Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Hunter
Take my greatest shame and judge me.
W aking up next to Eleanor is everything. I want this to be my life—lazy mornings spent getting lost in each other before we tackle the darkness in the world. But first, we need to slay the object of her nightmares and free her soul.
She grumbles incoherently in her sleep, her brow furrowed as she burrows deeper into my side. It’s like she’s annoyed at her dreams for not being logical or following her demands.
Today, I am going to show her my greatest shame and hope like hell she can still see the good in me, see the man I hope to be. I nudge her shoulder gently. It’s eight o’clock, and I’ve already walked Charlie and picked up some pastries from a stern-looking Cheryl who was unimpressed at the mess we left in her bakery. But she still smiled as she recounted the many people who messaged her to say I was wandering the streets, covered in flour, with a woman slung over my shoulder.
“Wakey wakey, Ellie. I have coffee and breakfast.”
She rolls onto her back and stretches her arms, pressing them against the headboard and arching her back. She looks like a lioness as her eyes blink open. I half expect her to panic and run away, reacting the same way she did before when she woke up in my bed. I was ready for round two as soon as I carried her into my room, but she literally passed out in my arms and was out cold before I’d tucked her in. It’s clear she has been running on the bare minimum of sleep for some time, and I’m not a bastard who wakes someone up to get off. We have time, and she will need her energy for all I want to do to her.
“What time is it?” she mumbles, her voice scratchy.
“Eight.”
She shoots up and glances around, taking in the strong sunshine already fighting the curtains. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I am waking you.”
She runs a hand over her head and frowns. “Did you braid my hair?”
My lips twitch at her utter disbelief. “You got it wet in the shower, and I didn’t want you waking up with it all tangled and knotty.”
“You brushed and braided my hair, and I stayed asleep?”
“I was very gentle.” She also moaned every time I pulled a little, which made me need another shower before falling asleep.
She glances around my bedroom and catalogs the new additions. “Did you move all my things into your bedroom?”
“Our bedroom.”
She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Answer the question.”
“No, I didn’t move all your things, but everything you left in the guest room is now in here.”
“Why?” she whispers. It makes my heart squeeze that she has to ask.
“Because, Eleanor, where I sleep, you sleep.”
“Move them back.”
“I could, but then I’d have to move all of my things into the guest room.”
She’s cute when she frowns. “I’m not following.”
I place my hands on either side of her hips and drop a kiss on her lips. “Where you sleep, I sleep.”
Pulling away, I reach over and hand her a plate while nodding at the cup next to her. “Coffee with caramel creamer and two pastries. Eat up. We have places to be.”
She yawns and glances around the room again. “Where?”
“You’ll see.”
Her gaze drops to my arms and chest, her lips turning down at the edges. “You said you’d tell me where you got those marks.”
“I’m going to show you instead. Eat, then you’ll get all your answers.”
She eyeballs me as she takes a bite and groans. That’s my cue to leave. Otherwise, we will be late, and I want this morning to go as smoothly as possible.
Strolling through my closet, I grab a shirt and some socks before going to sit on the sofa and check my email and messages. The Ghost’s Gang chat has twenty-three of them.
MrsFoxyRoxy
How is everyone? Check in please.
Trouble
Fine.
Fox
No one says fine who is fine.
Trouble
I do.
MrsFoxyRoxy
@HunKing can you confirm the fine?
Trouble
He’s also fine.
MrsFoxyRoxy
Yes, girl, he’s damn fine...
Fox
Take it back.
MrsFoxyRoxy
I’m just supporting my friend.
Fox
Take. It. Back.
Trouble
I’m confused.
MrsFoxyRoxy
@Trouble please get Hunter to check in as soon as he’s done... doing whatever you guys are up to on a Sunday morning.
Fox
Do you remember the last time you tested me while in church?
MrsFoxyRoxy
*innocent blinking gif*
Fox
Out back. Now.
Trouble
Shouldn’t you be praying or something?
Fox
She will definitely be on her knees.
