Tranquility: Turbulence Series, #2

By Lilly K. Cee

LOVE ALWAYS BETRAYS

 

When love becomes an obsession, when love betrays; when a man's love leads to unspeakable sins.

 

When love becomes a possibility, when love shelters; when a man's love leads to frightening revelations

.

Brit Delany struggles to emerge from the darkness after surviving a chilling ordeal. She is forced to come to grips with the secrets of her past. But how does she learn to trust herself? How does she trust anyone around her? How does she find the strength to accept one man's love while reeling from the destructive passion of another?

 

How does she prevent her deepest fears from derailing everything and keeping her from the man she wants? Because in Brit's world, love always betrays.

 

Tranquility is the conclusion of Entanglement. Lilly's stories are not intended/appropriate for readers under 18 years of age. Be forewarned that the Turbulence Series addresses a range of traumatic issues, including child abuse and sexual assault. 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lilly K. Cee
• Release date: Nov 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223604112

Book preview

TRANQUILITY

Turbulence Series Part Two

Lilly K. Cee

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Turbulent Press LLC

Copyright © 2021 by Lilly K. Cee

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Lilly K. Cee asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.

Cover design © by Cover Couture www.bookcovercouture.com

For my sisters of trauma,

who feel more than you admit;

whose masks protect vibrant souls

and loving hearts.

 I see you. I am you.

And for Kate and Katie, my constants, the best support

system and friends a woman could ask for.

Contents

1.THEN

2.JASPER

3.SEAN

4.BRIT

5.SEAN

6.SEAN

7.BRIT

8.BRIT

9.SEAN

10.SEAN

11.BRIT

12.EVIE

13.SEAN

14.BRIT

15.BRIT

16.SEAN

17.BRIT

18.EVIE

19.BRIT

20.SEAN

21.BRIT

22.BRIT

23.SEAN

24.EVIE

25.BRIT

26.SEAN

27.BRIT

28.BRIT / SEAN

29.SEAN

30.SEAN

31.BRIT

32.SEAN

33.BRIT

34.BRIT

35.SEAN

36.SEAN

37.SEAN

38.BRIT

39.SEAN

40.BRIT

41.BRIT

42.JASPER

43.BRIT

44.BRIT

45.SEAN

46.BRIT

47.BRIT

48.JASPER

EPILOGUE

Glossary

Acknowledgments

Afterword

Also by Lilly...

About the Author

Chapter one

THEN

Sean noticed Jasper’s lips curl back as introductions were made: a brown-haired woman and her timid, pasty-white, red-headed daughter. A wide-eyed kid who wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. They were both thinking it: a girl! And she would be staying with them for a spell.

Sean’s mammy was exclaiming in her fake sing-song voice how lovely it was that another young one was going to be in the house, and weren’t the boys thrilled to have a playmate?

Jasper looked over at him; Sean looked at his mother as though she’d started speaking a foreign language. They were not thrilled.

Sean and Jasper, show Britton to her room, the one next to yours, while we catch up with Miss Delany. Maybe show her your games? 

Mammy was pushing the bounds of civility, and it was almost the last straw for Jasper, he could tell. His cousin looked at him in undisguised horror.

Jaw tensing, Sean jerked his head at the kid as he spun around and headed out of the front room. C’mon, then. 

Jasper paced beside him, glancing back only after the strange woman hissed, Go! 

Stumbling and hesitant footsteps could be heard following.

His mammy clapped her hands together, saying, They’ll be just fine.

It would’ve been if it had been a short visit. And if she were a boy. What the bleedin’ hell were they going to do with a scared little girl? Jasper whispered loudly to him as soon as they were out of the room, What’re we supposed to do with it? I don’t want a girl.

Sean shrugged at Jasper. You think I want it? He cast a surly glance at the girl and barked, You comin’ or not? She picked up her scurrying pace, not raising her eyes. 

But what do we do with it?

