Midwest Fighter (Kendall Family Book 2)

by Jennifer Ann

  But why is there so much pain?

  “Are they here?” I ask.

  The man’s eyebrows squeeze downward. “You mean James and Evelyn? James is here with me.”

  I close my eyes. James and Evelyn. The names are familiar, but I can’t seem to pinpoint why.

  “Shar?” the man asks, squeezing my hand. “Do you know who I am?”

  There’s a quiet pause that follows before the gentle voice of a woman comes from my other side. “Remember, it’s perfectly normal for her to be confused. Her brain is still healing.”

  “How do you feel?” another man’s voice asks.

  I peer between my lashes beyond the man holding my hand and find the fit, bearded man from before standing with his arms crossed over his thick chest. A warm, delightful feeling spreads through my insides.

  “My head,” I say, searching for more words.

  “We should let her rest,” the woman says.

  Visions of the beautiful man and a swarm of butterflies fill my head as I drift off to a blissful sleep.

  My eyes open to a gorgeous brunette smiling down on me and stroking my arm. A funny little laugh falls from her lips. If she’s so happy, why is she crying? Are all the people in this place nutters? “Good morning, Shar,” she says. “Holy shit, I missed the hell out of those pretty blue eyes.”

  Memories flicker through my mind of the woman’s face on a computer screen and her dressed in a beautiful white gown. They’re delightful thoughts that make me want to smile.

  My friend. She’s my friend. “Evelyn?”

  She laughs and bends to plant a tear-laced kiss on my cheek. “Yeah, sweetie, it’s me.”

  My throat burns and my body aches. Why must I hurt so?

  “Water,” I plead, bringing my hand to my throat.

  My friend retrieves a glass from nearby and holds it in front of me until I’ve taken a few swallows through the straw. When I flinch from the throbbing in my skull, her features draw down with worry. “Are you in pain?”

  I bob my head. “You could say that.”

  “I’ll be right back,” she promises. “I’m going to grab the doctor and call your dad. He must’ve slept in this morning.” She pats my arm before backing away and leaving me alone.

  Before looking around, I inhale a deep breath that intensifies the pain. The wretched smell filling my lungs and the incessant beeping noises at my side could only mean one thing: I’m in a hospital. What happened?

  There’s a tube sticking out from the back of my hand. I try to sit to get a better look at my body. Pain rockets through my head, so I lean back once more and sigh. Before too long, an attractive woman in her 40s wearing a white coat enters the rooms. My breath catches when the beautiful man from earlier trails in behind her. The severity inside his chocolatey gaze sets my heart aflutter and all at once I remember.

  My fierce protector. My James.

  As he approaches to take my hand, his wide lips tilt with a sexy, gentle smile. The simple act makes me feel safe. And loved.

  The woman greets me with a graceful smile. “Good morning, Sharlo. I’m Doctor Harris, your neurosurgeon. It’s good to have you back with us again. Can you tell me on a scale from one to ten the level of pain you’re experiencing, one being mild discomfort and ten being unimaginable?”

  “I…” I glance between her and James. “Where am I? Have I been here long?” Nothing really makes sense at the moment aside from his warm brown eyes watching me, filled with tenderness.

  “You’re in the East Hampton Hospital,” the woman answers, linking her hands in front of her. “You’ve been here for three weeks.”

  Bloody hell. I certainly wasn’t expecting it to have been that long, though I don’t recall James having a beard before.

  The doctor’s smile fades. “Do you remember what happened?”

  Meeting James’s stare, I shake my head. My immediate memories simply allow me to remember that I love this man with all my being. His jaw goes to work as his nostrils flare.

  “You were hit by a car,” he bites out.

  That would most certainly explain the Humpty Dumpty-type complex overtaking nine-tenths of my body.

  “I don’t…I can’t remember,” I confess in a quiet voice. Several confusing thoughts have run through my mind since I first woke, making very little to no tangible sense, like the beeping of the machines creating a familiar tune or the hands of the clock having no particular order. Perhaps this is another anomaly.

