Page 115 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
All I wanted to do was hold her in my arms and tell her everything would be okay. But I was scared to touch her because I didn’t know where it hurt, and I didn’t want to cause her any more pain than she was already in.
I wanted to fix her. Put all her broken pieces back together. Show her that there were good men in the world who weren’t scumbags that beat up women or fucking rapists who took what wasn’t theirs.
But all I could do was hold her hand and let her know I was there for her. I felt so fucking helpless. I needed to do something. Anything. “What do you need from me? What can I do?”
She choked on a sob. “I stabbed him in the neck, Ridge.”
My head shot up. I hadn’t expected that.
“I reached for the knife I kept under my mattress and stabbed him. That’s how I got away.”
I hoped that motherfucker was dead, but I kept that thought to myself and let her talk.
“I ran out the door, screaming for help, and I fell through that step. You know… with the rotting wood….” She started crying again. “And I was trying to free myself, to get up and run, but I was shaking so badly, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t get away. I kept thinking he would catch me. I kept screaming for someone to help me. The neighbors must have called the cops….”
I stroked the underside of her wrist while she talked, and with each word, I found it harder and harder to breathe.
Anger warred with guilt, and I wanted to break down and cry like a fucking baby. But she needed me to be strong for her, so that’s what I tried to do.
“I was so focused on getting away that I forgot all about Wren,” she said, her voice quavering on the words. “I just left her in that house… alone.” Sobs racked her body. “She’s… just… a… ba-by…. Oh god.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and I kept stroking her wrist and holding her hand in both of mine, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do or say to make this better.
She let out a ragged breath. “Ridge.”
It sounded like a cry for help, and it shot straight through that beating organ in my chest. Evie was looking for answers, a way to make sense of what happened to her, and what she did in self-defense.
“You were in survival mode, baby. Your only goal was to get away from him. And that’s how it should be.” I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “If you’re drowning, you can’t rescue someone else.”
“I know,” she whispered. “Because I’m drowning.”
“No, you’re not,” I said sharply, an edge to my voice. “You’re going to be okay, do you hear me? Everything is going to be okay.” Desperation seeped into every word as if by willing it to happen, it would. “I’m going to keep you afloat.”
She shook her head. “You can’t. You have to let me go, Ridge.”
The fuck was she talking about? I tightened my grip on her hand as if holding on tightly enough would keep her from slipping away.
Don’t you dare fucking leave me.
I shoved my own fears deep inside and focused on Evie, trying to find the words to reassure her. “I’m not letting you go. I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever. I’m going to stay by your side through it all.”
I brushed back a piece of her hair, being as gentle as possible. Evie’s eyes were heavy, fighting sleep. “We’ll get through this together, Evie. You and me, baby.”
Evie closed her eyes and didn’t respond. I was half-tempted to shake her and beg her to tell me that she’d come back fighting. That she wouldn’t let this asshole ruin her. Ruinus.
A nurse came in to check Evie’s vitals and told me I needed to come back tomorrow during visiting hours. As if they’d done me a special favor by allowing me to be here.
“I’m not leaving her,” I told the nurse. “I don’t want her to be alone.”
The nurse pointed to Evie. She was asleep.
“She needs her rest,” the nurse said, giving me a little pat on the shoulder. “Go home, get some sleep, and come back tomorrow.” Her tone was kind, but her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.
I could have fought her on it and caused a scene, but I was trying to do the best thing for Evie. The nurse was right. Evie needed her rest.
Before I left, I leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.” Even though she couldn’t hear me, I wanted to leave her with those words.
* * *
The next day I showed up at the hospital with the mother of all hangovers, a heaping dose of self-loathing, and a big-ass bouquet of flowers.
