by Kristie Cook
Bitter thoughts I shouldn’t be having. More reason I’d be going to hell.
I passed the family room we usually used, but it was empty. I’d texted Sissy to let her know I’d be late, but I didn’t know if she’d received my message. I hoped she was in with Mama and hadn’t left or moved on with plans without me. As I approached the nurse’s desk to find out if she was inside, sounds of their whispered voices carried over to me. They weren’t exactly whispering, though, but speaking in hushed tones. I stood at the desk for a long while, thinking at first their backs were to me because they were discussing something important. But they spoke loud enough for me to hear that they were gossiping. And about my man.
“Well, Dr. Hayes won’t be much of a doctor now, will he?” one of the nurses said, a younger woman not much older than me, judging by her profile. “I’ve missed seeing that gorgeous face of his around the hospital.”
The other woman, older with short, graying hair, and quite a bit plumper, grunted. “A pretty face can’t make up for a temper like that. I heard it was scary as all get-out.”
“Such a shame. He had so much going for him, too. I can’t believe he gave up everything over that. All that school and work …”
“From what I hear, he was just playin’ doctor. He’s got some huge trust fund. He wouldn’t have to work a day in his life, could travel around the world fifty times, and still die a billionaire. That’s just what I heard, though.”
I blinked. And almost laughed. Mason had said he had an inheritance, but a billionaire? Not even. He wouldn’t be living in a condo, cooking his own food, and doing his own cleaning, if that were the case.
“Must be nice,” the younger one muttered. “I guess we should feel better that they kicked him out. I feel bad for whatever bimbo he picks up next, though. He seems like a catch at first glance.”
I cleared my throat and both of them turned to look at me.
“Excuse me,” I said, my voice sweet as honey, “were you talking about Dr. Mason Hayes?”
Both nurses’ faces turned about as red as my hair.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have heard that,” the older one said. “Didn’t realize you were standin’ here.”
“But I was, and I couldn’t help but overhear. I’m a good friend of Dr. Hayes, and I think you have your facts messed up. You see, he won’t be around as much because he finished up his residency. But he’ll still be working here.”
The nurses exchanged a look.
“I think you’re the one who’s mistaken. Dr. Hayes was fired and escorted out of the hospital by the police two weeks ago,” the younger nurse said as she sauntered over to stand across from me. Her brown eyes, lined with smudged green eyeliner, watched me carefully.
I shook my head and opened my mouth to tell her that was impossible, but I hesitated. I couldn’t exactly say I watched him leave every morning and come home every night dressed for work. Or that Mama wasn’t his patient anymore but he still came to check on her. Or could I?
“He’s been here every day to see my mama, though,” I said. “Checking in on her even when she’s not his patient anymore.”
The older nurse’s gray brows rose. “I haven’t seen Dr. Hayes in weeks. It’s been even longer since he’s been to the ICU.”
“Then he came when you weren’t here,” I said. She had to be mistaken.
She leaned her heavy arms on the counter between us, her bodacious tatas resting on the top. “Honey, we have a list to track everyone’s comin’s and goin’s and his name hasn’t been on it. He has no reason to be at the ICU even if he was still on staff. And the only souls comin’ to see your mama are you and your sister.”
I shook my head harder, anger growing. “Honey,” I said, my voice no longer sweet as I echoed her endearment, “you’re wrong. Dr. Hayes has been here every day. He sees patients. He even lost one the other day.”
“Well, aren’t you precious,” she said, and my hand balled at my side. That was no compliment. “If you’re callin’ us liars, you better back yourself up. How do you know he’s been here? Have you seen him with your own eyes?”
My mouth gaped open, no words spewing out as I wished they would. Because I hadn’t seen him here. We’d always missed each other, crossing paths as we came and went. In fact, the last time I’d seen him here at the hospital was two months ago, when we’d first met.
“Don’t you watch the news or read the paper?” the younger woman asked. “It was everywhere. He punched another doctor. Almost hit a patient. All because the poor man vomited on him. I’m pretty sure he’s facing charges.”
I pressed my lips together, shook my head again, and spun on my heel. My legs carried me down the hall, away from them, away from their lies. They had to be lying. He may have had a bit of a temper that one night after a bad day, but he took his work seriously. Always the professional. And why on earth would he pretend to come to work every day? Where did he even go if not here? Why would he ask me to move in with him if he had all that going on? He knew then he’d have to lie to me.
No, their story made no sense. This was too big for Mason to try to hide from me. And from Sissy! I didn’t watch the news or read the papers—I wasn’t even in Orlando two weeks ago to see—but Sissy surely would have heard something. Mama didn’t have TV at her house, but still. These women made it sound like everyone in Orlando knew. Dr. Wilcoxson and Dr. Munthe didn’t even know, or surely they would have said something the other day. The nurses were lying bigger than a no-legged dog. All there was to it.
