39. Melissa
39
MELISSA
Bridget
I’m not working today, but there are $2 bottles and cans at the bar on special.
Fuck.
Melissa
Definitely. I’ll just have to swing by my apartment to pick up some things before I head over. I’m unpacking at the new place before I go to work.
I slid out of bed as carefully as I possibly could. It was trickier than I had anticipated. My memory foam mattress in Morehead absorbed shock like a champ. This box of rusty springs and loose stuffing rocked like a 1970s Jeep Wrangler without shocks.
Sneaking out of the airfield without Jase knowing was going to be especially tricky. The floors creaked. The door screeched. The stairs squeaked. And that was just getting downstairs.
I didn’t want to have to lie to him. Not when it had only been two days since he proposed. Not when we were just over twelve hours away from Bridget getting out of her living hell.
Just one more day.
“Where you goin’?” Jase groaned as he rolled over onto his back, stretching those glorious arms and tucking his hands behind his arms.
Damn him. He knew I couldn’t resist when he flexed his biceps like that.
“Thought you didn’t have to be at work until later?”
“I, uh—I’m catching up with Bee before she goes to work. She wanted to talk about wedding stuff.”
White lies were looking grayer and grayer these days. Guilt clogged my throat, but I couldn’t think about that now. I had to get my ass to Morehead City.
He cracked a sleepy smile. “Our wedding or hers?”
“Ours, silly,” I said as I wiggled into a pair of scrub pants and grabbed the matching top off the chair that mostly clean, re-wearable clothes got thrown on. “She, um… Wants to throw us an engagement party… At the bar. We did one there when Will proposed to Kris. That way we can just tell everyone at once.”
We decided to wait until we saw the poker club in-person to drop the news that Jason had proposed.
“I like the sound of that.” He reached out, fingertips brushing my thighs as I pulled on my shoes. “Love you, baby. Have a good day.”
I leaned over and pecked his lips. “Love you, too. More than anything.” I grabbed my keys and purse and bolted for the door.
He yawned. “Drive safe.”
Bridget was already waiting on the sidewalk when I careened into my apartment complex lot. I threw the car in park and jumped out.
“What the hell?” I seethed. It wasn’t just bruising this time. There was blood.
And there was going to be more if I ever saw Kyle Kingsley again.
The nine-to-five morning crowd was leaving their apartments and heading to their cars. There were more eyes than I wanted to be around.
“Come on,” I said, putting my hand on her back. “Let’s go inside.”
Wordlessly, Bridget followed me up the stairs, waiting patiently as I unlocked the door. My wreath was gone, as was the doormat. I’d taken them to the airfield studio to make it feel more like home. Luckily, my first-aid supplies were still here.
But the most important thing I still had hidden away in my apartment was the file.
The file where we had systematically cataloged every instance of abuse. Or at least the ones Bridget had told me about. There were early instances where she had been too scared or too ashamed to reach out for help.
It burned me to the core. What could I have done to make her come to me sooner? What could I have said to convince her to leave her abuser faster? Was I a good friend doing the right thing, or was I an enabler?
“Where did you park?” I asked as I closed and locked the door behind us and flipped on the lights.
“Grocery store,” she said, wincing as she slowly eased down into one of the kitchen chairs.
There was a small grocery store in a strip mall behind my complex. She probably walked through the woods that separated the properties .
“I left my phone in the car, so we have to hurry in case he calls. I told him I was going grocery shopping and then coming back home. I called in sick to work. Wanda’s covering. I can’t go to the bar like this.”
“What the fuck happened? I thought he was leaving for the trip today,” I hissed as I jogged into the bedroom and pulled the backpack that we kept our stash in out from under the bed.
It was heavier than it had been when I’d first put it together. Years of date and time-stamped photos and detailed reports filled the manila folder. My first aid supplies had gotten more unique. Now I kept makeup in there, too.
I got weird looks from the pharmacy clerks when I purchased light ivory foundation and concealer. It sure as hell wasn’t for me. Bee and I were on opposite ends of the skin tone spectrum.
When I came back into the kitchen, she had already taken her shirt off. Standing in just her bra and shorts, I could see the full extent of what he had done to her.
Dark bruises covered her ribs. Purple handprints mottled her arms and wrists like some kind of demented finger painting. Her lip was split at the corner, and the top of her cheekbone was yellow and green.
