Page 36 of Breaking Storm

Dr. Rossman adjusts an IV and says, “I have you hooked up to morphine.” He puts something in my hand. “Click the button when it gets worse. It will only discharge a certain amount every three hours, so you can’t get more than the given dosage.”

As Rossman pulls the sheet down, he asks Sean and Teagan to leave, but I croak out, “No. Stay.”

He lifts the gown, and both turn their backs to us. Rossman checks the catheter, my legs, and then lowers the gown, covering me with the blanket. He tells Sean and Teagan they can turn around.

Gripping the bed rail, Dr. Rossman mentions, “I’ll go over your injuries later. For now, I want you to get as much rest as possible. It will help the healing process.”

He scribbles something in my chart, hooks it at the end of the bed, and pats Sean on the shoulder on the way out. Teagan is at my side. It hurts to see her distressed face looking down at me. Salted tears streak her cheeks. I can’t fathom what I look like. James and the assholes did a number on me this time. The worst yet.

Teagan speaks softly. “Can I get you anything, Joey?” I tell her no.

Sean steps up. “I’m going to take Teagan to the house to pick up some things.” I shake my head. “We’re coming back. Do you want me to get anything specific from the house for you?”

My eyes droop until they close, listening to the last of the conversation.

Teagan whispers, “Yes, sleep. I’ll bring the blanket from the bedroom. It’s one of your favorites.”

How did she know that?

I smile at the thought that she even noticed. It’s a blanket from my childhood—a reminder of my mom.

Their footsteps begin to fade, but Teagan hurries back, kisses me on the forehead and says, “I’m so glad you came back to us.”

After that, they disappear and I’m left in this cold, drab room. It doesn’t matter though, because Teagan kissed and touched me. Not through coercion. Or bribery. She did it because she wanted to and that’s enough for me.

Chapter 15

WHEN I OPEN THE DOOR to find a bloody and an almost lifeless Joey, my heart leaps out of my chest. I’ve never seen so much blood. His face is swollen beyond recognition. Tears burst from my eyes, and I run inside for a pillow and my phone. I’m letting him know everything will be fine, but my tears and alarm at his appearance contradict my words.

Thanks to Sean, we get Joey to the hospital, and they whisk him away to surgery. Disbelief doesn’t even describe how shocked I am regarding his condition. Who would do something like that? I can’t even imagine the pain he’s in. Welts and bruises litter his arms, so I can only assume the rest of him is in the same condition. My tears stop for a short while, but when an image of his destroyed body on the porch comes to mind, it beckons them again.

In the waiting room, I press my fist to my mouth, staring out the window. It’s dark out, and clouds cling to the moon. Sean is next to me, fixated on the dingy tiles. People crowd into the room, prepared to hear about a loved one’s surgery. There’s dried blood on Sean’s and my hands and arms. Sean isn’t immune to sorrow and has tried and failed to hide his tears. If this is heartbreaking for me, then this is devastating to Sean. They’re childhood friends, and Sean would do anything for Joey. Anything. And watching them together, I’m sure Joey would do the same.

Since Joey and I have had sex, it has twisted my emotions into something unrecognizable. His strength and appeal have left me dazed and exhausted from sex. Joey’s goal is to leave me satisfied. His hands and mouth are bewitching, and my body falls victim to his ministrations. I thought I hated Joey, yet it seems I hate what he did, and not necessarily him. I’m strangely fascinated and want to get to know him better. The fact he hasn’t done anything against my will after our wedding night is enough for me to question who he really is. He has a commanding presence, and when he speaks, it’s a demand. Not a question or request. I should abhor him for it. At first, I detested his overpowering control, but now, I’m flattered.

Sean nudges my arm, offering me a cup of coffee. I thank him and take a sip. It’s dirty and bitter, but I need something in me. He sits back and stretches out his legs.

I shift in the chair, half facing him, and ask, “What did Joey tell you?” His eyebrows cave in. “Before the doctor was about to examine him.”

Sean shakes his head. “Nothing important.”

He’s lying, but I won’t push the subject, so instead, I add, “Who would do this to him?”

Sean crosses his arms over his chest. “James.”

This makes me sit up straight and gasp. “What? James? His father?”

He gives me a sideways glance. “Yeah.” Now I have his full attention. “James has abused Joey in one way or another since birth.”

On the last sip of coffee, the grounds coat my tongue, and it feels like this conversation—nasty and disgusting.

Sean continues without me asking. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, so I’ll set the record straight. They’re true. Joey is a product of rape, and James didn’t stop there. He put both through hell.”

Another bout of tears invades my vision. I dab at my eyes and nose. I’ve heard the rumors but knowing the truth tears at my heart.

Crushing the Kleenex in my hand and pressing my lips together, I say, “James is the devil. What would provoke him to do this to Joey?” He just shrugs. “What happened to his mom?”

He evades my gaze. “You’ll have to ask Joey that question.”

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