MrsFoxyRoxy
I distinctly remember it was you on your knees.
Trouble
What kind of church do you two attend?
I shake my head at their antics, chuckling to myself as Charlie settles in next to me, staring at the hallway as his tail lazily wags.
HunKing
I can confirm both Trouble and I are more than fine.
MrsFoxyRoxy
Define more than fine. Is that like, we got naked and licked each other from head to foot fine, or?
Trouble
What is wrong with you?
MrsFoxyRoxy
So much, but I’m manifesting a romantic subplot in your life.
HunKing
I am facilitating said subplot.
Trouble
And I am confused.
Fox
@MrsFoxyRoxy Last chance, wife.
MrsFoxyRoxy
You wouldn’t dare. Your grandmother is two seats down from me.
Fox
Try me.
MrsFoxyRoxy
Oh shit. Gotta run. Have fun, kids! Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!
I snort at the unlikely couple who met their match in each other.
Ten minutes later, Eleanor appears carrying her empty plate and mug. She’s dressed in a pair of dark ripped jeans and a floaty cream blouse that gives a sneaky glimpse of her lace-covered breasts. Her beauty is ruthless; it knocks you off your feet and leaves you reeling in its wake as you clamber for a moment in her light. She thinks she’s full of darkness, but she’s wrong. Just because you have experienced the worst this world has to offer, doesn’t mean you embody darkness simply because it forms a part of your history. The fact that she is, at her core, a good, pure soul, is a small miracle. Charlie darts from his place on my lap and greets her with a smile. She bends and strokes him, mumbling good morning and asking him how he slept.
I smother a smile at her falling into the trap we all have of talking to Charlie like he has a clue what we’re saying. He flops over onto his back and stretches his paws out in invitation. She obliges, true happiness shining on her face, and rubs his belly for a good two minutes before she finally stands.
“Ready?” I ask.
She nods. “You going to tell me where we are going?”
“You’ll have to trust me.”
She sweeps the bottom of her braid off her shoulder, and I take great pride in the fact she’s left it in.
“Are we walking?”
“No, it’s too far.” I rise to my feet and stalk towards her, a sinful smile on my face. “It’s either your car or my bike, trouble. Pick your poison.”
“Car. I’ll drive.”
I place one hand on her hip and tug on her braid with the other, tipping her head back. “I’ll drive. You don’t know where you are going.”
“I have something extremely modern called a satnav.”
My lips twitch. “I’m aware, but I don’t want this location trackable at any point.”
I kiss her to stop any further protests before swiping the keys and leading her out of the apartment. Time for her to look my demons in the eye and cast judgment. If she wants to walk away after this is over, I won’t stop her. It’s a lot to handle for anyone. I hope she knows she will rip out my already tattered heart and take it with her if she goes.
The security guard takes our names and gives me a flat smile before buzzing us in. I lead the way through the third layer of security, ensuring no one can get in or out without permission. Eleanor glances around, cataloging every camera, door, and exit as we dive deeper into the building.
Green Hay Hospital is a red brick building, housing a maximum of twenty patients at a time. The staff are world class leaders in their fields and are at the forefront of new, innovative methods of treatment. The ratio is a minimum of four to one staff to patients, and along with excellent levels of care, patients are provided with gourmet meals designed and adapted to meet their individual needs and preferences. I don’t know if I’d describe it as heaven, but it is a safe haven designed to protect and heal, which is all I could ask for. A faint relaxing scent of vanilla and honeysuckle is being pumped through the vents today, part of the universal sensory method. They change the aroma often to keep the senses tantalized, while also soothing them. There is no undercurrent of antiseptic, and certainly no trace of madness that soaks the air in other institutions.
Chief Nurse Hannah greets me at the desk and eyes Eleanor with curiosity. In five years, I have never once brought anyone to see Stephanie, so she was always going to gain some scrutiny from the staff, though they’re quick to see the goodness within her.
“She’s having a much better day,” Hannah says with a soft smile. “She’s out in the gardens by the peach trees.”
