Page 70 of Promise of Punishment

“Thanks, Herman.” Carolyn grins at him.

He nods and leaves the room.

The nurse adds medicine to my IV. “This should help you feel better. Eat some food and try to rest. Both are important for you and your… uh… body. The accident shocked your system, but otherwise you’re doing well. If you need anything, press this button.” She holds up a remote on the bed. “I’ll be right outside.”

“Wait!” I sit forward a little and regret it at once as pain spirals around my torso. Ow.

“It’s best if you take it easy and let us do the work for you.” She smiles at Wes, her gaze lingering longer than seems normal, although I could be imagining it given my Twilight Zone state of mind.

“Am I pregnant?” I ask Carolyn. The question seems foreign like it can’t be possible.

She smiles at Wes again. “You told her.” Her focus returns to me. “He wanted to be the one to break the news. I hope he also told you there was no trauma to the embryo or womb from the accident. Everything is functioning normally. You might also experience first-trimester symptoms like additional fatigue, breast tenderness, nausea, frequent urination, and food cravings. It’s all normal.”

More symptoms? I already feel like I was thrown off a cliff onto rocks. “What am I supposed to do? What can I do?”

“Rest.” She gestures to the food. “Eat, drink, and let your body heal.”

I draw in a deep breath and wince at the pain in my ribs.

“You’ll start to feel better as soon as the new meds kick in.” Carolyn winks and nods at Wes on her way out.

He follows her to the door and talks to her briefly. I wish he’d just leave. Worse, I can’t tear my gaze from them and the way she keeps smiling at him with her extraordinarily white teeth.

I shift my focus to the tray of food. Chicken, green beans, and a roll. A Styrofoam cup of something sits to the side of a container of gelatin. I lean forward and reach for the cup, but hiss when my ribs scream and drop my hand to my leg.

Wes races over. “What do you need?”

“I need you to leave,” I say, catching my breath.

He lets out a small laugh. “Not going to happen, angel.”

“Stop calling me that.”

He picks up the Styrofoam cup. “Do you want this?”

Yes. I don’t answer.

He sips from the straw. “Apple juice.”

I gawk. Jerk! “That’s mine!” Shit. That hurt.

“Relax,” Wes says. “I’ll happily give it to you after you listen to me.”

If I could cross my arms, I would. Instead, I look at the window again, wishing I could see the view. “What hospital am I at? Who shoved my car off the road? Does Noah know where I am? Where’s my phone?” I whisper to assure minimal pain.

“You’re in a hospital in Ohio. Noah knows where you are and that you’re fine. As for your phone, you can have it when we’re done talking.”

“So talk already.” It’s another whisper. Maybe then he’ll leave.

Wes explains what happened six years ago after he left the garden. His father lied to both of us about the other so we'd think the worst of one another. The Earl was a sick monster in that way. He’s the reason Mom and I were kicked out, and why Wes was beaten and left for dead. Wes’s best friend, Lachlan—Mr. Ashford to me—rescued him and took him to Scotland. Wes never returned home. As a way of thanking me for saving his life, he tried to send my mom money as an anonymous donor, even though his father had taken control of his trust fund. He wanted us to be safe and have enough money to live freely, wherever we wanted.

I remember getting those donations in the mail. Mom and I thought they were a scam. Learning Wes was behind them has me thawing toward him a little.

He confesses he’d looked for me for three years—which has me thawing even more. He even hired a man to search for me, but the man was playing both sides, taking payouts from both Wes and his dad while pretending to help them.

When he saw me at Lachlan’s home, he was shocked. Even though he was told I betrayed him for reward money and moved into one of his father’s homes for protection against Wes, he couldn’t ever hate me like I hated him. He even got a tattoo in memory of me on his back. A book—fable—with vines like the garden and angel wings.

That draws my gaze to him and those soulful eyes I remember seeing for the first time—as bright as bluebells.