Ignore her, Sean answered. They’ll be off in no time anyway; her mammy’s on the lash, she won’t be hanging around. He stopped in front of a door and turned suddenly to the little girl behind them; she skittered to a halt but kept her eyes on the ground. This is our room, Jasper’s and me.

Big green eyes looked askance at the door, then back at him, already acknowledging that he was the one in charge. Well, that was good.

You go in there, and I’ll thrash you, you understand?

Her eyes widened a bit more before she nodded vigorously; she knew what a thrashing was. That was good, too.

Jasper grinned at her obvious fright, looking between the two.

Sean turned and went to the next door, opening it. He stood in the doorway and turned to her again. They both looked at her expectantly. She stopped in front of them, glancing into the pink room, but not daring to make a move. Good call, actually, being wary until she knew the rules, but the tentativeness was also annoying as feck.

Sean grabbed her arm and shoved her in. She stumbled from the momentum of his push. You’ll be staying here.

Righting herself, she stood beyond the threshold and looked back at them, unsure. She laced her fingers together in front of her as she waited for further instruction.

Something in her eyes bothered Sean; made him feel… guilty? Don’t look at me like that! he snapped. Immediately, her eyes dropped to the floor. You stay in here until we come to get you for the meal. He slammed the door closed in her face; the last thing he saw was her scared eyes coming up again.

Jasper snickered. We’re supposed to be playing with her.

Sean glanced over at him. You wanna go in and play with her? Go ahead. No point in letting that scared little kitten nip at our heels. He walked away from the door.

Do you think she’ll tattle on us? Jasper asked. Fair enough question from Jasper, who’d already had his share of arse-reddenings in his young life; he didn’t need his parents to have an excuse to deliver another.

I’ll thrash her if she does, and she won’t do it again, Sean promised.

Maybe warn her off before? Jasper asked.

I can do that, sure.

When they collected her for supper, they found her sitting on the floor in the spot where they had left her standing. She scrambled to her feet when they walked in. 

Sean frowned and demanded, surprised, You were sitting there the whole time?

She assured him with another vigorous nod, I didn’t touch anything. 

The way she said it… wanting to please, hopeful he believed her, scared that he didn’t. Strange little thing. He could see she’d sat there like a turnip.

Stupid girl, Jasper muttered behind Sean.

Sean asked, How old are you?

S-seven.

I’m ten. That means I’m the boss of you. If you tell anyone you were sitting here alone for three hours, I’ll thrash you, you understand?

She nodded. 

You tell them you’re happy here, Jasper added for good measure. Then he added, "And I’m almost ten."

Again, she nodded.

All right, then. Sean approached her and grasped her arm; she cringed away from him. I amn’t after thrashing you now, you eejit. He pulled her out into the hall. We’re after going in to supper.

They may as well have been invisible at supper, however. After some initial inquiries about how they had spent the afternoon, the adults paid no more attention to any of them. The red-haired, green-eyed mute let her two new bosses answer for her, and she stared at her plate and nodded agreement, not that anyone was interested in her response. 

After the meal, they dutifully took her to the television room. They sat her in the corner. They marched her back to her room at bedtime and pushed her in.

Their routine the next couple of days followed the same pattern. They collected her from her room and ordered her back in with little conversation or ceremony. She was given a tour of the house and the grounds, along with warnings of where she was allowed to go and where she wasn’t allowed to go. After three days of this routine, they told her she was on her own in the mornings.

So they paid her no mind when they entered the dining room Saturday morning for the usual weekend breakfast buffet, and she was already there with her mother. The older Maddens and Dunnes would make their way down more slowly. 

Sean paid attention to the added company only to note that Brit was sitting across the table from her mother. The little girl’s eyes rose from her plate. He noticed her tracking their movements longingly.  

He looked away, striving for disinterest as he felt her haunted eyes following him. He and Jasper made their way to the side table for a plate.

A loud snap was followed by a heart-stopping order dripping with condescension, Get me a glass of orange juice.

Sean glanced back to find that Maggie had flung out a hand, continuing to snap in the direction of her daughter. The wee one had dragged her attention from them. 

