Midwest Fighter (Kendall Family Book 2) (22 page)

* * *

W
ith a chuckle Nolan
removes his headgear and steps down from the ring. “Shit, James. You’re a
beast
—a force to be reckoned with. Between your skills that only keep improving and that fight with Freddie becoming a YouTube sensation, the MMA circuit isn’t going to know what the fuck to do with you.”

Sharlo once called me a beast too.
I wipe at the sweat on my face before my fingers settle in the thick hairs lining my jaw. “I should head back.”

“You’re better off here, working things out,” he insists, throwing me an ice-cold bottle of water from a cooler set up beside the ring. “You’re starting to make the nurses nervous the way you stalk around the hospital day and night.”

“I need to be there when she wakes.”

I swear to Christ I’ve said the same thing a hundred times to my sisters. When the doctors took the tube out of Sharlo’s throat and let her breathe on her own, they expected her to wake any moment. That “moment” stretched into days, the days into weeks. The doctors explained it was merely taking time for the swelling to go down and that her brain seemed to be functioning normally. It didn’t make me feel one goddamned bit better to hear that.

Teddy did what he could to work from the hospital until he was required to attend a meeting in London a few days ago. As many times as he tried to get a hold of Sharlo’s mother, she couldn’t be reached by phone or through her family, so I hired Charlie’s personal PI to look into it. So far he hasn’t been able to find a thing on her. It’s like the selfish bitch vanished into thin air.

Sofia was forced to return for her internship two days after the accident and caught a ride to the airport with Braden. Hunter and Angie stuck around a few days longer. Charlie left to finish his tour the day after that. Around a week later, Evelyn decided it was too stressful to be around me and left to join her husband in Kansas City.

Nolan was the only one to stick around and has been sleeping at Charlie and Evelyn’s beach house. At first I worried he felt an obligation to stay, then I started to appreciate the fact that there was someone to help me get through this shit-storm.

I step down from the ring and wipe my face with a towel. The shitty little gym Nolan rents out for a couple of hours each day is stark and cold, not nearly as welcoming as Manny’s, but I don’t have to deal with random dickheads like Freddie Vaughn, and it’s only a ten minute drive to where my entire world remains in the balance. And Nolan’s training helps to harness the anger that rages out of control whenever I think of Peter Sandeen killing my unborn child.

“I’m heading down to the city tomorrow to check in on the bar,” Nolan tells me as he slings his gym bag over his shoulder. “I know you don’t want to leave her and I get it, but you should really consider coming along. Evelyn will be back tomorrow night and could let you know if anything changed. It’d do you some good to break away and catch your breath. I hired a Prince tribute band for Saturday night. Someone with Minnesota roots can’t say no to Prince, right?”

“I have no interest in making Sharlo think I bailed on her for some wannabe.”

Nolan lets out a deep chuckle and shakes his head. “Fair enough. Can’t say I didn’t try. I was just hoping to find an excuse for you to shower and shave, maybe even trim that mop on your head.”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” I tell him as he starts for the door. It’s as close as I’ll get to thanking him. It’s impossible to be thankful for anything these days when the one thing I want is out of my reach.

“I’m bringing dinner later,” Nolan reminds me before slipping out the door.

I shower and change in the gym’s locker room before heading to the hospital on foot. Stepping out into the sweltering summer air does little to slow me down, and I’m by Sharlo’s side in no time.

Mere minutes after I arrive, Carrie, one of the regular nurses, comes strolling in with a bright smile. She’s one of the few who doesn’t annoy me and lets me stay in the room when she’s changing Sharlo’s dressings. She always goes out of her way to be nice to me.

“Good afternoon, James. It must be hot outside. You look…overheated.”

I wipe at my sweaty forehead with the back of my arm before titling my head in Sharlo’s direction. “Any changes?” I ask.

“I’m afraid not.” When she moves in behind me to adjust one of the machines, she squeezes my shoulder. “Her vitals are still strong, though. Your girl is one hell of a fighter.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” I mumble. Taking Sharlo’s hand in mine, I place a kiss on the back of it before stroking her arm. The doctor encouraged me to talk to her as much as possible. Though it felt a little stupid at first to talk to someone who can’t reply, I’ve convinced myself that my voice is going to bring her back and now I can’t shut up. “Hey, little butterfly. Ready for your exercises? By the way, I kicked Nolan’s ass again today. If he tries to tell you any differently, he’s lying through his teeth.”

“God, you’re so sweet,” Carrie tells me, sighing. “I wish I could find a guy that was as loyal as you. Sharlo’s a very lucky lady.”

“I’m the lucky one,” I insist, staring down at Sharlo’s pale lips. “I was stupid enough to walk away from her and she took me back. Once she’s awake, you’ll understand why I won’t make that mistake twice. She’s the greatest thing to ever come into my life.”

“Ugh, you’re going to make me cry,” she mutters while adjusting something on a machine.

All at once I feel Sharlo’s fingers move against mine. I hold my breath as I wait for her to do it again. When she doesn’t, I glance up at Carrie. “She just moved her hand.”

