Evin's Fight (Southern Charmers 3)

“In the span of however long since you walked in the room, I’ve gone from wanting to strangle you, to having a complete breakdown, to wanting to strip you naked and jump you. Which is inappropriate. I’m a volatile mess.”

“It’s never inappropriate for you to want to jump me. My guess is you’ll want to strangle me a lot. As for the breakdown, that is exactly what I was trying to avoid. Too much at once is overwhelming.”

“I appreciate your trying to shield me, but please don’t do it again.” A memory from Saturday night hits me and I gasp, jerking back. “That’s what was bothering you on Saturday night. Not taking me to Charleston, but the possibility of a lost pregnancy.”

He closes his eyes, nodding somberly. “It was both.”

“So, you only halfway lied to me?”

“Halfway,” he admits softly.

“Is there any more that I should know?”

He hesitates, and I tense, placing my palm over his heart. “Tell me.”

“Marco is being vetted for a Presidential run.”

I freeze, this being the last thing I expected.

“We suspect he’s known where you are all along. The same with Karen. Our guess is Tasha was seeking you on her own.”

Another blow.

“He also asked to see you.”

All I can do is blink.

I stare at him, not seeing anything. Fear and disgust weave through my system. He explains the call with Scottie and Pierce, ending with Scottie’s offer.

“Poppy, you’re pale as a ghost. This was too much.”

“No,” I swallow, clearing my throat, “I’m not ashamed of who I became after cutting them out of my life. If we choose to release the dogs, I can handle it.”

“We’re not doing anything right now. You’re barely a day out of surgery. There’s no rush.”

I cuddle into him, my mind racing with all the possibilities of what the Bindels can do. Then my brain goes into survival mode, formulating a plan. Evin takes my hand from his chest and slips my rings on my fingers.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I’m by your side.”

I fluff my hair, scan my face, and wink in the mirror. “You’re ready, Poppy,” I whisper to myself, boosting my confidence.

Today is my day. One more evaluation, another round of therapy, and if all is well, I’m out of this place.

After my breakdown on Monday, my sense of survival kicked in. No more pity parties, no more dwelling over my losses, and no more tears. We gave it two days for me to adjust. Dr. Rexwell didn’t hand my care off to one of his colleagues, instead keeping me as a patient. He won’t approve intense rehab for a few weeks but gave me a green light to increase my mobility without the wheelchair. He also introduced a therapist who did an assessment.

I knew immediately there was going to be a problem. Everyone treated me like crystal. Evin, Edward, Ryanne, Dante, all of them wanted to ease me into light activity. Annie was the only one who took my side. She agreed I knew how to read my body and my limits.

Evin lost his mind, and we had yet another confrontation about his overprotective nature. My therapist took one look at me, seeing my unwavering determination, and laid out a progressive plan that started in baby steps. This appeased Evin, but not me, so I pushed myself hard. The first time I put pressure on my heel, the pain was like a thousand sharp shards of glass piercing into my bone. I thought I was going down. The last thing I needed was a smug audience. My only choice was to hiss through it and bear the ache. Luckily, the therapist didn’t make a big deal. We spent the rest of my time going over basic activities of daily living techniques so I can function at home with little help.

Last night, Evin and I practiced everything until I fell into bed exhausted. My body is used to constant movement and action. In just a few days of lying around, and with the trauma, it’s obvious I need to retrain my system.

Luckily, I convinced Evin I was competent enough to get around safely for a little while for him to take Edward and Annie to the airport.

The nurse came in and monitored me, but I took my first shower alone, maneuvering around with no assistance, and it felt fantastic. The only time I needed help was sliding on my shorts and readjusting my brace. Otherwise, she left me to do my hair and makeup alone.

It’s a minor accomplishment, but I’ll take it. Now, I only need to prove it’s safe to discharge me.

The door closes, signaling my escort is here for my session.

“Coming right out!” I lock the wheelchair and grab my crutches, finding my balance easily. “Why don’t we ditch the wheelchair ride today and let me go the distance?”