Keeping Karly (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (4 page)

The fact that he almost hadn’t, had almost driven past to go directly to his own bed, sat like a heavy weight in his stomach. He didn’t want to imagine what might have happened to Karly if he hadn’t stopped by.

He made eye contact with Grant, tilted his head toward the door, and then headed into the hallway.

“Not the homecoming I had planned for you,” Grant said with a grim smile.

Bryce shook his head. “Not my idea of fun, either. Any news on her husband?”

“John McCoy wouldn’t dare step foot in this hospital, but just in case he’s stupid enough to try we have several Doms from the club ready to stand watch over Karly.” Grant glanced over his shoulder, back toward the room where Karly was sleeping.

“I’ll stay,” Bryce said quickly, unable to get the vision of Karly lying on the floor broken and bleeding from his mind. The fact that her husband had been too busy trashing the house to even consider offering her medical assistance was beyond understanding. How could a man ignore anyone in such a state, let alone the woman he professed to love?

“I really hope they keep her a few more days,” Grant said tiredly.

“Me, too,” Bryce said, trying not to grind his teeth. His jaw was already aching. He didn’t need to crack another damn tooth. He sipped his coffee, wincing at the bitter, watery taste. He wasn’t exactly an aficionado on beverages, but he knew what he liked. This sure wasn’t it.

Chris came out of the room, gave them both a brief smile, ran a hand through his hair, and looked nothing like the Dom he was at the club. He still had that presence, the one that intimidated many subs, but today it was tempered with exhaustion and anxiety.

“I’m going to take Casey home for a few hours. I’m worried that with her medical history she might end up in the bed beside her sister.”

Bryce and Grant both nodded. “We’ll stay here with Karly.” Grant’s tone made it very clear that he had no intention of going anywhere.

“Thanks,” Chris said as he offered his hand to Grant. “I really appreciate you both being here. After everything Karly wrote about the lifestyle…” He let the words trail off as they shook hands, apparently not wanting to tear open old wounds. Every member of the club—both Doms and subs—had been deeply offended by the articles Karly had published. It was good to see that most were willing to set that hurt aside to help a woman when she really needed it.

And Karly McCoy, no, Karly James—he refused to think of her as still married to that wife-beating asshole—was a woman who desperately needed help.

Bryce intended to make certain she took it.

For the first time in nearly two weeks I wake because I’ve had enough sleep, not because of pain. I’m still really embarrassed to be mooching off my younger sister, but I very literally have nowhere else to go—well, other than the home I share with my husband. I’m not certain that John has calmed down yet, and since he hasn’t tried to contact me at all, I’m taking the coward’s way out. I really should try and talk to him though. How will we ever sort through the problem if we don’t at least communicate?

I glance around the tastefully decorated room and sigh quietly. Being here just seems to confuse me even more. Despite the mooching part, I actually enjoy being here with my sister and her friends—two men I never expected to like. After sitting next to my hospital bed for two full nights, Grant and Bryce Anderson brought me back to their home, set me up in the bedroom beside my sister’s, and promised me that I was safe.

I tried to tell them that things weren’t as bad as they were imagining. This was the first time my husband lost his temper since that rough patch we had in our first year of marriage. The last two years have been…Well, I don’t suppose pleasant is quite the right word. Some days I resent the hell out of the fact that everything has to be done John’s way, but for the most part we were happy…sort of, well, kind of…um mostly.

“Good morning. How’s my favorite girl?” Grant asks as I wander into the kitchen. I blush at the “girl” tag that he’s given me. At twenty-nine, I’m not exactly a child in need of protection, but that’s exactly what he and his brother are providing. I feel safe here. Bryce smiles as the brothers wait for my answer.

“I feel a lot better today,” I say truthfully. I really do feel better today, but both men raise their eyebrows, clearly disbelieving me. I suppose I am guilty of exaggerating my recovery progress a time or two, but it’s only because I hate being sick.

For the first few days here Grant and Bryce provided all my meals in bed. At least one of them had sat beside me, encouraging me to eat, occasionally helping whether I wanted their help or not. It had felt very strange at the time. I suppose I really can’t define the exact mood of those meals, but the word “comfortable” comes to mind.

That was a very surprising experience especially considering the way I yelled at Bryce when Casey had been lying in a hospital bed recovering from her heart attack and all of the derogatory newspaper articles I’ve written about Doms and BDSM since. I still think I’m right about Doms and BDSM, but it’s becoming apparent that these two men—and maybe Casey’s new boyfriend, Chris—don’t quite fit the image I have in my mind.

“What are your plans for today?” I ask, trying to sound cheerful.

“Why?” Grant asks suspiciously. I suppose I can’t blame him for being a little defensive. I’ve been asking him and Bryce, and even Casey, to drive me home so that I can gather some of my own clothes. I love my sister but everything in her wardrobe is on the “skimpy” side. I also maybe want to talk to my husband, but they’re all dead set against it. They still want me to press charges, but they don’t know him like I do.

He’s not the monster they imagine.

“I have to talk to him sometime,” I say with a shrug. I’m not exactly planning to move home just yet—I need to be physically capable of doing what John expects—but I don’t think it’s right to just give up on a marriage so easily. I meant my vows when I said “until death do us part,” and this is only the second…okay second-ish time that this has happened. And well, I did forget to follow the rules so I can be held sort of, maybe, kind of responsible. Can’t I?

“What’s going on in that brain, little one?” Grant asks as he takes a step closer and touches the worry creases on my forehead. Embarrassed, I try to snap out of my self-absorption.

“Nothing important,” I say with what I hope looks like a genuine smile.

“Karly, we need to discuss the situation with your husband.”