Without hesitation, she scampered off her seat and hurriedly made her way to the side table, where she struggled with a whole pitcher of orange juice, concentrating on not spilling it as she poured. 

Sean watched, gauging whether the pitcher would topple or her strength would wane, causing a catastrophe. His stomach was in knots, oddly, over it. However, she managed after intense concentration and took a glass to her mother. 

Relieved, he reached for a croissant.

A thump and a choking sound were followed by a dramatic rasp, Are you trying to kill me?

The screech had the boys freezing. Sean dared a look over his shoulder again, where Brit was equally frozen in her tracks, steps away from her mother. Her face was white, eyes wide as she stared at her mother.

Miraculously recovering from an apparent murder attempt, Maggie reached out and back-handed her child, the blow sending the girl to the floor. A seed! 

The tension in the room became palpable. Sean’s mouth dropped open; he heard Jasper gasp and imagined his cousin’s jaw was gaping, as well. They’d never seen violence against a child like that—a whipping, certainly—but never that.

Brit scrambled back to her feet. I’m sorry, Momma!  

Sean felt compelled to explain, It’s fresh-squeezed—

Get me another one, and don’t try to kill me this time! Grabbing her daughter by her dress collar, she threw her toward the side table. The girl stumbled and fell into one of the heavy ornate chairs, banging her head on the wood. A strangled moan escaped her, coinciding with the sickening thud before she went harshly to her knees. 

Jasper stepped forward, a mortified expression on his face. Sean grabbed him back so roughly, a pastry flew off of Jasper’s plate from the force of his tug. 

Stop dawdling! Maggie snapped.

Yes, Momma. Shakily, the girl struggled to her feet, blinking hard—Sean assumed to either clear her vision or hold back tears—as she hand-walked her way down the line of chairs toward the side table. Her knees were spotting blood from rug burn.

Jasper moved to reach for the pitcher to pour another glass, but Sean again grabbed him away. He kept his hold on Jasper and started to pull him from the room, from what they were witnessing. 

Maggie must have noticed their retreat because she said in an overly sweet tone, Oh boys, you don’t need to leave. She’s just a very clumsy girl.

We’ll come back later, Sean said, and they were out the door. But Jasper dug in his feet on the other side of the door, looking at Sean like he couldn’t believe they were leaving the little girl behind.

From inside the room, they heard Maggie taunting, Do you see what you’ve done now, little miss? You’ve made your friends uncomfortable with your display. Are you happy with yourself? No one cares about your silly tears. It makes them feel bad. Don’t you feel bad for making them feel bad? You should feel bad for making them feel bad!

Yes, Momma.

You don’t treat friends that way!

No, Momma.

Did you just sass me?

I… I didn’t, Momma.

Jasper looked up at Sean and whispered, We can’t leave her.

Sean shook his head, his expression grim. You’re my cousin, Jasper. I can’t let anything happen to you; I don’t know that girl from nothing.

Jasper’s expression fell. Sean wished he didn’t have to disappoint Jasper, but if they intervened, his cousin might be hurt. He couldn’t risk that.

That night, though, when he escorted the bruised little girl to her room, he didn’t shove her in. Instead, he simply walked her to the door and said, You know, I wouldn’t thrash you. I’m too big; I’d hurt you. I just don’t want you to go in our room.

Her green eyes came up from the floor as she looked at him, her forehead bruised and swollen to match her discolored cheek and eye. She nodded solemnly as she closed the door between them.

He’d tried to forget about her after that; tried to convince himself she wasn’t their responsibility. After all, he hadn’t been mean to her. Jasper seemed to have forgotten about the incident the next day. He awoke with his usual abundant energy, ready to engage in the important business of being a boy in the summertime.

Sean and Jasper were having a lively discussion about football at lunch when Jasper’s mother walked into the room, scanned it, looked at the boys, and then walked out. Moments later, she reappeared with the girl in tow, wearing one of three dresses she owned, all too small for her already too-little frame.

