by Stella Brie
MY SALVATION
By
Stella Brie
Table of Contents
Title Page
COPYRIGHT
AUTHOR’S NOTE
DEDICATION
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
THANK YOU!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COPYRIGHT
MY SALVATION ©2020 Stella Brie
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the prior permission of the writing from the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed upon the subsequent purchaser. All characters in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book or book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Cover Design: Sarah Kil www.sarahkilcreativestudio.com
Editing: Wordslayers / Karen Boston https://wordslayers.net
AUTHOR’S NOTE
THIS BOOK IS A REVERSE Harem romance. The heroine does not have to choose between male interests. This book has a MMFMM relationship. This book contains references to past abuse and violence that may be difficult for some readers. Read at your own discretion. Recommended for 18+ due to mature sexual content.
DEDICATION
To my husband...the man of my dreams. Just a paragraph later. Love you!
CHAPTER 1
KATE
My head pounds as I pull off the interstate to get food and gas. The past is nothing but a black wave threatening to crash down on me every minute, and holding it back has been the ultimate challenge; a mental exercise in constantly strengthening the cage to contain the memories hovering on the edge. Singing at the top of my lungs to almost every song on the radio, playing the license plate and alphabet game, and using my therapy techniques have all kept the cage and my emotions intact, but it’s been an exhausting battle. It’s no wonder my head is pounding.
Every year on these same two days, I usually hide in my bed, avoiding the present and giving in to the past. As if the memories could only be played in sequential order, my mind would start at the beginning, then race to each subsequent event as I try to understand how my perfect life turned into a nightmare.
Ultimately, guilt - that truly insidious bully - would take over and slowly beat me down. He’d fill my thoughts with black despair and sleep with nightmares until I couldn’t take it anymore. At that point, my usual escape was to drink until I was so oblivious, I could no longer hear his accusing words. Once I was drunk, it made the second day so much easier. I just stayed drunk.
In the end, Collin is still dead. My friends and colleagues, dead or they abandoned me. The stark awareness of these truths would help sober me up, and on the third day I’d shove everything back into its cage, slam the door shut, and for another year life would resume as normal. I’d become the calm, controlled woman and doctor who usually faced the world.
Not this year. This year, I had to drive on this annual two-day anniversary to get to my new assignment. The first travel doctor had screwed up royally, and my agency promised our clients they’d have another doctor on site in two days. So, here I am, driving today and tomorrow, the same two fucking days I dread every year.
After filling up with gas and grabbing some snacks, I pop a pill for my head and get back on the road. Tonight’s stop isn’t too far now.
Twenty minutes later, I sigh in relief. Welcome to Montana states the picturesque sign as I pass over the state line from Wyoming. Thankfully, that means I’m now about an hour and a half from my stopping point for the night. It’s been a long day of driving from Denver. While areas of the drive had been scenic with mountains and wildlife, the last hour was monotonous, with flat roads that seemingly went on forever. Unfortunately, monotony wasn’t my friend in the battle I waged today.
Finally, I pull into the parking lot of the hotel where I’m staying for the night. I turn off my vehicle, take a deep breath, and peel my hands off the steering wheel. Sitting there for a second, I’m relieved to have made it this far, and while the battle isn’t over, I feel some sense of victory over the past. Flexing my hands to get the circulation going again, I pick up my phone and quickly text my mom.
Stopping for the night in Billings. Will call later. Love you.
Getting out of the SUV, I stretch with relief and grab my coat and overnight bag and walk towards the lobby. It’s your average hotel, with basic amenities and a small restaurant attached. I’m relieved to know I can get a much-needed drink and dinner without getting back on the road.
When I get to the lobby, I check in and get to my room. It’s your usual one-bedroom hotel room, nothing fancy, but it’ll do.
Setting the bag on the luggage rack, I use the restroom and freshen up. Brushing the tangles out of my hair, I pull it back into a ponytail for now. I then reach into my bag for my toothbrush. Something about brushing my teeth always makes me feel refreshed. As I brush, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. So much has changed in the last three years. My cool blonde, slightly wavy hair is much longer than the short, sleek bob I used to have when I worked at the hospital. My face, previously soft and glowing with youth and hope, reflects both the passage of time and my ongoing battles with the past. Now it’s thinner, leaner, and harder. Today reflects heavily in my green eyes, which are filled with shadows, while dark circles sit underneath them.
Hearing my phone ping with a message, I banish my thoughts and finish brushing my teeth. Spraying on a bit of body spray, I’m ready to get a drink and dinner.
I grab my phone and read my mom’s text.
Be safe. I love you and remember, I’m here if you need anything tonight. Any time.