“Look,” I say, holding my hand up for them to stop, “I know what you’re going to say, but he’s not as bad as you think. He just had a bad day.”

“You think he has a right to beat you up because he had a bad day?”

“No,” I say quickly, not really sure how to respond, “but, well, I sort of made things worse because dinner wasn’t ready.” Both men look even angrier at that, and I struggle to find the words to explain. “I knew the rules and I didn’t follow them.”

The color has completely drained from Grant’s face, but it’s the frustration in Bryce’s tone that has me confused.

“What about the scars on your stomach? What were they for?”

I want to deny having scars, but obviously Bryce saw more of me in the hospital than I’d realized. “They’re old. Really old,” I say defensively.

“So you’re saying your husband didn’t cause them?” Bryce seems unnaturally calm, but I find myself backing away just a little bit. I don’t want to have this conversation, but strangely I don’t want to lie to them either.

“No, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that…um…well, it was a long time ago, and it won’t happen again because I know the rules now.”

“So he punished you for not
knowing
the rules?”

“It wasn’t like that,” I say in a small voice as horrifying memories of that day parade through my brain. And suddenly the fear I’d felt back then floods through me. I gasp for air, unable to suck in enough oxygen to be able to force the memories back. “I don’t think about it. I never think about it. Don’t make me think about it.”

A sob wrenches from my throat at the same moment that warm arms wrap around me. After a moment Bryce places his hand at the back of my head easing me more deeply into his embrace. I hang on tight as the terror of that time seeps back into my brain. I’m trembling violently as I finally let myself remember exactly what happened back then.

“It’s okay,” Bryce says in that soothing deep voice. “You’re safe here. We won’t ever let anyone hurt you again.”

I’m trying to find my sarcasm. These men are both Doms in the BDSM lifestyle. Hurting women is what they do. But somehow I’m not frightened of either of them. Somehow, they’ve become men I trust even though I can’t explain why. Somehow, I want them to help me through this.

And somehow, despite all the research I did on Doms,
somehow
I feel safe here.

* * * *

Grant was shaking with anger. She’d once accused Doms of brainwashing their subs into letting them abuse them. Did she not see the parallels between her unfounded accusations and her own relationship?

Perhaps she had on a subconscious level. Judging by the way she was crying now, a lot of the truths she’d been trying desperately to hide from were becoming frightening realities in her mind. Grant nodded to Bryce as he lifted Karly into his embrace and carried her to the daybed they’d set up in the living area. She’d complained long and loud about not being an invalid, but more often than not she’d fallen asleep on the comfortable surface during the day.

Today she didn’t argue, not even when Bryce lay down beside her and cradled her with his body. Karly, even when she’d been physically incapacitated, had such a large, confident personality that he had never really noticed how tiny she was in physical stature. Cuddled into his brother’s embrace, she suddenly seemed far smaller and infinitely more vulnerable. It angered him even more to realize that she’d been forced to curb her own natural behavior around a man who supposedly loved her.

Eventually she quieted, and for a moment he thought she’d fallen asleep. It wasn’t until she tried to crawl out of Bryce’s embrace—a move Bryce discouraged with soft caresses—that he realized her embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” she said shakily as Grant handed her a soft cloth to dry her face. He’d been surprised how badly he’d wanted to touch her. That was partially why he’d handed her the cloth rather than dry her face the way he would have for a submissive, but he was also fairly certain she wouldn’t accept his help. He was surprised she was letting Bryce hold her, but it was something she definitely needed. Grant didn’t want to do anything that might make her refuse the solace his brother offered.

“No need to be sorry, baby,” Bryce said quietly. He seemed surprised that he’d used such an intimate term of endearment, but he didn’t try to take it back. “We’ve told you before that we’re here to help you. Anything you need.”

“I’m still sorry to have dragged you into my mess.” Bryce seemed ready to argue, but she cut him off. “And I’m really sorry for the newspaper articles. I thought I was protecting my sister.”

Grant glanced at his brother before replying. He’d always prided himself on his honesty, but Karly seemed so fragile at the moment that he hesitated to admit how much she’d hurt him. Bryce shook his head slightly, but Grant wasn’t certain if his brother was suggesting he drop the subject or not change his instincts on how to deal with life. In the end he needed to be honest with himself, as well as with Karly.

“I won’t deny you hurt us, Karly. You upset a lot of innocent people, yet I think we both understand your motivation. Trying to protect your sister is nothing to be ashamed of, but after everything that has happened you must realize where the accusations of brainwashing and controlling a woman with fear came from.”

“But Robert—”

“Was not a good Dom. He isn’t representative of what our lifestyle is about. You tarred us all with the same brush while ignoring what your husband was doing to you.”

Her bottom lip quivered like she might cry again, but slowly she nodded her agreement.

“I need to get a divorce.” She gasped a deep breath, almost as if she couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud.

“Yes, you do,” Grant said as he knelt on the floor in front of her. He touched her face with a single finger, somehow reining in the impulse to press a kiss to her lips. “Anything you need, little one. We’re here to help.”

The tears began to fall again as she whispered a thank-you.

My hands are shaking violently as I try to push the key into the lock on the front door of my house. I have my sister, her boyfriend, Chris, and Grant and Bryce with me for support—and I suspect for protection, as well—but it doesn’t stop the nerves bombarding me.

It’s been nearly four weeks since my husband’s violent attack. It took a lot of convincing, but I finally see the situation more clearly. Bryce and Grant wouldn’t let me hide from the truth. I even hated them for a while, but now I think of them as two of my closest friends. I never imagined that would happen. Bryce, Grant, Casey, and even Chris, have gone above and beyond what I expected from friends and family. As much as I appreciate their support, I really hope this is the last thing I will need for them to help me with.