Unforgettable You (Me, You, and Us Book 2)

by Hall, Deanndra

  “Look at her hands.”

  I watch for a few seconds. But what I see next sets me on fire. Because the “dom” in front of her glances up, sees what she’s doing, and he does something that ignites a dangerous fury inside of me.

  He laughs.

  And that’s when I realize – it’s her hand signal. The one she showed me. The one I told her to use if she couldn’t speak for some reason. And that chuckle? It means she told him, she showed him.

  And he’s chosen to ignore it.

  She has no idea that I’m here, but somewhere in her heart, that signal means she’s begging me to do something, to help her some way, not knowing I’m here but hoping, hoping someone will figure it out. What comes out of my mouth is a roar. “THAT SON OF A BITCH!”

  Clint’s eyes go wide. “What? What is it?”

  “THAT’S HER FUCKING HAND SIGNAL AND HE JUST LAUGHED IT OFF!” I’m already on the move, Clint right behind me, and I know he’s figured out what I’m talking about. When I take the stage in the performance area, I’m sure I look like a mad man, but I don’t care. I thunder up to the asshole, grab him by the neck, and slam him against the back wall. “I know exactly what you’re doing, you no good fuckstick! I saw you laugh.”

  A half dozen guys are coming toward the stage and I hear a telltale “click” followed by Clint growling toward them, “Back the fuck off.” And they do. That’s Clint – packing. I can always count on him.

  The smarmy guy looks me in the eye and says, “Fuck off.”

  “I’m gonna show you fuck off. You tell me you don’t know what that hand signal means and I’ll tell you you’re a lying son of a bitch. You touch her again and you’ll die by my hand right here in front of everyone in this room. You got that? Huh? GOT IT?”

  I guess I look just crazy enough to make a believer out of him because he takes a look at Clint and the crowd and says, “Take the crazy bitch. She can’t handle the pain anyway.” That finishes shoving me across the line in the pissed off department, and I double up a fist and knock him to the floor before I turn to Sheila.

  She’s twisted in the bindings in her efforts to get away from the pain, and I lean into her ear and whisper, “Baby, it’s me. It’s Steffen. You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you. Clint’s here too – we’re going to take care of you. Just give me a minute. I want to do this so I don’t hurt you any worse, okay? We’re getting you out of here.” I start loosening one ankle while Clint does the other, and then he undoes the restraints on her wrists, taking an arm down at a time. As soon as her arms and legs are free, I sweep my arm behind her knees and lift them to a sitting position. He unbinds her head and neck, and then I hold her tightly under her knees and ass in my doubled arms when he unbuckles her waist. He pins her shoulders back until I can get an arm behind her back to lift her without her upper body falling forward, not wanting to drive the needles farther into her flesh. Once she’s in my arms, I run down the back hallway with her, Clint right on my heels, and grab the first empty private room I see.

  “What do you need?” he shouts at me.

  “Something with lidocaine in it, a wash or something. And something with alcohol. It’ll hurt, but we’ve got to do something to minimize the risk of infection.”

  I hear him out in the hallway. “Where’s your goddamn first aid kit?” There’s mumbling, and an older man bursts into the room.

  I’m sure my eyes are glowing red when I spit at him, “Who the fuck are you?”

  “I’m the general manager. I had no idea what was going on, I swear. I just . . .”

  “Shut up and help us. I need something with some kind of numbing agent in it.”

  For a few seconds he rummages around in a drawer of a cabinet there in the room. “Here.” It’s some store brand version of Solarcaine. “This should work.”

  Clint thrusts a bottle in front of me. “Bactine wash. It’ll work as an antiseptic.”

  “Thanks. Help me keep her still.” I pull the blindfold off and look down into her face. “Baby, can you hear me? Sheila? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

  “Should we call an ambulance?” the older guy asks.

  “No. Hang on for a few minutes. Let me see what I can do before we do that.” My first thought is the humiliation she’ll feel if it comes to that, but I’ll have them called before I’ll let her suffer more or undergo more damage. I watch as her eyes roll around in her head, and then they swivel and catch mine. “Baby, you with me?”

