Identity Crisis (Blood Brothers #4)

by Manda Mellett

  The skin around my eyes creases as I think back. Yes, I do remember her flashing a ring in the office. Then, she hadn’t been wearing it anymore. But I hadn’t heard any story behind it. Although that’s not surprising, I tend to steer clear of female gossip, and anyway, most of the time I’m working away.

  “So, I had his ring on my finger, but he wouldn’t set a date. We looked at houses to buy, but he’d never settle on one.” I pull her toward me, her arms hold me tight, as if she’s afraid I’ll leave before she finishes her story. “I started to think that he was having second thoughts, and I hate to admit how that made me look. I’d told people about the engagement, didn’t want to appear a fool. And I’d invested all my emotions in him. I loved him. Or I thought I did. I thought he was offering me everything I ever wanted. I didn’t look close enough at what lay underneath.” I rub my hands up and down her back as she continues, “I got a stomach bug and was sick for a few days. Never thought about the implications or that it might affect the effectiveness of the pill. Well, to cut a long story short, I got pregnant.”

  I get a bad feeling about how this is going to turn out. “And?” She needs my prompt to encourage her to continue.

  “He told me I’d done it on purpose to trap him.”

  “Babe, you were already engaged to him.”

  “Yeah,” she pauses, “Early on we’d discussed having children, it seemed to be something he wanted. Of course, I knew it was too early, too soon, and when I saw the results of the test I was scared myself and worried. But also, happy. I believed I loved him, you see, and to have something growing inside me that was part of that relationship… Well, the relationship I believed we had, anyway.”

  I squeeze her gently, “Go on.”

  “I’d found out early. I’m as regular as clockwork. When I was late by a few days, I took the test. I was stunned but elated. I wasn’t sure how it was going to work, but I jumped at my chance to start a family.” She sobs again but holds it together. “When I told him, suddenly it was as though I was speaking to a stranger. He threw his accusations at me then turned and walked out.” Another muffled sob, “But he came back after a couple of days, all smiles and happy again and I thought everything would be okay. But then he gave me an ultimatum. He said it wasn’t the right time to have a baby. If I had an abortion, he’d stay with me.”

  What a bastard. I don’t need a crystal ball to see how this is going to end. To save her having to say the words, I spoke them myself, “So you had an abortion, and he left you anyway.”

  “No, yes.” It’s a strange answer, and there’s obviously more to come.

  She tenses in my arms, “I said no. And chucked him out.”

  I chuckle softly, “Good girl.”

  “I wasn’t that sensible, Sean. I tried to carry on, I made an appointment to see my doctor so I could start doing the right things for the baby, but had to wait a couple of weeks to see the GP I wanted. I didn’t think it was that urgent. In the meantime―and by then I must have been six weeks pregnant―he came back. He walked in carrying flowers and said he’d come to his senses and wanted this to work. That he’d been thinking about it, that he loved me and while it wasn’t the best time, he wanted the baby.

  “I was so happy, I forgot the man he’d turned into when I’d first told him of the pregnancy, just thought of him as the man I’d agreed to marry. I was so stupid.”

  I give her an encouraging squeeze, knowing there are many ways this story could end. Had he hurt her? Had she miscarried naturally? “Go on,” I urge quietly.

  She shudders in my arms. What’s coming next isn’t going to be pleasant, already I can sense that. “He became so solicitous, couldn’t do enough for me. Brought me breakfast in bed, and was googling articles about pregnancy all the time. One evening he made me a special drink that he said had vitamins and nutrients in it. It tasted foul, but he’d taken such an effort with it I drank it all. The next night he made it again. I remember thinking I hadn’t the heart to tell him I didn’t like it.”

  Now it’s obvious. “What did he give you?”

  “I didn’t suspect anything at first. Then I started getting terrible cramps, and I was bleeding. It was in the morning, and he’d slept over. When I came out of the bathroom with tears running down my face, he stood there and laughed, an evil, terrible sound and I knew then he’d done something. And that’s when he told me he’d taken care of it. That he hadn’t wanted to be lumbered with having to pay child support for the next eighteen years, and that this now really was the end. He picked up his coat, collected any of his stuff he had lying around, and left.”

