Every Wound We Mend

by J. E. Parker

  "El Diablo killed her," she had said, referring to the only sister she'd ever had. "She fought to keep him from hurting me, but he shot me anyway with a gun he'd pulled from beneath his mattress."

  Every single memory came roaring back, and with them, I almost lost the ability to breathe. "No!" I shook my head back and forth. "Chiquita isn't dead!"

  Even as I spoke the words, I knew they were untrue. The piercing ache in my broken heart was proof that a massive part of it, one I would never get back, was missing and gone forever.

  Still, I refused to accept such a truth.

  Hugging Jade as tightly as I could, I arched my neck and screamed to the heavens above as loud as my tremulous voice would allow.

  Her shuddering cries and sobs turned to full-blown wails as she gripped my gown tighter. "I'm so"—she hiccuped—"sorry."

  The machine to my right grew louder, its incessant beeping becoming more frequent as my pulse thumped against my skull and a river of tears streamed down my face.

  "She isn't dead," I repeated, my mind searching for a way to fix what deep down I knew was irreparable. "My bebé isn't dead."

  The moment the last word left my lips, my chest heaved as James' desperate voice echoed through my breaking mind. "I can fix it," he assured me, his deep baritone dripping with hurt and painted with desperation. "All you have to do is call me, Pixie, and I'll fix everything."

  Without thinking, I opened my eyes and lifted my left hand from Jade's back, then reached for the plastic phone that sat atop the rolling table next to my bed. My vision wavered as my fingertips grazed the spiral cord attached to its bottom.

  "James," I cried, determination warring with the denial squeezing my heart like a vice. "I need to call James."

  No matter what Guapo had to do, he'd bring Ashley back. Then, he'd take all three of us, along with Faye and sweet Amelia, to his home, where a white-picket-fence would surround the yard, a wooden swing would hang from the porch rafters, and a peach-colored blanket would decorate his bed.

  Just like he’d promised.

  Little One's head popped up as a woman, followed by a man, neither of which I'd seen before, burst into the room.

  "Ms. Cole," the woman said, calling me by a name I was too hysterical to take notice of. "I need you to calm down. Your pulse rate is too high and—"

  Tuning her out, I sunk my teeth into my lower lip and inched my hand forward, determined to reach the one person who could fix every one of my broken pieces.

  The phone was almost in my grasp, the number pad less than an inch away, when a cold, glove-covered hand wrapped around my right elbow.

  I snapped my focus to the man who held my arm in his grip, a liquid-filled syringe clutched between his fingers. Fear struck me at the sight, sending me into fight-or-flight mode.

  "Get away from me!" I shrieked, enunciating each word perfectly even as a terror-driven delusion took hold, and the kind-looking doctor's face morphed into an evil I knew all too well.

  Dominic.

  Dressed in a white medical coat and wearing a stethoscope around his neck, El Diablo leaned against my bed rail and brought the needle closer.

  I can't let him do this to me…

  Not again!

  "Thought you could get away from me?" his apparition taunted. "You were wrong, Miss Colombia. I own you."

  The Spanish curses that flew from my lips were unintelligible as the devil's specter jabbed the needle into the IV port protruding from my arm, injecting me with poison I didn't want.

  "And I always fucking will."

  My head grew lighter as the drugs swept through my system, numbing my mind, and calming my racing heart. But even as my body slipped into a blissful state where pain didn't exist, I whispered one last thing before succumbing to the welcoming darkness.

  "Guapo… I need Guapo."

  Four Days Later

  From my wheelchair, I stared out the window.

  Eyes red from both crying and exhaustion, my gaze remained fixed on the parking lot four stories down as I watched a never-ending stream of hospital visitors come and go, visiting the sick and injured that occupied the many rooms of Charleston Memorial, where I remained.

  Among the sea of unfamiliar faces, I prayed I would spot James, but I knew such a thing wasn't possible.

  At least, not yet.