“It could be a nerve ending.” She steps in beside me and places a hand over Sharlo’s forehead. “Sharlo, can you hear me? James is here, waiting for you. Come on, sweetie, open your eyes.”

“Sharlo, please, baby,” I plead, stroking her hand. “Open your eyes, little butterfly.”

My heart slams to a stop when two beautiful blues the shade of the ocean appear.

I
’m
deep into the most intense tennis match with
Fight Club
era Brad Pitt, attempting to distract him with a distastefully short skirt, when I hear my name spoken in a rather dire way. My brain turns to mush as I struggle to open my eyes.

Pain.

There’s so bloody much of it.

Moaning, I attempt to utter the words to express my wild discomfort, but it would seem some wanker stuffed a load of rocks down my gullet. And what’s with my throbbing head?

“Open your eyes, little butterfly.”

My stomach flutters about with the sound of the deep voice.
I know that voice
. I’m finally able to part my heavy eyelids. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust against a harsh light. A beautiful, large man hovers over me with the most delicious beard.
Forget Brad Pitt!
The sight of this man has my lady bits doing Olympic-worthy summersaults.

Tears fill his big brown eyes as his lips part. “Jesus Christ, Shar,” he mutters before bending to press his lips against mine. Electric bolts shoot through me with the connection of our mouths. It’s heavenly. His entire body trembles as his warm mouth lingers and his grip on my hand tightens. The way he breathes heavily through his nose, it would seem he’s crying. Wouldn’t expect to see someone big enough to bench a school bus break down in such a fashion.

After a beat, his lips trail down to my jaw and his wet face nuzzles the crook of my neck. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “You’re gonna be okay, I promise.” When he repeats the second sentence, it would seem he’s merely convincing himself.

What
on earth
is happening? Why is this man sorry?

A suspended ceiling and canned lights linger above me. Am I late for class? My eyes catch on a clear bag and several machines at my side. Fear clenches my insides as I press hard against the man’s large hand. I’m in a hospital bed? But what happened? Am I broken? When I move my legs in an attempt to sit upright, my nether regions blaze with excruciating pain.

“It hurts,” I manage, digging my fingers into the back of the man’s hand.

“She’s going to be in a lot of pain,” a woman says. “I’m increasing her drip to make her more comfortable, then I’ll grab the doctor.”

Heart fluttering, I bring my free hand to my mouth, brushing my lips with my fingertips. My suffering seems a small price to pay for the lovely kiss. Perhaps if I told the man once more…

My eyes close again. Soon the beautiful man and the sterile room drift away.

* * *

“
H
er eyes are opening
.”

A warm hand squeezes mine. “Sharlo, it’s me. It’s Dad. I’m here, sweetheart. I took a red-eye so I could talk to my girl.”

A slightly gray-haired man comes into view, wearing a rumpled suit. His blood-shot blue eyes evoke misplaced memories of wishes and butterflies flying through the sky.

But why is there so much pain?

“Are they here?” I ask.

The man’s eyebrows squeeze downward. “You mean James and Evelyn? James is here with me.”

I close my eyes.
James and Evelyn.
The names are familiar, but I can’t seem to pinpoint why.

“Shar?” the man asks, squeezing my hand. “Do you know who I am?”

There’s a quiet pause that follows before the gentle voice of a woman comes from my other side. “Remember, it’s perfectly normal for her to be confused. Her brain is still healing.”

“How do you feel?” another man’s voice asks.

I peer between my lashes beyond the man holding my hand and find the fit, bearded man from before standing with his arms crossed over his thick chest. A warm, delightful feeling spreads through my insides.

“My head,” I say, searching for more words.

“We should let her rest,” the woman says.

Visions of the beautiful man and a swarm of butterflies fill my head as I drift off to a blissful sleep.

* * *

M
y eyes
open to a gorgeous brunette smiling down on me and stroking my arm. A funny little laugh falls from her lips. If she’s so happy, why is she crying? Are all the people in this place nutters? “Good morning, Shar,” she says. “Holy shit, I missed the hell out of those pretty blue eyes.”

Memories flicker through my mind of the woman’s face on a computer screen and her dressed in a beautiful white gown. They’re delightful thoughts that make me want to smile.

My friend. She’s
my friend
. “Evelyn?”

She laughs and bends to plant a tear-laced kiss on my cheek. “Yeah, sweetie, it’s me.”

My throat burns and my body aches.
Why must I hurt so?

“Water,” I plead, bringing my hand to my throat.

My friend retrieves a glass from nearby and holds it in front of me until I’ve taken a few swallows through the straw. When I flinch from the throbbing in my skull, her features draw down with worry. “Are you in pain?”

I bob my head. “You could say that.”

“I’ll be right back,” she promises. “I’m going to grab the doctor and call your dad. He must’ve slept in this morning.” She pats my arm before backing away and leaving me alone.

Before looking around, I inhale a deep breath that intensifies the pain. The wretched smell filling my lungs and the incessant beeping noises at my side could only mean one thing: I’m in a hospital.
What happened?