  “Steffen?” Her voice is thin and wispy, and I can barely hear her.

  “Yeah, angel, it’s me. I’m going to try to help you here, but you’ve got to be still for me. Can you do that?”

  Her voice is a breathy whine. “Steffen, it hurts. Please help me. It hurts.”

  “I know, baby, I know. Here we go. You’ve got to stay still, okay?” She nods. “Okay, I’m taking out the one in your clit first. Hang in there with me.” My hands are shaking and I feel hands on my shoulders: Clint. I’ve never been so grateful to have a friend in my entire life. “Take her hands, pull them up over her head, and hold them there.” Without having to tell him, the manager guy mercifully presses a hand to the top of each of her thighs. When they’ve got her restrained, I grasp the end of the needle tightly and pull straight out in one quick movement. She shrieks, then quiets. Clint hands me a cotton ball with the antiseptic wash on it, and I wipe and clean as best I can.

  I spray both breasts with the numbing agent and set about to systematically remove the needles from the right one. I’m trying to remove them in the order they were put in, but I really can’t remember. I do know to take the one in the tip of her nipple out first, and then the ones closest to it, followed by the outer ones. One by one I pull them out, and she cries out a little each time. There’s some bleeding, but not a lot. As I pull them out, Clint works to wipe each needle mark with the antiseptic. I manage to get all of them out of her right breast, then start on the left one, and it appears that the numbing agent has already gone to work, because by the time I get all of the needles out, she’s quieted. She’ll hurt in the morning, but right now, she’s okay. When she rolls her eyes back toward me, I smile. “I got them all out, precious. They’ll hurt in the morning, but I think you’ll be okay.” She gives me a tiny smile. “Honey, what did you take? What did he give you?”

  “Muscle relaxant.”

  Clint grimaces. I know exactly what he’s thinking, and I’m thinking the same thing, but I don’t have time to go out front and kill some scum-sucking motherfucker right now. It’s way more important to get her out of here. “Give me a blanket and get the hell out of my way,” I snarl at the older guy, then turn to Clint. “Can we stay at your place tonight?”

  “Absolutely.” Clint holds the door for me as I carry her out the back and around the building to the car. “I’ll call Trish on the way home and tell her what’s going on.” We manage to get her into the backseat, and I ride back there with her, her head in my lap. I stroke her hair and talk to her the whole way there. I can hear Clint talking to Trish on the phone, can hear Trish crying, and I wonder when I’ll stop doing the same. My tears are dripping off my jaw and into Sheila’s hair, and I break down and cry like I’ve never cried before.

  Trish is waiting for us. She’s got their bedroom ready, and I carry Sheila in and put her in the middle of the bed, then crawl in with her. “Can you get her some Tylenol or something?”

  “Sure.” Trish disappears and comes back with two Tylenol and a glass of water.

  “Pumpkin, can you sit up and takes these?”

  She mumbles, “More muscle relaxant?”

  “No, baby, Tylenol to help with the pain.” She opens her mouth, I shove them in, and she takes a big drink and lies back down.

  Trish strokes her hair for a minute before she leaves the room. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry,” she keeps whispering over and over, but I’m not sure Sheila can hear her.

  She turns to leave and Clint bends down over the drugged, lifeless woman ly
ing there with me. “Get some rest, honey. We’ll see you in the morning.” He drops a little kiss on her forehead, then reaches for me and hugs me. I start to cry again. I can’t help it. Even with her lying here, those images keep playing in my mind and my brain is screaming in misery.

  I settle down in the bed and she shifts in my arms, then snuggles into me. I’m guessing Clint and Trish are either sleeping on the couch, or can’t sleep so they’ll just sit there and keep vigil all night. Two hours later, a hand on my face wakes me, and I look down to see her looking up at me. “Steffen?”

  “Hey, baby! Yeah, it’s me. I’m right here. How do you feel?”

  “Hurts.” She closes her eyes and grimaces, then looks back up at me. “How did you find me?”

  “A total fluke. I guess something or someone made sure I was there tonight because you’d need me. And I’m glad I was.”

  “Me too.” She stopped for a second. “I was calling your name. Did you hear me?”