“Thanks.”
My hand tangles with Eleanor’s, and I lead her through the opulent day room, which plays classical music low in the background, and out into the substantial gardens which includes a fruit orchard, vegetable patch, and petting zoo. I wish all mental health care was like this; sensitive to the needs of people at their most vulnerable. It’s not to say they have it perfected; when treating the mind, you can only control so much of the environment, and often the smallest of things can become a trigger. A change in routine. A new nurse making a careless comment. Things that seem insignificant to us, ultimately get twisted inside the person’s mind, wreaking more havoc than we could possibly realize. I wave at Amy, a slim woman in her forties who has been here as long as Stephanie. The pair of them are as thick as thieves in here, allowing my guilt to ease some.
“They are all women,” Eleanor whispers as we step out into the sunshine, and I lead us down the boardwalk to the patch of peach trees Stephanie seems to favor.
“It’s female only by design.”
She looks around, still trying to put the pieces together when I spot Stephanie curled up on a curved wooden bench with a worn paperback in her hands. Another Bront?, if I had to guess. She is obsessed with the classics.
Her gaze bounces up, and a brilliant smile takes over her face as she leaps off the bench and flings her arms around me. She’s my Steph today, not the shadow of a woman I dealt with yesterday. It’s almost like it never happened, which sometimes makes it worse. Her chin rests on my shoulder as she says, “Hunter, you brought a friend.”
She releases me quicker than normal. Our hugs generally last for a few minutes, but she decides Eleanor is worth dividing her love for. Smart woman. She wraps Eleanor in her thin arms and squeezes tight, her body shaking with the effort. Eleanor freezes and darts a panicked look at me. This must be hard for her; she hasn’t learned enough from the environment to know the norms, and even if she had, she would discover the people here don’t follow any of the normal rules. There is no fitting in here.
Steph finally releases her but grabs her hand and drags her over to the bench, tugging her down next to her. “Are you sleeping with my brother?”
Eleanor is rarely speechless, but absorbing the truth of the connection between me and Steph seems to have wiped her of coherent thought. I chuckle as I slide onto the only free space beside Stephanie.
“Well?” She leans into Eleanor’s space, nearly nose to nose as she studies the woman in front of her. “I hope so, because I worry about him. He’s getting on now, and looks don’t last forever, right? He’s in his prime, but the problem is it’s all downhill from here. Crow’s feet and saggy balls await, so he better hurry his ass up.”
I cover my mouth and laugh, the vice around my heart releasing a little at Steph’s version of an interrogation.
“I cannot attest to the saggy balls, as I haven’t examined them, but the hint of wrinkles add to Hunter’s overall physical appeal,” Eleanor answers. In her brain, this is the only logical response she can deliver.
Steph snorts and whips her waist length black hair over her shoulder in silent demand. I grasp it and start braiding the wild tresses as Stephanie peppers Eleanor with more questions.
“Are you planning on kids?”
Eleanor’s hand rises to her own braid as she watches my hands. “Not right now.”
It’s good to know she’s not against it completely, meaning she probably does want them at some point. As do I.
“Marriage?”
“An institution I’m not interested in.”
Huh, that’s a layer I need to uncover. It’s not a deal breaker, but I’d like to know why she’s set against it.
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m in tech.”
I smile, rolling my eyes as I do the final few twists on Steph’s braid. That’s skirting the facts.
“Do you like dogs?”
“Only Charlie.”
I wrap the hair band I always come with around the end of her hair to secure it. I don’t know where she loses them each and every week, but she never seems to hold on to the same one for more than a day or two.
Stephanie spins to face me. “I like her. She’s got a good bullshit meter, which means you can’t pull your normal crap and hide your feelings.”
Nope, that prize goes to Eleanor. If we both guard our hearts, neither of us are going to get anywhere, so I was the first to offer a piece of mine. I still can’t believe she’s treasured it.
“I like her too.”