  Gaze moving to the familiar corded phone that rested atop my blanket-covered lap, I stared at it, gnawing on my chapped bottom lip.

  "I have to call James," I whispered to Jade, who sat in a plastic chair next to me, a cup of ginger tea meant to calm her upset stomach clutched in her white-knuckled grip. "I've waited long enough, and I can't take him not knowing what's happened. I need him here so he can fix everything, and so he can help us find Faye and—"

  My words vaporized when she bowed her head, letting her ever-present tears fall onto the second-hand, faded black yoga pants she wore.

  The fear on her face, plus the guilt that swam in her emerald green irises each time she looked at me, hurt so badly.

  She blamed herself for what had happened to Chiquita, and no matter how many times I explained to her it wasn't her fault—if it's anyone's, it's mine—she would always shoulder guilt.

  Just as I would always carry the same for not saving Mamá, for failing Alejandro, and for letting Dominic murder one of the two beautiful girls I'd claimed as my own the second El Diablo had thrust them into my life.

  It should've been me that died.

  Not Ashley.

  A good mother would've done anything to—

  "What if he knows?" she whispered, ripping me free of the true, but morbid, thoughts stabbing my soul. Right leg bouncing, she looked up and stared out the window once more, her pale face the picture of misery. "What if Dominic knows who James is and he—"

  "He doesn't."

  Her doubt-filled gaze met mine. "How do you know that?" she snapped, the embers of the fire that still flickered inside her making their presence known. "The night that he confronted you at the trap house, he knew you were sneaking around, seeing someone behind his back."

  With the will to fight vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, she wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to hold herself together. "What if he found out who James was? And by extension, Hendrix? That's why I didn't call him before, you know. I feared what would happen if El Diablo knew who they were and—"

  "Jade, bebé—"

  I clamped my mouth shut when she jumped to her feet, letting the cup of tea she still held clatter to the floor. It crashed against the white vinyl, sending fiery liquid splattering in every direction.

  "Carmen, please," she cried, trembling hands sliding into her hair where they fisted her curly red locks and tugged—hard. "I know you love him, but you can't…"

  Eyes closed, she shook her head again, this time wildly, her expression contorting with desperation. "You can't call him!"

  I loved Little One with every broken piece of me, but not calling James wasn't a choice. Not when he was a third of my fractured heart and the mate to my scarred soul.

  I needed him, especially now when I was less than a hairbreadth away from shattering, and she was spiraling headfirst into a guilt-laden abyss I wasn't sure I'd be able to free her from.

  Disregarding the orders my doctor had given me to stay seated anytime a nurse wasn't present, I locked the wheels of my chair, curled my hands around the armrests, and pushed myself to a standing position.

  Ignoring the pain that washed through my torso with each movement and ragged breath, I turned on unsteady feet and faced Jade head-on. "You're right, I love him."

  Blistering tears stung my face.

  "And because I love him so much, I refuse to let him go on thinking that I've either run away or gotten killed. He's a good man with a beautiful heart and an even more beautiful soul. He deserves better than that, Jade, and I won't—"

  "He does deserve better," she interrupted, nodding. "And that's why you can't call him."

  My
infamous temper flared.

  How could she demand such a thing from me? She knew how much I loved James, had seen it firsthand. There was no way I could walk away from him without a word, leaving him to wonder what had happened to the broken woman he'd helped begin to heal—body, heart, and soul.

  I would not betray him that way.

  Not without—

  "Dominic will kill Hendrix!" she cried, her growing hysteria knocking my thoughts from my thick skull. "He will kill him in cold blood just like he did Ashley, and probably even Faye and Amelia." I sucked in a sharp breath. No, no, no, they aren't dead! "Then he will kill Hendrix's pregnant fiancée because devils and demons never change."

  Maddie.

  My stomach rolled at the thought of something happening to her. She had been so kind to me, offering to provide a haven for my chicas and I even when the risks had seemed insurmountable.

