Page 80 of Wild and Unruly
“You didn’t fuck anything up,” I assure her, unable to tell her that this opened a can of worms, not when she was suffering.
“I did,” she says, noting Mitch coming to sit in the armchair. She doesn’t say anything about my brother’s presence and looks at me. “I shouldn’t have investigated him. I had no idea of what he was really capable of.”
“Was he here?”
She nods, and that’s when I see something that makes my blood pressure spike. Lifting her chin gently, I note fingerprints—actual fingerprints—left around the column of her throat. “Bonnie, did he choke you?”
My words unleash another wave of fresh tears, making it impossible for her to breathe or explain anything. I feel like I’m going to murder this motherfucker right now and look to my brother. “We have to go to the hospital.”
He gives me a raised brow. “You wanna do this legit?”
His question isn’t condescending, and I know without asking what he means. Did I want the police involved? Frankly, no. I want to find Tommy, look him dead in the eyes, and lethim know that he’ll never touch another living being ever again.
But…Bonnie needs medical attention.
I clear my throat. “For now.”
Bonnie doesn’t say another word as I lift her into my arms, carry her to my truck, and settle her beside me. Not when we enter the ER, and she’s admitted overnight, she keeps quiet. I watch over her, wishing for the days when she was all sunshine and happiness, where she was never able to keep her thoughts to herself.
I will get us back to that if it’s the last thing I do.
31
bonnie
Being backin Acton was like finally taking a deep breath after nearly drowning.
I was currently lying in Stetson’s bed, watching his back move up and down with each breath, taking in the morning sun streaming through the curtains and the smell of the fresh coffee that was brewing in the kitchen.
I’ve only been back one night and already the relief that grips me makes my eyes water with tears I don’t want to shed anymore. I have never cried so much in my entire life.
Everything felt so wrong before I got here like I was on the outside looking into my own life. Watching as I confronted my boss and quit my job, standing by while Tommy assaulted me, holding a hand over my mouth as Mason yelled at me for not leaving things alone, cringing as I was questioned by the police in the hospital.
That was mortifyingly humbling.
I had been admitted for a night to keep an eye on a concussionthat they assumed I had. They were right. Along with that, my ribs were bruised from where he shoved me against my door, three stitches in my forehead by my hairline from him ramming my head into the wall, and severe bruising…kind of everywhere.
Each box they ticked off, I watched as Stetson’s anger grew and grew, and when they finally left, after they took their pictures and my statement about what Tommy had done, I begged Stetson to crawl into the too-tiny hospital bed and hold me. He did so without reservation.
Mitch was a welcome surprise on our little journey home, and the next morning, when he showed up to help us out of the hospital, he had two suitcases full of my stuff ready to go back to Acton.
I was relieved to hear I wasn’t heading home, that we didn’t even have to have that conversation for Stetson to know I didn’t want to return to my apartment.
Or maybe he was being protective. But either way, I was overcome with gratitude.
Before we left town, I called Virginia and explained what happened. She—surprisingly—told me not to worry about anything and to take care of myself. I told her to stay safe, knowing that Tommy was completely unhinged right now.
The next phone call was to my mother, who was horrified by what happened and wanted to see me immediately. I wanted to see her too, but I couldn’t face my brother. I was so disappointed and angry with him that I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about our relationship.
Mom assured me that going with Stetson was a good idea and promised she would come see me soon. I let more tears fallas those words settled over me because it felt like she was accepting what I’d chosen as my life.
And my life, hopefully, was in Acton.
Stetson’s steady breath changes, and he turns, stretching his arms above his head before his right arm reaches out, searching for me. Gently, I grab a hold of his hand, and he turns, giving me a sleepy smile. Of course, I look like shit, so his smile is quickly washed away with anger at what Tommy made me look like.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” he rasps, moving closer to me and gently pulling my body to his. I’m still sore everywhere, like I just got the shit beat out of me by Rocky Balboa himself, but I move into his arms regardless.
“I don’t know about gorgeous.” I crack a small smile. “More like a bruised peach.”