That younger one probably had a crush on Mason. She’d called him gorgeous and was definitely smitten with him. That was all it was. Maybe since Mason had been coming to see Mama, they’d put two-and-two together, and she made up this crazy-ass story to run me off. I mean, really. Why would they be gossipin’ like that for real when anyone could have heard them? I was no city slicker or college graduate, but anybody would know how unprofessional that was, as well as the way they’d talked to me.
“Bex, hold up.” Sissy’s low voice hissed after me, and she caught up with me as I turned the corner for the elevator. “Where you goin’?”
I closed my eyes and inhaled a deep breath. “I had to get away from those nurses,” I said.
She snorted. “Yeah, I don’t like those two either. Always tellin’ stories. They’re worse at gossipin’ than the women’s Bible study group at their Wednesday night teas, aren’t they? I don’t even work here, and I know half their stories are wrong.”
I opened my eyes and smiled at my sister, then wrapped my arms around her. She hugged me back, but quickly pulled away.
“What was that for?”
I shrugged. “How’s Mama?”
Her face fell. “The same. I haven’t heard from the hospice people yet. Have you?”
“Nope. I guess she’ll be here another night, then?”
“I guess. At least she’s gettin’ good happy drugs here.” She laughed once and pressed her palm against her forehead. “Doesn’t that figure? Drugs put her in here, and now they’re gonna carry her out, making her oblivious to everything she’s leavin’ behind.”
“Just like always,” I muttered.
Sissy wanted to chat, but I barely paid any attention to the conversation, and she must have noticed the one-sidedness because she shooed me off. Finally free to focus on the bee in my bonnet, I hurried down to my car, dropped inside it and locked all the doors before pulling my phone out. I hardly ever used the Internet on it because I didn’t want to take advantage of Mason’s generosity and make him pay more, but this was an emergency. I had to be sure.
It didn’t take me long to pull up the news story.
Then I drove home in a daze, thinking the news had to be wrong. They’d shown no pictures of Mason. No mug shot or anything. Just his name. Maybe there was another Dr. Mason Hayes? Here i
n Orlando? At this particular hospital?
By the time I reached home and walked up the stairs on autopilot, I realized things were about to change. And I begged to God and sweet baby Jesus that Mason had a really good explanation for everything. I’d fallen so hard for him, especially over the past couple of days, but if he’d been lying to me all this time, I didn’t know what I would do. The heartbreak would be too much for my poor, battered heart. What Ty did to me would be nothing in comparison.
When I opened the door and found Mason cooking dinner, I didn’t know what to say. Based on experience, throwing out accusations wasn’t the best way to start with him. So rather than say anything, I set my purse in its usual spot in the entryway and silently walked to our bedroom, noticing that the closed and locked journal sat on the dining table, which was already set for dinner. I slipped my shoes off in our room and put them in the closet. I felt as though I walked on eggshells, pissed off that I couldn’t simply say what was on my mind, but afraid of how he’d react if I did.
“You sure are quiet tonight,” Mason said halfway through dinner as he poured himself a second glass of wine.
I shrugged. “Just not feeling like chatting, I guess.”
Although I didn’t really want it, I shoved a red potato wedge in my mouth so I wouldn’t have to say any more.
“How’s your mother?” he asked a few minutes later.
“Shouldn’t you know?” I muttered before I caught myself.
“What was that?” A sharp edge laced his voice, as though he’d heard me clearly.
“Nothing,” I said, trying to cover up my mistake. The Southern girl in me was screaming Oh, hell, no! and wanted to go off on his ass, but I needed to keep her in check. I still hoped Mason could explain away what I’d learned today. “Mama’s no better. I guess you didn’t make it in to see her today?”
“No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t at the hospital long this morning. I saw something and couldn’t get it off my mind.”
His eyes glanced at the diary still sitting on the table. When they came back to me, I held them with my own. “Yeah, the nurses said you hadn’t been in this morning. In fact, they said—”
“I thought you didn’t feel like chatting,” he snapped, and I raised my brows. He let out a sharp breath. When he spoke again, his voice had softened. “Before we get into the hospital gossip mill, can you tell me what this is?”
He picked up the brown leather book from the table and handed it to me. I set it in my lap without looking at it, my gaze on him, trying to figure out what his problem was.
“Looks like an old diary to me,” I said, failing at keeping the sarcasm out.
“Yours?” he demanded.
“No. Leni left it in my car yesterday.”
“You saw Leni and didn’t tell me?” There was that possessive tone again.
“I told you we had a coffee date.”
“You told me you missed your coffee date. But apparently you didn’t. What else are you hiding from me, Bex?”
“I could ask you the same thing!” I finally snapped.
He nodded at the book, ignoring my accusation. “Open it.”
“Why?”
“I want to see what’s in it. I want to know what you’ve been writing about me.”
I snorted. “I told you, it’s Leni’s, not mine.”
He leaned forward. Anger sparked in his eyes. “I don’t believe you. You know why? Because I saw that book wide open under your purse when I left this morning. And then it was on the bed when I came home, which was left unmade, by the way. You’re not the type to read someone else’s journal.”
