My Peace (The Beautifully Broken series Book 5)

by Courtney Cole

  They aren’t taking her back to her mother.

  They are taking her out to kill her.

  Fear for my daughter fights through the numbing fog of the drugs, and it emerges on top and I struggle with the door. I shout for Zuzu, to console her, to tell her that I love her, but it is all for nothing.

  They are gone, and I am alone, and no one can hear me.

  After a minute, I slump down on the bed, and I look outside, watching for them.

  They walk outside and Zuzu is between them. She is barefoot and in her pajamas, and her blond hair gleams under the light of the moon. They are taking her out back. I pound on the glass and shout as loud as I can, but they don’t turn around.

  Are they going to kill my daughter by the lake? Will they distract her so she isn’t afraid?

  I am frozen in place as I watch. My hands are ice cold. The steel of the gun is even colder. I curl my fingers around the barrel.

  I can’t watch them kill Zuzu.

  I can’t do it.

  I’m strong enough for anything but that.

  I lift my face to the sky and I do something I haven’t done in a long time.

  I pray.

  “God, please. Save my daughter. She doesn’t deserve to pay for my sins. She’s innocent and good. Everything that I’m not. Please… save her. And if you can’t, for some reason, please make it painless. Make it quick. And then let she and I be together. Somewhere. Anywhere. Please take care of Mila. Please let her know that I loved her. More than life, more than anything. Please, God. I know I don’t deserve an answered prayer, but if you could just do this. Please.”

  I am muttering but I have to believe that God knows my heart. He knows what I am trying to say.

  “Please, forgive me for what I am about to do. I can’t live without them. I can’t live knowing that my daughter has died because of me. I’m not strong enough for that. Please forgive me.”

  I know they’ll come back inside and kill me anyway.

  When I go, it will be on my own terms.

  I lower my chin, and I stare out the window. I remember walking on that beach with my wife, hand in hand. She smiled up at me, and she made everything good. The world is better with Mila in it. God knows that.

  “I love you,” I whisper to her. “I love you.”

  I picture her face, and I picture her smile, and I picture her answering me.

  “I love you, too, Pax.”

  I lift the gun. The tip of it rests beneath my chin.

  I take a breath.

  My finger is on the trigger.

  All I have to do is squeeze.

  I take one more breath.

  My last one.

  Then…

  Then…

  The door opens.

  I clench my teeth, getting ready to squeeze the trigger. They won’t choose this for me. I’ll do it myself. I’ll pick the moment.

  Maybe I’ll make them watch. This can haunt their dreams.

  They burst inside.

  Only it’s not them.

  It’s a SWAT team, in helmets and masks and vests.

  “Put the gun down!” someone yells, and I’m frozen. Is this really happening? Am I imagining it? “Put the gun down!” they repeat, and so I do.

  I lay it down on the floor.

  The floor is cold under my fingers.

  This is real.

  I’m saved.

  Or am I?

  As they bustle in and figure out who I am, and bundle me into a blanket, I feel more lost and alone than ever. I’m high as a kite, and I have no feelings. Not anymore.

  I lost myself in this room.

  I’ll never be the same.

  “My daughter,” I mumble. “Is she alive?”

  “Yes, Mr. Tate,” they tell me. “She’s fine. The EMTs are looking at her right now. What drugs have they given you?”

  They can tell I’m high. I can’t even tell them everything I’ve taken, everything that’s in my system. There’s too much to remember.

  “What about my wife?” I ask him, and I’m afraid to hear the answer.

  “She’s alive,” they say and I die a million deaths in relief. “She’s on her way here to you.”

  But I can’t.

  I can’t let her see me like this.

  30

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mila

  “This is ridiculous,” I tell the doctor again on the third day. “I surely don’t need his permission.”

  I’ve been pacing the waiting room, day and night, and my husband refuses to allow me into his room. Gabe and Maddy have been with me for support, but I am crushed by the fact that Pax doesn’t want to see me.