Aunt Peg snapped out, You boys after wanting to tell me why I found this child sitting inside the door of her room instead of at the table having her lunch? You had the responsibility of getting her to table, and you’ve failed, now.

Two heads whipped around, mouths agape. Jasper looked to Sean. Sean looked at Brit. His jaw tensed; a look of resentment came over his face.

I wasn’t hungry. Her voice was small and timid, inserting itself into the room. 

He and Jasper looked to his mother to see if she would buy it.

Aunt Peg turned and looked down at her. You’re such a tiny thing; how can you not be hungry, wee Britton Delany?

Brit’s eyes went from Sean to Jasper and then to Peg. I can go days without eating, Mrs. Dunne. She said it with pride.

The food in Sean’s mouth turned to ash at her words. He swallowed hard, but had to drink water to get the food to go down his throat.

Aunt Peg dropped down into a squat in front of her and lightly touched her bruised cheek. You don’t go days without eating here, wee thing. 

Brit nodded with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Jasper and Sean exchanged a confused look; they’d not seen her smile before, fake or otherwise.   

Now, you eat something; you need to fatten up. She stood up and urged the girl forward. She looked at the boys. I’m sorry I yelled; I assumed you were misbehaving and ill-treating her.

Sean looked at Brit, thinking it was a peculiar statement considering she had clearly had plenty of ill-treatment that hadn’t come from him and Jasper. 

Brit slid into the chair next to Sean. He offered her a wary side-eye. 

Aunt Peg placed a few sandwich squares and raw vegetables on Brit’s plate. She stroked Brit’s uncombed hair, smiled over at her son, and left the room.

As Brit reached for one of the sandwiches, Sean challenged her, Why’d you lie? We’d have caught trouble if you’d told on us.

Her big green eyes settled gravely on him, and she said, I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.

Chapter two

JASPER

A lice. He poked her, using the nickname he gave her when she went tripping down her rabbit holes. Brit swayed, unblinking, unseeing. C’mon out, you. He looked around at the door, hearing footsteps. Sure, and wasn’t she easy prey, sitting here like a bleedin’ eejit, staring into space.

Sean and one of his hurling mates paused near the door, drinking soda water, oblivious to the two of them crouched on the floor of the parlor. After a few more words, they moved on down the hall, most likely to their room.

Jasper sat next to her beneath the window and leaned back. Let’s go, then.

Taking her hand, he closed his eyes, following her into her rabbit hole, into her world of terror. The world only he bothered to slip into and bring her back from, the world he controlled; the madness didn’t frighten him, not when he was there for her. He was her champion here. 

He’d do anything for her. She was theirs, their responsibility. Sean took care of her in the daylight, but her fears, the dark spaces of her mind, her nightmares… those belonged to him. He knew where they came from, so he was the one who had to join her in that dark world.

Regret.

Funny word. He didn’t think about it the same way others did. He was supposed to say he regretted his actions. What his solicitor expected; what the world wanted to hear.

He didn’t.

None of it.

He regretted dallying. Having his bleedin’ willy out when the Gardaí stormed through the door. Out, unsatisfied, instead of inside her. Now, likely to never know what she felt like, back to imagining that for the rest of his days. That was regret, what he’d miss out on.

No talk of murder charges, so he didn’t kill her. That was a regret, sure. Not out of vengeance, but sadness. They didn’t understand; it was a mercy, ending her suffering. Playing with her had been for him. It’d also been to help her realize that this life wasn’t meant for her, to help her embrace her destiny; her death.

She’d been playing with it anyway, so close; death had breathed in her face, but she hadn’t been able to take it in. She’d needed his help, like always, to slip into the rabbit hole with her and usher her across.

But that cunt Sean had infected her brain more than he’d anticipated. Her good angel, on her shoulder, refusing to let her succumb to the dark. Wanker.

