My gut swoops as I park and turn off the vehicle with my left hand, not willing nor able to let her go for that simple task. The silence surrounding us is deafening.
“Are you ready?” I ask somberly.
The subtle shake of her head obliterates my heart. When she faces me, the deadness of her eyes settles in my core.
“Fuck,” I mutter, flinging my seat belt off and yanking her into my arms. “Talk to me,” I demand as I settle her ass against my thighs and her head against my chest.
She shakes her head again and turns her face into my neck.
“I got you. I’m not going anywhere, you hear me? Whatever’s going on inside your head, we’re going to work it out.” I drop a kiss to the crown of her hair. “We, blossom. Not you alone. Never alone.”
Her breath fans rapidly against my neck. “You’ll never look at me the same again.”
“Bullshit,” I growl.
She inhales sharply through her nose. “You can’t say that. You don’t know what’s going to happen in there.”
“Neither do you,” I fire back. “Which is why we gotta bite the bullet and get in there and get it done. You and me, Shelby. Against fuckin’ everything, it’s you and me.”
Finally, something penetrates, and she pulls her face back. Redness rims her eyes, but there’s not a single tear or trail in sight. Strong is an understatement for this woman. Her stare is fierce as her eyes hold mine.
“Don’t leave me alone.”
“I won’t,” I vow.
Together we climb out the driver’s side door and walk into the private practice hand in hand.
The interior looks more like a business office than a doctor’s, but I haven’t been to many, if any, private practices in my life. Two rows of chairs form an ‘L’ shape near the front door with enough seating for six people. The room is hardwood with clean, gray walls and white trimming. It’s all very sterile and clinical. A mahogany receptionist's desk with enough space for one person to sit faces the front door. The woman smiles at us as we enter. She appears grandmotherly and kind with wrinkles from years of smiling and springy gray curls. Her features soften as she takes in Shelby’s nervous energy.
“Welcome! How can I help you?”
I tug Shelby to the desk. “Shelby Sinclair. Appointment at one.”
I feel her body tense behind me, but I ignore her and fix the receptionist with my stare.
“Of course. Dr. Cruz will be right out to see you.”
“Thanks,” I reply curtly and lead Shelby to the chairs.
Our asses have barely touched the seats before a door to the left of the desk opens up, and a woman in a white coat walks out. Her smile is open and inviting. She approaches with an air of caution and professionalism. I’ll have to remember to thank Doc later if we get out of this appointment with some answers. So far, things appear to be on the right track.
“Hello, Shelby.”
We stand as she approaches, and Shelby shakes her hand.
“I’m Dr. Cruz. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to an exam room.”
Shelby spears me a glance that clearly screams come with me. The only thing that’d keep me behind would be her telling me to stay. Fuck that. I lumber slightly ahead of her and follow the doctor through the door. On the other side is a long hallway with two doors on each side and one office straight ahead. She takes us to the second door on the left and steps aside to let us in.
We enter a sterile-looking exam room, complete with an adjustable table with the papery shit on it. Instead of a computer, there’s a small desk with a manila folder on top.
“It’s a small practice,” Dr. Cruz remarks. “It’s not hard to maintain paper files with the number of patients I have. It’s also more secure.” Her eyes flit to Shelby before returning to me. “There’s always the risk I’ll lose something, but without computers, nothing is hackable.”
Shelby and I take a seat, and Dr. Cruz sits at the desk.
“You must be Alex. We spoke on the phone.”
“I am.”
“Well, Shelby, I would like to start with an exam, but first, I need some information. I hear you’ve been having some pain. Can you tell me more about where it is and when it started?”
Shelby’s spine is rigid, and she looks about ready to bolt. Her shoulders rise with a deep breath. “It’s here.” She points to her lower abdomen. “It started about two years ago.”
“Two years is a long time. How often does it hurt?”
The shake in her hands is visible as she cups her stomach. “A few times a month.”
“I see.” Dr. Cruz jots something down. “Can you tell me more about when it started?”
Shelby flinches. “No. I-I don’t know why it hurts. It just does.” She looks frantically between the doctor and me before twisting in her chair and grabbing my hand. “We should go. Please, Alex. I told you she can’t help me.” She yanks on my hand and stands from her chair. “Let’s go.”
I’m torn between giving her exactly what she wants at any cost and making her hear what the doctor has to say. The war within me is interrupted.
“Shelby,” the doctor starts carefully. “It’s okay. I want you to take a deep breath for me.”
“No! Please. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.” Her eyes fill with tears as she tugs again. “Please.”
I stand at her pleading tone, but before I can acquiesce, Dr. Cruz speaks again.
“I know you’re scared, but you don’t have to be. I know some of the things you went through. Alex shared only what he had to in order for me to understand the urgency. Perhaps my questions startled you, and for that, I apologize. I’m only trying to gather information. Okay?”
“What do you know?” Shelby whispers.
“I know there were men who hurt you. I need to know how bad so I can help.”
“The first thing he did after taking a woman was to make sure she couldn’t get pregnant.”
“Was it birth control? An implant or a shot?”
“No.” The dead quality to her voice raises my hackles. “The failure rate was too high for that. He had to make it permanent.”
“You mean surgery,” Dr. Cruz states plainly. I’m glad she’s here to ask the questions. My control slips with each piece of information revealed. I feel seconds away from storming back to that compound with as much ammo as I can carry and eliminating as many of those fuckers as I can before I’m killed. They’d deserve it. Every one of them.
Shelby regains her seat and huffs without humor. I follow suit. “If you can call it that. It wasn’t sterile. I don’t know how he got the right drugs to knock us unconscious, but he did. The rumor was pregnancies were costing him too much business, so this was his solution. Recovery took around a month, but that was only how long they left us without intercourse. We still had to use our hands and mouths. He used our healing as an opportunity to get us hooked on drugs. It made me forget the pain in my stomach, and at the same time, I became desperate for my next fix.”
Once the flood gates opened, she couldn’t stop sharing. But fuck, I needed her to stop sharing. Imagining her going through hell at the hands of that monster is enough to make me sick. Remembering that my sister was there too? Downright unbearable.