Her Journey (Her Series Book 2) (26 page)

The morning of the fourth day, the doctor came in to give me a final once over. Deeming that I was ready to go home, he removed the staples from the C-section and told me I could find a ride home. Home. Where was that? I had no where. I had no one.

I wasn’t ready to leave the hospital. I was still in so much pain, but I didn’t want to stay any longer than I had to. Hospitals brought back horrible memories and every second spent in the clinical room made me want to jump out the window.

Technically, there was nothing left they could do for me anyway. Everything was just going to take time to heal. Lots of time. Lots of patience.

When I felt the burn of tears in my throat, I fought them back. I wasn’t giving in. Nothing in life had defeated me yet, I wasn’t giving in after this either. Self-pity didn’t get anyone anywhere. Taking a deep breath, a new plan came to me. I did have a friend. One. He was hiding out like I would be.

A phone call later and I was ready to get out of the hospital.

Two hours later, Monk strolled into the room looking as pretty as I did.

“Boy, do we make a pair!” I laughed at the bruises on his face that looked not so different from my own.

“Woman, you trying to get me killed?” Monk looked over his shoulder before spinning around making sure there was no one to overhear me. I giggled and shook my head.

“Trust me, you’re in the clear. Now give me those clothes so we can get out of this joint.” As much as I wished I could change by myself, I wasn’t quite there. My nurse came in to help me and Monk waited outside the room while I dressed in sweat pants and a baggy sweatshirt. Piling my hair in a messy bun to keep it out of the way, I slowly walked to the wheelchair Monk had wheeled to the door for me. Normally I’d object, but I needed the help.

As Monk wheeled me to the elevator, I slid on sunglasses. They were my only shield against prying, questioning eyes. I nearly laughed as we descended when I looked up and realized that Monk had done the same thing. He pulled a ball cap from his back pocket and pulled it over his head, helping shield his face as well.

With assistance from the nurse, I got into the front seat of Wrench’s car. When Monk sat in the driver’s seat, I turned to look at him. “Why are you driving Wrench’s car?”

“Because I don’t have one and he won’t even notice.” Monk smiled reassuringly. Sitting back in the seat, I closed my eyes.

“Whatever. Just get me out of here.” I had already explained my plan to him. He hadn’t necessarily liked it, but had agreed to go along with it when I threatened to not tell him where I was going.

The drive out of town was painful as every jostle and bump of the road sparked a new point of pain. The nurse had given me painkillers not long before Monk arrived so I prayed they’d kick in. I’d lied about the amount of pain I’d been in whenever the doctors and nurses asked. I wanted to get out of the damn place even though I had no where to go. Hospitals only reminded me of losing my mother. The memories were still raw even though it had been over a year since I’d lost her.

Finally, Monk pulled up to a hotel on the outskirts of Phoenix. It was a long-term place that would be easy for me to hide out at until I was back on my feet. When Monk held out all my new cards I had requested replacements for, I nearly cried in relief. They were my lifeline. With money I could get so much farther and take care of myself. I had asked him over the phone to see if any had arrived in the mail. I didn’t know who checked the mail or where it was taken, but apparently he did. Once I took the cards, Monk ran around the car to help me out, stopping to pull a bag from the trunk. Who knows what was in it because what little Wrench had taken from my apartment on the night of the breakin had been left in the crappy hotel I was staying at before the fake wedding. It was much easier for me to get out of the car than it had been to get in, so the pain killers had to be working.

Resting a hand on the middle of his chest, I planted a kiss on Monk’s cheek. “Thank you for everything. I owe you one. Well, many more than one.”

“I
will
be calling in those favors one day so don’t forget.” Monk winked. With a smile in return, I nodded before heading into the hotel, alone. Monk had to get back before someone noticed he was gone. He’d done more than enough for me as it was. I didn’t ask how anyone else was, even though I really wanted to know. He had agreed not to tell anyone where I was, but if they worried he would tell them that I was some place safe. I didn’t have a phone, I didn’t have any connections to Tormented Souls Motorcycle Club or anyone in that clubhouse anymore. No one had reason to bother me. No one had reason to look for me.

One slow step at a time, I made my way to the front desk to check in, dragging the bag Monk gave me along behind me. After checking in, I looked at the map to figure out where my room was. It had to be the farthest room away from the front desk. The little punk that checked me in probably thought it was funny. The walk took forever; I even had to stop and rest against the wall a few times, but I eventually made it to my room. Once inside, I closed and locked the door, pulled the curtains closed and then collapsed on the bed. I was exhausted and in pain, but I’d made it. Away from everything and anyone that could hurt me anymore. I was back on familiar ground. Sure, I was alone and recovering, but I could take care of myself. It certainly wouldn’t be the first and most likely wouldn’t be the last time.

It was hell, plain and simple. Taking care of a wound, making myself get up and walk, going to get food. The day after I arrived, I walked to the nearby drug store to stock up on more feminine products. My body was still dealing with the aftermath of giving birth, even though I hadn’t ever seen or held the babies. I knew they weren’t mine, but I still missed them. They’d been with me for the previous seven months.

Two days of struggling and I finally figured that if I walked to a deli next door for food, I was killing two birds with one stone. Food and walking. They’d told me I had to make sure I walked after the C-section. When I got back, I would sit in the bathtub and give myself a sponge bath as good as I was able too, keeping my cast dry and my C-section incision clean. Changing clothes was a nightmare and sometimes took a few attempts until I could get undressed or dressed, a lot of cussing and sweating the entire time.