Regret? Having the visions of their threesome fade permanently from his mind, knowing the fantasy would not become a reality because Brit hadn’t chosen more wisely. Because that path would have ensured the balance they’d all been missing, even Sean. Not that he deserved it, but Jasper was a better person than Sean; he could have sacrificed for the greater good, sharing her. For them.

Regret, because now he’d have some time to ponder how he should’ve planned better.

Regret? Not destroying Sean when he’d had the chance.

Regret? Ever loving her.

Chapter three

SEAN

Her boots. It had been her boots. 

He’d stormed into the room the moment he saw those boots on the table. But before he could act, his colleagues had intervened, preventing him from helping her when she needed him the most.

The nausea, the noise in his usually clear head, the feeling of helplessness when she was in there and he was out here. There was no feeling more devastating than being a doctor who couldn’t help the one person he cared about most. He felt stripped. Stripped of his title, education, and power; no longer a doctor.

But it was protocol.

They’d had to forcibly remove him to the waiting room. He was alone in the small room, ripping his hair out, nothing but a private citizen.

He’d had to give them her name; she’d arrived with no identification. Was she mugged? Had she taken a horse from the property and fallen? His mind whirled, playing her injuries over in his head… that is, the injuries he’d managed to glimpse before his colleagues had subtly moved to block her from view even as they’d furiously worked to save her life.

He’d seen her pale and bruised face, her bloodless lips that stood out in contrast to the actual blood on her cheeks and neck. Her neck was bruised. Her torso was bare and covered in blood, bloody gauze, and bloody handprints from the attendants on her abdomen. Blood was her decoration. Her pants were being cut away when he was pulled outside.

Her physical trauma, that they didn’t know anything about her… how had that happened?

He saw the wisdom of being removed from her care, he did, but all he wanted to do was hold her, have her eyes open so he could see those green orbs look back at him.

He couldn’t say he welcomed the distraction of Detective Brady, because the only visitor he was interested in was the nurse coordinator with updates on Brit, but it was still a distraction. He knew the detective because the man worked the recent Cork rape cases. 

The older gentleman walked into the room and helped himself to a cup of tea. So, you know this one.

Sean paused in his pacing and gave a brief nod. I know her.

I’m sorry for that, then. But at least we got him.

The words didn’t register immediately, his attention on the woman out of his reach. But at the detective’s stare and silence, Sean frowned, trying to process what he had heard. Got him? Then he lifted his head. "Got him? This was the…?"

The detective nodded. The rapist, it was. He moved around the room. How do you know the young woman in the other room?

Sean’s gaze went to the door; his mind went beyond. I’ve known her since we were children; she grew up with me, with us; my family. We’re together now. He amended, We’re recently together.

By together, you mean…? the detective asked leadingly.

In a relationship. In the back of his mind, he imagined Brit raising an eyebrow and gathering her thoughts to launch an argument against his claim.

When’s the last time you saw her?

This morning, before I left for hospital. In his bed, writhing blissfully beneath his touch. He closed his eyes against the memory, regretting not staying with her and finishing what he had started.

Last you’d heard from her?

He took out his mobile. Half noon. Looking up, he asked, Where was she? Where’d he attack her? Was she at Lis Manor?

She was at his residence in Tivoli.

Sean startled. "Tivoli? His residence in Tivoli? My cousin lives in Tivoli."

Detective Brady paused for a moment. There was a buzzing in Sean’s ears. The detective didn’t look surprised by this information. He should be surprised. Why wasn’t he surprised?

Then Brady asked gently, Your cousin being Jasper Dunne?

He is, so, Sean answered breathlessly. Had she gone looking for Jasper and ended up at the wrong flat? How coincidental was it that Jasper and the rapist he wrote about would be living in the same neighborhood? 

The buzzing in his Sean’s ears grew louder. No coincidence was that great. He started shaking his head against the truth he didn’t want to acknowledge.

I’m sorry to be telling you, but he’s our man, the detective informed him.

