Chapter 3

Kennedy – One Month Later

I stirthe sugar into my coffee before looking out of the kitchen window. There's mold growing along the windowpane from the moisture collecting inside.

Momma and Dad are both passed out. Momma is in bed with some woman, and Dad is on the reclining chair, which he barely vacates, snoring away.

I tilt my head, looking at the woods.

Blood, so much blood, enters my vision, my memories haunting me even after all this time.

I slowly walk over to the body, my limbs shaking, my heart pounding so hard I"m afraid it"s going to pop out of my chest.

I stop near the body. His eyes are open, lifeless, and blood stains the grass, twigs, and leaves around him.

Oh God….

Very slowly, I lean down, not wanting to look into those dead, dark eyes, and slowly close them before falling back on my ass, my tears trailing down my cheeks.

Lucas killed him for me….

I squeeze my eyes shut as bile hits my throat, but I take a sip of my coffee from the mug I always leave in my room so it stays clean.

How can someone kill for you but not love you?

Swallowing, I turn my right arm and look at the little tattoo inked vertically on the inside of my bicep.

Lucas.

The man owns me, and I don"t know how I"m supposed to date other men when he"s all I can think about, even though he"s now with Prue. It's slowly killing me inside. My heart breaks every single day, knowing he"s hers and not mine.

A few tears fall from my eyes, and I quickly wipe them away. I"ve seen her a few times at the hospital, but I"ve always made myself scarce. I can"t see it. I just…can"t.

Taking a deep breath, I down my coffee, then quickly wash and dry the cup, and return it to my room. I"m already in my scrubs, which I"ve noticed my mother try on a few times, which is a little freaky.

I"ve seen the looks she gives me when I arrive home after work. She"s jealous but won"t say crap because now I"m earning more than my waitress job, which means she"s getting more money out of me for her habits.

Shaking my head, I rush to the bathroom and wrinkle my nose at the state of it. Used condoms, towels, and some weird white stuff everywhere. I try to clean as much as possible, but every time my parents have a party, it ends up like this. On the bright side, they don"t come near me anymore. The last time Momma tried to sell me, I threatened to stop giving her money, and she's backed off since then.

Though, I have still been thrown into the closet a few times, her jealousy over my job pulling at her.

Something red catches my attention and—oh eww, is that a used tampon in the tub?

I gag and quickly put my hair in a neat bun, hating I"m still surrounded by this environment. I leave the house, rushing to the cheap, black Honda Civic Alex helped me buy. I don't want to be late for work.

Twenty minutes later, I"m walking out of the staff room, ready for my shift in the ER, but when I get there, I come to a halt, and as always, pain slices through me.

Doc is standing near the desk, but he"s not alone. His girlfriend is with him as she leans her body against his. I look away, not willing to see it, my heart weeping as usual. I take a few moments, leaning my back against the wall, knowing I need to go over there, but I don"t want to.

Why do they have to be here?

Swallowing hard before taking a deep breath, I head to the nurse"s desk with my head held high, knowing I need to see which bed I need to head to first since the ER is full. Doc looks my way as I get near, while Prue sneers at me. I ignore both and lean over to grab my clipboard with my assignments.

"Morning, Pixie," he rasps near me, and I hum nonchalantly back as I read the first chart of a four-year-old girl who has cut her forehead falling off her bunkbed, the poor pickle.

"Doc, baby…." I try to keep my face straight as shock shoots through me.

She doesn"t call him Lucas?

"Prue, I"m busy, as you can see. The room is full of patients. Why are you even here?" he growls impatiently. He"s talking to her, yet why can I feel his eyes on me?

If I look at him, will we make eye contact?

She huffs, stamping her heeled foot, she whines, "I"m heading to Louisiana to see my family for three weeks. I haven"t seen you in?—"

He cuts her off, "Prue, I"m trying to work. Have a safe trip, yeah? Just make sure you let Breaker know when you"re back."

Okay, was it just me, or was that cold?

Wait, he doesn't want her to let him know when she's back?

I shake my head and look back over the chart, furrowing my brows. The little girl"s chart and the report of how the injury occurred doesn"t add up.

Something is off….

I look at Doc, whose eyes are already on me—just as I thought, and I say, "I have a—" but Prue cuts in and snaps, "We"re trying to have a conversation here, Kenny, so why don"t you fuck off."

Doc tenses, anger radiating from him, and I just raise a brow toward her, ignoring how she got my name wrong on purpose like a child.

