by Marie Wathen
I can't blame anyone for getting shitty toward The Witch. She damn sure deserves it. To be a fly on the wall in that yacht and see Julia getting treated as badly as she treats others would make my day.
“No description,” Kole grunts and then he adds, “We're going down to the docks to interview some of the workers. If anybody knows anything it will be Old Tucker, perhaps he'll enlighten us. Hey Marcus, I suppose asking you to join us is out of the question.” He narrows his eyes on me, but continues not expecting my response. “Alright, get Breesan home then check in with me later.” I nod, but Kole isn’t done with me yet. “Just remember what I told you at the gym about her; Breesan Maxwell is special.”
Well no shit. I, of all people, know the power in that statement, but to me she is so much more. She’s precious.
The weather turned nasty while we were in our meeting. The torrential downpour reminds me of Breesan again and a smile sneaks across my face as the memories of a very special night flash in my mind. Breesan was storm chasing–her favorite pastime–and I was volunteering at the temporary shelter. Her vehicle got trashed by a downed pole leaving her stranded. Craving some alone time just to get to know her better, I offered to drive her around. We rode around the island in my old pickup truck all night. My feelings for her swelled, after trusting me with her secrets, she pushed me right over the edge.
Damn, that night seems like a lifetime ago.
We discovered that we share many similar interests. Personally, I don't think it's necessary for a couple to be evenly matched, but damn if Breesan and I aren't close to perfect. She trusted me enough to share some pretty painful shit about her family history and that was the moment I knew all I ever wanted was to make her smile.
Remembering her absolute excitement during that storm makes me think of a place I need to visit. Before I break several traffic laws getting from Rhys’ house to the hospital I make a quick and important stop. My girl needs a special umbrella. Luckily Design by Love has the perfect one. My stop has only delayed me returning to her arms by a few minutes, but it feels like it added years to the last time I touched my lips to hers. I chuckle for feeling like a damn horny teenager. My personal trainer once told me I could do anything for ten seconds, but he is dead wrong. I’ll go damn crazy if I don’t get Breesan in my arms in the next five.
Chapter Four
Breesan
Rain begins falling just as I enter the hospital. Sadly the beautiful sunrise Marcus and I shared this morning will be in hiding for a couple of days now according to the weather reports. Any other time and I would be loading up my packs and heading out in the storm chaser truck to monitor it all night. Not today. More important things need my attention. Very important people need me.
Walking into the Intensive Care Unit at Willow General Hospital I notice groups of people from last night’s party sitting in the waiting area. I scan the room for a friend when I spot a very sad woman sitting alone staring out the window. She notices me, but then quickly averts her eyes. We're not friends, but somehow I thought that maybe she would act differently toward me after everything that went down yesterday. I'm not a comforting person, but she looks completely dejected. Going against everything that I would normally do, even though I don't want to add to her pain, I take the open seat beside her.
“Hi Waverly,” I say. “I didn't get a chance yesterday, but I want to introduce myself.”
She looks at me like I've grown three heads before snapping, “I know who you are, Breesan.”
I nod my head and look at the doorway ready to bolt. “Oh,” I sigh, “Well, I didn't come over here to upset you so I'll just leave you alone.”
Her unwarranted attitude toward me is exactly the reason why I didn’t let people in my life after what happened to me in middle school. Don’t think about that now. I quickly stand up eager to get away from her, but feel a hand on my forearm tugging me back down.
“No, please,” Waverly says, “You don't have to go. I'm sorry I was shitty to you.” Her cheeks redden but she never looks away from me. “I just…ohgod, it's been a bad couple of days for me. But I guess I'm not the only one who is feeling like hell.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Sadness for her failed relationship with Morgan creeps into my eyes and she notices.
“I guess Morgan told you about us, huh?”
“He said some things, but I'm not the best person to talk to about relationships. He probably didn't feel comfortable telling me too much.” I smile and add, “I’m sorry.”