Sean recognized his own response the way a doctor would: cold sweat and nausea wrapped around the sensation of feeling faint. He was experiencing a drop in blood pressure. He cloaked himself in the clinical to power through the emotional shred. It isn’t so, he said. His voice sounded stronger than he felt. Brady’s expression didn’t change. He just waited.

Sean recalled what he had seen of Brit in the trauma room. Had Jasper done that to her? Jasper had done that to her. She had gone to his flat, and he had… stabbed her? Raped her? Sean shook his head; this didn’t make sense. The rapist wasn’t after stabbing anyone.

Detective Brady pressed, You said you grew up together. He knew her, then?

He did. He’d never hurt her. Would he? Didn’t Jasper love her? It didn’t make sense. Where is he?

In custody. The detective cleared his throat. I’m sorry to be giving you news like this on top of your woman being in the state she is, but… it’s him. Gardaí walked in on it.

Sean stared at him, still feeling as though he was having an out-of-body experience. Did they walk in on Jasper raping Brit? Can you tell me?

"A bit. They received a call from your cousin’s neighbor. She’d just put her baby down for his nap when she heard the sound of breaking glass; she said it sounded like a struggle. It was followed by several short screams and a man’s yell. She was nervous and asked them to check it out when she heard more screams. 

"The Gardaí arrived and were about to identify themselves when they heard screams. Entering the residence… The detective paused, eyeing Sean as he took a sip of his tea. It’s him."

Sean was watching in horror, imagining Brit in a fight for her life against Jasper. He knew, to a point, what that fight was like. Only this had been her clown, the person she ran to for cheering when she was scared. How had he turned on her like this? Why?

How do you know he’s the same as the rapist? Sean asked quietly.

Detective Brady answered definitely, It’s him.

Sean pressed a hand to his mouth, the bile rising. How many times had she been alone with him? How many times could this have happened to her? The night Jasper had sent her home drunk—that night she had disappeared into the Cork darkness. Both times, Jasper had mocked Sean’s fears for her.

And now it had happened. She was lying on a table, and Jasper had done it to her.

He knew what Jasper was capable of—why had he not considered that he would be capable of doing it to anyone else? To Brit?

Detective Brady mumbled seemingly randomly, "It’s bound to find its way into media quickly once it’s out that the Cork Times reporter covering the rapist is the rapist."

He left Sean to deal with that reeling revelation. Not only was Brit on the ledge between life and death, but Jasper was the one who had her dangling there. 

He should have taken her away sooner. 

Not that it would have saved the other women, some of whom had been his patients. He’d seen the damage that man had done… that Jasper had done. That he had done that to their own, to Brit… impotent rage roiled within him. And the bastard had been so cavalier talking about the rapes, about such horrible things he had done himself.

At that moment, Sean understood vigilante justice because it’s what he wanted. The prison would keep Jasper safe from the community, instead of the other way around. It didn’t seem right that the man should be afforded any protection.

Next in the line of visitors was Evie… Evie James, the Englishwoman who’d hit on him, the one who was Jasper’s friend… that Evie. Evie from the pub. Jaysus, when she appeared in the waiting room. He wondered at his sanity.

What’re you doing here? he asked, less than polite in his current state of emotional turmoil. The last thing he wanted to do was fend off advances from this woman.

Evie gave a slight nod of acknowledgment of his mood but persevered. I’ve been assigned to Britton.

"Assigned to her? You write a sex column. You’re here for an article?" His tone made his distaste for the situation clear.

She corrected him, "I am a therapist who also writes a sex column."

I don’t want you as her therapist. I’m sorry for it, but it can’t be you. It may have been unprofessional of him, attempting to dismiss Brit’s assigned therapist, but… Evie? Therapists weren’t typically associated with only one hospital, and perhaps he’d never paid attention before, but… how had he not known that this could be a possibility? How had he not recognized her?

Only Britton can dismiss me, she pointed out.

You can be certain she will.

Evie smiled. It’s clear you see her pulling through this just fine; fine enough to dismiss me.

