by Lane Hart
Of all the times men have used me and hurt me, even landing me in prison, none of them ever hurt me this badly.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Silas
* * *
“Hey, man. Thank you so much,” Nash says as he comes up to me at the pool hall and wraps me in a suffocating hug as soon as I walk through the door. “I owe you. I owe you so damned much for saving my life.”
“I didn’t save your life,” I mutter as I push him off of me.
“Sure you did,” Nash replies, looking like a giddy schoolboy. “You got rid of the witness, and the DA dropped the case. I’m a free man.”
“Yeah, I heard. That’s great.”
“Oh no,” Nash mutters, his face falling. “What the hell did you do, Silas? I thought Malcolm said you didn’t hurt her!”
“I didn’t!” I exclaim.
“So then, she’s still alive?”
“Yes, she’s still alive!” I shout at him. “I don’t go around killing women for shits and giggles!”
“Jeez, calm down. I know you don’t kill women,” Nash says. “But I just thought something could’ve happened if she wasn’t…cooperating.”
“She cooperated. Now she lives in a different city with a different name. Happy?”
“Yes, very,” he replies. “That’s why I was thanking you.”
“So, did, ah, Malcolm tell you anything else about her?” I ask.
“No. Why? What else is there to tell?” Nash questions me, his brow creased in thought.
“Nothing. There’s nothing else to tell.”
“Okay. Good. Guess we should head to the chapel for the meeting.”
“Right,” I agree, following behind him to retake my seat at the Dirty Aces table for the first time in over six weeks. We’re the first two in the room, and the silence gives me too much time to think about Cora. It feels like all I’ve done since I walked out of that house is think about her – wondering how she reacted to my note. Was she hurt or pissed? Probably both. Is everything still on schedule for her grand opening Saturday?
It sucked to leave, and I meant every word I said in the note I left. But this is what’s best. I would rather she remember me as the good guy who broke her heart than the asshole who nearly killed her. Sooner or later, she would’ve learned the truth and hated me when she found out I was the man who pointed the gun at her. I’m the reason she had nightmares and felt insignificant. I wish I could’ve stayed on the island, but I knew from the first time I fucked her that I would have to leave her. It just took me longer than I thought to be dragged away by Malcolm.
Now, I’m back in Carolina Beach, so close and yet so far away from Cora. I know I can never make amends for what I did to her. Buying her the house and restaurant doesn’t feel like enough, but what else can I do from here?
An idea comes to me as I sit and wait in the silent chapel. It’s stupid, but it’s the best I’ve got, needing to occupy my free time with some damn thing. So, before anyone else joins us, I ask Nash, “Think your girl could do me a favor?”
“Anything. Name it,” he says.
“Could she track down some people?”
“Sure. What are their names?” Nash asks.
Wincing, I say, “That’s the thing. I don’t know. It’ll probably take some digging in old police records.”
“How about I ask Lucy to come over after the meeting and bring her laptop? If anyone can track down nameless people, it’s her.”
“Okay. Yeah, let’s do that. Thanks.”
It won’t be much, and Cora will probably never even find out, but at least it’ll give me the chance to do something for her.
“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” Malcolm says when he strolls into the chapel with a smirk. “Good to see you both back at the table at the same time. Been too long.”
“Yeah, it has,” Nash agrees.
“What’s been going on? Anything I need to know about?” It’s the question I should’ve asked as soon as I saw Malcolm the other day, but I was more worried about myself and Cora than the MC.
“Same old, same old,” our president responds. “Fiasco dropped a frozen turkey into the deep fryer out back and set the entire deck on fire. He should have that cleaned up in another week or so. I’d watch my step out back on the porch until the repairs are done.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” I mutter.
“What about you?” Malcolm asks.
“What about me?”
“How are you doing?”
“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” I snap at him.
“Calm your tits. I was just asking a simple question,” he grumbles with a shake of his head.
When the rest of the guys come in, they all welcome me back, and then Malcolm starts the meeting. I’m only halfway paying attention, though, looking forward to afterwards when Lucy can hopefully find the men who hurt Cora and make them pay.
Cora
* * *
My grand opening of the Southern Comfort Café wasn’t so grand. In fact, it was impossible to be happy when everything in the whole damn place reminds me of Sam – the tables he built, the chairs he put together, the appliances he bought, the divider wall he put up. I should’ve known then that the damn wall would end up being a metaphor for our relationship.
I’ve been so depressed and lethargic the last few days, that I even broke down and hired a waitress so that I could just stay in the back cooking and not have to face anyone. It’s probably better this way, avoiding face-to-face contact with diners who may recognize me from Carolina Beach.
“We’ve got a full house!” Tiffany says when she comes into the kitchen and puts another order for my chicken and waffles up on the order wheel that I immediately start working on.
“There are only four tables and three booths,” I remark.