  “He has given strict instructions that no one is allowed into his room,” the doctor replies and he doesn’t like it either. I can tell. “It’s common with people who have been in captivity, even if it has only been ten days. He doesn’t want you to see him in this state. He’s not himself.”

  “Has he come through the physical withdrawals?” I ask hesitantly. I hate the thought of Pax being in pain. The doctor nods.

  “He’s through the worst of it. It will probably continue for up to a week, but the worst of it is past. The recovery process is mostly mental from here. He’ll have to learn to resist the urges to use. It’s a process.”

  I am stunned. My husband. My beautiful, strong husband, is lying in a hospital bed, addicted to drugs.

  That’s what that monster did to him.

  My blood boils and I hope they manage to tie this to Leroy. So far, the detectives say that it looks like Natasha orchestrated it on her own. I know that’s impossible. Leroy Ellison is behind this. He was just smart enough to hide it.

  “Will you please tell him that I’m waiting here until he sees me? Tell him that I’m sleeping in the waiting room, and I’m not going anywhere.”

  The doctor hesitates, then nods. “I’ll tell him. In the meantime, we do have counselors here. People you can talk to about your own ordeal.”

  “I’m fine,” I assure him. “Maybe later. Right now, all I can concentrate on is my husband.”

  Zuzu is safe. I had smelled her hair and hugged her for an hour straight. I didn’t want to let go of her, and I don’t want her out of my sight even now. But I also don’t want her here in this hospital. So she’s at the hotel pool with Maddy and Gabe. I’ll return to see her tonight, to eat dinner with her and hold her and smell her, before I come back to spend the night here.

  Pax has to understand how important this is.

  I have to show him.

  I take my seat again.

  I wait.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  In the evening, Maddy and Gabe bring Zuzu to me, because I’d lost track of time. I’m still in a daze, and they know it.

  Zuzu bounds into my arms, and she brings the sunshine with her.

  “Mommy!” she cries, and she hugs me. “I missed you. Is daddy awake?”

  We keep telling her that he is sleeping, and that’s why she can’t see him. We don’t know what else to do.

  “You just missed him, sweetheart,” I tell her. “He misses you, too.”

  She nods her head, very confident of her father’s love for her. “I drew him a picture.”

  I take it from her, and it is a family portrait. Me, Pax and Zuzu in the middle. She is holding a flower.

  “He’ll love it,” she’ll tells me seriously. I nod, and my eyes are filled with tears.

  “He definitely will,” I answer. “Can you go back to the hotel with aunt Maddy and uncle Gabe? Mommy wants to wait here for daddy to wake up again.”

  “Yes, Mommy,” she says seriously. “Aunt Maddy is going to paint my nails.”

  I smile and Maddy hugs me. “It’s all going to be fine,” she tells me. “It is.”

  She takes Zuzu by the hand after I’ve kissed her three times. Gabe pauses next to me.

  “I’ve seen this plenty of times,” he tells me quietly. “In combat. He’ll come
around, Mila. He’s in shock. He’s been through a lot.”

  I nod. “I know.”

  “And so have you. Be easy on yourself. I need for you to get some sleep. Come to the hotel tonight. Rest.”

  I nod again. “Ok.”

  He’s satisfied with that.

  “Gabe?”

  “Yeah, sweetie?”

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  For saving my life. And Pax’s. And Zuzu’s.

  He nods. “Always.”

  They leave, and I’m alone again.

  I wait for awhile longer, but the longer I stare at Zuzu’s picture, the more my frustration grows. Our family consists of three people, soon to be four. Pax can’t keep us away from him.

  He can’t.

  I take the picture, and I slip down the hall. I wait until the nurses at the station are distracted, and then I slip through the double-doors. He’s in room three-fifteen, so I count the rooms down as I pass, and before I know it, I’m in front of his.

  I lift the latch.

  I push the door open.

  Pax is in the bed, his eyes closed.

  My breath leaves my body in a whoosh.

  Déjà vu floods through me.

