Compass (Siren Songs Book 2) (17 page)

P
reparing
for Moby’s homecoming wasn’t quite the blissful experience I imagined. My dad and Nate built a makeshift ramp up the stairs to our house; that was a nightmare in and of itself. Holy hell, never solicit this kind of help from anyone other than a professional. Seventeen hours later, five additional men, and countless trips to the hardware store, and I now have a piece of plywood lying across my front stairs. That might be a
slight
exaggeration, but I swear, not by much.

Never in my life have I seen grown men fighting over stupider shit—nails versus screws, hammers versus nail guns, types of wood—for the love of all that is holy, who cares? I would like to believe we don’t need to build something to withstand the test of time, just help Moby out for a week or two until he’s more comfortable walking on his own.

Day two of preparing for Moby’s return included modifying the shower to help make it easier for him to get in and out. Taking glass doors off a track shouldn’t be very difficult. Wrong! Either these are the most mechanically challenged men in the world or that shit is crazy-hard. I don’t even want to think about Landis and Brooks assembling the shower seat. Seriously, three parts: two legs and a plastic seat. Ten screws. Hours, I mean
hours
later, I finally took it from them and assembled it myself in less than five minutes by simply reading the directions.

Day three, I spent running around like a chicken with my head cut off going to multiple pharmacies to get a myriad of prescriptions, picking up tennis balls for his at home occupational therapy, and getting a dog. Yes, a dog.

His doctor recommended a puppy since Moby would be home a good deal on his own. The theory being he will have to get up and down to take the puppy out, feed the puppy, care for the puppy, et cetera. I’m also hoping it helps ward off loneliness and depression. I’m going on blind faith here. Moby wants a dog anyhow, so hopefully this won’t backfire.

Day four, I’m attempting to plan a coming home party to celebrate Moby’s release but trying to contact his friends without him knowing about it is proving to be more difficult than I imagined. With the nameless puppy at my feet in my office, I drop my forehead to the desk, lift, drop, repeat.

“Stop, Piper! What are you doing?” I look up to see Cam standing in front of me.

The tears start instantly. At this point, they’ve become meaningless dribble. I cry at the drop of a hat over absolutely nothing. My own crying annoys the snot out of me, but I can’t seem to stop the waterworks. “Trying to plan a coming home party for Moby.”

“And you’re pounding your head on the desk why?” She angles her lean body into the chair just in front of me.

“It’s impossible to get in touch with people and him not know about it. I feel like I’m wasting my time. I honestly don’t even know if he wants a party. I’m proud of how far he’s come, but I’m worried he doesn’t want to see anyone.”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“He keeps telling me he’s handicapped and an invalid. If that’s truly how he feels I don’t want to embarrass him by parading him around in front of his friends.”

Cam scowls at me. “If that’s how he feels, it’s his own issue. Not yours. His friends and family don’t feel that way.”

“I know.”

“So stop with the dreary wearies already and quit trying to keep it a surprise. Post an announcement on Facebook with a time and a restaurant. Ask people to let you know if they’re coming so you can reserve space and move on down the road. Damn, Piper. You’re making things so hard on yourself.” Pulling a tissue from the box on my desk, she hands it to me. “And stop crying all the time. What’s wrong with you? You never cry. If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if you were pregnant.”

“I don’t know. I think it’s a lack of sleep. I know I’m overly emotional but can’t seem to stop it.” I wipe at the rivers flowing down my cheeks as I speak through the snotty nose and nasal drip.

With a heavy sigh, she slumps back in the chair, crossing her legs in front of her. “Piper, things are finally starting to calm down. You’re back at work, Moby’s coming home, you close on the condo tomorrow. Why are you not sleeping?”

Unable to form a verbal answer, I shrug my shoulders.

“That’s not an answer. I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re hiding something. Spill it.”

There’s no use trying to pretend there’s nothing wrong. She won’t relent, and I still have hours left in the day to spend at work.

“I don’t want him to come home.” The weight of my head falls back to my arms on the desk, but her hand catches my forehead, palm flat against it preventing any more head banging.

“What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t you want him to come home?” I can’t tell if it’s confusion or anger, or maybe a mixture of both swirling around in her eyes but it’s enough to scare me. So I just shrug.

“Stop shrugging and answer me.”

“Nothing feels right!” I blurt out, my words mixed with more emotion. “When he touches me it’s foreign; it’s not Moby. When we talk there’s so much distance between us. He’s mad all the time; he’s mean to people. He snaps at me. I don’t want that version of him in our home. I want
my
Moby back. I want the man I married to come home.” My eyes begin to swell, puffy from incessant crying, and my face flushes with heat. “What if he wants to have sex, Cam? I already feel like there’s another body hanging out with us when he hugs me. His left side, it’s dead weight, it’s always there as if a third person has joined us. It. Creeps. Me. Out!”

She lets me drop my head back on the desk with a thud, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t leave either.

“I think you’re being selfish as hell, Piper.”

My head snaps to meet her eyes. Cam’s one of my best friends. She’s never talked to me like this before. I’m not even sure I heard her correctly. Mistakenly, I thought I had misunderstood or that she finished.

