“My jaw was broken in two different places, and my right cheekbone was shattered. The gravel I fell on did some pretty good damage as well. It left deep grooves in my cheek. The surgeons believe the one who kicked my jaw must have been wearing steel-toe boots, because the force was so strong, part of my jaw bone sliced open the underside of my jaw.”
Feral rage builds in my system, and my hand curls into a fist. Ellie notices and picks up my hand, kissing the top of my knuckles.
“My clavicle was also broken.” She runs a finger along the scar just past where her collarbone meets the humerus bone. “I needed surgery to repair the damage. My arm broke in three different places, but no surgery for that one. Just a cast.”
She speaks with no emotion in her voice, and I wonder if she’s distancing herself to keep from breaking down. Her ordeal was gruesome and hideous, not to mention extremely painful. She mentioned seeing a psychiatrist; I have no doubt she’s dealt with PTSD.
“I had three broken ribs, and they were concerned I may develop pneumonia because I couldn’t breathe properly with the pain. Thankfully, I didn’t. I did have to have surgery to repair the ligaments in my other arm though, along with my ankle bone. I still have trouble with my ankle at times. It becomes achy, so if you see me limping, especially in the winter, that’s why.”
She just obliterated my fucking heart. This woman has been through hell and back, is still suffering from it, and it’s partially my fault.
She curls a strand of hair behind her ear, staring off in the distance. I only have a profile view of her face, and I want to force her eyes on me, but I let her be for the time being. I worry if I move too much or make a sound, I’ll break the spell that’s keeping her going. She’s killing me slowly with her words, but the least I can do is suffer through them.
“There was a lot of pain involved with all of my injuries because I was limited on the medication I could take. I refused anything that could potentially harm the baby.”
I’m surprised when she moves suddenly. She flips around onto her stomach, her breasts smashed against my dick. She lays her palms, one on top of the other, on my stomach and rests her chin on the back of her hands. Her eyes meet mine, and the remembered pain of her attack shining in the gray orbs cripples the fuck out of me.
“I was left with a lot of grotesque scars on my face. There was also a lot of nerve damage. The best course of action was plastic surgery. They wanted to take flesh from my thighs for my face. However, the doctors felt it was best I wait until after I had Maisy. I had already had two surgeries, one for my ankle and one for the ligaments and clavicle. The scarring and nerve damage weren’t as dire. I had no idea how I was going to have the surgery because I had no one that I trusted enough to care for Maisy during my recovery. My uncle Declan’s been a blessing in so many ways. He showed up two months after I had Maisy. A month later, I had the surgery.” She blows out a tired breath, her eyes tearing up. “Through everything, it was Maisy that kept me strong. If not for her, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have just given up. She’s a miracle in more ways than one.”
A lump forms in my throat, and my skin feels tight over my sinew, muscles, and bones.
I’m conflicted, because my mind roars at me to seek justice against those who hurt her, my blood running ice cold in my veins at the pure wrath waiting to break free and destroy. But the pain of what she went through, not being there for her and not protecting her, leaves my heart feeling likes it’s been through a meat grinder. I’ll never be able to make up for my par
t in all this, but I’ll damn sure make sure it never happens again.
I swipe my thumbs beneath her eyes, wiping away the few tears that have escaped. “Why didn’t you tell me all this when you told me about the attack?”
Lifting her head, she rubs her lips against the back of her hand, then rests her chin back down.
“Because I knew you already felt guilt for what happened. Giving you the details would have made that guilt grow.”
“I am fuckin’ guilty, Ellie,” I say vehemently. “It was me who pushed you away. It was me who should have protected you. You were there because I put you there. It wasn’t my fists or boots that did the damage, but those bastards got to you because of what I did. You almost lost our daughter because of me.”
I’m nearly shouting by the time I’m done. My heart pumps rapidly and my throat feels like I’m breathing in razor blades. How in the hell can she look at me and not hate me?
I watch with frantic eyes as she gets to her knees, bringing the blanket with her over her shoulders. She straddles my lap and sits back on my lower stomach. She grips the sides of my head and leans down until our noses almost touch. Her lips are tight as she scowls right there in my face.
“You listen to me, Judge, and you listen good. Do you honestly believe that you would have ever let anything happen to me if you thought for a second that I was in danger?” She shakes my head when I keep quiet. “Answer me, dammit,” she demands, her eyes fierce.
“No!” I growl. “Nothing would have stopped me from protecting you! I would have taken every fuckin’ blow you took if I could!”
Her expression softens, her fingers leaving the back of my head and running through the strands of my hair. Her head tilts to the side.
“I know you would have, and it pains me so much to think about you being hurt the same way I was. I was bitter, resentful, and I blamed you for a long time. But I know”—she grabs my hand and places it over her chest where I feel the rhythmic beat—“I know in here, you would have never let me leave that apartment if you knew what I was walking into. I was stupid for leaving my car the way I did. I should have sucked up my self-pity and come back to you and asked for help. The only people to blame are the ones who caused the damage.”
I know what she’s saying is logical. Had the situation been reversed, I would have demanded she not take the blame for something she couldn’t control, but no matter what she says, how true her words may be, there will be no eradicating the blame I feel. Regardless of the fact that I would have done anything to have prevented her attack had I known about it, in the end, it was my actions that put her there. Any man with a conscience would feel that way.
I pull my hand from hers and tug her down until her head is against my shoulder. Her arms go around my waist and she hugs me tight. I close my eyes and thank God she’s here with me. She came so close to death. A few more hits could have taken her from this earth, and the kicker is, I probably wouldn’t have known about it.
When we had dinner with Mae the day after they arrived, I asked JW for an update on the guy who got away. He had nothing so far. However, the two guys that were in prison are now in graves in the Eddyville State Penitentiary Cemetery in Lyon County, Kentucky.
Although that was satisfying to hear, what I really want is the third guy. I fucking need to slaughter that bastard with my bare hands.
Only then will I be able to move past the guilt that eats at me for not protecting Ellie when she needed me the most.
Chapter Nineteen
ELLIE