8. RHETT #2
How could anyone hurt her in this way?
“Rhett,” Avery whispers so low that I can barely make out my own name over the sound of my rage pumping through me, whooshing in my ears.
Releasing her sweatshirt, she pulls a phone from the front pocket and hands it to me when I stand. “Could you…I need…”
Taking the phone from her, I watch as she pulls the hem of her sweater up.
The higher it goes, the tighter my jaw clenches.
Without touching her, I crouch closer to get a better look at her abdomen.
It’s not just her hip that’s bruised. The entire right side of her chest, ribs, and belly is marled red and purple.
“You probably think I’m an idiot…”
“You are not.” The words push from my lips like hot steam from a pressure cooker. “You’re brave, Avery, and it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks because you’re still standing when so many other people would be on their knees right now.”
Tears sluice down her pretty face, getting heavier with every hiccup and sob that racks through her, visibly strangling her chest.
“I don’t feel brave or anything like it. I feel like the biggest goddamn fool.”
Pulling the sweatshirt off, she shudders at the sound of the phone snapping a photo of her torso. There’s barely anything of her, to the point that I’m trying to recall whether or not she actually ate last time I was here.
I feel about the most tender-looking part around her ribs, taking my time so that if it is something warier than I expect, I don’t exacerbate the situation.
I’m tempted to take her for an X-ray to be certain that there’s no fracture, but as I examine the area with a little more pressure, I can’t feel anything off, and her discomfort is tame compared to what it would be if she had any fissures.
It takes me a moment of staring at the top of her leggings and the bruising that runs beneath it to garner the stomach to ask, “Did he hurt you in any other way?”
I’m not sure if she understands what I’m implying. I almost don’t want her to because I’m already struggling to hold it together as it is.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat that swells with every second that goes by, I look into Avery’s eyes, blowing out a deep breath I didn’t realize I was holding when she tells me, “No.”
“Okay, how far down does the bruising go? You don’t have to show me. I can write it up.”
“This is the worst of it.” Avery wraps her arms around her torso, and I realize that the worst bruises are around her forearm, where it’s clutching at her side.
When I press on the darker contusions, she practically leaps away from me. “How did you get these?”
Shame draws her face, darkening her hazel eyes. When she doesn’t reply, I take a closer look, and each bruise is an identical line. Uniform. Putting the phone down at her feet, I catch a glimpse of my shoes. The thickness of the bruises is about the same as my soles…
Son of a bitch.
“Did he kick you?”
She nods, and in order to stop myself from cursing breathless, I concentrate on taking a few close-ups of those bruises.
“He’s not coming near you ever again, you understand that? He’s not going to hurt you again.”
Another small smile curves her lips slightly, as though she’s humoring my words but doesn’t believe them entirely.
“You don’t know Carl. He knows people…people love him.”
“You ever thought that people don’t love him, they tolerate him because of what he can do for them?”
“I think in this situation, love and tolerance equate to the same thing.”
I grab her sweatshirt from the floor and hand it to her.
Turning on the spot slowly, Avery puts it back on without another word.
This is harder than what she’s trying to let on, and it only serves to make me madder at the thought that behind the distanced facade she’s put on, she’s stuck living this hell again and again.
With every new turn, it doesn’t matter how safe she is or how far he is, she’s still suffering.
“If you need to talk to someone…”
She turns to look at me. “You mean a shrink?”
“I mean someone that you can trust to talk to and to help you through this without the worry that they’ll see you differently or…that they’ll treat you differently.”
Avery scoffs silently at my suggestion. There’s a small glimpse of the guilt she’s shouldering, and it’s not pretty. Self-loathing looks ugly on everyone, but on her, it’s horrendous. She doesn’t deserve to feel that way no matter what’s happened or whatever she has or hasn’t done.
“I must be crazy to not have seen any of it. Delusional or something…how else can you see all the despicable sides to one person and still want to save something that is irrevocably broken?”
“Avery…” I take a deep breath to stop myself from getting closer. There’s a pull in my gut that keeps tugging and tugging at me, drawing me closer to her when I know I need to keep my distance. I’ve had enough of my own shitty, self-inflicted drama. “You’re not crazy or delusional.”
“Then I must be a fool because I was blind to it all. The cheating and…and the complete lack of moral compass? My husband and my best friend. Who would miss that? The two people they are closest to…what’s wrong with me?”
That right there is all the warning I need to end this conversation and get the hell out of here. To walk away and pretend Avery doesn’t exist.
Still, in spite of all the alarm bells and sirens going off, my body and head go rogue on me.
“You’re not a fool,” I tell her, taking her hand and squeezing it like my touch might fix things.
“All I’ve ever wanted is to protect Iris, and I think that I’m the one that’s done the most damage.
I don’t know what to say to fix this for her or to make her understand without ruining what’s left of her innocence.
I don’t know how any of this works. I’m lost and I have no idea how to find the answers I need. ”
“We’re all a little bit lost, sunshine.”
Avery stills, her hand trembling in mine as she looks up at me, her glistening gaze boring into mine.
I wish I could look and pull away from her, but I can’t, and it’s a maddening feeling being so caught up in someone I barely know.
But there’s that light still flickering in her eyes—a hope holding on for dear life—that’s hypnotizing… enthralling even.
“Maybe.” She finally breaks the silence surrounding us. “Maybe you’re right, Doc.”
Without another word, she leaves me completely baffled and stunned at her use of the nickname that Rowan calls me by. Avery leaves me in a limbo of conscience and feelings. I don’t know which way is up or down, right or wrong. There’s just her and the tug that has me following her out of the room.