  “What had he given you, do you know?” My teeth clench so tightly my jaw aches.

  “I went to my doctor’s appointment and told her what had happened. She wasn’t sure whether to believe me until I told her his brother was a pharmacist. She was still dubious but suggested he would have to have given me mifepristone, followed by misoprostol. The timing was right; they need to be taken twenty-four to forty-eight hours apart.”

  “Fuck! Did you report him?”

  She shakes her head, “I tried, but the police said there was nothing to prove anything. Although I was still bleeding, and the doctor said my hormone levels might be raised but that wasn’t evidence I’d been pregnant or if I had, that I hadn’t miscarried naturally. I bled for nearly a month.”

  Two years ago. I think back, but am unable to remember Nessa being off sick for any period of time. She’s one of the office fixtures, always there. “You didn’t take time off work?”

  “I took a month off, told everyone I’d had my appendix out. I didn’t want anyone to know how stupid I’d been. I’d taken him back after he revealed his true colours to me, I should have kept my distance then I wouldn’t have lost my baby. After four weeks, I knew moping around wasn’t doing me any good, so I returned to work hoping getting back to normal would help me come to terms with what happened. I think you were out of the country at the time, Sean.”

  And that’s why I don’t remember. If I had been around, maybe I’d have been able to help her, to do something about it. To kill the bastard. But then again, we didn’t have a close relationship at that time. She was just part of the team, no one special.

  She sniffs, and then wails into my chest, “My stupidity killed my baby, Sean. I killed it by believing him. And I’ve regretted it every minute since. You might think it’s crazy, but if I’d not been so weak as to take him back, I’d have a child in my life right now. Every time I see a baby, it brings it all back, and I feel so empty inside and, as you saw, I can have an extreme reaction.”

  I just hold her, thoughts going through my head. Her story is difficult to believe, but I don’t doubt it’s true, and feel honoured she’s trusted me with it. I’d like to get my hands on that motherfucker, but something tells me that’s not what she’d want. It wouldn’t bring her child back, or make her feel better around children. Two years, it’s not a long time, not long enough to get over something so evil. To have your control taken away completely, for someone else to decide what to do with your body. It’s the ultimate fear of any submissive, and in the circumstance she’s described, she didn’t have a chance of saying a safeword or taking responsibility for what was to happen.

  The man killed his child, and for the life of me, I can’t understand how he could have done that. If Danielle had told me she was pregnant, I would have supported her, even while I’d have been shit scared of the outcome.

  She’s quiet, now. Whatever I say will seem pointless and meaningless, but I have to try. “Nessa, you were forced into that position, you weren’t given a choice. It was forced on you. You had absolutely no control over the situation.”

  “Yes I did, I was so weak.” I hear her inhale sharply, “By then I knew what kind of man he was but I still jumped at the chance of a relationship. I was the one who let him back into my life, who let him woo me with his false platitudes.”

  Now pull her up, turning her toward me and plan
t my palms either side of her face, forcing her to meet my eyes, “Nessa, listen to me. You are not weak. You’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. It’s a fuck of a thing that happened and would be hard for anyone to cope with. Babe, have you had counselling?”

  She dips her head, “Although I held it together at work, underneath I was a mess. My doctor sent me to someone. The person I saw, well, they were great. They heard my story and knew I believed it to be the truth, even if they might have had doubts that’s what actually happened. So she treated me that way. She told me as I’d been coerced into something I didn’t want to do I was suffering a form of post-traumatic stress disorder. I have nightmares still, Sean, and seeing a baby triggers the symptoms.” She’s quiet, then, “She would have been about fifteen months old now. I think about her all the time. Oh, of course I don’t know the baby was female, it was far too early to tell. But I just had this feeling, and always picture myself with a little girl.”

  Again, I pull her close, resting my chin on her head, noting the perfume of the shampoo she must use, a tang of coconut oil reaches my nostrils. I know how devastating PTSD can be, I’ve seen my ex-army colleagues go through it, hell, I’ve suffered it myself and seem to have managed to come out the other side. But it takes time for those memories to fade, and simple things can make you relive it all over again. Like holding a baby girl. Like holding Mollie.