I leaned forward, too, so our faces were only inches apart. “It’s not mine, Mason. Get over yourself.”
I placed the book on the table, stood up and grabbed my plate. Mason knocked it out of my hand, and it crashed to the floor. He shoved the journal at me.
“I said to open it, Bex. Prove it to me.”
“Are you deaf? I said it’s not mine! How can I open it when I don’t have the key?” I grabbed the lock to show him, then shoved the book back at him. “If it’s so damn important to you to know, figure out how to open it yourself.”
He grabbed the book and my hand, squeezing it so hard, I thought I heard bones crunch. I cried out, but he didn’t let go.
“Stop fucking lying to me and open it!” he yelled. “If I could, I would have already.”
I yanked my hand out of his grip and held it close to my chest, while taking the book from him and heaving it at the front door. Then against all better judgment, I stepped right in front of him.
“Why are you so worried about what I might have to say about you?” I asked, my voice low. It rose as I spoke until I yelled the last words. “Is it little dick syndrome, Mason, or because you’re the fucking liar?”
He stood up to his full height, towering over me, and looked down his nose at me. And before I saw it coming, his hand lashed out at me, landing against the side of my head. The force pushed me sideways, and I stumbled to catch myself, but my dinner and broken plate on the floor made me slip. I fell onto the broken glass, my heart racing against my ribs, but I could only laugh.
“Thank you for just proving them right,” I said through the maniacal laughter. “You’re an asshole, Mason. The lowest of the low and the biggest coward there is.”
“I’m not a fucking coward,” he boomed.
He lunged at me and circled his hands around my neck. He squeezed as he picked me up off the ground and slammed me into the wall. Stars shot across my vision when my head made contact. My breath flew out of me. As best as it could anyway, against my tight throat. I kicked out wildly at Mason while clawing at his hands still around my neck. My foot finally connected in the best place possible—his balls—forcefully enough that he let go of me and bent over with a grunt.
I dropped to my hands and knees, struggling to catch a breath through my painful throat while trying to crawl away from him. A vice-like grip closed around my ankle and yanked me backward. I landed on my stomach and face, and Mason pulled me across the glass-littered floor.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he sneered.
“Away from you,” I gasped.
He grabbed me by the waist now and flipped me over. My little body was no comparison for his much larger one, but I wasn’t going to give in. I kicked at him again and squirmed, barely feeling the glass shards that dug into my back. With two large hands pressing my wrists to the ground and his full weight on my hips, he pinned me to the floor. My hand throbbed under the renewed pressure.
“You have nowhere to go, Bex. Ty won’t take you back—I made sure of that. Your trailer’s rented. I took care of it today. Elizabeth’s gone and so are your jobs. Sissy lives in a shit-hole and won’t be there much longer when your mom dies anyway. That will make you both homeless. And forget about finding somewhere else to live because you owe me so much money, you’ll never be able to pay me back. You were right about that. My attorney’s got all the paperwork ready for the judge if we need to go there.”
I glared at him, my chest heaving with the feeling of claustrophobia, more from the meaning of his words than his heavy weight on me.
“If you leave me, I guess you and Sissy could always go back to living in your cars again. You’re used to that, right?”
I arched my back and tried to buck him off but couldn’t budge him, so I spit at his face. “To think I actually loved you. That I believed you loved me!”
His green eyes flickered, and his grip loosened slightly. I tried to break free, and he tightened his hold on my wrists again, but his voice came out softer. Almost cooing. “But I do love you, precious. Why do you think I’ve done all these things for you? So that I could never lose you. I can’t stand the thought that you could leave me. I can’t live without you, Bex. You’
re mine forever.”
I stared at him in disbelief. Was he serious? Was this really the man I’d thought to be generous and kind and gentle? To be The One? If he was The One for me …
“I’d rather die,” I said, and I opened my mouth wide and screamed as loud as my lungs and sore throat would allow.
Mason’s hand clamped over my mouth. I bit down as hard as I could, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth before he yanked it away. His hold on me loosened, and I squirmed and bucked, wriggling free.
“HELP!” I yelled.
As if in response, my phone rang. With Mason’s weight still on my legs, I used my arms to pull myself toward my purse … and the door. He shifted, and I was suddenly free, up on my hands and knees, crawling and trying to get to my feet at the same time, scrambling for my purse and phone. But he’d only moved off of me to get there first. His shoulder hit the table, knocking it over. My purse tumbled off. My phone slid out of it and skidded across the white tile floor. I made one last-ditch effort to grab it, but his hand closed around it first. And he hurled it as hard as he could at the mirror-wall, shattering both my phone and the glass.
Mason turned to me, his eyes that I’d thought so beautiful before practically glowing like the devil himself.
“You’re mine, Bex. Nobody else’s.” His lips turned up in a snide grin that made me think of the Joker. “I told you I was a selfish bastard.”
I screamed again. Someone pounded on the front door. My eyes flew wide, and I lunged forward.
