Shattered & Mended (4 page)

I take a moment and try to remember where I left the conversation. “Well, I went into Willie’s to grab a few beers. I took a seat in the booth in the back corner to avoid the crowd. I was sitting down taking back a beer and staring at my phone, debating if I should call Allie or wait to see if she was going to call me.” I’m not sure if it’s the food or what, but the information is coming to me easier now; I’m not having to think as hard to remember every little detail. “I was punching Allie’s number when out the corner of my eye; I saw a bare, tan thigh. I looked up and saw this girl who’s been stalking me since I’ve returned home. I only talked to her in the beginning to be friendly, but no matter how many times I blew her off and told her I wasn’t interested, she kept pursuing me every time we crossed paths.”

Lucille nods her head slowly as my bouncing leg picks up speed. She crosses her arms over her chest and nibbles on the side of her bottom lip. “Sophie, huh? It was Sophie that wouldn’t leave you alone?” I nod. “I knew it! That girl’s bad news. I’ve told Allie for years that girl was gonna get her in trouble one day,” she spits. This is what I’ve needed all along, for her to be the mother she has always been. And I know her anger shouldn’t excite me, but it does. Finally, she’s back on my side, where she should’ve been all along. I’ve always expected her to have my back. She always has. 

“Yeah. I’m not attracted to her, never have been. When I left the house, I was livid. I forgot my wallet and only had a ten on me. I wanted to get the argument Allie and I had off my mind. When I ran out of money
,
Sophie offered me drinks, and I accepted. After I had a pretty decent buzz, we danced. I regretted doing it then, and I sure as fuck regret it now … I’ll spare you the details about us on the dance floor, but I remember going back to the table and searching for my phone; I couldn’t find it. Sophie stayed at the booth and ordered another round for us while I went back out to the dance floor in search for my phone.”

Lucille pushes off the couch and paces the floor. Her hands are on her hips and her nostrils flare as she breathes. Her neck and face are turning a soft pink, and I can tell her blood’s boiling. “What do you remember after that, Wyatt? I need you to tell me everything, every little thing that you can remember.”

I plan on telling her everything, but unfortunately, I don’t remember much after that. “I looked for my phone for about ten minutes before I went back to the booth. I sat down and took the beer Sophie gave me, but that’s all I remember. Literally, everything after that beer is nonexistent in my brain. There’s nothing,” I continue.

She paces the floor faster, her pink tint turning red. “Shit. Lord, Jesus, forgive me … just … shit!” she mumbles.

“Listen, we’ve got to get you to a doctor. We’ve got to get you a drug test, and quick.

That little hussy. I can’t believe—”

“Already done,” I interrupt.

“What? When?” 

“After you informed me Sophie said we slept together. Even though I don’t remember sleeping with her, I remember waking up naked the morning we found Al.”

The red that’s consuming her neck and face is beginning to fade, just a little. Her body relaxes, and she falls into the recliner next to the couch. “Oh, thank you, Jesus,” she breathes, placing her hands over her heart. “Go on upstairs, take a shower, and get some rest,” she orders.

“I’m going to take a shower, but I’ll be back down once I’m finished. I need to get back to the hospital. I want to be there if she asks for me.”

“No. You need sleep. Our bodies aren’t made to stay awake for days at a time, Wyatt. Clean up, rest up, and I’ll wake you up if I get notice that her condition’s changed.” She waves me off to the stairs.

“Good or bad, promise?”

She nods. “Good or bad, I promise.”

Seven

~Wyatt~

The vibration from my phone startles me, waking me from a much-needed, deep sleep. Seeing an unknown number
, I jump up and answer immediately, thinking it could be Allie calling from the hospital. “Hello,” I answer.

“Hey, Cooper. Can we meet up and talk about what happened Friday?” FUCK! Her slutty voice causes me to cringe and vomit to rise into my mouth. Dashing across the hall, I spit it into the sink so that I can answer her.

“We have nothing to talk about. Not a fucking word,” I seethe.