  “I get panic attacks around children, so I avoid them.”

  She’s shaking, a vibration I can feel through her whole body. And, for once, I don’t know what the fuck to do.

  I’m saved by the bell or rather a polite tapping on the door. Mum pokes her head around, gesturing toward the woman in my arms, “Is she okay?”

  ‘She’ is currently hiding her head against my shoulder. I nod to answer. Well, she’s far from okay, but physically she seems to have recovered.

  “I’ve got some dinner ready if you want to come down?”

  “Thanks, Mum. We’ll be there shortly.”

  Closing the door on her way out, she leaves us alone. I move Nessa so I can see her face when I talk to her. “What do you want to do? You’re welcome to stay here and eat with us, or if you want, I’ll call a taxi to take you home.”

  Nessa’s goes still, and then seems to pull herself up straighter. Her hand comes up and gently touches my cheek, “Hardly anyone knows what happened, Sean. Ben knows, he got my sickness certificates after all. When I explained, he was great. In his view, it was essentially rape. He was so angry on my behalf. He went to see Simon and made sure he’d never contact me again. And that’s when he agreed to me doing the CPO training. And having that to focus on definitely helped. But no one else, other than the bastard himself and my doctors know.”

  I give silent thanks to Ben for taking care of the problem as best he could at the time, but he probably has no idea how it’s still affecting her. Otherwise, why would he push my baby and me on to her? I open my mouth to speak, but she stops me, “Thank you, for listening. And for not being disapproving. It means a lot, you know?”

  “Babe, you didn’t do anything wrong, there’s nothing to disapprove of. I have more trouble understanding what motivated that bastard. He didn’t want to support you and a child? Fuck, he’s not a man at all.” My face twists into a scowl, “If you tell me his name I’ll gladly make sure the bastard can never father another child.”

  Nessa offers tremulous smile, “It’s a nice thought, but what would that do to help me? And Ben’s already spoken to him.” The levity is fleeting, and her mouth turns down again, “That’s why I thought I wanted to be a Domme. So that I would have the control.”

  In my world, the sub always has control; she still doesn’t understand that. Yet.

  As I gaze into her face, made blotchy by her tears, the thought hits me I’d like to see her belly swelling with my child, to be there through every step of the way while she was pregnant, to see the first scan, to be there at the birth. Everything I missed with Mollie. And why the fuck would I be thinking of something like that?

  Sensing my thoughts are zooming off in very dangerous directions, I carefully extract myself and get off the bed. Standing I hold out my hand, “Come eat with us, Nessa.”

  But she shakes her head, “I’d rather you called me a taxi, Sean. I’m sorry. And apologise to your mother for me.”

  “Nessa, I don’t like the thought of you being alone tonight. You’ve just relived what has to be the worst experience of your life…”

  Her fingers touch my lips, “I’m pleased I told you, Sean. We’re partners, right? And as you said, you deserve to know if I’m likely to have problems doing the job. I don’t think I will. Tonight, holding Mollie was just too much for me. Now I know I’ll have to stay away from her.” She gives a jerk of her chin and starts to look more positive, “It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken about this to anyone, and I’m glad I got it out. In some ways, I think it’s been cathartic. I want to go home; I’m tired. Worn out. But I’ll be fine. I’m used to being on my own.”

  If she stayed with me, she wouldn’t have to be alone. But a relationship with me would probably end up being just as disastrous as her last attempt. Not in the same way, but I’d cock up sooner or later. I can’t see myself ever committing to just one woman; it’s just not my psyche.

  I call a taxi and watch it drive away with a broken woman inside, unsure whether I’ve done the right thing.

  After seeing Nessa out of the house, at Mum’s unspoken enquiry I brush off her abrupt departure from our home and her fainting fit as being a result of tiredness. A story I’m not entirely sure my mother bought.