Calmy, I reply, "Huh, funny because I"m pretty sure you"re not here for a consultation." She narrows her eyes but I just smirk. "I need the doctor in charge of the ER today, and that happens to be Doc, so why don"t you turn around and leave before I have you escorted out. Because this four-year-old in our care is a priority over you!"

Her eyes widen at my retort, before she sputters, "Doc, you're…surely you"re not going to let her speak to me that way."

He shakes his head, not once looking at her as he's giving me his full attention. He asks, "What do you need?"

I furrow my brows, show him the chart, point to what I noticed, and state, "This little girl has come in for a cut on her forehead. It states here," I point on the side of the chart, "that she fell from the bunkbed, but down here, her father says he was in the shed and was told she head-butted the slide? Yet, when you read here, the nurse who admitted her stated the little girl said her momma pushed her into the counter where a knife was."

He narrows his eyes, reading what I have, before he growls, "Call social services on fourth, and I don"t want you going in there alone. It could be nothing but…."

I finish off his words, "She could have been hit, and the nurse who signed her in missed it."

He nods, anger rolling from him in waves, and my jaw ticks. Becky, a nurse who likes the brothers a little too much, is the one who signed her in. Instead of focusing on the child, she was most likely focused on Doc, just like she is now from behind the desk. The child could be in danger, for God"s sake!

Growing up, I was shoved a lot, shouted at, andshoved in a closet for hours on end, heck I have a row of burns down my back from my mother and her friends. I was six, and she hated that my father didn"t show her the attention she wanted. She thought that hurting me would work, but all it proved was that he didn"t love me.

Months before then, I learned not to tell a soul how I was treated. Alex is aware I help with the bills, and that Momma has gone off the deep end, but he doesn"t know about the abuse. No one does.

No one ever will….

I shake my head as Prue still glares at me. I ignore her, hating that she"s still here, and I glare at Becky and round the desk. Becky, seeing me coming, clears her throat and goes to another bed like her ass is on fire. As Prue starts to whine again because, instead of kissing her bye like I thought he would, he turns and storms toward the security, filling them in like the woman doesn"t exist.

Actually, come to think of it, I"ve never seen her kiss her.

Prue"s breathing gets hard, her eyes fully on the man who owns me, the man who chose her.

I pick up the phone and dial social services.

"Huntersville Child Services," a woman recites.

I clear my throat. "Good morning, this is Kennedy Gray, I"m a nurse in the ER, and I have a potential case regarding a four-year-old little girl who has come in with a laceration on her forehead."

She clears her throat as Prue stomps her foot again and heads for the exit. Doc takes security to the bed to speak to the parents, ignoring the woman I could swear was his girlfriend. I mean, they"re dating, right?

"Can you give me a little details regarding your concerns? Then we"ll send someone down," the woman says, making me blink and clear my throat.

I explain the situation, happy that social services has a floor in the hospital, and she states she"ll send someone down immediately.

Suddenly, a womanstarts to cry, pleading that she didn"t mean to do it, and I quickly rush over to the bed, pulling the curtain for privacy. Doc gives me a stern glare to stay back as the mother grips her child hard; her arms are around the child"s neck, and the little girl's lips are turn blue. There are tears running down her chubby cheeks as she claws at her momma's hands.

My heart freezes as a man, who I am guessing is the dad, looks at his wife in horror as she screams and pleads for someone to hear her out.

I clear my throat and step in front of Doc, who growls, his hand going straight to my hip, gripping me tightly.

I give the woman a smile. She looks unhinged and, frankly, unwell. She reminds me of my mother.

"Please, I just need some-someone to listen—it was an accident, you know. I was hurt that her daddy missed our plans because their park date ran late, and he had to put her bike away. I didn"t mean to shove her, I swear," she pleads.

"Oh God, Patricia, let our daughter go!" the man croaks brokenly and steps forward. I quickly shake my head as he looks my way, making his breathing escalate. He's clearly feeling helpless.

I give the woman a gentle smile as I slowly grab Doc"s hand, rubbing my thumb over it as I grip it and slip it from my hip. My eyes are on the little girl whose eyes are dimming. I somehow manage to remove his hand and step forward, causing him to growl again.

I soften my tone at the woman and say, "Accidents happen, we know this. You love your daughter, right?" She nods as tears fall, her hazel eyes dilating, and I swallow hard, wondering if she"s on something. "I can see it. I can see the love you have for her and your family but, right now, your husband, he needs you." She furrows her brows. This woman reminds me a lot of my mother. Her daughter doesn"t mean jack shit to her, but her husband means the world. She"s tried using the same tactics my momma did, and yes, her husband is listening, but not for her sake. She looks his way to see his tears, and she gasps, quickly letting go of the little girl who slumps down on the bed, unconscious. I don"t think, I rush to her and promptly check her pulse, only to panic when I don"t feel one.