  "I know you don't think El Diablo knows who James is, but if he does, then you know what I'm saying is true," Jade added, dousing the soul-searing inferno that blazed inside me with gasoline. "The moment that you call James, and he comes running, Dominic will follow him. Then he'll kill us all."

  Beads of sweat broke out along my brow and spine. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Head spinning, I felt close to fainting.

  But Jade wasn't done yet.

  Not even close.

  "I've already lost my sister." A sob wracked her petite, malnourished frame. "I can't handle knowing that more people may die because of us. Especially not Hendrix and his unborn baby."

  My mind flashed back to the night I'd sat at the city park with James as he confessed the gambling debt he'd accrued many years before and how it had put both Hendrix and Maddie in danger, something he swore to never do again.

  By calling him, would I be doing just that?

  As much as I loathed to admit it, Jade was right. If Dominic knew who James was, then he would command every lackey he controlled to always watch him.

  The moment Guapo made his way to us, it would mean all our ends.

  El Diablo would kill James, but he'd also kill everyone he loved as well. Hendrix, Maddie, Shelby, his two grandchildren—both alive and unborn, and his elderly neighbor he'd spoken so fondly of.

  Then the vicious hijo de perra would force me to watch as he took Little One's life before slitting my throat, ending the second chance life had gifted me the night my brave girl found the strength to pull us both from the swamp.

  I couldn't let that happen.

  I flat-out refused.

  I loved James Cole. I loved him more than breathing, but I could let neither him, his family, nor Jade die because of that love. I'd already lost Mamá and Ashley to men eviler than the nastiest of Hell's demons.

  I wouldn't lose anyone else.

  To protect my surviving daughter, and the son I'd claimed in my heart as my own the night I watched him play basketball with Jade, I would do whatever I had to in order to protect my family.

  Even if it meant letting James go.

  Fourteen Days Later

  I was finally leaving the hospital.

  Sitting on the edge of the stripped bed, I was reading over the discharge instructions and list of follow-up appointments—not that I could afford to attend any—the nurse had given me when Jade slinked into the quiet hospital room, gnawing her bottom lip.

  Instantly suspicious, my brows rose.

  "What did you do?" I glanced behind her to see if she was being followed by anyone—hospital security, perhaps—but I saw no one. "Did you break something in the gift shop? Because if you did, I'm sending you to the cafeteria to wash dishes to pay off your debt."

  I forced a smile.

  Hip popping to the side, she crossed her arms in response and shot me a sassy look that would've made Ashley proud. It was the liveliest I'd seen her since I'd awoken.

  "Listen here, Mama C," she replied, nose raised. "I broke nothing." Dropping her arms, she fidgeted in place. Smelling trouble, I noted her sudden change in demeanor. "But I did buy you something."

  Before I could ask her where she'd gotten the money to do such a thing, she lifted a postcard and flipped it from one side to the next, not giving me a chance to study the picture affixed to the front. "I thought you could use it to…"

  When she hesitated, I knew—I knew—that his name would leave her lips next.

  It never failed.

  "Well, I thought you could use it to write a message to James. And before you bite my head off—yes, I know I begged you not to contact him, but I'll never forgive myself if you don't get the chance to at least say goodbye." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You won't forgive yourself either."

  Her words didn't surprise me.

  Like she'd done with Hendrix, Jade had placed Guapo on a pedestal I doubted anyone else would ever reach. To her, they'd both been worth more than gold.

  She'd wanted to keep them forever, just as I had, and it was killing her that she'd asked me to let James go to protect us all.

  Once again, she'd never forgive herself.

  It was a realization I could not bear.

  "Bebé," I whispered, choking down the sorrow obstructing my throat as I stood and forced a fake smile for the second time in as many minutes.

  Hurt seeped from my pores as I straightened my spine, ignoring how my healing skin pulled taut, threatening to rip all over again. "Come here."