“I know, but that’s a great sign for a new business,” the natural blonde says cheerfully. God, I wish I had some of her peppiness. “Soon, we may even have to put people on a waiting list.”
“Yay, us,” I mutter.
“Hey, boss?”
“Yeah?” I ask while preparing the batter.
“I’m so embarrassed to have to ask you this, but, um, do you have any…tampons?” she whispers the last word even though no one out front can hear us thanks to the thick wall and the upbeat music playing from the jukebox.
“Oh. I think so. Hold on a second,” I say, caught off guard by the question before I force myself into motion. After washing my hands, I go over and grab my purse from the safe. The damn thing Sam insisted I get is big enough for me to fit in, so I figured I may as well make good use of it. Digging around inside, I finally find what I’m looking for. “You’re in luck. I found one,” I say when I hold up the feminine product.
“Thanks! I owe you,” Tiffany says in gratitude.
“No problem,” I reply before she hurries off to the bathroom.
Once she’s gone, it hits me that I can’t remember the last time I even had a period. I’ve been so busy the last few weeks between talking to the detectives and relocating, all the preparations of opening my own restaurant and dealing with the loss of Sam…
It’s probably just the stress of everything that has me off schedule.
Except, I can’t remember having a single period since before I left town, which was…six or seven weeks ago?
No, that can’t be right. I should’ve had at least one period while living here, even with the stress.
I haven’t missed a single pill.
What if the pills were a bad batch or something?
I quickly pull out my phone, not caring if the waffles burn, and do an internet search to see if there are any recalls that I may have missed.
Oh no!
No, no, no!
Several articles say that both antibiotics and anxiety medications can make birth control pills less effective, and I took both without a clue weeks ago!
This cannot be happening.
There must be some o
ther explanation. I cannot be pregnant by the man who up and left me by leaving a stupid note! He didn’t even leave a phone number or way for me to reach him, like he hoped not to hear from me ever again.
Maybe I’m just overreacting, so down and depressed that I’m being overdramatic.
First things first, I need to get a test from the pharmacy; and as luck would have it, there’s one nearby.
And then, if it’s positive, I can finally panic.
Until then, I just need to stay calm, keep cooking, and assume it’s just the stress making me nearly two months late.
That night when I got home, after taking five tests, there’s no doubt about it.
I’m pregnant.
I’m pregnant, and I have no idea how I’m going to tell the father.
The first day after my revelation is spent sleep walking, going through the motions of running a business while letting the news sink in. I try to come to terms with having a baby in the next seven or so months that are left, deciding whether or not I want to keep it. And without a doubt I know that I do want to have it, even if I have to raise it as a single mother.
But then I start to wonder how Sam would feel about this. Would he come back and be a father if I told him we’re having a baby together? Even if he doesn’t want to be with me, he may still want to see his child or have visitation. Wouldn’t he?
There’s only one way to find out and that’s to ask him.
That’s why I carry my phone around, staring at the number for the Eastern District of North Carolina’s FBI office for hours. I spend days trying to figure out how to break the news to Sam, going through all of his possible reactions. Will he be happy or angry? Worst of all, what if he doesn’t care?
Finally, first thing Monday morning, I cave and dial the number to the office, putting the phone up to my ear as it rings.
A pleasant woman answers, saying the whole long title of the office before it’s my turn to speak.
“Hello?” she asks. “Is anyone there? Hello?”
“Ah, hi,” I eventually squeak out. “I’m looking for an agent…”
“One in particular, or do you need to leave a general message?”
“There’s one I need to talk to specifically,” I explain. “His name is Sam. Samuel Sheppard.”
“Just a moment,” she replies before putting me on hold.
This is it. Now or never. I’m going to either get to hear his voice on the other end of the phone and give him the potential life changing news, or I’ll get his voicemail, in which case I’ll leave my number and tell him it’s extremely important that he call me back.
What if he doesn’t call me back?
“Ma’am?” the receptionist’s voice comes back on.
“Yes?”
“Agent Sheppard is on leave. We don’t know if or when he’ll be back in the office. Would you like for me to see if there’s someone else who can assist you?”
On leave? I thought he had to get back to work for a new case… Guess it was another out-of-town assignment…
“No, I really must speak to Agent Sheppard directly. It’s a personal matter. Can you get a message to him?”
“Oh. Um, I’m very sorry ma’am, but he’s not in contact with the office at this time.”
“Not in contact? You’re his employer! There has to be some way to reach him. You could call him, right? It’s urgent. Life and death. Please,” I beg, tears filling my eyes.
“I wish I could help you, really I do.”
“Then help me!” I shout at her through the phone, taking my anger at him leaving out on her.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Listen, I’m not even supposed to share this with anyone, but Agent Sheppard may not ever return to the office again.”
“What? Why not? Did he get fired or relocated? I have to find him.”
“No, ma’am. He wasn’t fired or relocated. He’s, um, he’s in critical condition at the local hospital.”