Sean considered her observation. There isn’t another option but for her to survive this. If she doesn’t, I’ll find a way to kill him and happily go to prison for it. An empty threat, but he couldn’t help it; his anger needed to go somewhere. 

That would be a tragic end for the three of you, she commented.

You don’t find this tragic? he challenged.

Contemplating her black pumps, she answered, I find this unfortunate and sad.

"Unfortunate?" Sean mocked.

Yes, Sean, unfortunate, she repeated. And if Britton were sitting here with us, I don’t think she would balk at the adjective. But you will have the opportunity to ask her. And that is what separates this from a tragedy.

Don’t presume to know her mind.

I’ve seen her work. She’s seen tragedy.

Sean shook his head, physically turning away from her. This isn’t the time.

I understand. I will be notified when she’s been moved to her room. I’m telling you because I will be there, as well; fair warning.

He didn’t respond.

She’s been through a brutal attack, Evie pointed out. You know it’s the protocol for me to speak with her. If she chooses to dismiss me, then it has to be her call, independent of your wishes.

Sean turned and gave her a baleful look.

Taking a step out of the door, she said sincerely, She’s going to come through just fine; she struck me as feisty. There’s no way she’ll give Jasper the satisfaction of having the last word.

Score one for Evie, because he held on to that sentiment.

When he was finally taken to her room hours later—hours during which he’d learned that she had been recommended for surgery after coding—he could only sit and stare at her. He had almost lost her while he’d sat useless in a tiny room. How had his own heart not stopped when hers had?

Then again, he wasn’t sure his had actually been beating. Or anyway, it didn’t start to beat again until he saw her, touched her, took her cold, bandaged hand in his. Her dark lashes lay on her pale, swollen, and bruised cheek. His eyes only left her to sweep the instruments over her head, silently marking her heartbeats, assurance that hers went on as she lay so still.

Of course, he knew it did, logically. But his heart almost stopped in terror between every beat of hers.

Even more hours later, predawn, a tall, bald, slim black man with dark blue eyes in a rumpled suit appeared. He was tired and unhappy that his photographer was in hospital. Ferris Grant introduced himself as her editor. He’d taken the first flight to Ireland.

Then all of a sudden, all three visitors were in the room together. They began vying for his attention, vying for time with her, wanting answers he didn’t have. But Sean was greedy; she was his. His every thought and breath belonged to her. Not to Evie James, not to Ferris Grant, and not to the detective, Brady. She was his, but he was hers.

I only want to look at her and watch her breathe. I’m not moving until I can see her eyes.

He felt their eyes on him as they came and went, watching as he watched Brit. He didn’t care. He lifted his hand and rubbed a red lock of hair between his fingers as though making a wish. Because he was: he wished that he could turn back time, fix everything he had done wrong, so this wouldn’t have happened.

Chapter four

BRIT

The void was bliss. Brit wasn’t even aware how content—how peaceful—she found the oblivion until someone tried to pull her from it. She didn’t want to answer the summons. She fought it, the pull toward consciousness, the thoughts that started to stir. She frowned. In her mind, she turned her head away.

She was terribly disoriented. She was supposed to meet Jasper—she was going to be late. Wherever she was… Wait. She had met Jasper.

Brit’s mind was suddenly full of the vision of Jasper’s face over her as he slapped his hand over her mouth, his hand rising to plunge the knife into her. She wanted to get away from her memory, away from this place. Her feet started kicking at the foot of the bed so she could escape, despite the pain.

A woman leaned over her, her hands attempting to soothe, saying something to her, telling her she was just out of surgery, asking her name. 

Fighting the hands, panicking, Brit cried out, Sean?

The nurse looked up, her expression concerned, as she lightly grasped on to her shoulders, holding her to the bed. The woman watched whatever was taking place over her shoulder and then smiled down into her face as she drifted off again into the oblivion she hadn’t wanted to leave in the first place.