  I start to cry again. I don’t care that she sees; that doesn’t matter anymore. “No, baby, you weren’t. But I didn’t have to hear you. I saw your hand signal.”

  She nods. “But I was screaming your name.”

  “No, sweetie. You were screaming in your head, but it wasn’t coming out. The drugs he gave you kept you from being able to talk or scream, but I understood. I knew.”

  “I didn’t think you were coming.” When I kiss her forehead, I hear her whisper, “I thought you’d forgotten me.”

  That’s it. Every aching, broken, jagged, raw, bleeding corner of my heart is torn apart with those five little words. I bury my face in her neck and turn loose with big, crazed sobs that shake the whole bed. I cry like that for ten minutes. I can’t stop. When I finally do, I look into those blue eyes that are looking back into mine. “Baby, I love you so much. I didn’t tell you that before, but I’m telling you now. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone else in the whole world. You’re everything to me. There’s no one who’s more important to me than you.” Her eyes search my face. “Girl, I could never, ever forget you in a million years, even if I tried. You’re in my heart forever, little one. You’re part of my soul. I could never forget you. Never.”

  Her voice is innocent and pure. “You love me?”

  “Yes, angel, I love you. I think I’ve loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you, at Clint and Trish’s wedding. I’ll love you forever.”

  “I love you too, Steffen.” The muscle relaxant is still working because she says, “I love you and I want to marry you and have your babies.”

  “Oh, is that right?” I laugh through my tears.

  “Yes, that’s right. Tomorrow,” she slurs.

  “I don’t know about that, but I’ll see what I can do. Won’t change your mind, will you?”

  “Nope. Marry me, Steffen, right now.”

  “I can’t. It’s the middle of the night and we’ve got to sleep, and then I want to take you to someone to have you checked out tomorrow. But we’ll talk about it then, okay?”

  “Okay.” She sighs, closes her eyes, and burrows into my chest. “But I need a ring.”

  Oh, baby girl, you’re definitely getting one of those.

  “Ouch!”

  “I’m sorry.” The physician’s assistant is poking around down below, and Sheila’s making all kinds of faces. “Does it hurt much?”

  “Yeah. Well, no, not a lot, but it’s in a bad place to hurt.”

  “Uh-huh, I would think so.” She snaps off her gloves, then puts on two more. As she starts pressing around on Sheila’s nipples, my baby makes another face.

  “Ouch.” When the woman looks up at her, Sheila reassures her. “Just sore.”

  I’ll admit it: I’m terrified. “She’s going to be okay, right?”

  “Oh, yeah.” The woman pats Sheila on the shoulder. “You’re going to be fine. But I’m going to prescribe an antibiotic just in case. Keep doing what you’re doing, and when you’re home, try going without a bra and panties for a few days. It’ll help all of that heal better.” She looks at Sheila and then back to me. “Did you . . .”

  “No. It wasn’t me. Don’t ask. It’s complicated. Let’s just say this won’t happen again, right, babe?”

  “Oh hell no! Never again.” Sheila’s shaking her head vigorously and I almost laugh. I don’t think I ever have to worry about this again.

  “Okay, well, just keep the wounds clean and dry. You can use antibiotic cream if you want; they make some with a numbing agent in it that might help. Take Tylenol if you need it. And call to come back in if there’s any problem at all.” She snaps off her gloves again. “You can get dressed and they’ll take care of you out front.”

  We both call out our thanks as she closes the door behind her, and I take a look at my baby. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m just sorry for everything. That was so stupid of me . . .”

  I take her chin in my hand and put a finger to her lips. “Stop it. We both got hurt. We both learned a lot of lessons. We accept them, deal with it, and go on. I love you and you love me. That’s all that matters.”

  “Do you want me to get rid of the piercings? Because I will if you want. I’m not sure why I did them.”

  I look at them and feel a clenching in my stomach. “That’s up to you. If you want to keep them, you can, but frankly, they just remind me of all of this and I want us to move forward.”

