Chapter 16
Captain’s Hall, Freedom
Eden
“I don’t need a doctor.” I clench my jaw.
I’m lying in D’Angelo’s large antique, silver bed. Even though his drapes have been pulled closed to reduce the light in the room, I can barely open my eyes.
My head throbs.
I try to sit up.
Shit, I’m dizzy.
I collapse back onto the silk pillows.
I can’t fully remember how I got up here.
I think that D’Angelo and Shay carried me between them.
I grit my teeth.
Why did Robyn have to call them back home on their first day of the season?
I could have had a quick rest on the desk. I’d have come round after a bit.
When you pass out, it’s like that.
You come round with a dry mouth and migraine headache.
It’s no big deal.
“Humor me,” Michael says, dryly. He checks my pulse. His hand feels hot against my cold wrist. “You’ve made your feelings clear four times now. But still, here I am.”
“Surprisingly, when you collapse over your desk, it worries the people who love you.” Robyn’s sitting with her back against the headboard.
She pushes a strand of hair gently behind my ear.
She looks concerned.
D’Angelo’s expression is shuttered, however, as he leans against the wall beside the window, studying Michael closely as he works.
D’Angelo’s dressed in his suit from this morning, but his shirt is buttoned wrong and his tie is askew like he got ready in a frantic rush when he received the call from Robyn.
“I don’t need a doctor,” I try again.
Shay shoots me a glare. He’s pacing from one side of the bedroom to the other.
His red t-shirt is on back to front. He looks like he got changed in even more of a hurry at the rink than D’Angelo did.
I swallow.
I didn’t want to worry them or ruin their first day.
I failed.
Michael gives me a stern look. “You’re not actually refusing a doctor, are you? And I’ll point out again that between us, who’s more medically qualified to judge if you need a doctor? Cody would stop feeding me his delicious cream cakes, if I let anything happen to you. He likes you.”
Robyn wrinkles up her nose. “Tell me that’s not a euphemism.”
“Yes and no.”
When I lick over my dry lips, Shay rushes to the bedside table and snatches up a water bottle. He holds it to my mouth, and I take grateful sips.
“Better?” Shay places down the bottle.
Our gazes meet, and my heart feels like it’s breaking, when I see his anxiety.
He knows what this is about.
But neither of us want to voice it.
Dee, dee, don’t close your eyes. What if you don’t wake up? What if you leave me alone with the monsters?
As kids, when Shay learned to speak, every time that I was hurt, ill, or starving and would pass out, Shay would desperately shake me and say that.
Except, we knew who the monsters were.
They were real.
Shay perches on the edge of the bed, meeting Robyn’s gaze over my head.
I don’t know what their glance means.
Are they thinking about me?
“I’d be fine in my own bed,” I offer.
D’Angelo crosses his arms. “You’re not lying in that cramped upper bunk bed with cracked ribs, injured shoulder, and severe concussion. You never should have been. You’re all in my bed for the moment, where I can keep an eye on you and make sure that you don’t do anything like faint.”
Faint?
Fuck that.
“I’m not delicate,” I say, low and rumbling.
D’Angelo snorts. “I know that.”
“But you have been masking your pain,” Robyn replies. “None of us knew that it was this serious.”
I wince.
“You’re staying in this bed.” Shay tilts up his chin. “And you’re letting yourself be cared for, Dee. Don’t be bloody stubborn.”
“Independent,” I mutter.
“In actual fact,” Michael takes a step back from me, tapping notes onto his phone, “suffering from severe post-concussion symptoms.”
“What does that mean?” Shay’s eyes widen.
“It means that I wish you would agree to come into hospital.” Michael arches his brow.
I shake my head.
“Eden,” D’Angelo straightens, “you’re my employee now. There’s no concern over cost. I had extensive medical insurance written into your contract and luckily, you’re now covered. Even if you weren’t, I’d pay for anything that you needed. We’re family.”
Despite the throbbing pain that radiates down from my head to my neck and shoulders, happiness glows through me.
For the first time, I relax in D’Angelo’s bed.
Family.
“Thank you,” I say, gruffly.
“Yeah, cheers, darlin.’” Shay bounces off the bed and launches himself across the room.
He grabs the sides of D’Angelo’s face to hold him in place as he claims his lips, fast and hard.
D’Angelo splutters for a moment in shock, before dragging Shay deeper into the kiss. Then he drags him away by the hair.
They both share a small, intimate smile, before growing serious again.