I smiled. She worries so much, but I’m so grateful. My mom has been such a rock in my life. While my dad’s always been absent, my mom more than made up for it, encouraging me to go for my dreams and never give up. In my younger years, I used her support like a laser to sharpen my focus and achieve my perfect life. Perfect grades to get accepted by my chosen universities, the perfect job at my chosen hosp
ital, and, of course, my perfect husband. And when it all came crashing down and I was floundering, her support became the steel I used to reconstruct my life. Now she worries I’m too closed off and all my control will shatter one day. I shake my head. While I’m not happy in my life, I am living and moving forward the only way I know how.
I shake off my thoughts, pick up my tablet, and walk out the door.
As I enter the restaurant, I look around for the bar. I’d found it to be the best place for dining alone. I could have a conversation with other people, including the bartender, or keep to myself. The place is almost empty, with only a couple of people scattered here and there. The bar itself is simple, with green vinyl bar stools and a plain pine wood bar top.
The bartender, an older gentleman with grey hairs, stands behind the bar as I sit down.
“Hi, I’m Bob. What can I get you, Miss?” he inquires.
“Do you have a menu?”
“Sure, here you go. Just let me know when you’re ready to order,” Bob tells me as he places the menu and a cocktail napkin on the bar. He walks away to tend to another customer.
The menu, like the hotel and bar, is basic. I’m starving after having left early and driven all day. So, a banana and a few chicken nuggets aren’t enough to keep me going. Seeing the burger on the menu, I figured it was a pretty safe option.
“I’m ready,” I call out to Bob.
“Great, what would you like to order?”
“I’ll take the burger, medium, with ketchup, mayo, pickle and onion only. With fries. And what do you have on tap?”
He names the beers on tap, and I pick an Irish lager.
“That’s quite a selection,” I motion to the taps.
“Yep.” He grins. “During the week, we get quite a few guys from the ranches who come into town for a bit of fun, and the beer selection really draws them back. Let me go put in your order and get your beer.”
As he walks away, I check my email, read the news, and glance at my social feeds. Most of my email contains offers from sales at my favorite stores or announcements on upcoming book releases from a couple authors I follow. One email catches my eye. It’s from someone named “Lev,” with the subject “Tomorrow’s meeting.”
Dr. Michaels,
Thank you for jumping in so quickly to replace Dr. Foster. I’ll meet you at the practice at noon tomorrow to conduct a walk-through, introduce you to the staff and give you the keys. If anything comes up, please call me. Cell: 555-133-4712.
Lev Coleman
Hmmm, Lev. What an interesting name. I try to picture a face to go with the name. An old cowboy comes to mind, weathered face and whipcord body, lean from years of ranching in the Montana winters. Old, worn cowboy boots and a ten-gallon hat complete the image. I know it’s a stereotype, but that’s what pops into my head. Laughing softly, I look up as Bob places my beer down in front of me.
“Thanks, Bob, I needed this,” I tell him as I take a long drink. A couple of these, and hopefully I’ll sleep at least an hour or two tonight before the nightmares start.
“Burger will be right out,” he says as he walks to the end of the bar to wait on someone else.
Grabbing my tablet, I check my social feeds. A post pops up with Collin’s smiling face. My breath stalls for a second. It’s one of those “remember this post from years ago” type of things. I’d forgotten these reminders sometimes pop up from the past, or I probably would have stayed offline today. I study his face and the message I’d written. Five years ago, and yet such another life completely. I snapped that picture a few days before at the beach as we walked through the surf. His face beaming, sandy brown hair blowing in its usual messy style, icy blue eyes crinkling...I couldn’t help capturing the look of pure happiness he exuded as he splashed through the waves.
Happy Birthday to my McDreamy. @DrCollinKennedy May this day bring you adventure and surprise. I couldn’t imagine my life without you and cannot wait to celebrate tonight! Love, your McNerdy.
Such a simple message, yet now so complicated in hindsight. The comments below the post are a stark reminder of the events of the day and something I can’t handle, so I quickly close the app.
My burger arrives, and I put down the tablet. Taking a big bite, I moan at the taste. It easily wins the Best Burger Award. It’s freaking delicious. Another surprise for this unassuming little hotel and restaurant.
“How’s everything? Need anything?” Bob asks.
“Delicious. Best burger I’ve had in a long time,” I declare after swallowing my bite.
“Not surprising. Montana’s known for its beef, straight from the cattle ranches nearby.”
“That makes sense. The taste is so fresh and juicy. Would you mind bringing me another beer?” I ask as I scarf down another bite and some fries.