There’s a tube sticking out from the back of my hand. I try to sit to get a better look at my body. Pain rockets through my head, so I lean back once more and sigh. Before too long, an attractive woman in her 40s wearing a white coat enters the rooms. My breath catches when the beautiful man from earlier trails in behind her. The severity inside his chocolatey gaze sets my heart aflutter and all at once I remember.

My fierce protector.
My James.

As he approaches to take my hand, his wide lips tilt with a sexy, gentle smile. The simple act makes me feel safe. And
loved.

The woman greets me with a graceful smile. “Good morning, Sharlo. I’m Doctor Harris, your neurosurgeon. It’s good to have you back with us again. Can you tell me on a scale from one to ten the level of pain you’re experiencing, one being mild discomfort and ten being unimaginable?”

“I…” I glance between her and James. “Where am I? Have I been here long?” Nothing really makes sense at the moment aside from his warm brown eyes watching me, filled with tenderness.

“You’re in the East Hampton Hospital,” the woman answers, linking her hands in front of her. “You’ve been here for three weeks.”

Bloody hell.
I certainly wasn’t expecting it to have been that long, though I don’t recall James having a beard before.

The doctor’s smile fades. “Do you remember what happened?”

Meeting James’s stare, I shake my head. My immediate memories simply allow me to remember that I love this man with all my being. His jaw goes to work as his nostrils flare.

“You were hit by a car,” he bites out.

That would most certainly explain the Humpty Dumpty-type complex overtaking nine-tenths of my body.

“I don’t…I can’t remember,” I confess in a quiet voice. Several confusing thoughts have run through my mind since I first woke, making very little to no tangible sense, like the beeping of the machines creating a familiar tune or the hands of the clock having no particular order. Perhaps this is another anomaly.

“The guy’s name is Pete Sandeen,” James continues with cords standing out from his neck. “He worked for your dad but was let go when your dad changed companies. We didn’t know about the connection until the detectives assigned to your harassment case came here to talk to your dad. The asshole was so drunk after he ran you down that he confessed to everything. He’s the one that was harassing you. He wanted to hurt your dad by going after you, only you were too damn stubborn to tell him someone was stalking you. He’s in jail without bond. They’re waiting to sentence him to see…” His eyes draw down and he clears his throat. “They wanted to make sure you were going to be alright. The prosecuting attorney wanted to make sure he was charging him with the right thing.”

I’m quiet for a moment, chewing on everything he had to say. The only thing I’m able to dwell on is the fact that Dad came to see me.
When did I see him last?

“Why does everything hurt?” I ask, turning back to the doctor.

“You incurred a number of major injuries,” she explains. As she continues to describe the surgery and how they put me in a coma, James squeezes my hand until it’s numb. Then the surgeon stops to look at James before taking a deep breath. “Sharlo, do you remember that you were pregnant?”

I
was
pregnant, as in past tense? Did I have a child while I was here? Am I a mum?

Then it comes to me with blinding clarity.

Our baby. The kumquat.

A swell of panic all but chokes me.

When tears prick my eyes, James releases a muffled cry.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor says in a gentle voice. “There was nothing that could’ve been done. The pregnancy was terminated before you arrived.”

“I should’ve been there,” James blurts among a hoarse whisper.

“I’ll give you two a moment alone,” I hear the doctor say.

“No.” The word shoots from my mouth before I can fully think it through. Jumbled thoughts and feelings warring inside my head are as confusing as night and day. I refuse to let him take blame for this. I’d do anything to protect him. The only emotion I’m able to clearly grasp is a ball of red-hot anger, singeing my flesh as it tears a hole through my soul. “He needs to leave.”

James stares down on me like he’s been struck. “Shar—”

“No.”
I interrupt, turning away before he can see the tears in my eyes. “I don’t want you here. I need to be alone.”

The doctor moves over to him and sets her hand on his shoulder. “Give her some time.”

When James stands and shuffles toward the doorway at the woman’s side, the innate desire to call out to him and beg him to come back to me is swallowed by something dark and unrelenting. Fury as I’ve never known it before takes up my entire being, inhabiting my bones and rooting in the furthest depths of my brain.
Why did this happen to us?

Curled into a ball of utter misery and pain, I let the puzzling barrage of feelings spread until I’m fast asleep.

* * *

A
string
of unremarkable days and nights pass before my memories slowly become a solid timeline of events and I’m able to clearly grasp what has happened in the past few weeks. It was never my intention to cause James more pain. I simply wanted to love him with all of my body and heart, the only way I knew how, and show him what it’s like to be on the receiving end of compassion.

I wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of having a child until he came back to me, and we had begun to plan for a future that involved the three of us. I was so giddy that I had even sketched out a design for a sleeper that was swathed in crossbones and roses, and begun a queue of names.

Then I did the unthinkable by failing to protect our child. Putting all my energy into accepting that I was to become a mum and envisioning James as a happy dad was foolish. My best efforts have been for shit.