An entire week of eating deli sandwiches was horrid. I hadn’t been a big fan of cold sandwiches before and after that week, I could go the rest of my life without one. Food was a hot commodity though and that was the only place I felt confident enough to make it to. It was that or the vending machine, but I didn’t have cash so that really didn’t help. After seven days, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was feeling stronger and able to walk farther so I attempted to walk the other direction. To my surprise, I found a lovely fast food burger joint. It was more than twice the distance of the deli, but it was so worth it when that delicious, hot, greasy fry hit my tongue. The entire meal was gone in minutes. With a belly full of warm food, the walk back was harder because I was so sleepy.

Never again did I go to the deli. Each day I challenged myself to walk farther and find a new place to eat or at least make it to the burger joint. The deliciousness of it faded fast, but it still beat out the damn deli.

Three weeks after I arrived at the hotel, I no longer needed the feminine products, which was okay. Boredom was starting to get hard to break so I started using them to practice my basketball skills. Plus, it helped me get up and walk a bit to retrieve all my ‘ammo’ so I could keep playing.

Another three weeks slowly crept by and it was time to get the cast taken off my arm. Most of the bruises had faded enough you couldn’t see them. The cuts were mostly healed as well. Getting the cast off was one of the final steps in my plan. I would have to under go therapy to regain the strength in my hand and arm, but the itchy, hard cast would be gone. Sitting in the hotel room alone with an arm that itched had nearly driven me insane. Surprisingly I hadn’t clawed my way through the cast to get to the itch, although I had given serious thought to trying to cut it off myself a time or two. It was also time to see the OB/GYN and make sure my body had recovered and to get on birth control.

A cab rolled up outside my door and I walked quickly out to it, slipping in the backseat. I had just the day before found a little store that sold purses and wallets so I wouldn’t have to carry everything in my pockets anymore. Holding my new purse in my lap, I told the cabbie the doctor office’s address.

Monk or whoever had packed the bag had mostly packed pregnancy clothes, so I was wearing clothes that were too baggy on my much smaller frame. Another stop I would have to make at some point. I had pretty much lived in the hotel for over a month, but it was time to join the world again. I needed clothes, I needed a phone, and I really needed to figure out what I was going to do about my apartment. First things first, I needed to get through the doctor appointments.

Three long, exhausting hours later, I was done. I was free from the cast. I’d been poked and prodded in the lady parts, leaving the office with my very own IUD and an end of baby worries for a couple years. I’d tried to convince them to tie my tubes, but they’d insisted I was too young to make a decision like that. My middle finger itched to be shown, but I held back my sarcastic response. Like they knew something about my life I didn’t. Hell, they didn’t know
shit
about my life.

Sitting outside the office building, waiting for my cab, I thought about where my life was headed. It was an open road. Anything was possible. Nothing tying me down, keeping me from doing anything I wanted.

At least that’s what I kept trying to tell myself. In reality, I had spent much of my time in the hotel thinking about one thing. The one thing I’d tried
not
to think about.

Wrench.

After the abduction, I had been so upset over everything I had gone through. Being at the mercy of those men had been his fault. They were after
him
. I was just a pawn in their game of fucking with each other. Over time I realized, it wasn’t Wrench who was at fault, it was the cowards who took to beating a woman to get to a man instead of going after the man himself.

My heart still ached for him. My head tried to remind it that he had only come to visit me once while in the hospital, that obviously he had given up on us after one not-so-friendly conversation, but my heart didn’t care. Hell, who do I think I’m kidding? Every single part of my body and brain wanted to see him. I wanted…no, needed to know that he was okay, even if it was without me in his life.

When the cab finally arrived, an idea popped into my head and I gave the cabbie a different destination than I had originally planned.

~Patrick~

Six fucking weeks. It’d been six weeks since I had last seen Melia. Six weeks since I’d walked away, pissed off, from the woman I loved. When I returned, she was gone. Every single second, every single time I blinked, I thought about her. I’d tried almost everything to get my mind off her.
Almost
. I couldn’t even look at another woman. If I never saw her again, I still would never lay my hand on another woman again. After a taste of the heaven that was Melia, my dick didn’t want anything less. I didn’t either.

It’d also been six weeks since we’d raided Scrapes’s compound and killed that motherfucker. A few of our guys had been lost in the process, but it’d been worth while to be the last fucking thing he saw before he died. I’m sure one day the cops will come knocking, looking for some answers, but they won’t get any from us and we made sure to clean up after ourselves, leaving nothing for them to use against us.

I worked from the time I woke up to the time I went to sleep. I avoided as many people as I could. I didn’t want to socialize. I didn’t want to hang out. At night when I couldn’t sleep, I would sit in the nursery with the babies. We had turned Melia’s room into the nursery since it was so close to Ryan and Dirty’s room. They had a live-in nurse to help care for them. They’d stayed in the NICU for four weeks after they were born. Money talks and I made sure those babies had everything they could possibly need to come home where Ryan could spend all day with them. The room still smelled like Melia — at least, I thought so. The only things I had of hers, and they weren’t even really hers, were the babies. Before they’d come home, I sat in the room remembering the single night I’d gotten to sleep with my arms around Melia.

Sitting in the rocking chair, I would hold either baby and sometimes both and remember when they’d been in Melia’s belly. Without those little girls, I would’ve never met Melia. I’d even thought at times that without the babies, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with her, but that’s not true at all. Melia and her short fuse, in-your-face attitude was what made me fall for her. The way she cared for the men, cooking for them or helping out anyway she could even while pregnant. How she was as passionate in the bedroom as she was out.