Stephanie snorts as she stands and shakes her head to test the durability of her braid. Seeming satisfied, she spins in a circle, her white ankle-length summer dress floating around her like an angel. I catch Eleanor’s gaze as it falls to Steph’s wrists. There’s no judgment in her eyes, only understanding.
We walk with Stephanie around the garden, stopping so she can pick some plums and hand them to Eleanor. “They are so sweet,” Stephanie gushes. “Go on, try one.”
Eleanor obliges and grins with a nod, the juice making her lips glisten. “They are very sweet.”
An hour passes and Stephanie sits down back at her bench. Exhaustion seeps into her features, aging her before my eyes. “I think I need to rest,” she says with a yawn.
I squat down and kiss her forehead. “I’ll see you Wednesday, okay?”
She smiles, pressing her forehead against mine. “Will you bring a slice of peach pie?”
“Anything for you.”
She lays across the sun warmed wood, her head on her arm, and closes her eyes. She is always tired for a few days after an episode, and the vice clamps around my chest. “She’s very pretty, Hunter,” she mumbles. “Don’t fuck it up.” Then her face goes slack, and she drifts off.
Eleanor is silent as we make our way out of the hospital and for at least twenty minutes in the car, so when she finally speaks, it makes me jump.
“What happened?”
Here goes. “Stephanie is my younger sister.”
“I deduced that.”
“She went to college to study English Lit, with goals of being an author one day. She was happy and carefree, and had a whole future ahead of her. Top of her class and everything to live for.” I glance at Eleanor to see her staring at me, listening to every word I say and absorbing it deep within herself. I shift my gaze back to the road, the knot in my throat relaxing enough for me to keep speaking. “She rarely went out partying, preferring the company of books, coffee, and good friends to loud music, beer kegs, and jocks. But it was Halloween, and the girls had been invited to the biggest party on campus, so they dressed up and went out.” My hands tighten on the steering wheel as I relive a trauma that is not my own. “She was drugged at the party, and six guys raped her for hours. They had a bet on bedding the book nerd, and none of them wanted to lose. When the drugs wore off, she took herself to the hospital and got her injuries assessed. She had a concussion, tears in both her vagina and anus, her body was littered with bruises, and she had a hairline fracture on her wrist and two of her ribs.”
“Fucking hell,” she says before squeezing my thigh. “Pull over, Hunter.”
I pull into the nearest rest stop, killing the engine and leaning back against the headrest, closing my eyes. Suddenly, my seat flies back, and I open my eyes to find Eleanor climbing into my lap and laying her head against my chest. My arms band around her, and I breathe in her scent, grounding myself in the moment. Away from the memories. Away from the guilt. Away from the rage.
“They persuaded her to do a rape kit, but she refused to call the police. Did you know they put the evidence on ice until the victim is ready? It’s a good system; the evidence is preserved while the person processes what happened.” My fingers trace the ridges of her spine, watching the horrors play out like a movie in my mind. “She was in shock, and like so many, wanted to pretend it didn’t happen.”
Eleanor’s hand slips up the bottom of my T-shirt, resting her palm over my heart. “Did she press charges?”
I drag a hand over my face. “Not at first. She lasted a few weeks at college before she withdrew and came home to our parents. Eventually, she opened up to them about what had happened. It was a big first step in acknowledging and healing, but as soon as she identified who was in the room, my father intervened. Two of them were sons of big investors in his company.”
“It shouldn’t matter.”
No truer words have been said. “Shouldn’t, but it did. Our parents got her into therapy and convinced her no good would come from going to the authorities where she would have to relive every sordid detail, including how she had flirted with at least one of the douchebags and her outfit was more revealing than normal. My… my parents used those facts to control her.”
“They made her feel like she invited it to happen.”
“They did. To protect their friends.”
“Where were you?”
Now that’s the million dollar question. “I was stationed abroad. I’d gone deep undercover on an assignment. Steph tried reaching me several times, but only my parents had the code words to get the military to break my cover. So her increasingly distressed messages were taken and fed back to my father, given my CO’s concern.”