“Uh, yeah, we kind of do,” she retorts. “Allie is in a hospital bed, possibly because of us. We need to figure out what happened and what she saw. My door was wide open the morning we found her; you know … someone was in my apartment.”

I’ve never hated anyone, but I fucking despise her. She’s got some nerve calling here and giving me attitude. “I don’t know what happened between us, or what Allie saw, but you hear me now
; I will find out. You fucking hear me?” I roar. Instantly, she disconnects the call and the line goes silent. Good. I have nothing to say to her.

I check my phone for the time and
see its 8pm. Great, I’ve been out for over eight hours. Looks like I slept through my alarm, which I set for two p.m., not eight. Looking at the phone, I see there’s a voicemail notification at the top of my screen, but I don’t remember receiving a call since Allie’s been in the hospital. Then again, my phone’s been dead since Sophie brought it to the hospital Saturday morning.

Sitting on the side of the bed
,
I slip on my shoes and call my mailbox. The voicemail is dated Saturday 3:15am. My heart drops into my stomach at the sound of her voice, her choked up and worried, beautiful fucking voice. “Hey, it's me. I'm really sorry our argument ended the way it did, but I'm really worried about you.” There’s a short pause and a few sniffs, and I know she’s crying. “It's late and I haven't heard from you ... Will you call me if you get this, please?” Allie pleads. Why am I just now getting this? Sophie’s right; we have shit to talk about. I need to know what the hell happened between us, but I’ll deal with her after I know Allie and I are fine. 

I go downstairs and it
’s pitch black. I peek out the window and see that Lucille’s car isn’t in the driveway. I flip on the lights, pull my phone out, and search for local cab companies. I find the closest one near Jacksonville and call them up. My jeep is still at Sophie’s apartment, hopefully. Surely, they haven’t towed it. Wouldn’t someone have called me if they did? Fuck it; I don’t even care right now. I just want to get to Onslow. I call for a cab, and since they’re the only company that’ll come this far out of town, it’s going to be at least forty-five minutes before they get here.

***

An hour and a half later
,
I arrive at Onslow Memorial. I rush up to the eighth floor and ask if Allie is allowed visitors, but the receptionist tells me Allie’s no longer on their floor. She’s been moved but they can’t—rather they won’t—tell me where they’ve moved her to. I wore a hat for a disguise, and as soon as the lady asks for my ID, I turn away and leave. I take my phone out and call the only person I know to call. Lucille doesn’t answer either time I call her, and then it dawns on me that she’s working. I take the elevator all the way down to the emergency room and search for her. I find her wheeling a patient back out into the waiting room. “Lucille,” I call.

She looks up, surprised to see me. “Why aren’t you at home resting? I told you that I’d wake you if anything changed,” she scolds.

“I rested for eight hours. I’m good to go,” I begin. “I went up to visit her and discovered she’s not in her room; it’s perfectly clean,” I say, my eyes wide and brow arched.

“Oh, yeah, but it’s no big deal. She’s stable, so they moved her down a few floors, out of the ICU,” she informs me, waving her hand as if it really is no big deal. 

“It’s change, Lucille. You promised good or bad, remember? Will you tell me which room she’s in?” I virtually beg.

Lucille parks her patient and motions for me to follow her to her station. She pulls out her pen and a notepad. She scribbles down some numbers and places the note in my hand. “She’s here, but you need to know she doesn’t look good. Also, she doesn’t remember the fall or anything that happened Friday night, at all. The argument y’all had; she doesn’t remember,” she says. Stepping closer to me, she reaches up on her tiptoes and whispers in my ear, “She didn’t even remember she was pregnant. They had to do an ultrasound just to prove it to her. So please, don’t push anything on her, okay? And one more thing, she’s not having a baby.” She steps away and brings her hand up in front of her face, putting up two fingers before she adds, “She’s having two … twins!” Wow. Really? I should be thrilled that she and the babies are doing well, but I’m not. Fury is what’s in my blood. She gives away our one and only daughter and is having two with that dickweed, Blake? Holy fuck … I’m at a loss for words. Two babies? I swallow back my anger, remembering she’s the only person who matters right now; not our baby or their babies—just her and her wellbeing. We’ll worry about all the other shit once she’s back home and fully recovered …