  Once upon a time, I’d walked into a hospital room and found Pax like this, hooked up to IVs and in a hospital bed.

  Today, though, my beautiful husband’s face is battered and bruised. There is a bandage across his nose and I assume it’s broken. I watched the beating they gave him. I knew it had to leave a mark.

  But until this moment, I had no idea how much so.

  His face is blue and purple, his cheek swollen.

  His eyes are closed… until… they aren’t.

  He looks at me, quiet and still, his gaze golden.

  “Red,” he murmurs, and for a moment, just a moment, he is happy to see me. His eyes light up, and he reaches for me. But then, just as quickly, he masks it.

  He drops his hand, and the light in his eyes fades.

  “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  I rush to him, grabbing his arm, trying to hug him.

  “Babe, I thought they were going to kill you. And you’re alive, and I just want to hold you. Please.”

  He softens for a moment, and holds me to him, and I hear his heart beat even though I’m slumped over the bed rail.

  “I love you,” I tell him. “I love you. I watched you on the TV monitor, and all I wanted to do was touch you. And now I am.” I stroke his strong arm, and I see that it is littered with needle tracks. Bruises and dried blood. I swallow hard. This is real. It happened.

  He’s quiet and I lift my head.

  “Why don’t you want to see me?”

  Pain ricochets through my heart at the expression on his face. It’s so… detached. Forcibly detached. He’s doing this on purpose. But why?

  “You can’t be around me,” he says simply. “You or Zuzu. I’m… not good for anyone.”

  I’m startled. “Pax, you are the best man I know. You’re not thinking clearly right now.”

  He shakes his head and stares out the window, away from me.

  “You didn’t see what I did. I caved in right away, Mi. They wanted me to do drugs, and I did them. I slipped into addiction so easily. Too easily. I wasn’t strong enough. I’ll hurt you again and again. I can’t be with you.”

  He swallows and his eyes are red.

  “Babe, you don’t know what you’re saying. Natasha told me… she laced the muscle relaxers she gave you. She purposely was leading you down the path to addiction. They orchestrated everything.”

  “But I’m the one who chose to use,” he says simply. “I didn’t have to.”

  “I spoke with the detectives,” I tell him hesitantly. “They told me what happened. Those men made you, Pax. They threatened Zuzu. I don’t see that you had much of a choice.”

  “They were going to kill her anyway,” he says quietly. “I knew that from the beginning. I guess I just hoped…” his voice trails off.

  “She’s alive because of what you did,” I tell him. “You delayed it long enough for the police to come. You saved her life, Pax.”

  He shakes his head, refusing to believe it. I know him. I know he’s in a dark place right now, a place where he is unable to hear good things. I haven’t seen him in this place in years, and it terrifies me now.

  “They’re doing surgery on your knee soon,” I tell him. “Are you in pain?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m so sorry, babe.”

  He looks away.

  “You’ve got to leave, Mila. I can’t have you here.”

  “But why? I love you. I need you. And you need me, too.”

  “I can’t need you,” he says, and his voice is so husky and broken. “It’s not fair to you anymore. Walk out the door, Mila. Don’t look back. I told you once that I wasn’t good for you, and neither of us paid attention. And look what has happened. A wolf can only pretend to be harmless for so long before the truth comes out.”

  His words hurt me so much, they cut deep. “You said love never fails,” I tell him, and God, this can’t be happening. “Did you lie?”

  I’m stunned and I don’t know what to do. Pax swallows hard.

  “No. Love hasn’t failed, babe. I did.”

  The words cut through the air, the sharpest of knives and they twist into my heart, until I can’t breathe. My lungs are a vacuum and they are empty.

  “You didn’t,” I argue, but he won’t listen.

  He gestures around us at the sterile room. “I’m here,” he says simply. “And next, I’m going to rehab. You deserve better, Mila. And you’re going to get it.”

  “I deserve you,” I insist, but his eyes are closed now, and he presses the nurse’s call button. She appears immediately, elderly and stern.