  “The guy’s name is Pete Sandeen,” James continues with cords standing out from his neck. “He worked for your dad but was let go when your dad changed companies. We didn’t know about the connection until the detectives assigned to your harassment case came here to talk to your dad. The asshole was so drunk after he ran you down that he confessed to everything. He’s the one that was harassing you. He wanted to hurt your dad by going after you, only you were too damn stubborn to tell him someone was stalking you. He’s in jail without bond. They’re waiting to sentence him to see…” His eyes draw down and he clears his throat. “They wanted to make sure you were going to be alright. The prosecuting attorney wanted to make sure he was charging him with the right thing.”

  I’m quiet for a moment, chewing on everything he had to say. The only thing I’m able to dwell on is the fact that Dad came to see me. When did I see him last?

  “Why does everything hurt?” I ask, turning back to the doctor.

  “You incurred a number of major injuries,” she explains. As she continues to describe the surgery and how they put me in a coma, James squeezes my hand until it’s numb. Then the surgeon stops to look at James before taking a deep breath. “Sharlo, do you remember that you were pregnant?”

  I was pregnant, as in past tense? Did I have a child while I was here? Am I a mum?

  Then it comes to me with blinding clarity.

  Our baby. The kumquat.

  A swell of panic all but chokes me.

  When tears prick my eyes, James releases a muffled cry.

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor says in a gentle voice. “There was nothing that could’ve been done. The pregnancy was terminated before you arrived.”

  “I should’ve been there,” James blurts among a hoarse whisper.

  “I’ll give you two a moment alone,” I hear the doctor say.

  “No.” The word shoots from my mouth before I can fully think it through. Jumbled thoughts and feelings warring inside my head are as confusing as night and day. I refuse to let him take blame for this. I’d do anything to protect him. The only emotion I’m able to clearly grasp is a ball of red-hot anger, singeing my flesh as it tears a hole through my soul. “He needs to leave.”

  James stares down on me like he’s been struck. “Shar—”

  “No.” I interrupt, turning away before he can see the tears in my eyes. “I don’t want you here. I need to be alone.”

  The doctor moves over to him and sets her hand on his shoulder. “Give her some time.”

  When James stands and shuffles toward the doorway at the woman’s side, the innate desire to call out to him and beg him to come back to me is swallowed by something dark and unrelenting. Fury as I’ve never known it before takes up my entire being, inhabiting my bones and rooting in the furthest depths of my brain. Why did this happen to us?

  Curled into a ball of utter misery and pain, I let the puzzling barrage of feelings spread until I’m fast asleep.

  A string of unremarkable days and nights pass before my memories slowly become a solid timeline of events and I’m able to clearly grasp what has happened in the past few weeks. It was never my intention to cause James more pain. I simply wanted to love him with all of my body and heart, the only way I knew how, and show him what it’s like to be on the receiving end of compassion.

  I wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of having a child until he came back to me, and we had begun to plan for a future that involved the three of us. I was so giddy that I had even sketched out a design for a sleep
er that was swathed in crossbones and roses, and begun a queue of names.

  Then I did the unthinkable by failing to protect our child. Putting all my energy into accepting that I was to become a mum and envisioning James as a happy dad was foolish. My best efforts have been for shit.

  I was out of sorts when I kicked him out the other day, but perhaps it’s for the best that I remain out of his life. Whenever he looked at me, he’d be reminded of the accident and what could’ve been had I not been struck down. He’d never forgive himself for not protecting me. He’d be so angry at the world that it would become this thing between us that we’d be unable to tame.

  Among the many memories to return, Evelyn’s declaration of wanting a niece to dote on sears my chest. It’s most difficult to look her in the eye whenever she comes to pay a visit. Although she never mentions the baby or her brother, I feel the unease she’s trying to hide from me in every hesitant movement, every unspoken word.

