Chapter 7 The Phoenix #3
Shemar didn’t argue and left me in the stranger’s care while he went over to the now unoccupied nurses’ station to find a first-aid kit. The other nurses were trying to get the other patients to resume their visits now that the chaos had finally died down.
“I’m Daxton Bradshaw, one of the therapists here. Do me a favor, breathe in through your nose for a count of six, then out through your mouth for another count of six.”
Even though I was still shaking, I tried to follow his directions.
He held my gaze as I tried to breathe, his height not nearly as intimidating now that it felt as though he was on my side.
While trying to count to six, I breathed deep through my nose.
It didn’t work on the first try. I made it to three before my chest felt like it was becoming too tight, my ribs refusing to expand any farther.
Defeat settled in me, and panic was starting to rise again when I couldn’t make myself breathe properly.
Panic was something I had struggled with most of my life, both anxiety attacks and panic attacks.
The majority of the time, I could almost pass as a normal human being, until the thoughts started to creep in.
Sometimes, circumstantial, other times without warning, but they were leeches in my mind, draining me of rational thinking.
Craig's influence on my mind had not only opened old wounds but provided me with fresh ones to overcome.
Very slowly, making sure I was aware of his movement, he lifted a hand to place it on my shoulder. Daxton's brown eyes met mine as he started to count for me while I used the few brain cells I had left to try and figure out how to breathe normally again.
“Good, very good. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.” He counted slowly and quietly. “Now exhale. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”
Daxton repeated the process until my hands stopped shaking and my heart stopped trying to jackhammer its way out of my rib cage, desperate to crack the bones open and escape.
His gaze stayed locked on mine so intensely that I thought I must have been imagining the feeling of him seeing the real me behind the panic-ridden exterior.
Now that I was calming down, I was aware of just how attractive he was.
Even though he was obviously tall, well over six feet, his wide shoulders were visible under his blue button-up shirt, obviously well-muscled.
His strong jaw line appeared more severe with how tight his face was set, just by watching me like a cat liked to watch a caged bird.
Fascinated but ready to pounce the moment it ventured too close to the bars.
His entire presence was all-consuming and intense.
Shemar came back with rushed apologies and a first-aid kit from the nurses’ station.
He hastily unzipped the bag, spilling some of the contents on the floor.
As he started picking them up, Daxton started redressing my arm.
I watched him carefully. Despite how large and brutish the man appeared, his hands were surprisingly gentle as he applied both triple antibiotic ointment and fresh gauze to my wounds.
“I’ll speak with security about your visitors for the remainder of your stay. You won't have to worry about him showing up here again,” he whispered in his richly gruff voice, quiet enough so anyone still eavesdropping wouldn’t be able to hear.
“Thank you,” I muttered as he tore off the last piece of medical tape holding the gauze on my arm.
Blood had dripped on the floor at my side and all over my light blue scrub top, making it look worse than it actually was.
The bleeding had stopped, so I was pretty certain no one was going to be concerned with redoing the stitches tonight, and I wasn’t going to go out of my way to ask.
The fewer people invading my space, the better in my eyes.
“The safety of our patients is our top priority.”
“I guess the paperwork for an attempted murder on clinic property must be enough of a nightmare for you to actually give a shit in getting him away from me.”
He stared at me for a moment, like he was trying to peel back my physical being to see underneath if I was lying or telling the truth. None of the doctors or nurses I had spoken to so far even pretended to listen to the story I had to tell, so why should I believe he would be any different?
Daxton handed Shemar the first-aid kit back after he secured the gauze in place with medical tape, his large hands dwarfing mine as his touch lingered.
For having an office job, his hands were rough, covered in calluses, suggesting he worked with them a great deal.
I found myself wondering what kinds of hobbies this man had to have made his hands so worn and rugged.
As calm started to spread through me, my head started to swim, small black dots blurring my vision as the adrenaline began leaving and my mind started trying to process what had happened. Reaching my hands out, I grabbed his thick forearms to balance myself, willing the dizziness away.
“Raelynn?” I hadn’t heard the elevator announce its arrival since security had left with Craig. My sister's voice brought a flood of emotions to the surface for reasons different than Craig's.
