spilling into the room. First, I assessed the pain. Most of it was gone. At least the shooting pains in my hips and lower back had departed. My ribs and chest hurt a little, but not too terribly.
Pressure with my hand against the mattress helped me sit up as I blinked away blurriness in search of the nearest bathroom. The pain did become almost unbearable when I had to bend to reach my crutches. I wouldn’t be doing that again. I’d make sure they were propped close by, not on the floor.
I hobbled my way toward a door, opened it, and scanned the space.
What a beautiful bathroom, yet it did confuse me. Unfamiliar makeup, perfume, and Jewelry blanketed a magnificent vanity on one wall. A girl’s dream come true. The shower was big enough for five people, complete with a bench, situated right in the center and topped by multiple showerheads. I looked forward to that luxury.
I grimaced as I lowered myself to the toilet, careful with where my crutches were placed. The thong panties had gone unnoticed until I slid them over my hips, pulling the thin line from the crack of my ass. I didn’t feel like they were me. None of this felt like me. A deep inhalation and a glance up to the ceiling kept me from crying. In order to keep myself together and not lose it, I chose to think about something else. I had to. At least until I figured out what to do. This couldn’t be my life.
It took nearly five minutes for me to maneuver my panties up and over my hips to stand, but the pain subsided once I stood. It was the getting there that killed me.
I flushed the toilet and shuffled back to my room, the room that didn’t feel like mine, either. I would have never chose the dark blues with white. I liked light tones. Earthy colors like tans and greens.
My confusion rose higher when I opened the walk-in closet. Amazing. White shelves lined one wall, full of folded jeans, shoes, purses, and T-shirts. Beautiful dresses with an assortment of outfits hung neatly on the other side. I gawked at the few evening dresses, but mostly casuals, the sundresses, long-flowing maxi-dresses, and sandals—lots of sandals in all colors—filled the closet space. As soon as I flipped on the light, it all went away, everything in my closet. I couldn’t see anything but me.
Round white lights circled a full wall mirror. Like something you would see in a Hollywood dressing room. That’s not what had my attention. The ghost standing before me held that. I had a weak and broken appearance with hollow eyes, a lost soul with nowhere to go. I knew it wasn’t right. It didn’t feel right. I didn’t belong here. Some people live a life with a feeling of void, but I was the one who felt obsolete. I was the missing link, the broken one that didn’t fit anymore. Again, I reverted my attention to something else…just like my mother had always preached.
Wait. My mother? How did I know that?
I flipped off the light and pondered my sudden realization. That was real. That premonition had been real, but not clear. I knew that I had been taught not to ever feel bad, to focus on something else. Something happy. However, I couldn’t have been taught how to do that without a memory. My earliest memory consisted of a handful of nurses, most of them nameless. I hadn’t seen them enough to remember or cared enough to try learning their names. I hadn’t even been able to remember my own name in the hospital, for Christ’s sake.
My confusion continued when I opened the long chest of drawers. Everything was mine, nothing was his. Feminine bras with matching thongs were folded neatly in every color possible. Not much black. I felt like I gravitated more toward black. Wait? I did? Paxton was the void in the room. No male items existed here. Not one. Did we have separate rooms? Given the fact that Paxton was a pervert. That surprised me. Wow. We didn’t share a room, and that excited me. I had to admit that had been one of the fears on my mind when I’d had no other choice but to leave with him. I didn’t want to sleep in the same bed with him, but it was still weird. Not that the whole mess wasn’t weird or anything. I shrugged it off with a heavy sigh and tried to open the armoire doors. The double doors and all four drawers were locked.
“I have the key. I don’t think you’re ready for that just yet. Maybe later.”
My head snapped toward the door, toward Paxton. My husband. He leaned against the threshold, arms folded and ankles crossed. Basketball shorts covered long legs and he was in bare feet. The five o’clock shadow was gone, replaced with a clean shave and a nod. It had to be the looks. He definitely had that going for him.
“What’s in it?”
“You’ll see. They’re waiting. I can’t hold them off any longer.”
“Oh, okay,” I said in a high-pitched tone, suddenly even more anxious. I leaned on my crutches and prayed I didn’t screw it up, that I could fake this mom business without them noticing A long breath of air filled my lungs and I wondered whether or not I should pretend to remember them.