His face is red, splotchy, and streaked with tears. I’m assuming they came to identify Wes’ body. I know the hurt of loss, but I don’t have the fortitude to give a fuck about his grief. Right now, he’s out of line. Celeste’s room is nowhere near the morgue, so he sought her out. This, I will not let fly. I jump up as he stalks in with his clothes slightly disheveled.
“The fucking Chesterfields,” Celeste complains. She turns her head away from him to ignore his rant.
“You had my son killed with your lies,” he growls as he nears.
I’m between him and Celeste before he reaches her. Tracy hangs back in the hall too destroyed over the loss of her son to wrangle her husband.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” I snarl as I push him toward the door. “Get out! You’re not allowed in here. I will not allow you to put my wife or child in any more distress.”
“Wife? Child? How do you know it’s yours? That whore—”
My fist connects with his jaw before he can finish his sentence. Stunned, he glares at me as if I’m the one out of line.
“What in the fuck is wrong with you people?” Grabbing him by the back of his neck I pull him closer to Celeste. “She’s a person! LOOK AT HER! Do you see what your son did?” I shake him by the neck. “Do you? This bruise is from him banging her head on the microwave; this bandage is from him trying to bite off her ring finger. Her neck is discolored because he tried to strangle her to death!”
I let him go and he falls to the floor. My compassion is non-existent. He’s given me a good reason to lose my fucking mind. Celeste protests. It’s fine. I’m not about to have his blood on my hands, but I will do what I do best. Leaning in, I get in his face as he’s sitting up.
“Celeste was minding her own business, cooking her husband dinner, when your son decided to break in and attack her. Now, you come to add more harassment because you’re just as fucked up in the head as he is. You’re still supporting his bad behavior. Listen carefully. Life as you’ve known it is over. You want to harass my wife, I’ll show you I’m much better at it, and it will be legal.”
Senior sputters. He’s not used to anyone speaking to him harshly, and my consideration of Celeste’s peace keeps me from doing worse. I grab his collar again, when it takes him too long to rise, and drag him to the door.
“Never fuck with us again.” I make sure his wife is paying attention. “Understand?”
I push him out of the door, not caring that he collides with his wife. Closing the door, I lean against it to breathe deep and regain my composure.
“Let me guess,” Celeste whispers. “You’re going to destroy them.”
I turn to look at her, happy that she doesn’t look any more traumatized. A slight smile creases her lips.
“Very much so,” I admit. “The Chesterfields will be a blip in history. A brief mention in their town’s archive ”
“I’m usually not vengeful, but I’d like that very much, Mr. Scott.” She tears up, but her smile widens. “Thank you for punching him since I can’t. That was so damn satisfying.”
I push her hair out of her face and plant kisses on her forehead. “You and our son’s protection will always be my highest priority,” I vow, then kiss her lips. “Try to get back to sleep. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be up all night, most likely.
“Just hold my hand,” she begs as if there is something else I’d rather be doing.
“Always.”
* * *
Celeste
After my unwanted visit from the Chesterfields, I’m more than happy when the doctor announces my discharge the next morning. Axel and Heaven arrived at some point during the night but waited until this morning to visit. Axel and Beau leave to grab me a change of clothes while Heaven visits with me. I’m sitting in the waiting area in the wheelchair waiting to be rolled out when Heaven looks above my head expectantly. I swear if Senior is behind me, I’m punching him in the nuts.
“Um...e-excuse me. Celeste?” I sigh once I realize I know the voice.
Emma takes a seat across from me. She’s dressed for surgery in scrubs, and I can see the bruise the makeup tries to cover. I know this path far better than I should. She doesn’t have to fill me in for me to know exactly who’s responsible for the condition of her face. She studies my bruises, both assessing as a doctor and flinching as someone who knows abuse.
“Yes?” I ask, curious to find out what she wants. I haven’t seen her since her unannounced visit to the beach house months ago.
“Get the hell away for her,” I hear Beau say from behind me. His hand gripping my shoulder is warm and comforting, but I can feel his irritation.
“It’s okay, Beau,” I assure him. “What do you need, Emma?”
She glances at Beau but keeps her eyes on me. “I’m a surgeon. A lot of times, we have to think fast to solve major issues because one wrong move and someone dies. Because of that, we tend to stop seeing people as...well, people. They just become puzzles or problems that need solutions. Sometimes, it feels like the longer you’re a surgeon, the more out of touch you become.”
I feel Beau shift his stance, and I know he’s gearing up to say something. I pat his hand to allow her to continue. Emma’s eyes shine with tears when she starts speaking again.