“Have you, for one second, put yourself in Moby’s shoes?” She seems to be waiting for an answer, but I can’t find one. Instead, I furrow my brow in response. With a raised voice she continues to assault me verbally. “He can’t use the left side of his body, Piper. He has to learn to walk again. Learn to use a fork, a pencil. He can’t work; he hasn’t been home in weeks, and he’s coming to terms with whether or not all of this will be permanent. He shouldn’t have to worry about his wife being a shallow twit who’s afraid her husband will want to have sex with her! Gah, Piper. Are you kidding me with this shit?”

“You don’t understand,” I say like a child not getting my way.

“You’re right, I don’t understand. After having been through what I went through, having seen your husband have a stroke, how can you possibly sit there thinking you’re the one with the issue? You never once left my side or treated me like I was damaged when I came home. Why the hell would you do it to Moby?”

“I wasn’t sleeping with you,
Cam
. I went home at night. I still had my own things going on while you were recovering. Dax did all those things for you. Now I’m Dax!” I snarl the words at her knowing just how nasty I truly sound. “And as I recall, Dax wasn’t up for giving it to you right away either. So maybe, just maybe, I’m justified in my feelings regardless of whether you think they’re valid.”

When she stands, I lean back, her figure in front of me is intimidating. Without warning, she slaps my face, hard. The sting from her hand warms the skin on my cheek. Instinctively, I cover the mark with my hand, my jaw slacks in disbelieving horror; one of my best friends just hit me in anger. “You need an attitude adjustment, preferably before Moby comes home.” Pivoting on her heel, she exits without looking back. I listen to the swish of her panty hose rustling against her skirt until I can no longer make it out.

* * *

A
n hour later
, Dax graces me with his presence. I’m sure Cam ran off to tattle on her friend not loving her fiancé’s brother. Hearing the thoughts in my head, I try to shake loose my shitty attitude but find myself having a death grip on it, refusing to let it go.

“What’s up, Dax?” I ask coldly.

“You got a minute to talk?”

“Not really, but I’m sure you’re not going to go away until I make time so say what you have to say.” Holy nastiness, Batman. I’ve become a raging bitch.

He doesn’t respond; he waits for me to have the decency to lift my head and make eye contact with him. Expecting to find anger, I see nothing but warmth, his eyes are inviting, and there’s a trace of a small, sympathetic smile. Completely caught off guard, I harden myself to anything he has to say, visually offering my defenses crossing my arms against my chest, leaning back. “You’ve got five minutes. Go.”

He laughs. The son of a bitch laughs.

“You’re so much like Cam. When I was trying to get her to notice me, she would do exactly what you’re doing now. Steel her resolve, harden her defenses, put up this front, a barrier she didn’t think was penetrable. You two are cute, really.” Shaking his head, I assume to clear the memory, he continues talking, “I’m not here to berate you, Piper. I think Cam expected a different response than the one she got from me when she told me about the…” He pauses as if he’s thinking of a polite word to use “…encounter earlier.”

Not quite willing to let the wall down, I give just a tad. “I’m not following you.”

“When Cam was in the hospital, I was terrified for her, worried she would have permanent issues after the rape, scared she wouldn’t wake up, nauseated by what it would do to her personality, you name it, and I worried about it for her. The fact was, it was all about her. I wasn’t even a part of her equation.

“I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she was mine, she didn’t know it, but I did. I also knew with that came an enormous responsibility when we left the hospital. I never admitted it to a single soul, and if you ever repeat it I’ll call you a liar, but I was terrified to bring her home.”

“But you argued us all down about how she should be with you because you could take care of her full time.”

“Yes, I did. I did so because it was the truth, and she was my responsibility. But that doesn’t change the fact I was out of my mind with fear. I was bringing a woman I’d known from a distance, who had just been attacked, brutally raped, into my home to try to nurse her back to the living. Who wouldn’t be terrified?”

“You! Come on Dax; I’m not buying this.”

“Did you ever wonder why Cam and I went so long without having sex?” He raised his eyebrows and quirking his lips at me waiting for a response.

“No. She was raped. You would’ve been a fool to have sex with her.”

“Yeah, but she wanted to. She thought she was ready long before I did.”

“Okay, what’s your point?”

“My point is, I wasn’t ready. I was scared to death to have any type of intimate relationship with her because she was changed. Insecurities plagued me. I warred with myself, we were in counseling for months.

“Give yourself time to adjust to life. It has changed and is going to continue to. You can’t go through what you and Moby have experienced and come out the same people.”

“What if I don’t adjust?” Fuck, here comes tears again. I’m so sick of crying.

“You will and on the other side of this you’ll find you had strength you didn’t know existed. Your marriage will be stronger than ever, and the two of you will be unstoppable. But, Piper, you’re going to have to open up to him and tell him how you’re feeling.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Trust me, you’re showing him every time he sees you or talks to you. He loves you more than life itself. The better part of for better or worse is always easier, but if you can get through the worse, you’re solid. Don’t give up on him, Pipes.”

“I don’t know how to get through what I’m feeling.”

He stands ups to leave. “Talk to him. When he gets home, you guys need to sit down and have a heart to heart. You might be surprised at what you find out he’s feeling.” Winking at me he leaves my office.

I’m not sure if I feel better after talking to Dax or worse. I don’t believe he was scared when Cam came home, but it would make sense. He kept her at bay for a long time physically, and it drove her insane.