Pieces of Paisley

by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  “Why does anyone do anything, Cameron?”

  “I don’t like that.”

  Confused, “You don’t like what?”

  “You calling me Cameron.”

  “I’m sorry. What would you prefer?”

  “No.” I can see the pain in his eyes, as if he is about to face rejection after eight days of vigilant watch at my bedside. “My friends call me Cam – but from you….” I hesitate, not sure of what I am about to say. “I prefer Kitten, unless you used that with other women, in which case, you need to stop.” I can’t make eye contact with him, unsure of how he will take my revelation.

  “Kitten is and has been reserved solely for you, Cam. I’ve never called anyone else Kitten. It just suited you the moment I saw you. You have this sweet look to you, but damn you have some sharp claws.” He smiles as he says it, and I know he means it as a compliment. “You look really tired. Are you in pain?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want to sleep, and every time they give me pain medication it knocks me out.”

  “You need to rest. I’ll get the nurse to give you something.” His voice is back to that no-nonsense alpha I had encountered in my office so many times.

  In an attempt to lighten his mood, I say, “Don’t go all Dom on me, Dax. I just want to be present for a little while.”

  He lets out a roaring laugh. “Kitten, you don’t know shit about me going Dom, but you will. I’ll give you this one since you’ve been asleep for over a week, but don’t test me in the future. I won’t be so lenient.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Anything.”

  “How bad has this been publicized?”

  “You mean what happened to you?” I just nod, dreading what he is about to tell me. “It hasn’t. I mean, there were news reports about a woman being raped and beaten but no mention of your name, and baby, even if someone had gotten a picture to release to the press, you weren’t recognizable when they found you.”

  “So no one knows where I am?”

  “Well, I do. Julie does. She said she would take care of anyone at work who needed to know and field questions about your absence to anyone who didn’t need to know. Your cell phone was pretty much demolished. I guess it got stomped on, so I wasn’t able to call any of your friends, and I didn’t know of any family to try to find.”

  I just nod my head. I know I need to reach out to my family, not blood related, but the only family I have. There are five of us girls who are thick as thieves, who have held me up, and me them, since my parents died, my Fishes. “I need you to call my girlfriends. They’re the only family I have.”

  “Okay. Just tell me their names and numbers, and I’ll call them.” He fumbles around the room looking for a pen and piece of paper to write on. When he turns back to me, tears are streaming down my face. “No, no, no, don’t cry. I’ll call them. It’s okay.”

  “I don’t know any of their phone numbers,” I wail. “They’ve all just been programmed in my phone for so long that I never have to dial them.”

  He is stifling laughter. “Just give me their names. I’ll get Fisher to find their numbers.”

  “You’re laughing at me,” I am pouting.

  “No, sweetheart, I’m not. I realize that if I lost my phone, I don’t think I could even call my parents. Ahh, the age of technology. So let me have it. Give me their names, and I’ll call Fisher.”

  “Piper Pritchard, Charlotte Barton, Sutton Leigh, and Rachel Gordon.” I look up at him with hopeful eyes. I need my girls, desperately. “Dax?”

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “How bad do I look?”

  He hesitates, undoubtedly trying to find the least painful words he can. “Umm. Cam, that’s kind of an unfair question.”

  “You said when they found me my face was unrecognizable. Is it still?”

  “No, most of the swelling is gone, and the bruises have turned yellowish green. There are a lot of scratches on your face, but they’re healing. Your lip was busted open pretty badly, but they sewed it back together. Geez, Cam. You’re still fucking beautiful. Do you want a mirror?”

  I just nod. He starts looking around the room for one, but other than the one in the bathroom there doesn’t seem to be one present. “I’ll be right back,” he says as he turns out of the room. When he comes back, he says a nurse will bring one up from the maternity ward. As promised, a few minutes later, a huge mirror on wheels strolls through the door. “Kitten, what you look like isn’t important. The fact that you’re alive is.”

  He gives me fair warning, but I am not prepared for what I see. My head is enormous, my face sickly shades of green, blue, and yellow. My eye sockets are almost hollow looking, lip busted and swollen covered in stitches, more bruising around my neck and ears. Everywhere I look, there is something wrong, out of place, not the right color. Tears fill my eyes. Dax anticipates my reaction and moves in front of the mirror to block my view. He crouches down in front of me as I sit on the side of the bed. He takes both hands and gently kisses the side of my mouth. When I close my eyes, the tears escape.

  “Baby, you’re going to look good as new in no time. You’re still just as beautiful as you were the day you stood me up.” He winks at me eliciting a small grin. I have no idea why he’s here or why he’s been here. I have no idea why I want him to stay. He feels safe. I feel protected. Tilting his head, he rests his forehead on mine, searching my eyes, for what I don’t know. A smile graces his full lips, and he kisses me on the nose.

  “I’m sorry, Dax.”

  “For what?”

  “For standing you up that night for dinner, for your spending eight days in this crappy place, for putting you in a position that makes you feel like you need to protect me, for being such a bitch when you came to my office.” I can’t fathom why he has stayed with me after I dismissed him. He makes me want to tear down the walls I’ve spent years erecting, yet I know if I let him in, he will have the power to destroy me when he leaves.

  “All those things make you endearing, although you will be punished for the dinner incident. I’m going to go call Fisher. Do you want your friends to come see you?” I nod, getting a grin in return.

  He returns a few minutes later saying Fisher actually knows Rachel. Figures. She knows everyone in town and has dated most of the men our age. He has her number, so he is going to call her and get her to contact everyone else. Dax doesn’t seem to find this odd in the least, so I just went with it. His phone rings about five minutes later. Apparently, it hasn’t taken Fisher long to reach Rachel, and my girls are frantic. It makes me smile, not that they are upset, but that they love me enough to be worried.