  James stays away at my request, though I’ve heard his voice from the hallway and overhead Nolan updating him on my condition when he thought I was asleep. One morning when I wake, I literally have to rub my eyes with both fists, wondering if I’m off-my-tits on narcotics. The woman standing before me is a mere shell of the woman who raised me.

  Time has not been kind to her aging body and her team of plastic surgeons has been busy nipping and tucking. It’s difficult to assess if the look she’s casting is a grimace or a smile. I suppose given the situation, it could be a bit of each. It’s terrifying to see a reflection of myself in her steel blue gaze. I’d fancy getting hit by a car again over becoming someone as artificial and calloused.

  Just recently, Dad admitted he wasn’t able to reach her, said she had changed her number. Last he’d heard, she’d run off to Caicos with a new man.

  “Mum?” I ask, surprised by the rawness of my voice. Seeing a glass of water at my table side, I stop to sip from the straw. The small effort it takes to set it back down sends a bolt of pain through my pelvis region. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  At least when her brows draw down and her lips tighten I’m able to read her emotion. “Don’t be ridiculous. My daughter was struck down by a car.”

  “Yes but last I heard you had run off with your newest flavor of the month.”

  “His name is Amando.” She crosses the room to sit beside the bed, straightening the sheet beneath my armpits. No hugs, no declaration of love or glad that I’m a mere step above road-kill. It’s what I’ve come to expect every bit as much as the appearance of two little white pills she slips from her purse and swallows dry.

  Holding back an eye roll of epic proportions, I shake my head. It’d be ridiculous to expect anything more from her after all these years. It takes me back to my childhood, watching her float in and out of lavish rehab facilities where she rubbed shoulders with the likes of washed-up rockstars and actresses. All it accomplished was to get her into exclusive events.

  “How did you know where to find me?” I ask. “No one had your number.”

  “Some persistent bloke rung me, said he discovered my whereabouts with the aid of a PI. He was quite crass even though he said he loved you. He was rather insistent that you needed your mum.”

  James.

  A warm appreciation strikes my core, reminding me why he would’ve made such an excellent father. He’d do whatever it took to make those he loves happy, even if his efforts were rejected. Even though I was being an asshole, he still was going after what’s best for me.

  It strikes me with blinding clarity what a wanker I’ve been. James is everything I want in a man without really knowing it’s what I was searching for: kind, loving, sweet, gentle, loyal, and a tiger when it comes to sex. My soulmate, if I can wrap my head around the notion that we’re only meant to procreate with one other being out of the billions roaming this earth.

  Unable to look me in the eye, Mum smooths back my hair instead. “Please tell me you weren’t foolish enough to fall for the antics of a handsome man, darling. You’re far too young and beautiful to fall prey to the idea that a relationship can last forever.”

  “I’m twenty-five,” I remind her with more sass than intended. “Despite my neglectful upbringing, I’ve learned there are, in fact, happily-ever-afters, and people are capable of sharing the kind of love that sticks. And, might I add, it seems necessary that I remind you the two of us are nothing alike. I would never turn my back on those I care the most about in favor of a carefree lifestyle involving grossly younger boys who only want my money and an endless supply of Oxy to wash down with ridiculously priced cocktails in the sand.”

  A pained expression flickers across her face as she lifts her hand, ready to strike my cheek. I close my eyes, willing her to slap some sense back into me for leaving the love of my life. I essentially followed in her footsteps by shutting him out. I made a grossly miscalculated mistake, and I can only pray to the gods of forgiveness that he’ll overlook the fact that I was a bloody fool.

  Mum releases a stuttered sigh before I hear the tale-tale click of heels on tile.

  She left. Again.

  I refuse to become her by running away from the best thing that ever came into my life.

  Carrie, the annoyingly bubbly nurse to answer my page for help, succeeds in rounding up James in record-breaking moments. A crippling heartache arises from deep within my soul when he appears in the doorway, rigid and hesitant. The thick beard remains and signs of exhaustion soften his normally hard features, standing out more than his blood-shot eyes that probe mine for answers. I’m responsible for this. I single-handedly made him this way. My stomach wrenches with a pain brighter than the one inside my head and a wave of unbearable sadness releases with a loud sob.