  But she’s easily distracted by her concern about her grandchild going to Amahad, not at all convinced that it is a good idea to take Mollie half way across the world. But as we thrash it out, it becomes clear she was far more rattled than Ben had let on about the person she thought had been following her. And after I dragged everything out of her there is no way I’ll be leaving without my daughter, or leaving my one surviving parent at risk.

  My mum knows me well, as a mother should, and but her doubts that her playboy son can take on the responsibility of looking after a child seem to dissipate as she watches me hold Mollie and eat my dinner one-handed, and not baulk at changing a dirty nappy. Reluctantly she finally agrees, taking Mollie to Amahad, is the safest bet.

  After she’d taken me through all the dos and don’ts of looking after a young baby, she watches me bathe Mollie without drowning her and put her to bed. Then I’m subjected to what I still term a mummy hug, and she looks up and grins, “You’ll be okay, you know that, son? I reckon you’ll look after her just fine.”

  “I’ll have help, Mum. Cara’s got a nanny. You don’t need to worry.”

  “I know I don’t. You just keep in touch, okay? I want photos and updates.”

  “Yes, Grandma.”

  She flicks me around the head, and I duck in mock surrender. “You could have given me some warning, you know. Just to get used to the idea. You know, the usual kind of stuff? Bringing a girl home, putting a ring on her finger?”

  I wish I’d had some warning myself.

  And that she hadn’t bought my explanation about Nessa’s abrupt departure becomes clear when she says, “Now why don’t you get out of here and go do what you have to do?”

  My lips curl, she knows me so well, “But Mollie…” I start. It doesn’t seem fair to leave her when I’ve only just got here.

  “She’ll be fine. She’s asleep now and if we’re lucky might go through the night. Go see your girl.”

  She’s not my girl. I open my mouth to protest, but the look in Mum’s eyes says I don’t want to go there right now. She’s right; I do want to go after Nessa, to check she’s okay. Even though it might give her some ideas that she’s about to get a daughter-in-law. Fuck, she’s a million miles away from the truth there. Even if Nessa and I were romantically inclined, I now come with baggage she wants no part of. But that gleam, that calculati
ng look. It’s the kind a mother wears when she wants her son to settle down.

  There’ll be time enough to correct her assumptions later, so, for now, I just give in. Kissing her cheek, I grab my jacket and go out into the night.

  Chapter 23

  Vanessa

  What a fool I am! I knew I suffered from PTSD and panic attacks, but I can’t believe I actually fainted when I held Mollie. But it wasn’t exactly a conscious choice, there was no warning, nothing I could do to stop it. I haven’t been so close to a baby since before it happened. Luckily, I’ve no friends who have just given birth, and if a member of staff brought their newborn into the office to proudly show them off, I would simply make myself scarce or pretend to admire them from afar. I didn’t expect actually to lose conciousness. I only hope Sean understood my story and believes that I’m not prone to passing out for no reason at all. And I hope he doesn’t rat on me to Ben.

  My hand rubs my empty stomach. Why did I let that bastard, Simon, back into my life? Why didn’t I see that he had something planned? I suppose I was lucky he took the medical way out and didn’t push me down some stairs. Why hadn’t I seen much he didn’t want the baby? Am I so flawed that I can judge someone so wrongly? Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as my mind goes back to that fateful day.

  “You did it on purpose.”

  “What? No? What are you talking about, Simon? There’s no way! And we’re engaged… I just forgot my stomach upset would affect me like that.”

  He’d stomped around the room, his hands pushing back his hair, he seemed to be keeping about as far away from me as he could when all I wanted was a cuddle, a hug.

  “Look, it’s not the right time. Maybe in the future, but not right now.”

  I gasp, “What are you saying?”

  Now he comes over to me. Although he takes my hands in his, his palms feel cold, “Vanessa, I can’t cope with a child right now. We need to get a house, get married first. It just isn’t the right time.” He waves his hand toward me, and it’s the twisted look of disgust on his face that gets to me. “It’s early; you can get it sorted. Then in the future, we can try again.” He moves away again and half mumbles to himself, “She wouldn’t have pulled a trick like this.”