"Lucas, she doesn"t have a pulse," I say loudly, not realizing I used his given name. I tilt the girl"s head back and start compressions, my hands on her sternum as I press down roughly 5cm, doing 100 pushes per minute. I can hear her parents arguing and scuffling.

"How could you…she"s not breathing…. Don"t touch me…."The father shouts on and off.

"One, two, three, four, five, six…." I mutter as my hands move, while Doc quickly sets the machines up, and Becky, who could have prevented this, rushes in with a crash cart.

"Come on, little one," I rasp as I stop compressions for a second. Doc attaches the EKG to her chest. We wait, and nothing, no pulse. I curse and start compressions again as the machine speaks to us, telling us what to do.

"Please step away from the patient…." an automated voice from the monitor states, and I step back, lifting my hands as the machine shocks her body, and I hold my breath.

An hour later, I feel like I can"t breathe as the door to the storage cupboard opens. I don"t look up from where I"m sitting at the back wall, my knees bent, my arms hugging them, my forehead leaning on top, and my tears falling hard.

I hear a scuffle of shoes, and a sob escapes my mouth before a warm body slides down the wall next to me, a strong arm wrapping around my shoulders, before his forest scent hits me. I curl into him, my hand clutching his shirt as my face presses into his neck.

I cry, my body shaking, causing him to lift me onto his lap sideways, holding me tightly as his right hand undoes my bun, gently gripping my hair to hold me to him.

I sob, "She was-was four, Lucas, four!"

His grip tightens, his lips brushing against my forehead as he rasps, "I know, Pixie…. We tried baby, we tried everything, you tried everything. You didn"t give up…."

I cry harder.

She was four, she is the first patient that I"ve lost, and she was four, a little girl with her whole life ahead of her. And it's all gone because of a jealous mother. A part me knows that could have been me if my father had even cared for a split second, that little girl could have been me.

A little while later, my tears have slowed, my heart hurts, and I"m still sitting on Doc, not wanting to move. He"s gently running his fingers into my hair.

"She was four…." I rasp. He skims a hand over my hair, and I tip my head back so he can look at me. He brings his other hand to my face and gently wipes my cheeks, sadness and pain showing in his gorgeous eyes, eyes I love to get lost in.

His gaze drifts over my face, and when I think he"s going to speak, he leans forward and presses his lips against mine. My heart beats fast as my eyes slowly close, and before I know what I'm doing, I forget about everything, forget about Prue, and I kiss him back. His hold tightens on me, one hand in my hair, the other holding my cheek as he runs his tongue along the seam of my lips, and I willingly open.

Our breathing picks up as our kiss heats up, his tongue tangling with mine, his taste making me delirious.

Is this really happening?

My grip on his shirt tightens as he nips my bottom lip seductively, making my insides quiver and wetness pool in my panties, fireworks rushing through me.

He pulls away and looks at me with nothing but lust and…love? That can't be right, can it?

My breathing is hard, and I blink, coming out of my fog, and—oh crap, he"s with Prue. He has a girlfriend.

He has a girlfriend!

My stomach bottoms out at what I"ve just done, and I clear my throat before slowly getting up. I'm quickly realizing what he's just done; he just gave me a pity kiss, the love of my life….

"Ken…." he murmurs, knowing where my thoughts have just gone.

I shake my head and whisper, "You have a girlfriend," before leaving the storage room, my tears staining my cheeks as he calls out for me.

What did we do?

What did he do?

Half an hour later, I headed home after Claudia gave me the rest of the day off. Doc stood by the desk and watched me leave, his eyes burning into my backallwhile my lips tingled from his kiss, a kiss I"ve dreamed about experiencing since I was sixteen.

As I get home, I hear the music and sigh before walking in.

The sight makes me want to vomit. Momma is on her back in front of my father, who, once again is ignoring her, with her legs are spread eagle and the same woman from last night is eating her out.

Just what a daughter wants to flipping see.

I shake my head and go to my room. I ignore the several bodies snorting coke and lock the door, before undressing and grabbing the black hoodie from my closet. I put it on, hating that it doesn"t smell like Doc anymore, but I had to wash it. I climb into bed, where I sob.

I sob for the little girl and the life she lost.

I sob for my broken heart, wanting a man who doesn"t see me that way.

And I sob for the little girl I was, and what the reality could have been.