Rina had been falling apart, and James swooped in, grabbed her and my kids, and moved us into what was known as Washington Manor. I’d been grateful, not expecting a permanent stay. I’d been full of piss and vinegar and determined to heal properly. The house was huge, and we went days without seeing each other. James had generously given us our own wing. At first, it had been a relief; now it was my prison.
Dane was still at our former home, not that I’d ever go back. How could I? Too many fuckin’ stairs! Now, Rina and the kids were all safely ensconced in James’s mansion. Rina didn’t need me. Shit, she’d never needed me. Rina made a fortune from her paintings, which were in high demand. That’s how she’d bought the house in the first place. She and Dane, her best friend and ex-boyfriend, shared the property although Rina owned it.
It was a strange situation. Dane and Rina had been a couple when Ava, Walker’s mother, had died. Rina adopted Walker immediately, and even though she and Dane had separated, they’d remained close friends and raised him together. It crossed my mind often that if I were out of the picture, then Dane and Rina might rekindle their relationship.
Walker and the kids had settled in at Washington Manor. Almost as if they belonged, and James was overjoyed to have family nearby. Kate and Rina got on well, and Tammy had a separate wing. James was expanding his family by taking mine. I couldn’t blame him; they were beautiful and deserved better than me. Hell, I couldn’t even teach Walker to drive. James was doing that because my leg was so fucked up.
Rina
I fell asleep long before Adam returned. He reeked of spirits, and I hoped he hadn’t driven home. Adam barely made it to the bedroom before passing out drunk, fully clothed. Great, it appeared I was sleeping on the sofa again.
Annoyed, I didn’t bother making Adam comfortable; why should I? Adam clearly didn’t care about my comfort.
I yanked the thick duvet off the bed and stomped out. Adam needed a wake-up call, and I was getting tired of his attitude fast. I loved Adam and couldn’t imagine being without him, but this shit had to stop. Adam was hurting, I knew that, but so was I. He wasn’t the only one who’d been affected by his injury.
When I’d arrived at the hospital—Phoe had me flown in with her—I was told Adam might not survive. As the hours ticked past, doctors said they didn’t think his leg could be saved. Surgeons were considering an amputation. I didn’t care; I just needed my husband. Without hesitation, I gave permission andwaited. More hours crept by before a nurse came out with a beaming smile.
She’d informed me that Adam was still in surgery and that a different junior doctor had taken over. Slowly, he was piecing Adam’s torn leg back together, one stitch at a time. The nurse said there’d be terrible scarring, but the guy was being meticulous. In confidence, she’d stated that the attending had ordered the removal of his leg, but the junior physician had argued against it.
The senior doctor had permitted the junior surgeon to try to save the limb but had fully expected to carry out the amputation. Hours later, Adam’s limb was being repaired.
Hope had risen, and I’d prayed like there was no tomorrow. They’d been answered, and Adam not only survived but also avoided losing his leg.
Now, as I curled up on the sofa, I wondered for the millionth time if I’d done the correct thing. Perhaps I should have let them amputate. It would have saved Adam a lot of pain.
Did those who lost limbs really feel the loss of them? As I lay there in the darkness trying to sleep, I couldn’t decide if I’d chosen right or not. Had saving Adam’s leg cost me my husband? That was a question I couldn’t answer.
???
“Go play,” I ordered, shuffling the children out of the apartment. Walker sent Adam a disgusted glare, collected the younger three, and took them out.
Adam sat at the breakfast bar, blearily eyed and sallow-skinned. He was a mess even though he’d showered.
“The kids could have stayed,” Adam said.
“With you looking like shit? Yeah, I want the kids to see their father hungover,” I snapped.
Adam looked surprised.
“What? Do you think this is acceptable?” I continued.
“Rina, you don’t know what shit’s like—”
“No?” I screamed, and Adam reared back. “I don’t? I’m not living this nightmare with you?” My frustration was boiling over, and I tried desperately to rein it in.
“What would you know? You’re not a gimp!”
“And neither are you, except in your own fuckin’ mind! Adam, I wish you’d died that day! At least the kids wouldn’t be tortured by your behaviour. They no longer laugh around you! They walk on tiptoes, and you’re losing them, and you don’t care!”
Adam now looked like I’d slapped him. “You wish I died?” he whispered, hurt present in his voice.
“Yes!” I hissed. “Because it would be better living with the memory of your laughter and love. All we get is anger and bitterness. There’s no gratitude that you lived. Willow gave birth to a son that Grey will never see. Jesus, I thanked God you made it because our children still had a dad. But now…” I broke off, unwilling to put the rest into words.
“Say it!” Adam yelled back.
“I wish you’d died! Yeah, you had an injury, but I had you, and the kids had their daddy. But you’re not their father, not even close. Zoie avoids you, as do the boys. Walker’s disgusted and can’t stand to look at you half the time.”
“Because I’m a cripple.”