“What?” I whisper, clutching the phone tighter, certain I misheard her.
“Agent Sheppard was attacked, beaten nearly to death, and is in a coma. The doctors…”
“The doctors what?” I choke out as I slide down the nearest wall in the kitchen to sit down.
“He’s on life support. The doctors aren’t sure he’s going to make it.”
“But…he has to make it! They have to save him. I’m pregnant with his baby!”
“Oh, wow,” the receptionist replies. “That’s very unfortunate. I’m so, so sorry to be the one to tell you.”
“I just…I can’t believe it,” I sob more to myself than to her.
“I apologize again, but I’ve told you more than I should. I really need to go. Have a good day,” she says ironically before hanging up on me.
“No!” I yell at her, even though she’s gone.
I can’t believe this!
Sam was so strong and healthy. Imagining him hurting, unconscious in a hospital bed is impossible.
I have to go see him, to find out what happened and make sure the doctors are doing everything they can to save him, because damn it, he can’t die! I have to talk to him and tell him I’m pregnant and that I need him in my life.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Silas
* * *
When Nash and I explain to Lucy what I need her to find, her expression doesn’t give me a lot of hope. It doesn’t take her long, however, to get some initial results. She finds Cora’s family easily, getting her parents’ address and phone number for me. It takes her a bit longer to track down Cora’s old boyfriend…the one who bailed on her and let her take the fall on an arson charge.
“Best I can tell, this guy lives out in Texas now,” Lucy says as she slides onto a barstool beside me hours later. “I’ve got an address and phone number for him as well, if you want them.”
“Yeah, please leave that with me. I might not be able to do much with it tonight, but it might be handy down the road.”
“What exactly are you planning on?” Lucy asks. “This just seems so random. What’s your interest in this guy?”
“He hurt someone that I…someone that I care about,” I hedge as I try to explain myself to her. “If he was still local, I was thinking of finding him and setting him on fire,” I add matter-of-factly.
“Oh,” Lucy says, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ of surprise. “I guess maybe I didn’t want to know that, after all. I’m going to leave you alone now, all right?”
“That’s probably best,” I snort before pouring another shot of tequila from the bottle I’ve been nursing.
I can feel my teeth grinding in frustration, but I’m powerless to stop it. I want to do something else for Cora, even if it’s something she never finds out about. I want to be doing something for her or doing something about her. Just sitting here, getting drunk with nothing but my memories of her is tearing me up inside.
“Fuck,” I splutter as the shot I poured goes down the wrong hole and makes me choke. “I’ve got to get the fuck out of here.” Sitting here drinking and thinking dark thoughts is just going to lead me into even more trouble with that woman.
With a heavy sigh, I get up from my barstool, stuff the folded piece of paper Lucy left into the pocket of my jeans and wander out into the night.
Cora
* * *
I know it’s dangerous to be in Wilmington, so close to Carolina Beach where there’s a chance I could be recognized by the men who killed Harold Cox and all his guards, but I don’t care. I have to see Sam. It’s worth the risk.
“Hi, can I help you?” the candy striper at the front desk in the hospital lobby asks when I approach.
“Hi, could you tell me which room Samuel Sheppard is in?”
“Just a moment,” she replies before typing his name in her computer.
“Oh. He’s in the ICU. Are you a family member?” she looks up and asks. “Only family members can visit patients in the ICU.”
“Yes, I’m his wife,” I lie. S
he frowns at me with a look of disbelief on her face. Right, what kind of wife wouldn’t know the room number of her husband? “We’re technically separated but not divorced yet. I just heard about his accident, and well, I still love him, you know?”
“Oh. Of course,” she replies, buying my bullshit. “Go on down to the end of this hall. The ICU nurse will need to buzz you in to see him. He’s in room five.”
“Thank you,” I say before I hurry off in that direction.
It takes a few more lies to get the ICU nurse to let me in, but thankfully she caves, unlocking the door to let me through. On the other side, there’s a solemn vibe that’s different from the rest of the hospital. There are no voices chatting or televisions blaring. Several nurses and doctors work silently behind the long desk that sits in the middle of the room. There are only five rooms. I have to walk past each one to get to the fifth. All of them contain a sleeping or unconscious patient with a nurse watching over them at a station in the room.
I reach the final door and see his last name on the outside, breaking my heart a little more.
Taking a deep breath to prepare myself, I force my feet to take me into the room.
“Hello,” the nurse inside says to me softly, drawing my attention to where she’s sitting in the far corner in front of a monitor. “I wish I had better news, but unfortunately, there hasn’t been any brain function since he was brought in. The doctor believes that after the attack, he went without oxygen for too long…”
“Oh no,” I whisper before I finally glance over at the still form on the bed, so tall and strong. It doesn’t seem right for him to be here with wires and cords coming out of his arm and…
Wait a second.