My heart thumps in my chest, nothing feeling real except the woman in my arms. “I got home two days after her first attempt to take her life.”
“I’m so sorry, Hunter.”
My arms squeeze her tighter. “My parents shoved her in a ‘top’ psychiatric unit and had her drugged. Healing can only start with justice, so she got into a vicious cycle of lucid awareness and needing to make the pain stop since she was denied it. On her fifth attempt, I called into question the institution’s practices and their ability to keep their patients safe. They released her into my custody, and I moved her in with me. We worked with a nursing team to get her off the many, many drugs they’d hooked her on. It was a hard time, the darkest of my life. Every day was a fight to get her to stay with me.”
“Suicide is rarely about wanting to die. More often than not, it’s about wanting a situation to stop and not knowing how, so death becomes the solution.”
“I know, but living with it still leaves scars. I swung from despair to rage on a daily basis, but little by little, I started to see my little sister come back to me. The attempts stopped, and we did what my parents had forbidden. We pressed charges. That was hard for me; I wanted to murder them, but I knew I wouldn’t get away with killing six high profile men, and Steph needed me with her, not behind bars. If I left, she would find herself back in my parents’ care, drugged and marching toward her death.”
“You did the right thing.”
“I almost lost her because she couldn’t speak to me. I vowed never to be in that position again. So, I found Green Hay. I got her in and worked with them to build an environment giving her the optimum conditions for her to heal. I handled the legal stuff on her behalf since she was too fragile to give evidence. The jury had to decide based on the testimony of people at the party, her friends, and the medical staff. Two of them were found guilty of drugging her, but only one was convicted of rape.” My fingers dig into her skin as her nails bite into my chest. “Three got acquitted, and the other three served no time. It was a fucking injustice, one I couldn’t accept for a long time. But over time, karma stepped in and sealed their fates. No one is dead—yet—but their lives are difficult. A car accident left one unable to walk. He was a top football star, and his career was ruined before it ever started. Another has lost his wealth, and no matter what he tries to do, he struggles to climb out of the rut.”
“This is not your guilt to carry,” she whispers.
“You’re wrong.” My voice breaks, but I don’t shy away from the pain. “I wasn’t there for her. I could’ve intervened and got her to the authorities sooner, saving months of pain and suffering.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself. She is lucky to have you. Not everyone has someone in their corner to advocate for them when they are too weak to do it themselves. The woman I met? She is happy, Hunter, and content with the world you have built for her. She is loved and cared for. Secure and safe.” Her fingers move idly across the tattoo. “What set her off yesterday?”
“A misunderstanding. She thought it was Sunday and was expecting me. A new nurse said I wasn’t coming, and it resulted in a meltdown. She can cope with change, but only if it’s discussed with her up front. Blindsiding her isn’t good.”
“What about your parents?”
I hold more rage toward them than the rapists. The two people who should have protected her put their own needs before their daughter’s. “I haven’t seen them since the court case. I warned them, in legal terms so they could understand, that any attempt to contact her, moving her, or interfering with her care would result in me going public with how they handled the whole thing.”
“That’s smart. People like that value their reputation and wealth above everything.”
I feel bad offloading this onto a woman that has enough horror without me adding to it, but she can’t know the real me without understanding what motivates my actions. And if there’s anyone in the world that understands, it’s her.
“Now you know why I’m working so hard to ensure you are protected while fighting Jonathan. I won’t stand on the sidelines while someone else I care for is swept into the criminal underworld of rich men. I won’t let you do this alone.”
She blows out a long breath, her body molding to mine. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes, okay. I get it. I won’t go running off without you. I will loop you in on decisions and plans. Okay, Hunter. I’m letting you in.”
The relief is like a fresh wash of cool rain as I shed a little of the weight from my shoulders. For Eleanor Austin, letting me in is practically a declaration of love. Love. That feels right. Cupping the back of her head, I breathe her in. Can you fall in love in a few weeks? I kiss the top of her head. Yes, I think you can.