What am I apologizing about? She cares for Morgan. Great, it's not like she has anything to worry about with me. Wait. She's jealous. That explains her attitude toward me. But why would she be jealous of me?
“I don't know what Morgan told you about us,” I start, watching her eyes narrow on me, “But we only just recently became friends. We met for the first time the night of his welcome home party. It was a blind date set up by Anna and Tristan. It was more for me than him.” I stutter. “Obviously, he doesn't need to be set up on a blind date. He can get anyone he wants, but Anna thought he was safe for me.” She narrows her eyes. “Oh hell, this is not making any sense, and I don't think I can explain it any better.” I frown, feeling horrible about the stupidity gushing out of my suddenly unhinged mouth.
“Breesan I know about the blind date. Tristan is a good friend of mine.” Waverly says. I know I look shocked because she begins laughing at me. “Don't be so shocked Breesan. I'm not a horrible person.”
“Ohgod no,” I rush my words. “I didn't think that!”
She shakes her head and smiles sadly before looking around the room and then drops her eyes to her shaky hands resting in her lap. She takes a deep breath and I watch as she lets down her defenses to me. I am not prepared for all that she confesses.
“I fell for him,” she starts. “Morgan.” I nod. “It happened a long time ago. But I didn't tell him, not once. I knew when I first met him that he was unlike any man I'd ever met. He's charming, intelligent and just cool to hang around with. He's not afraid to try anything. God he can be completely reckless at times. And he also has a desire to… control situations.” She giggles under her breath. “When I started seeing Morgan it was only supposed to be about sex.” Ohgod, I don’t want to hear this. “I really thought I could be that type of girl. For him I wanted to be everything he needed. But from the first night we were together he made me feel like I was priceless, cherished and I had never been so loved in all of my life.”
Embarrassed by her sharing such intimate details regarding her relationship with Morgan, I blush, but also feel a fluttering in my belly from the excitement of knowing exactly how she feels. After being in Marcus' arms last night, I too experienced everything that she is describing. Before him, I would never have related to her feelings for Morgan.
“But he's…well, I guess you could say that our relationship is complicated.” She takes a breath. “He says all he ever wanted from me was sex and that he would never be available to give me more. In the beginning, I was fine with it, but something changed last year.” She pauses, staring at me. “For the first time Morgan gave more of himself to me then than he ever had before. Don't get me wrong he's never been a selfish lover; he didn't have to be. I enjoyed doing for him.”
She smiles, but happiness doesn’t shine in her eyes as she continues. “I knew something significant must have happened. It took a while, but he finally told me about Elise. I'm sure you know all about her.”
I nod and she continues. “He told me that he felt something for her, something like love. That completely crushed me. Here I was falling for a playboy who fell for a selfish bitch. Elise first had Marcus and then moved on to Morgan causing this huge rift between them. She didn’t stop there. No that vile creature made them feel like they weren't important enough to choose one over the other. Who does that?”
She's growls deeply, “Fucking bitch!” Her hands tighten into clenched fists and her face grows redder by the minute. “The way she hurt bo
th of them was so wrong. I wanted to track her down and beat the hell out of her. Believe me if I could have gotten my hands on her I would have done just that, and when Morgan came back to Willow after that brutality, he was different. We spent one night together where he was so much more passionate in bed than ever before. It was as if he couldn't get enough of me. For me it felt like love.”
I am completely engrossed in her story now that I don’t even notice that the crowd in the waiting room has thinned out until an odd noise coming from somewhere in the hallway grabs my attention. Wanting to remain courteous as she continues sharing about her predicament, I keep listening but scan the room. Where did everyone go?
She sighs heavily before continuing, “I was always so damn foolish when it came to Morgan Walker. When I woke up in the middle of the night he was gone. Like a ghost, from our twisted past, he vanished right out of my bed…no note…nothing. Except for his scent left behind to torture me, there was no trace of him left behind. Just like all the times before. I should have expected it, but I didn’t and it completely devastated me. I felt so stupid for allowing my heart to believe that there was more between us than there really was. Realistically, Morgan never promised me all of him only some of him. Lesson learned.