  James marches across the room and draws me into his arms, sniffling in my ear and creating a protective barrier around my body with his tense muscles. My head and the rest of my bruised body scream in pain with each cry, but it’s nothing compared to the misery of my broken heart.

  It’s most jarring when I find myself at a loss for words, unable to come up with anything that would comfort the tender man holding me. How do I apologize for pushing him away when he needed me most? How many losses does he have to endure? Life’s so unfair, especially when he has to deal with wankers like me.

  “I’m so sorry,” I tell him in a voice thick with emotion.

  “This is not on you. It’s my fault I wasn’t there to protect you.”

  “Don’t be daft. You can’t be there every moment of the day.” I lean away to cradle his face in my hands, wishing there was a way to go back in time and erase the heartache forever imprinted in his gaze. “I didn’t want to hurt you, my love. I merely thought…I’m not exactly sure what I thought, really. I only know I was angry when you and the doctor explained what happened.”

  “They warned me that people sometimes come out of comas with confusing thoughts, but I didn’t want to believe that it would happen to you. When you kicked me out, I thought you blamed me for the accident.” His eyes flicker away from me. “For losing the baby.”

  I release too harsh of a laugh. “Are you mad? I pushed you away because I knew you’d try to shoulder the burden of what happened. I worried you’d never be able to let it go. I feared every time you looked at me you’d remember how you felt when I was unconscious. How you felt when you learned I had lost the baby. Kind of the way you can’t look at me right in this moment.”

  When his eyes meet mine once more they’re lit with sincerity. “The only thing I see when I look at you is my future. My entire world.”

  I pull in a deep breath, deeply moved by his devotion. After all I’ve done, how is he still able to say such things? I wouldn’t blame him if he were to make me rise from the bed so he could properly kick me in the arse. “Your world is not on a very stable axis,” I say, fingering the thick hair on his beard. “You poor thing. You must’ve been an utter wreck.”

  Shaking his head, a quiet chuckle vibrates deep wi
thin his throat. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever met who knows how to turn everything around to make it about someone else. How about we worry about you? I don’t know what I would’ve done if you had died, little butterfly. Before the accident, I was so stoked about having you in my life that the idea of that being taken away…” Leaning into my touch, his eyes close as he pulls in a stuttering breath. “I love you so goddamned much. I don’t want to live another day without you by my side.”

  When his eyelids open, the sadness and worry he harbored while I was out becomes raw, tangible. Wincing from its depths, I lean in to press my lips against his. One of his hands cradles the back of my head, his fingers nestling inside my hair. Our mouths open for our tongues to tangle in a slow, tentative pace that fills my heart with pure, radiant love. The sensation of his prickly hairs rubbing against my skin makes the kiss feel different, but the tenderness behind it is delightfully familiar and leaves me aching for more. Unfortunately, my traitorous body is quick to remind me he won’t be able to touch me in the way I want for some time.

  I draw back, stroking his beard. “Did you ever leave the hospital?”

  “Not at first. Charlie convinced the nurses to let me stay overnight until someone in administration heard I was sleeping in here. The past week and a half I mostly slept in the waiting room when Nolan wasn’t able to talk me into going back to the beach house. We’ve been hitting a local gym so he can teach me everything he knows about MMA. If he hadn’t stuck around, I don’t know that I would’ve made it this long.”

  “Nonsense,” I argue with a small smirk. “You’re a fighter, sweetheart. You were born to survive the most dire of circumstances.”

  “I wouldn’t survive losing you.”

  “And I was enough of a knobhead to try to push you away.” Racked with guilt, I lean in to brush his lips with mine once more before asking, “I’m sure this is a waste of breath, but did my mum split town?”

  “I saw her leave the hospital, but I don’t know where she went. She couldn’t have been in here for more than ten minutes. What happened?”