“Sure, just a sec.” He shuffles over to pull another beer for me. “Here you go. Let me know if you need anything else.” He sets down the beer and leaves me to eat.
After inhaling the burger, I slow down to finish my fries and beer. The TV is on and showing the opening day game for the Texas Rangers. I’m not a huge baseball fan, but I’ll watch a few games every once in a while. About thirty minutes later, I glance at my watch. It’s only eight o’clock, but I’ve been up since five this morning, and I’m both physically and mentally exhausted. I signal Bob, thank him for the meal, and pay my tab. Dragging my butt off the stool, I pick up my tablet and say goodnight.
In my room, I change into an old, soft T-shirt with the Stanford School of Medicine logo on it. The shirt is about eight years old but my most comfortable. Soft jersey lounge pants complete my outfit for bed. Going into the bathroom, I brush my teeth and wash my face. Pulling my hair out of the ponytail holder, I give it a quick brush as well. I leave on the bathroom light on to help chase away the darkness.
Taking my tablet to bed, I try to get in a few chapters before I sleep. When I turn it on, my finger automatically goes back to the app and brings up Collin’s smiling face. Tracing my finger over his features, my eyes burn with tears, but I refuse to cry. I close the tablet and drift off to sleep a few minutes later.
AN ALERT POPS UP ON my phone, “Code Black,” which means there’s terrorist activity in the hospital and all patients and personnel need to evacuate. As others receive the message, people stream towards the stairs and safety. As I turn to back to the stairs myself, I hear a man shout, “Where is Dr. Michaels!? Dr. Kate Michaels! Tell me where she is, or I’m going to fucking kill all of you. But if you tell me where she is, I might let you go.”
I stop as soon as I hear my name. What?! Is this chaos because of me?
Turning around, I head towards the shouting man. As I get closer, I hear him repeat, “Tell me where she is right now, or I will shoot one of you.”
A steady voice in the crowd tries to reason with the gunman. “I’m sure we can find Dr. Michaels. Why don’t you let these people go? I’ll stay with you, and then you and I can check each of the rooms on this floor to find her.”
OMG, that’s Collin. No, no, no.
I move faster towards the crowd. I step up behind the gunman. Collin’s eyes widen, and his hand raises involuntarily, as if to stop me from moving forward.
The gunman, seeing the gesture, panics and shoots Collin.
“Collin!” I cry out.
The gunman whips around at the sound of my voice. The mixture of glee and menace in his voice is terrifying as he orders me in front of him. “Dr. Michaels. We’ve all been waiting for you. Get over here.”
I hold up my hands, slide in front of the gunman, and drop down to check on Collin. It looks like he was shot in the stomach. My heart races as I check on my husband.
“Stand up!” the gunman, who I now realize is David Carson’s dad, screams at me. “Get up right now. You will answer for David’s death! For my son’s death.”
I look up at him, then back down at Collin. Roaring fills my ears as I watch the blood pour out of him. My mind immediately switches to ‘doc
tor’ mode. I need to stop the bleeding. I tear off my doctor’s coat, ball it up, and push down on Collin’s stomach. My hands check his pulse and reach for his eyes to look at his pupils. I flinch as two more gunshots ring out. Screams erupt as bodies drop behind me.
Mr. Carson screams at me, “I told you to stand up! If you don’t stand up immediately, I will keep shooting. If you care about these ‘innocent people,’ you will stand up immediately.”
If I stand up, Collin will bleed out. If I don’t stand up, another person will be shot, possibly die.
I’m trying to figure out what to do next when I see trembling hands lean over and move my hands off the coat. A shaky voice tells me, “I’ll take over, Dr. Michaels. I won’t let go of Collin. I promise.” Looking up, I see Lindsey, an oncology nurse, nod at me as she places her hands on my coat and puts pressure on Collin’s wound. Silently thanking her, I blink and slowly stand to face Mr. Carson.
“Mr. Carson, please don’t shoot anyone else. We can talk about David’s death...”
Pop! Pop! Pop!
My body slams backwards as the shots hit me. As I lay there, waiting for death, I continue to hear more shots being fired.
IN THE EARLY MORNING hours, I wake with a cry, tears streaming down my face, my breath stalled as I’m locked into the past. My mind frantically tries to escape the images and sounds of gunshots bombarding my brain. My hands reach up and immediately trace the three points on my body to reassure myself I’m not bleeding. An image of Collin’s smiling face from the beach morphs into an image of him lying on the floor of the hospital, bleeding. Unable to breathe.
Inhaling sharply, I take in as much air as possible, then hold it for a second to gain some control before exhaling. Again. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. I lay there, steadily breathing in and out.