“Later that night I was working at the club. After we closed I stayed late and had way too much to drink. Tristan was riding along with another officer patrolling. They stopped by when he saw the open light still flashing and my car parked in the back parking lot. Like I said I had way too much to drink and before I knew what was happening I had told them everything. I cried on Tristan’s shoulder and he just listened. I've never had anyone care enough to devote that much concern on me.” Her breath catches. “Tristan is such a good person and it sickens me that someone did this to him. I just can't believe it. He's never done anything to anyone. You know?”
“Yes,” I whisper my agreement as my heart seizes with pain at remembering what happened and the text message that I got afterward. Mygod, who would do this evil to such a good man? She wipes away the tears welling in her eyes with the back of her hand then stares down at the spot of moisture left there. She uses the pad of her thumb to slowly smear it away.
“Tristan never judged me. He told me that I should value myself and if Morgan wants me then he needs to stop being selfish. He told me to not want someone who didn’t want me. But my heart was so deeply immersed with all things Morgan Walker that I couldn't end it. So the next time we were together I had to pretend that sex was all that I wanted. Since then that's all I've done is pretend that it is enough. All the while it's been growing into so much more for me.”
“The strange thing about it all is it's almost as if lately he can sense something has changed. Or maybe I'm fooling myself again. I don't know. All I do know is that when life is shitty and I have nothing to look forward to, it's like Morgan knows, because he suddenly appears, and then everything is right in the world again.”
She shakes her head and another stifled cry slips past her lips. She covers her mouth with her hand and pierces me with a painful stare. Something tells me her story is not going to end well.
Her breathing is ragged. “Yesterday changed all that. He told me there was someone else and…I slapped him. Then I almost slept with an ex-boyfriend. But Morgan found us together, stopping that terrible plan. We said some vicious things to each other–things that cannot be taken back. I don't know that I could ever forgive him for what he said to me.” Shaking her head, she whispers, “Breesan, as stupid as it sounds I still love him, but it's over and I don't know how to not want him.” Staring at the doorway, she adds, “Part of me hopes I see him here and the other part of me is scared to death of what he might do when he sees me. I'm so damn confused. God, why does it have to be like this? Why did I have to give my heart to the damn playboy? Marcus is the total opposite of Morgan. That's who I should have fallen for not Morgan.”
Suddenly a wave of jealousy rushes through me. Feeling completely awkward by her admission of wishing she fell for Marcus, I stand up not knowing what the hell I should do., but I can’t even look at her again. The only thing I do know is I can't continue to listen to her talk about being with Marcus or I might do something foolish that will embarrass both of us, so I just walk away from her.
Booming voices draw my attention and I realize it is the same muffled noise I heard earlier. Outside the door leading to the intensive care unit I spot several of the officers that work with Tristan and their families gathering. My fear that something bad has happened to Tristan drives me to walk down the hallway to see what the commotion is about.
Being from Willow I know most of the police force, so I'm not shocked when I see so many familiar faces and several of them nod their heads acknowledging me as I pass. Some have their eyes downcast, but all have sadness etched in their features. The noise grows and now I can tell that it is angry voices coming from beyond the double doors of the intensive care unit.
I stand on my tip toes, peek through the small window near the top of the door and spot Tristan’s grandfather and dad standing in front of a glass wall that I assume is Tristan's room. Beck has his arms crossed with a dismissive look set on his face. Granddad Walker's arms are stretched wide one second and flailing around the next. Typically, I'm not a nosy person, but this scene has my nerves on edge. I've never seen Granddad so upset. A nurse pushes the door open from inside, bumping into me causing me to fall backward into someone. Small hands grab me by the arms helping me stand up again. Turning around to thank them, I see that it's Waverly. She must have heard the commotion and decided to investigate too.
“Thanks.” I say.