Robyn slides her hand to rest on my arm, which is in the sling. “So, what happens now?”
“Now,” Michael replies, “Eden can come into the hospital as an outpatient, so that I can run tests to evaluate brain, autonomic nervous system, vision, and vestibular function. I’ll create a custom treatment plan. I’ll talk to a neuropsychologist and neuroscientist. You’ll need physical and cognitive therapy to repair the damaged pathways.”
That’s a lot.
Why can’t I just shake it off like all the other times?
I’m going to be okay, right?
Robyn’s eyes are gleaming with tears. “Shit, that sounds… I mean, he’ll recover…?”
Michael won’t meet her gaze.
Fuck.
Michael starts for the door. “I need to get back to the hospital and talk with my colleagues in the right department.”
“Mike,” D’Angelo says, sharply, “he will recover.”
“We’re all going to do our best to make that happen,” Michael replies. “As your friend and not your doctor, however, I’d like to say two things. Don’t rush the pace. And also, think about therapy. Because the reason that this is so serious is the large number of previous injuries that we discovered, when you were in hospital before, to your skull. The ones that were untreated from childhood. Whatever caused those, if you haven’t dealt with it…it’s going to fuck you up.”
Michael is the only doctor who I don’t mind being around. He says things like fuck you up.
I glance at Shay. He’s white as a sheet.
I wish that I could wrap my arm around him. But then, D’Angelo does, and I find that I’m okay with that.
“Can Code work as his physical therapist? Paid, of course, and around his Bay Rebels duties,” Robyn asks, quietly. She glances at me. “Would you like that? I thought that you’d prefer someone who you know. Rather than going to the hospital, Code could come and do the work with you here.”
Robyn’s always thoughtful and kind.
I nod.
Michael slips his phone into his pocket. “I’ll ask at dinner tonight. He’ll say yes because he’s already sent me three texts asking how Eden is and whether he can come round here and see him. I’ll put him off until tomorrow, so that you can get some rest. And I mean it, about the rest.”
D’Angelo walks to the door, patting Michael on the shoulder. “I’ll make sure of it. We’ll be waiting on him hand and foot. I appreciate you coming out and doing this for us. It means a lot.”
Michael’s expression softens. “Robyn’s family, and since she’s chosen you all to be hers, then you are too. My husband and I look after our family and friends. I know my way out.”
“Tell Code that I’ll phone him later,” Robyn whisper yells after Michael’s retreating back.
Pain still lances through my head.
Robyn strokes down my cheek in apology. “We’d better keep our voices down.”
“Okay, love,” Shay mouths silently, before shrugging out of D’Angelo’s hold.
He approaches the bed again, before burrowing under the covers and lying as close as he can to me.
I thought that he would, after Michael’s comment about therapy.
Shay hated the therapy that our parents sent him to.
Just because he could talk about what happened, didn’t mean that he wanted to.
Or could.
He lies with his head on the pillow next to me. Our golden hair mingles. He lifts my hand, staring at the way that his fingers entangle with mine.
D’Angelo watches us from the doorway. “So, how do you think your first day went as my PA? Just boring admin stuff like I promised, right?”
Shay tightens his hand around mine. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m too angry.”
My heart speeds up. My mouth feels even drier.
I made Shay angry…?
He’s shaking.
This is the opposite of what I wanted. I wanted him to relax and enjoy his first day of practice, before the big game tomorrow. Shay is meant to be able to focus on his hockey, now that he doesn’t have to support me on the ice.
Instead, he’s here worrying and angry about me.
How have I screwed up?
“Not now,” Robyn says, firmly. “Let him rest.”
Shay turns his head on the pillow and reluctantly, I turn my head as well to meet his burning gaze.
Except, I can see now that he’s using rage to hide his fear.
He usually does.
He’s terrified.
“This is serious, Dee,” Shay whispers.
“I know.”
“Do you?” Shay’s expression hardens. “Did you listen to what Mike said? Do you have any idea what it did to me to see you collapsed on the ice that day? To not know if you’d wake up? To see you in that hospital bed? Then to get called off the ice today and told by coach that you’d collapsed again. I thought that you were going to die…”
Shay chokes on tears.
I feel sick.
“Shay.” I pull his hand close to my chest. “I’m right here.”
He always needed this: to feel the rising and falling of my chest.
The steady thud — thud — thud of my heart.
It was the only way to know that I was alive, when my eyes were closed and I couldn’t talk.
For years, I’d wake up from sleeping and find that he’d lain over my chest just to be certain that I was alive. He couldn’t sleep otherwise.