I take the elevator up to the third floor and race across the entire damn hospital to get to Allie’s room. Thankfully, no one stops to ask for my ID; I wouldn’t have stopped even if they had. I race down the hall and skim the doors for her room number, room 323. Her door is cracked, so I place my ear close to the door and listen to see if she’s alone before I enter. Thankfully, I hear nothing but the television playing softly in the background. I push the door open and quietly close it behind me. As I turn around, all oxygen escapes my lungs at the sight of her. Her head is bandaged up, her eyes are black, her lips are crimson stained, and her arms are covered in multi-colored bruises. She doesn’t have any monitors hooked up to her like she did the first time I saw her, and all that’s left is the IV in her hand. Her head is lying off to the side while her legs are extended down the
bed and her hands rest over the cover on top of her stomach. 

I tiptoe over to the rocking chair that’s sitting in the corner of her room. The chair’s too far away for my liking. I pick it up as quietly as I can to bring to the side of her bed and place it on the floor. Once I’m seated, I take her in with my eyes, wondering if I am truly the reason she’s here in this condition.

After listening to her voicemail, I’m pretty positive I am. Knowing Allie, she went searching for me. And low and behold, she probably found me obliviously balls deep in her best fucking friend. I take my hands and rest them on top of hers. Then, I bow my head, rest it on the side of her stomach, and cry out a silent prayer. I pray to God that she didn’t see anything, and if she did, that she’ll forgive me for the things I have no recollection of doing. Because living a life without her isn’t a life worth living at all.

As I’m drowning in my sorrow, I feel Allie’s hand slip out from under mine. She pulls her hand up and rests it on the back of my head. “Wyatt, what’s the matter?” she asks. Her voice is weak and strangled. I lift my head up and look into her big, beautiful eyes. And to my surprise, her eyes aren’t filled with anger or hate; they’re filled with love and concern.

“Oh, God, butterfly … I’m so sorry,” I sob into her side. Her fingers glide through the back of my
hair.

“For what?” she asks.

“For this.” I pull my head up and motion along her beat-up body. “For you being in here. For the pain you’ve been through, the pain you’re in now. I’m just—I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” I lean up and kiss her, but I don’t receive the reaction I was hoping for. Her lips fall down into a frown. “Wyatt, you can’t do that … you can’t kiss me.” What the hell does she mean I can’t kiss her? She always falls into my kiss, every time.

“Why not?” I ask. 

“I’m with Blake, you know that.”

“No. I don’t know that, actually,” I argue. She knows just as well as I do, she’s mine.

“Wyatt, I don’t feel like fighting, okay? If you came here to argue, just leave.”

She’s got another thing coming if she thinks I’m leaving her side. “Al, I’ve been away from you for too long as it is. Hell’s flames will turn into ice before I let you out of my sight.” Her frown turns into a lazy smile. She uses her hands and weakly pushes herself up the bed, gasping as she does so.

“You okay? You need me to get someone?” I ask, concerned. She holds out her index finger and slowly releases a breath. Impatiently, I wait for her to finish exhaling, but I’m about ready to bolt my ass out of here and drag a doctor in here to check on her.

Just as I stand, she begins to speak. “No, I’ll be fine. They say I have a few cracked ribs. It’s nothing I can’t handle. Besides, there’s nothing they can do for it.” She winces in pain as she attempts to shrug. “What’s wrong with you? You look anxious,” she asks, acknowledging me drying my palms on my jeans. I feel like the temperature in this room has risen about sixty degrees. I’m sweating profusely, my hands are shaky, and sweat’s gathering on my forehead. “Look at me,” Allie orders. Nervously, I turn all my attention to her. “Why are you so edgy? You look like you’re about to be sick.” I am. I’m not sure what to say to her. I’d feel guilty as shit if I just sat here and talked to her as if nothing’s happened. Do I bring up what happened Friday and Saturday or not?