  “Mrs. Tate doesn’t want to leave and I’m tired,” Pax says quietly. “Can you show her out?”

  The woman stares down at me sympathetically, but she has no choice other than to do as he asks.

  “Wait,” I tell her. I hand Pax Zuzu’s picture. “Your daughter made this for you.”

  His eyes well up and he looks away.

  “I’m not leaving you, Pax,” I tell him over my shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He doesn’t answer. When I look over my shoulder, as the door closes, he is still, his lashes on his cheek, and Zuzu’s picture clutched to his chest.

  31

  Chapter Thirty

  Pax

  Watching Mila walk away is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

  Pushing the button for the nurse was hard.

  But shaking her off my arm, and sending her out… that was excruciating. The rejection on her face…

  It’s for the best, I tell myself. It’s for the best.

  I live in a place now that is unsuitable for them. I live in the dark, in the oblivion, and I’ll never be safe from it. I’ll never be able to say that I’m impermeable to slipping.

  I never thought I would. But I did.

  I’ll never make that arrogant mistake again.

  I’ll never think I’m stronger than I am. I’ll never doubt my ability to fall. I’ve fallen hard. And I’m not sure if I’m getting back up. I don’t deserve it.

  The paper in my hand is fragile, and it’s priceless. I gaze at it, and I feel the tears start to swell. Me, Mila and Zuzu stare back from the page in crayon form. Zu had made Mila’s belly round, to show the baby that will be growing there, and I can’t swallow. I can barely breathe.

  I prop it up on the stand next to the table, and I fall asleep again, because sleep is medicine.

  It heals my broken body, and when I sleep, the pain of sending Mila away is dulled. It’s always there, buried in my heart, but when I’m not conscious, it’s not as sharp. It’s not as real.

  I’m resentful when I wake to find my father standing above me.

  He’s troubled, concerned, and he’s holding my hand. He hasn’t done that since I was a
child.

  “I was afraid,” he says simply.

  I nod. “I was too.”

  “You’re ok.” He says it as a statement. I shrug. I don’t know about that.

  “You’re ok,” he says again, more firmly this time. As if saying so will make it true.

  “I don’t know,” I tell him. “I’m an addict. Remember telling me that years ago? I denied it then. I said I was just a user. But I’m not. I’m an addict. I lied to myself then, and I lied to you. I buried it instead of dealing with it, and now here we are.”

  “This isn’t your fault,” he says and his voice is soft. I pull my hand away.

  “On the surface, no. It isn’t. But deep down, it is. If I had dealt with my shit years ago, I mean, truly dealt with it, I wouldn’t be here now. I wouldn’t be hooked to a methadone drip. I wouldn’t have just crushed my wife. But I didn’t. And so here I am, and I did.”

  My father’s face is pained, and he tries to reason with me, but he loves me. He’s trying to shield me.

  “I need you to take care of Alexander Holdings,” I tell him. “Can you do that? Can you work with Peter and figure something out? I’m obviously not in the right frame of mind for it right now.”

  “Of course,” he says quickly. “That’s not a problem. I’m more worried about you than the business…”

  “Don’t be,” I tell him abruptly. “I’m going to handle it.”

  “You and Mila have both been through so much,” he finally answers. “Mila has too. She thought they had killed you. She’s hurting too, son.”

  God, that hurts. It stabs me deep in the heart and the knife twists round and round.

  “It’s better that I hurt her this one last time than to keep hurting her forever,” I manage to say.

  “You’re wrong,” he says.

  “You don’t get it,” I tell him sharply. “If I’d admitted to myself years ago that I was an addict, I could’ve learned to deal with it. With the issues that made me use. Instead, I just stopped using, and I pretended that it wasn’t an issue. It was. And it is. And here I am.”

  “Pax. You stopped using. That was what you were supposed to do,” my father says. “You did the right thing. Sometimes, people have latent issues that rear their heads later. You didn’t know. You had no way of knowing that you had other things to deal with. But what… what exactly do you feel you didn’t deal with?”