Letting go of Daxton’s arms, I had barely turned around before my sister was enveloping me in a bone-crushing hug.
Touching visitors wasn’t permitted, but with Daxton standing over us, none of the nurses told us to let go.
Hugging my sister was both healing and heartbreaking.
I wanted nothing more than to just be able to go home with her and fix this mess with a carton of ice cream and a horror movie marathon.
Nostalgic for the days when our comfort routine would solve most of our problems.
When the embrace finally ended and I could properly see her, fresh tears still remained streaking the makeup on her beautiful face.
“I thought I had lost you,” she admitted, leaving her hands on me to grip my shoulders.
“I couldn’t ever do that to you, not after mom and dad.
” Tears formed in my own eyes as I took in her appearance.
For being sisters, we were night and day when it came to our looks.
Michelle took after our mother, tall and slender with high cheekbones and matching dark hair and eyes.
Unlike our deceased mother, she preferred to keep her hair cut short and expertly styled.
Micky took great pride in how she presented herself and rarely ever left her house without her hair and makeup perfectly executed.
“Ladies, why don’t we get you some privacy?
” Daxton had let me have as much time as I wanted, as I had held onto my sister like a life raft, but he opened his arm to indicate an empty room behind us, offering us privacy from the eyes of any onlookers.
We stepped around him and headed into the doorless room.
“Don’t worry about the thirty-minute time limit, I’ll speak with the charge nurse out here. ”
As Michelle sat down, I turned and thanked him, offering him a tight smile all while trying to convey just how much his promise meant without using words, before taking a seat beside her in a well-worn armchair.
She grabbed three tissues out of the box on the small table between the chairs and dabbed at her eyes, wiping off the trail of mascara that had started to run down her cheeks with her tears.
“I’m so sorry, Mickey,” I whispered, guilt eating me alive at what she must have been going through the past several days.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Rae. That sick bastard does.”
“Well, everyone is leaning towards believing that small dicked asshole, so it doesn’t seem to matter,” I scoffed, my nerves still on edge.
“I promise you, we will figure out a way to prove it.”
“How?” I didn’t want to cast my doubt on her, but hearing so many people believing him made me doubt it myself when I drifted into the dark recesses of my mind.
“I’m not sure yet, but we will figure something out.
In the meantime, we just have to make sure to get you better.
I was able to bring you some clothes from your house, but the nurses have to search the bag.
They said they would put it into your room when they were done, so you should have them by lights out. ”
“Thank you so much, you have no idea how uncomfortable these scrubs are. How's Riley?”
She must have known I was going to ask. Pulling out a folded piece of paper, she handed it to me.
“Before you ask, I already checked, and they said you could have paper.”
I unfolded it and smiled. She brought me a picture of my baby. One of my favorite photos from when I took him on a hike back when it was just the two of us, without a psychotic ex-boyfriend in the picture.
“Thank you so much. I miss my boy.”
“I know you do. I’ve been staying with him to make sure he doesn’t get lonely. How's the therapy going here?”
I filled her in on how my first day went, giving her a vague picture of what happened with Brandon.
Michelle didn’t have a strong stomach to tolerate details like that, so I kept it simple, telling her a patient basically went off the deep end and screwed up the group's schedule. She seemed satisfied with the answer and didn’t ask any further questions about him.
Even though Daxton had told us not to worry about restricting our time together to the thirty-minute limit, an hour still flew by way too fast. A security guard arrived at the end of visiting hours to escort her out of the building.
I didn’t risk giving her another hug since I wasn’t sure how this guard would react.
If he had been one of the guards from earlier that had to escort Craig off the property, he probably wouldn’t have cared, but I couldn’t bring myself to risk it.
After saying goodnight to my sister, I was happy to find a bag of familiar clothes had been left in my room.
Nothing fancy, mostly just T-shirts and leggings, but the comfort they brought me was immeasurable.
Throwing on a pair of black leggings and an old band shirt, I crawled into bed early, not bothering with joining the others and finishing the movie we had started in the lounge.
Sleep didn’t come easily. Ice blue eyes still haunted my dreams, stalking me from the shadows.