“I don’t know why you’re acting all weird and shit. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know,” I say, the beat of my heart throbbing within my ears.

“Spill it,” she demands. 

Reaching out, she rubs the tips of her fingers along my forearm, sending chills throughout my entire body. Her touch doesn’t help calm my heart rate at all. Hell no. It sends my heart into overdrive, beating faster than a jackrabbits. Fuck. “I’m sorry for turning my back on you, again. It’s just, once you told me you were pregnant and had put our baby up for adoption … I got so mad I couldn’t see straight,” I express.

She looks taken aback by something I’ve said. “What did you just say?” she asks, speaking through clenched teeth. 

“When you told me you were pregnant and about the adoption, I—”

“I know what you said,” she says, cutting me off. 

Her anger bemuses me; I don’t understand it. “I told you about Lacy?” she asks. Her voice is shaky and tears begin to fill her eyes.

“Lacy? Is that her name?” I question.

“Yes, our daughter. Well, not your daughter; she never was,” she replies. She pulls the covers up and over her face.

“Don’t do that, Al. Don’t hide.” I reach out, tug the covers down and reveal her face.

“Shit … I can’t believe I told you about her,” she mumbles.

“What do you mean, you can’t believe you told me? I have a right to know, yeah?” 

“You would’ve had a right to know if you hadn’t left us, but unfortunately, you did. So no, Lacy is none of your concern.”

“Bullshit. You know why I left, Allie.”

“Yeah, fucking four and a half years later,” she argues.

Gah! She’s so damn frustrating! Yes, I made a mistake. I left her, but my intentions were good. And yes, I’m paying for it. Life has grabbed me by the balls, twisted them in a complete fucking circle, and made me aware of the pain I caused this beautiful woman. Hell, I’ve felt the pain every second of every day that I’ve been away from her. In fact, the pain continues to consume me.

“Yes, I left. But dammit, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, but that’s in the past. I can’t go back and change it or I would. You said that you forgave me. Why do you continue to bring it up? You enjoy hurting me? Because you’re fucking killing me each time you mention it.”

“I’m killing you?” she asks, agitation coating her voice.

“Yeah, you are,” I respond.

She continuously nods her head, crosses her arms, and sucks her teeth. Then, she cocks her head and rips out the remaining pieces of my heart, the pieces she left behind after our argument Friday. “Welcome to the club, Wyatt Cooper. You killed me five years ago. The Allie you knew, she’s no more. I’m not the loving and forgiving person I once was. You left me here, pregnant and alone! You didn’t call. You didn’t write—nothing! I tried to forgive you, but how do you forgive the man who shattered your heart, stole the pieces, and backpacke
d them across the fucking world? You don’t.” Just when I thought the pain couldn’t get any worse, she pushes her dagger into the deep, dark pits of my stomach and digs that bastard as far as it’ll go. 

“You have to know that when I left you, I honestly believed I was helping you, not hurting you. For Christ’s sake, Al, I would never intentionally hurt you. I came back for you … only you. Make things easier on yourself and just give me another chance, because I’m never going to give up. I’ve already told you, I’m not going anywhere; I’m here to stay. Believe me when I tell you that I’ll never hurt you again.” 

“Yeah, sure. I mean, you’re loyal, right?” Sarcasm fills her voice as she laughs evilly. I nod, because I am loyal. “Ha! You’ve left me every time I’ve ever needed you—just like Friday.” Her voice fades as she speaks. Suddenly, her facial expression turns from mildly upset to completely livid. She begins panting and shakes her head. “Oh, fuck, this is what the doctors warned me about. I’m so fucking stupid. All it took was you coming into my room and pissing me off,” she babbles under her breath. She pulls her hands up to the sides of her head and squeezes her eyes shut.