  “Then consider them gone as soon as I can get somewhere to have the rings cut.” She stands to get dressed and weaves a little, then catches herself with a hand on the examining table. “Oh, god, I think I’m still a little hung over from that muscle relaxant.”

  “Sit down. Let me help you.” She sits on the table and I help her get her panties on, then hook her bra, and help her with her jeans and her tee shirt. When all of that is done, she puts on her athletic shoes and I tie them for her.

  “Thanks.” She slides down off the table and takes my arm. “I’m kind of lightheaded. Can we get something to eat?”

  “We’ll go wherever you want to go.”

  “Can we go to the German place?”

  “If that’s what you want, we’re there.” When she’s paid her copay and gotten her prescription, we head to the car for lunch downtown. As we walk in the sunlight from the building to the car, I turn my face up to the sunshine and I can’t remember a more beautiful day.

  Over lunch, I can’t help but ask her, “Do you remember what you said to me last night?”

  “When?”

  “When you were really out of it.”

  Her face goes pink. “Oh, god, what did I say?”

  I try not to laugh. “You said you loved me and wanted to marry me and have my babies. And that you wanted to do it right then. I assume you meant the marrying part, not the babies part, because they take a while.”

  Now she’s flaming red, and it’s spreading from her face down her neck. “Oh, god, please tell me I didn’t say that.”

  “What would be wrong with it if you did?” She doesn’t answer me. “You told me you need a ring. Is that what you want?”

  “Steffen, I . . .”

  “Look, I’m not trying to trap you with something you said under the influence. I just want to know if you meant any of it, that’s all.”

  “Well, I mean, I was just . . .”

  “Because if you didn’t, that’s okay. I mean, I’ll be disappointed, but that’s okay.”

  “Wait.” Her jaw goes slack. “You mean that’s what you want?”

  “More than anything.”

  Her eyes go round. “You want to marry me? Really?”

  She catches the scowl on my face. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Wow.” Those baby blues are staring at me like I’ve just sprouted an ear out of my forehead. “Wow. Would you really want to?”

  I purse my lips. “If I didn’t want to, I would’ve just made like you hadn’t said anything and hoped you wouldn’t remember. No, I’m not proposing.
I would do that more formally. But I need to know if I need to be looking at jewelry, that’s all.”

  “If you asked me, I would say yes.”

  “Then there’s something you need to know.” She waits to see what I’m going to say. “My mom has terminal cancer. Her doctor has said probably about four months. I’m just asking because if we’re going to do anything like that, I’d like to do it while my mom is still around to be there.”

  “In that case, you ask me anytime you want and I’ll say yes. And I don’t have to have any kind of fancy get-together, as long as the family and friends who want to be there can be.”

  I close my eyes and try to pull myself together. I just got a fiancée. And I’m about to lose my mother. I really don’t know how to process all of this except that I know making these plans with Sheila is right. I finally manage to come out with, “Good.”

  We eat in thoughtful silence for about five minutes and then she takes my hand. “Can I ask you a couple of things?”

  I nod. “Sure. Anything.”

  She thinks for a few seconds, then says, “Why weren’t you honest with me? About Adele, I mean?”

  The sigh I let out is painful and long overdue. “At first, I forgot – I really did. We’d started building our relationship before Clint mentioned it and reminded me. Then I didn’t want to tell you because I hate talking about it. It’s been years and it still hurts. Frankly, if I’d been able to, I would’ve had the marriage annulled. I didn’t really consider us married after everything that happened. I wanted to finalize it and then tell you later when I’d had a chance to find a way to explain it all.” I drop my eyes to the tablecloth. “Because by most people’s standards, it’s inexplicable.”

  One eyebrow shoots up. “You guys keep talking about the awful things Adele did. What were they? What did she do to you? I’d just like to know. I don’t want to accidentally do the same thing.”

  I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and sigh it out. I knew this would come up sooner or later, and I should probably go ahead and get it out of the way. It makes me so sad to talk about it that I can barely breathe, but I need to do it. And there’s no delicate way to say it. “You could never ‘accidentally’ do what she did, Sheila. She tricked me into marrying her. She said she was pregnant, and she wasn’t, but I did care for her, so I just stayed in the relationship.”