Bile filled my throat as I snapped photos from every angle.
I never told Bridget, but I had nightmares about taking these pictures. Horrid dreams where I showed up at her house and found her dead on the floor, then someone handing me a camera and telling me to document everything.
On more than one occasion, I’d woken up in a cold sweat, panicking that it was real.
But I didn’t say a word about my fears. I didn’t want to scare her. I needed her to have a place to run to.
I just hoped she wouldn’t wait too long to take the first step.
“He overreacted,” she said quietly .
“I’ll say,” I muttered. “What happened?”
Bridget shrugged. “He was drinking last night. I think it’s because he was leaving for the trip today. Wanted to make sure I didn’t get any bright ideas. I guess he thought if he did enough visible damage, I wouldn’t leave the house. He fucking smiled when I called in sick to work. He wanted to remind me of my place.”
Her place . Her neck under his heel. Her name on a headstone.
The alcohol prep pads in my hand fell to the floor. I dropped my face into my hands, shaking my head. “This ends now. Put your shirt on. We’re going to the police station, and we’re calling Jase on the way.”
“No!” she shouted. “We have to stick to the plan. I’m leaving tonight.” Her voice softened, cracking with every word. “One more day. Just please—please don’t give up on me. Just a little while longer, and it’s over.”
I shook my head. “One more day, and you could be dead.” A tear slipped down my cheek—something I had never let happen in front of her before. “Bee, one time was too many.”
“I know,” she said. “And when it’s over, I promise—I’ll tell you everything.”
I didn’t like the idea that there was something bigger at play, but it was the only thing that made a shred of sense.
“We’ll discuss if I’m kidnapping you after I get you patched up.” I tore open an alcohol swab. “This is gonna sting.”
She sucked in a sharp breath as I cleaned her split lip.
“Has he left town already?” I asked as I grabbed another alcohol pad, tossing the bloodied one on the table.
Bridget nodded as I finished mending her split lip. “Yeah. He left after I called in sick to work. I told him I was going to pick up some things at the grocery store for the weekend and then go back home. ”
I grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer and wrapped it in a clean washcloth. “Here, put this against your lip. It’ll help with the swelling.” I pulled out an empty chair and sat down across from her, leaning forward to gently assess the bruising on her ribs. She was lucky as hell that she had never had any internal bleeding. At least that I knew of.
One time, she had actually shown up to the ER with bruises and a lie. She slipped while she was at work and landed on a case of liquor bottles .
I was on shift that night. Josh—Dr. Price—had ordered a CT scan because he was worried about internal bleeding. Bridget got lucky and didn’t have any.
She wasn’t quite so lucky after a hospital bill had shown up at Kyle’s house. He lost his shit and gave it to her twice as bad for going to the hospital.
After that, she started coming to me.
“Any weakness on this side? Numbness or tingling?” I asked as I gently pushed on her ribs.
She grimaced but shook her head.
“Sudden headaches? Dizziness?”
“No.”
I grabbed my stethoscope and pressed it against her chest. “Breathe in.” I waited with bated breath as she inhaled, praying to whoever was listening that her lungs didn’t crackle. I slid the chest piece to the other side. “Another breath.” All clear there. I reached around and pressed it to her back. “Breathe… Good.” I slid it again. “Last one… Good.” I pulled the earpieces out, looping the tubing around the back of my neck.
“What’s the diagnosis?” she joked.
I pinned her with a glare out of the corner of my eyes as I started to write up the extent of her injuries for the file. “I’m going to kill him. ”
“Mel.”
“I don’t think you have a punctured lung. No internal bleeding that I can tell. All injuries seem to be external. As usual, you might have some cracked or broken ribs, but I can’t tell you for sure without imaging.” I rattled everything off like I used to when I regurgitated flashcards before the NCLEX. Emotionless.
She let out a small sigh of relief and started on her makeup routine to cover the visible injuries. There wasn’t much she could do about her lip.
“What’s the plan?” I asked as I slid my hand down the page, documenting the injuries that painted her cheekbone.
“I’m gonna go back to the store and buy some random shit so he sees a charge on the bank statement. I’ll go home and pack and call you to come get me tonight. We’re going to go to the police station, and then you’re dropping me off at the Taylor Creek so I can sleep this off.”