  Without hesitating, she ran to me and threw herself into my waiting arms. Hugging her tight, I buried my face in her hair, willing my tears to remain at bay. She'd seen me cry enough over the soul-crushing decisions I'd been forced to make over the past two weeks.

  She didn't need to see more of my tears.

  "None of this is your fault."

  Her small body trembled against me. "But you love him." Her fingers dug into my back as she anchored herself to me. "And leaving him behind is breaking your heart."

  That's where she was wrong.

  Leaving James behind wasn't just breaking my heart. It was shattering it, along with every dream I'd ever conjured of our future. Without him, I didn't know how I was supposed to breathe, much less go on.

  But for my family, I would figure out a way, because simply put, I would not fail at protecting them a second time.

  "I wanted you to call him, to tell him we were alive and going to be okay without spilling the beans about where we are,” she whispered, body continuing to quake. “But you can't since the hospital's number is traceable."

  She was right.

  Using the phone to contact Guapo one last time would be a risky move, which I could not afford to make, especially not when I didn’t know who could be listening in. But a postcard, especially if I mailed it to the fire station?

  That was a much safer option.

  Leaning back, Jade looked up at me. "Just don't put our names, okay? If El Diablo—"

  "I won't do anything to put you at risk," I interrupted, needing her to understand and believe the words I spoke. "I know I don't have the best track record, but on my life, I swear I won't repeat the mistakes of my past. Not ever again."

  "I believe you."

  My chin wobbled. She would never know how much those three words meant to me. Trying to pull myself together before I once more fell apart, I dropped my arms and took a small step back.

  "Can I see the card?"

  A nervous smile tilted her lips as she nodded and lifted the postcard, then turned the glossy side my way, causing all the air to escape my lungs in one quick swoosh.

  "That first night beneath the mill," she said, pointing to the two-story house featuring big windows, a white picket fence, and porch swing digitally painted on the cardstock. "You told him about our dreams."

  My legs weakened.

  "When he sees the house, he'll know." Reaching to the side, she picked up the pen my nurse had left behind minutes earlier. "It'll still hurt him, but at least he'll know."

  Helpless to stop them, the first of many tears fell as
despair crept further in, hunkering down in my chest, where it would soon flourish, breaking me further.

  "He's going to hate me." On the verge of collapsing, I shook my head. "I swore that I'd always find my way back to him no matter what, but now…"

  Slipping the pen into my waiting palm, Jade shed tears of her own as she curled my fingers, one at a time, around it. "He won't hate you. He swore to love you forever, remember? And it's like you once told me, James Cole doesn't break his promises."

  No, only I broke them.

  Pushing the card into my free hand, she nodded toward the rolling bedside table next to me. "Tell him goodbye, Mama C. Not because you want to, but because it's the only way we all survive this."

  Knowing that she was right, and that I had no other choice, I did as she said and rested the card on top of the table. Heart beating furiously, I pressed the pen's tip to the stiff paper, and without thinking, I scrawled the words my dying heart was busy crying.

  Guapo,

  You saved me when I wanted to die.

  You loved me when I couldn't love myself.

  And you gave me something I'd lost—hope.

  Do not grieve me, because I am not dead.

  Just gone, somewhere it's safe—for all of us.

  Please understand.

  Forgive me for breaking my promise.

  And never forget that I love you.

  With every shattered piece of me.

  Love always,

  Pixie

  Time stopped, and the world stood still as the reality of what I was doing set in. I was saying goodbye to the man, who, in the blink of an eye, had become my entire world.

  I feared losing him would kill me.

  "Mama C…"

  Dropping the pen to the table once more and stumbling back a lone step, I looked up, meeting Jade's watery gaze. "Si?"

  The lip gnawing returned. The sadness that never left her gorgeous face for more than a few moments at a time as well. "Once we're settled, and you get a job and stuff, do you think we can look for Faye and Amelia? I know it isn't safe to contact them if they're still back in Toluca, but Faye's smart, so maybe they got out, and I need to know if they're…"