“Yeah, no problem,” Waverly mumbles before asking, “What's going on in there anyway?”
“I'm not sure, but whatever it is I think I'll stay out here until it's over.”
“Yeah,” she nods her head in agreement. “I heard Tristan's dad has been acting shitty to some of the staff. Maybe that's why his grandfather is so upset.”
I sigh staring at the door leading into Tristan’s unit and wonder if I should go back. I begin chewing on the inside of my cheek, debating that checking on Tristan was my reason for coming here. Stepping away from the doorway, I plant my back solidly against the wall. I don't want anyone thinking that I'm just some morbid onlooker and I don’t know if his family will want me in there.
“Why don't you go back?” Waverly asks. “From what I've heard Anna hasn't left his side all night. Y'all are friends right?”
My chest begins to tighten and panic floods me. I want to see Anna and offer her my support, but I'm afraid that my anxiety will cripple me. Neither Julia nor I have ever had a medical emergency since that terrible day when I was in middle school. I've never dealt with a situation like this and I'm not sure if I can handle it. I'm afraid I'll embarrass myself or give them something else to worry about. Standing here all wired up, I discover that I am subconsciously wringing my hands and chewing on the inside of my cheek.
Calm down, I command silently before I embarrass myself in front of everyone here. My panic disorders aren't subject to one specific trigger. It could be anything from something as small and insignificant as a fly to a crowded, booming rock concert. It's ludicrous and something I should have explained to Marcus last night while we were unloading our baggage. I make a mental note to tell him about everything very soon.
Waverly stares curiously at me, waiting for some sort of response. I look around for the nurse and spot her on the phone at the nurses’ station.
I don't look at Waverly when I finally do speak. “I guess I can check with the nurse and see if I'm allowed to go back. Thank you Waverly.”
Hanging next to the double door that leads into the Intensive Care Unit is a nurse’s call box. I push the button and wait several moments before receiving a response. A loud pop followed by a scratchy noise that resembles a human voice asks how they can help me. I explain who I am, what I want, and after an extended moment the door buzzes.
>
Upon entry I can now clearly understand every word Granddad Walker is yelling at his son Beck. With my eyes locked on the floor and moving quickly toward Tristan's room, I lift them and soon discover they are blocking the doorway completely unaware of my presence.
“Now dammit! He is your only son. Your place is by his side and you need to remember that.” Granddad bellows.
“Dad, you're just repeating yourself,” Beck growls bitterly. “We've been through this already. I'm leaving him in the very capable hands of his mother. But get it straight I am leaving in the morning with Barret and Morgan for the Canadian meeting. We need Ned to approve the amendments we’ve made to the merger and sign the contracts. I appreciate your concern for my son, but the doctors assure me that he will be fine. Sitting around watching Gretchen watch him is not productive. Working will distract my mind from all this bullshit.” Throwing his hands in the air, he turns his back on his father signifying he is finished arguing the point.
“I don't know who the hell you are anymore Beck.” Grabbing his sons shoulder, Granddad keeps his voice low, “This prideful ego and selfishness of yours is ridiculous and it's going to ruin everything you have with your only son. That boy is lying in a hospital bed with tubes running all over his body, with no certainty that he will survive the next five minutes and you're ready to fly off and stay gone for the next few weeks. What the hell is wrong with you Beck? Is money that important to you? Did you sell your soul to Satan to become this…this greedy bastard that stands in front of me? Your mother and I sure as hell did not raise you to be this cold hearted person.”
Turning again Beck shoves Granddad’s hand off and stalks past him, nearly slamming into me. He stops abruptly, stares down at me bitterly without saying a word, and then continues out the doors. I'm frozen with my back pressed against the cold wall. I don't want Mr. Walker thinking that I've been intentionally eavesdropping. I keep my head and eyes lowered while holding my breath. Only a moment passes before I see a large shadow on the floor moving closer. I glance up and see Granddad staring down at me. Always a levelheaded and controlled man he seems frazzled and exhausted; rightly so.