“I’m adding a pit stop,” I clipped.
“If that pitstop is tacos, I’m down.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “You’re spending your first night in the hospital because I swear to God, Bee, I’m going to have them run every test and scan on the books. You’re gonna get hit with so many X-rays it’ll look like you vacationed at Chernobyl.”
“There’s that sense of humor my brother loves,” she joked.
I cut my eyes at her. “Can we not talk about Jase right now?”
“He’s not going to find out,” she said. “Kyle’s gone, you’re gonna go to work, and I’ll see you tonight. It’s smooth sailing from here out.”
I hoped that was true.
“If Jason asks, you were here talking to me about throwing us an engagement party at the bar.” I glanced down and saw the obnoxious rock still on her left hand. “Why are you still wearing that ?” I eyed her engagement ring. “I would have thrown it down the garbage disposal the minute he was out the door.”
“I’m gonna pawn it,” she said quietly. It was probably the first time she had ever said the words out loud. “I won’t get the full value of it, but it’ll keep me afloat until I can save up a few paychecks.”
“The court will make him pay restitution.”
She shrugged. “You know how slow those things move. I need cash to survive now . With what I’ve been able to save, plus the ring, I’ll be okay for a little while.” It would be just her luck that the ring would end up being cubic zirconia.
“Jase and I can help you get set up,” I said as I capped my pen and stuffed it back into the bag. Bee was dusting the bridge of her nose with powder. She had covered up what she could. Her shirt would hide the rest.
“That would require telling him,” she clipped. “And I’m not about to have him look at me like this and say I told you so . In a few days, when all this has faded, you can tell him that I broke up with Kyle.”
I sighed as I handed Bridget her shirt. “I can’t lie to Jase anymore, Bee,” I said as I checked the time on my phone. “Shit. I gotta get to work.”
“Lie to me about what?”
Our heads snapped to the front door. Jason’s hand was still on the doorknob.
“Jason—” Bridget jumped out of her seat, pulling her shirt over her head.
He was shaking. Fear—or rage—vibrated off his shoulders as he gripped the door frame with one hand and the doorknob with the other. “ What the hell ?—”
He beelined for Bridget, grabbing the hem of her shirt and gingerly lifting it as he took in the dark purple patches on her porcelain skin.
Jason’s voice cracked. “Tell me he didn’t do this to you.”
Bridget’s eyes welled up with tears.
Jason’s gaze fell on me. The softness and hurt in his expression as he assessed his sister morphed into outrage as he turned and looked at me.
“Tell me you didn’t know before now.” He gritted his teeth. “Tell me this is the first fucking time she told you.”
“Jase.” Bridget’s lip quivered as tears rolled down her face. “I told her not to tell you. I made her promise.”
Anger and betrayal burned in his gaze. His mouth—soft lips I loved to kiss—turned hard as stone. “I looked you dead in the eye and asked if you knew something, and you made me think everything was fuckin’ fine,” he spat as he clenched his fists. Heavy breaths escaped his mouth like a caged-up fire-breathing dragon. “Kyle fucking Kingsley is a dead man walking, but I can’t get over the fact that you knew my baby sister was getting beaten, and you let it fucking happen.”
“I tried to help,” I cried. “I did what I could. I just wanted her to be safe.”
He gritted his teeth, jaw flexing as he looked down at the engagement ring he’d slid on my finger a few days ago. “Well,” he laughed caustically. “Looks like you’ve done your damage. And now that you’re done fuckin’ lying to my goddamn face, I think you have somewhere else to be.”
“Jason!” Bridget shouted.
“Jase, please,” I begged, barely managing a whisper between the tears. I reached out and hooked my pinky around his. “I promised you I’d look out for her. I didn’t break my promise.”
He yanked his hand back like he’d been burned. “Get out. This is a family matter. I’ll leave my goddamn key on the counter when Bee and I are done here.”
“ Jason Michael! ” Bridget shrieked.
Sobs choked me. I couldn’t see past the tears blurring my vision.
I had been wondering whether I had helped or harmed.
Now I knew.
“I’ll see you after work,” I told Bridget as I gave her hand a squeeze. “Call me as soon as you’re ready to go.” I turned and looked at Jason. The boy I loved more than anything. “I love you.”
He huffed out a quiet laugh full of disbelief. “I thought you did.”