D’Angelo’s lips thin. “Mike’s right about the therapy for both of you. Why in the hell didn’t you say anything? You must have been feeling like shit for days.”
Bewildered, I blink. “It’s only pain. You were busy. Today was important for you.”
“You’re important,” Robyn bursts out. “More important than hockey or fucking anything.”
I stiffen in shock.
“We’ll find a way to prove it to you.” D’Angelo looks determined. Then his gaze sweeps across Shay as well. “To both of you. But for now, I have to say that as Shay’s Dom, I need to know how this impacts you. I’m beginning to think that perhaps we all should stop holding onto secrets. I don’t exclude myself from that. But this isn’t about me right now. We have a right to our pasts. No one should feel pressured to share more than they’re comfortable with. But I have a responsibility to Shay and to uphold that I have to know about things as serious as this. For your sake, Eden, if you can’t share this with strangers, then consider that you should with friends. Will you trust us?”
My chest is tight. My eyes burn.
I can’t speak.
I glance between D’Angelo and Robyn.
They’re not looking at me like they’re judging me.
Pitying me.
Thinking of abandoning me.
Is it compassion? Understanding? Love?
I turn back to Shay. He’s ashen, and a tremor runs through his hands.
This isn’t only my secret.
It’s Shay’s as well.
D’Angelo does have an extra duty toward Shay, however, and protecting my twin matters most in the world to me.
What if D’Angelo triggers him because he doesn’t understand?
I’ve never spoken about this to anyone.
I’ve never let the words free.
Perhaps, if I do, then I’ll be free.
Shay won’t be alone with the monsters anymore.
I turn my head, lying straight on my back. I’m still as a statue.
I learned to do this.
It helped to stop myself being noticed. Shay was never able to learn the same trick, even though he tried really hard, as far back as I can remember, to copy me.
I can’t look at anyone as I tell them.
I stare up at the ceiling instead. I study a thin crack between the thick plaster.
Has D’Angelo lain here and noticed it before?
“They locked us in this dark room with a mattress on the floor.” My voice is steadier than I’m expecting it to be. I don’t know where the words are coming from. I feel like I’m floating above my body. Maybe somebody else is speaking? I can hear Shay’s ragged breathing and feel how tightly he’s clinging to me. “I was happy, when they dragged me away from Shay and into the room next door. He was crying. I could hear him. But they weren’t going to hurt him. He was safe and he wouldn’t see…”
“Dee,” Shay sounds broken hearted.
Like he did back then.
“They liked that I didn’t speak. Perhaps, they thought that I’d never be able to tell. They thought that it was funny and made a game out of trying to make me say things. They said they’d stop if I did. But I wouldn’t have, even if I could. Because their game kept them choosing me to play with and not Shay every night.”
“But I wanted them to choose me.” Shay’s sobbing. The front of my t-shirt is wet. “I begged them to.”
“I know.” And fuck it, I do. “Therapy will do fuck all. Our parents and therapists thought that Shay was the unbroken one because he spoke. Because he smiled. But his words and smile are a shield. It was harder for him to listen to me being hurt through that wall, the slaps, thumps, and…all of it.”
“I had to sit with you after,” Shay whispers, “when they carried you in, bruised and not moving. When I saw you on the ice…or heard about you from coach today…it made it all rush back. I was terrified that you wouldn’t wake up, just like I always was back then.”
“You’re both here with us now,” Robyn says, although her voice is wavering like she’s holding back tears. “I can’t even begin to understand what you’ve been through. But I’ll always be here to listen, and it’s clear that this current concussion is traumatic for both of you.”
“What’s clear,” D’Angelo growls, “is that I’m going to find the people who did this to you and destroy them. Until then, please believe that I’ll keep both of you safe. I protect my family. You’re not in this alone anymore.”
Slowly, I feel less numb.
I blink, swallowing.
I don’t think that I’ve ever spoken this much. At least, never to someone who isn’t Shay.
Yet if they’re family and want to understand both Shay and me, then I need to get these final words out.
I may never feel able to again.
“People think that you’re broken if you don’t speak.” My throat burns. My skin itches, and I wish that I could trace across my rose tattoos. “But not being seen and heard is safer. Shay likes the spotlight. No one notices how damaged you are, when you’re in it. He’s always been desperate to please our adoptive parents, college teammates, and women…so that we wouldn’t be sold, thrown away, or hurt again. Physical pain is nothing. Emotional pain is what breaks you.”