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Moments of her life were captured in between snapshots, a snap faster than a blink. So it was fitting that her mind took over for what her hands could no longer do: it took pictures of her recovery in snippets, giving her the information in pieces to process it better. Her mind was protecting her in small spaces, allowing her moments of experience. As she recovered, more would come back to her, but until then, all she had to do was…

Blink.

Sean eased onto the hospital bed. He slipped a hand into her hair, his other hand on her shoulder, urging her back against the slightly raised bed.

She accepted the attention, the closeness, the silent instruction to lie back as her tears welled, having awakened in a panic. Her gauze-wrapped hand grasped at his shirt even though the action poured fuel on the flames already burning there. As he placed a tender kiss on her unmarred cheek, the first sob escaped her, followed by another cry of discomfort from the sudden motion.

"I’m here, mo chroí."

What did he do? she whispered, their foreheads touching, his cheek gently resting against hers. Her body trembled with the tears, creating cascades of pain. Why?

Sean shook his head. I don’t know why. He let her grieve for a few seconds before he continued, I can’t tell you why he did it, love. Our answers will have to come later. But you’re alive, and I am so thankful for it.

Blink.

I’m sorry, Sean.

"Stop apologizing; I don’t know why you do it. You lived."

I’m sorry for accusing you of being the violent one. I never saw it in him. I never saw his violence before. He was never violent. He’d hid it so well, wrapped in his laughter, his goofiness, his self-effacing manner. He’d been the one she’d brawled with, but she’d never considered him threatening. They’d fought. He’d hit her. In play. And she’d never seen it.

Brit.

She looked at him meaningfully and repeated in a lower tone, "I never saw it. You’ve seen it," she pointed out, her tone hurt, slightly accusing. Not fair putting on him what she should have been alerted to.

Sean’s eyes narrowed in assessment as he looked up at her from the chair he was sitting in. Cocking his head, he asked cautiously, What do you mean?

He told me. She watched his face, his guilt. She was struggling with so much in such a short time: the physical pain, the agony of one friend attempting to take her life, and what she suspected was the betrayal of another friend—her lover—not forewarning her of the potential perils. Perils she’d missed and walked right into.

I was trying to protect you. You’re our girl; I never imagined he had anything toward you but love. How could I take that away from you?

I don’t feel very protected right now.

Blink.

I don’t need you.

He braced his hands on each arm of the hospital chair as he leaned over her. She gazed up, not missing the flash of hurt in his eyes. He informed her, But I need you. He leaned in even closer and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. You know how to hurt a man, love.

Brit couldn’t meet his gaze when he straightened. He walked over to the door and took up his duffel, where he had dropped it hours earlier. The evening of day two, and he’d finally had clothes delivered—she wondered what that meant as far as the length of her stay. 

He turned and looked back at her; she watched him from lowered lashes. Alive never looked better on a person. He walked out the door.

Blink.

Can I get a different doctor?

The man saved your life. He sat back in the chair, raising a foot into the seat with him to rest his elbow on his knee; he was beginning to take on her habits. 

His instructions are draconian, saying I need home care for so long. And his bedside manner is lacking. She fell back against the elevated pillow of the hospital bed. 

Another doctor would say the same regarding your home care. Your injuries, Brit… you need to let your body heal.

My flight—

You’ve missed it, he pointed out. 

Right. It’d been days. She had a vague memory of Ferris dropping by to see her, forcing joviality out from behind a mask of concern.

Sean regarded her steadily, his head resting back on the overstuffed chair. Her eyes flicked down over his body, her gaze skating over his t-shirt clad chest, flat stomach, and the noticeable bulge in his sweatpants; her eyes lingered there before chasing back up his torso. When she lifted her gaze back to his, she found him watching her with a steady stare. She gave a small roll of her eyes and turned her head away.

That’s not… I’m an American. His recommendation doesn’t work there, right?

You think you can hop a plane and get a different protocol in America? Sean asked skeptically. Livers and ribs heal at the same rate on either side of the Atlantic. A different location doesn’t change what happened to you.

It at least puts distance to it, she said quietly.

Blink.

"I have been giving you my best cheer-up