Chapter 20

Manny

For the past week, I’ve noticed evidence of someone staying in the shed. I haven’t yet caught them, but so far, nothing’s been taken. Still, it upsets me that my space, one I crave after the years spent behind bars, has been invaded. After my shower, I grab a cup of coffee and head out to the shed. I don’t have anything on the books at the shop, so I’m taking the day off to see if I can figure out what’s going on, maybe even go into town to grab some of those nanny cam things to set up. Opening the doors, the first thing I see is a small figure curled up in a sleeping bag, moaning as if they’re in pain.

Dropping my mug, I rush over, my anger at someone breaking into my space gone as I see whoever is inside the sleeping bag is very ill. I hit my knees and brush back the curls that are covering the woman’s face, which I deduce from the shape inside the bag. As her face is exposed, my breath catches in my throat.

Despite the fever that has her skin clammy, she’s beautiful. A small, button nose, long lashes that frame cheeks covered in a light dusting of freckles, and thick, curly hair. Her hands are clutched over her stomach, which I lightly palpate to see if I can figure out what’s going on.

Not like I’m a medic or anything, but years ago, before my life imploded, I had thought about being a paramedic or something, so I took a shit ton of first aid courses to see if it was something I could handle. Unfortunately, prison stopped that career path, but I still remember the basics, at least.

Her eyes don’t open, but she moans in pain and curls into a fetal position. “Shhh, girl, I’m going to get you some help,” I promise, pulling my phone from my back pocket.

While I wait for the ambulance to arrive, I look around and spot something through the window in the back. “Well, I’ll be damned,” I whistle out, seeing the small SUV parked behind my fence. I had no clue a section had come down; must’ve happened during the last storm. I make a mental note to get it fixed, but first, I need to find out who this woman is and why just looking at her makes me feel things I haven’t felt in years.

* * *

I had the presence of mind to grab her wallet out of her purse which was sitting on the floor next to her sleeping bag, then pull out her driver’s license and insurance card, which I gave to one of the paramedics when they arrived. Normally, I would’ve never gone into a woman’s purse, but with her being unconscious, I pushed my guilt aside. Once they got her onto the gurney, the male paramedic wasn’t going to let me ride with her, but there was no way I wanted her to be by herself, so I lied and told him she was my fiancée. Granted, when he asked why she was sleeping out in the shed instead of the house, I had to lie again and tell him she had gotten angry at me. He must’ve understood the quirkiness of women, because he rolled his eyes but let me get in the back of the ambulance.

Now, I’m sitting in the waiting area of the emergency room where a nurse directed me once we arrived. While I wait for her to be examined and for someone to come out and tell me what’s going on, I scroll through her phone, which I also grabbed, to see if I can find someone to call. Spotting a group text pulled up, I can see she typed something just the night before, so I quickly input my information and wait for a phone call, unsurprised when my own phone rings within seconds.

“Who are you and why do you have my sister’s phone?” a female asks, sounding angry.

“Like my text explained, I’m Manny Alvarez, and I found your sister sleeping in my shed this morning. She’s sick or something, so I called 911 and an ambulance brought her to the hospital. Who is this?” I question. “Ivy or Lacie?”

“Ivy. What do you mean, she’s sick? What hospital?” she inquires, still sounding slightly angry, but more worried than anything after what I’ve just said.

“I don’t know what’s going on with her,” I admit. “She was clammy, feverish, and unconscious, but she moaned when I palpated her belly. The only reason I did that was because she was curled in on herself and holding her stomach, so I thought maybe it was her appendix or something.”

“The baby,” Ivy whispers. “Fuck, I bet that son-of-a-bitch hurt her again,” she seethes. “Again, what hospital is she at?”

“Possum Run General,” I reply, rage starting to course through me as I finally process the words she spit out. “What do you mean, again?” I ask.

I hear a lot of noise on the other end and pull the phone back to make sure we weren’t disconnected, then hear, “Okay, sorry, I was getting into my car. Give me a second to pull it up on my GPS then I’ll try to explain what I know.”

“That’s fine,” I say. “They won’t let me back there with her right now since they’re doing an exam.”

“She found out about a week or so ago, maybe even two now, give or take, that she was pregnant again.”

“She’s got kids?” I ask, interrupting her. “I didn’t see any kids, though.”

“No, and if you’d give me a second to finish without interrupting, I’ll try to explain it all.”

“Sorry, sorry. I was just worried that maybe there were kids in the car behind my shed,” I admit. “I’ll wait to ask any questions until you’re done, will that work?”

A snort comes through the line, making me chuckle in response. “Yeah, that’ll be fine. Sorry, I’m not usually a bitch, I promise. But here’s the deal. She’s not my sister by blood, but she’s still my sister, if that makes sense, and I’m very protective of her. Lacie is too. Our parents were her foster parents and some old biddy who she was related to wouldn’t sign off on our folks adopting her. However, she was always treated like one of us kids. Right after Mom and Dad died, when my brother decided to be a dick about the garage apartment Ricci was living in, she said she would move in with her boyfriend, Erik. He’s a douche, by the way, and anyone who knows him, knows this for a fact. Anyhow, he hurts her, and so far, he’s caused her to have four miscarriages. I bet he wasn’t happy to hear she was pregnant again, he beat her, and she ended up having another one.”

My blood is beyond boiling right now and my breath is coming out in short gasps as I stand and walk out of the waiting area. “I’m sorry, Ivy, give me a second,” I rasp out.

Images of Luci swarm in my mind as tears start leaking down my face. Knowing that the tiny slip of a woman I found this morning has endured what my sister did? Has me wanting to track the asshole down and end him. This time, it would be on purpose, unlike what ended up happening to Turo.

“Take your time. Trust me, my sister and I have been sick with worry since she told us she was expecting again. He’s not a nice guy and while I know why Ricci has stayed, she deserves the world.”

I clear my throat a few times then say, “When I was a teenager, my sister’s boyfriend killed her and my unborn niece.”

She gasps then asks, “What did you do?”

“Beat the shit out of him,” I reply. “Unfortunately for me, the asshole died from complications, so I spent some time in prison. He wasn’t a good guy either, to be honest.”

“Well, as much as I want Erik to pay for what he’s done to Ricci over the years, I think you need to stay put,” Ivy replies. “Because if she was staying on your property, she felt safe.”

“I wasn’t home at the time she started staying in my workshop,” I admit. “In fact, when I got home, I thought things looked neater than how I left them, but I’m so busy, I didn’t have time to investigate. Until this morning.”

“I should be there in about forty or so minutes depending on how fast I drive. If she… if she wakes up, let her know I’m on my way. I’ll call Lacie. Don’t let her be alone, Manny,” Ivy says, her voice sounding wobbly as if she’s trying not to cry.

“I won’t,” I promise. “Be safe, I’ll stay with her until you get here.”