Page 48 of Love Me Gently

I hadn’t known if she’d remember or not, if she was ever truly aware of my presence. “Valerie called and said you needed help.” I took another step toward her bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She closed her eyes and turned her head away from me. “You weren’t supposed to see me like that. You were never supposed to see me.”

Her words gutted me. So did her dry tone.

Trina was anything but dry and lifeless. Hell, she’d left Deer Creek because she had a thirst for adventure. She’d always been quick to laugh, quick to plan something that was guaranteed to get one of us, if not both, grounded.

Maybe I had to start thinking of the Trina as I knew her as gone, but I couldn’t. I’d do anything to bring that part of her back to life.

“Trina—”

“Katrina.” She flinched as she said it, and I bit my tongue to keep from snapping that she wasn’t that. She would never be that again because I had no doubt she didn’t choose it but was given it.

The fight for that could come later, along with so many I figured were coming.

“Ma’s upstairs with some soup. I can bring it to you.”

“I don’t want to see her.”

“You don’t have to. I can go get it.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat, Trina…you need…”

Her head shifted, eyes popped open. “Don’t even think for a second you have any idea what Ineed, Cole.”

She closed her eyes again, turned her face back to the window and went silent, breathing so slowly her chest barely rose and fell.

I’d give her that. She’d probably had many years of not having many choices, at least none that were truly hers in the first place.

“All right, honey. I’ll let you sleep.”

She had no reaction to me calling her honey, and even though her eyes were closed, there was no way she was sleeping. She could fake it, sure, and I’d let her have that play, too. But someday, as the bruises and bones and ligaments and muscles all started to heal, she’d have to face what happened.

Figure out what she wanted, who she wanted to be now.

I went to the nightstand on the other side of the bed, grabbed the bell Sheila had left out and moved it closer to her. Setting down the bell, I opened the drawer to the nightstand and knocked the photo of my kids into it. It clearly wasn’t helping her any.

“There’s a bell here,” I told her softly. “Ring it if you need anything, but I’ll be checking on you. I know you’re angry, probably feeling a whole lot of things. But I worked with Valerie and Kip to get you safe and away from him. Be pissed at me for a lot of things, if you need to, but don’t be pissed that I couldn’t bear the thought of you being hurt like that anymore.”

She didn’t say a word, which wasn’t unexpected or surprising.

She might think she was Katrina now and Trina didn’t exist, but the Trina I remembered had always been a gold medalist in winning the silent treatment.

Looked like that asshole hadn’t beaten everything out of her after all.

Eighteen

Cole

Days went by. The doctor came by multiple times a day and not only checked Trina’s wrapping and swelling but also maintained her pain medicine and helped her in the bathroom. For as much as I wanted to be the one shouldering the weight of that activity, Sheila made it known Trina didn’t want my help.

Not that it was a surprise. I brought her food, asked her if she wanted to sit outside and get some fresh air. I tried to make conversation. She ate—barely—and she kept silent.

The bell never rang.

Dr. McElroy tried to encourage me, telling me I needed to give it time. She needed help. Therapy. Sheila was working on a list of doctors and trying to find some who would do virtual appointments, but Trina hadn’t yet agreed to any of it, and we couldn’t make her.

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