Courage Under Duress (SYTYCW)

Chapter 2

The next day, the nurse had me up and on my feet, walking.  My strength needed to stay up, and my lungs needed the exercise despite the pain that radiated through my ribs.

I was surprised to be greeted with a familiar face I hadn’t seen in three years—Tom.

Thomas Clarke was Dominic’s best friend.  The two were inseparable since they were five.  They grew up together, played women together, graduated college together, and now, they worked together.

I still don’t know what caused the sudden change in Dominic’s behavior after his return.  I could only blame his job since his missions demanded secrecy.

I don’t know much about anything when it comes down to Dominic’s exact military job description because most of it is classified information.  What I do know is that he and Tom were on the same team.  The two, together, made a rather intimidating pair.  I knew they had substantial hand-to-hand combat and weapons training.  They were also trained in locating places and people by infiltrating factions and doing whatever was necessary.  Their team had a license to kill and they knew how to use it so the finger could never be pointed back to them.

It explains how my husband found me when I tried to leave, doesn’t it?  I’d like to think that if Dominic were the average man, that I would have been long gone by now.

“I can handle it from here,” Thomas told the nurse.

The woman looked at me.  I nodded my head and smiled.  “He’s a friend.”

“One more lap and then I expect you back in bed,” she said.

“Aye!  Aye, Nurse Betty!”  He saluted her and my attempt to laugh sent stabbing jolts of pain through my thoracic cavity.

His eyes ever apologetic, I said, “I’m fine.”

“A few more steps,” he said in that calm and encouraging mannerism of his.  For a large man that towered at just over six feet tall, he was a gentle giant.

Why can’t Dominic be like that?

He helped me get comfortable on my hospital bed.  “There.”

In the privacy of my room, I wondered.  “Why are you here?”

“I heard you had an accident.  I figured, since I was in town for the next few months that I’d visit, but-”

“What?”

“But I don’t think my friend is being honest with me.”  He averted his gaze.  A dark cloud covered his features.

I didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed silent as he continued to speak.  When he finished, all I could do was deny his suspicion of abuse.  He didn’t argue with me.  He didn’t push.  And I was thankful for the reprieve.

“I’ll talk to him.”  He got up to leave and panic struck.

“No, don’t!”  I grabbed his arm before he could get away and winced at the pull on my ribcage.  His eyes met mine and I lowered my gaze.  I cowered, shrinking away from a physical snap.

“Are you ready to admit it?”

I shook my head in response.  “It’s not that easy.”

“That tells me enough.”

“He won’t stop,” I said, “not until I’m dead.”

“Then leave him,” he said, “you-”

“I can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”  He dropped down into the seat beside me with his realization.  “You’ve tried.”

The room fell silent.  If Thomas could read me like a book, what did it say about everyone else?  Did they suspect?  Did they know?  What were their thoughts?  If anyone suspected, why hadn’t anyone come to my aid?

But I already knew the answers.

I hadn’t asked for help.

I hadn’t confessed to anyone who’d brought up their suspicions.

I refused the assistance of those that could save me; end the vicious cycle I seemed to have allowed myself to get stuck in.  All because of trust—or lack thereof.

I hadn’t realized I had been crying until a warm hand cupped my cheek, the pad of a thumb brushed at a stray tear.  I stiffened at his gentleness, then relaxed.

“Let me help you.”