Captive (3 page)

“I’d rather be with you right now.”

I shook my head, frustrated. “I hate for you to miss a game because of me.”

“Kate.” He glanced at me and pulled my hand to his lips, kissing it. “I’m a fighter. Don’t ever forget it.”

His reference to the wedding vows he’d made to me brought on a wave of emotion. I was so lucky this dark, beautiful man was mine.

“I love you so much,” I said, my throat tightening. If I looked at him, I’d lose it, so I stared at my lap instead. “I wanted to make you a daddy. I imagined you holding a baby with black hair just like yours—”

“Hey, shh.” He squeezed my shoulder and I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “We’ve got options.”

“I know. But I wanted this, and … I’m sad.”

In my training to become a grief counselor, I’d discovered the catharsis of just saying how you were feeling. Not denying it, or laughing it off, or pretending it was too complex to put into words. I did it all the time with Ryke now – just said ‘I’m happy,’ ‘I’m pissed’, ‘I’m stressed’, or whatever I was feeling.

He sighed deeply and gripped the steering wheel. I knew he was searching for the magic words to make it all better, but there were none, so the car was silent for a few minutes.

“How are you feeling?” I asked. We were getting close to home and I felt a mixture of relief and anxiety. Had word gotten around our building that Ryke carried his wife to an ambulance in the middle of the night in a bloody blanket? Probably.

“It’s hard to see you hurting.” He rubbed his unshaven jaw line and glanced at me, his light brown eyes serious. “Really fucking hard. I wanted the baby, too, but it didn’t seem real to me yet, since it was an abstract. But seeing you cry rips a hole in my chest.”

The interior of the SUV darkened as we entered the underground parking garage of our building. “I got through it before, I’m sure I will again. I’m not meant to have babies. I just have to accept that.”

Ryke maneuvered the large vehicle into one of our spots. I wondered briefly whose SUV it was, but I didn’t care enough to ask.

“Shit,” I muttered. “Is Mimi here? I really don’t want to talk about—”

“She’s here, and I already talked to her on the phone. She’s like family to us, don’t worry about it.”

I nodded. I did love our housekeeper dearly.

Ryke jumped out of the vehicle and ran around to my door, opening it and reaching in to help me get out. Though I didn’t really need any help, his concern for me was soothing.

“Hey.” He cradled my cheeks in his palms and tilted my face up to meet his. “Do you know that I couldn’t possibly love you any more than I do right now?”

I smiled and kissed the thumb he brushed across my lips. “I feel the same way about you.”

“We’re gonna be okay, baby. Cause you know what? You’re a lot like me. You’re a fighter, too.”

He wrapped an arm around me and we turned toward the elevator. Was I like him? Was I a fighter? Now that I knew I’d never have my husband’s babies, would I be okay? I wasn’t as confident as Ryke was about any of it.

Staring up at the swirling plaster on the bedroom ceiling, I felt like the opposite of a fighter. I was on my back and had no desire to get up. I was physically and mentally drained. This was all I wanted — to be alone in the dark.

I’d insisted Ryke join his team in Minnesota. After we got back from the hospital yesterday morning, he slept next to me in the new bed he had delivered overnight. That had moved me – walking in to find the blood-soaked bed had vanished and been replaced by one with freshly washed flannel sheets. A vase of white tulips and a pitcher of ice water sat on my nightstand. And Mimi was nowhere to be seen. I knew she was in the apartment; she’d done all this, after all. But she wanted to give me space.

My mom, on the other hand, had called several times. I knew it was only because she loved me, but I didn’t want to talk. Ryke listened when I told him I was okay and he didn’t need to stay in bed with me any longer. I heard him telling Mimi to call him if anything came up and asking her to stay overnight with me while he was gone.

That man. I loved him fiercely, but he worried about me too much. I never brought it up with him, because I knew the death of his first wife, Maggie, had a lot to do with it. Just as I’d worried over my second pregnancy, he worried over his second wife.

“Want some lunch?” Mimi asked, opening the bedroom door. I had the blackout blinds down on our glass walls, and the crack of light she let in was the only illumination in the room.

“No, thanks.”

“Maybe just some soup or toast?” Her tone was so hopeful that I couldn’t refuse. This was what Mimi did; she took care of us.

“Sure, some toast would be nice,” I said, knowing I’d leave it on the nightstand and throw it away when she left.

I’d been so careful with my diet from the time we started trying to get pregnant. Fruits, vegetables, lots of calcium, no extra sugar, a prenatal vitamin every day. But what was the point of nourishment now? There was no one to nourish but myself, and I just wanted to sleep. To fade into oblivion for a while, and not think about anything.

I burrowed back under the covers, wishing for Ryke’s warmth next to me. I knew he meant it when he said he loved me just as much whether I could have his babies or not, but it still hurt that I’d failed him.

The realization that I wouldn’t be having my own children had me thinking about what I could do instead. I’d continue my part-time counseling work, because I loved it, but I also wanted to become more active in the foundation Ryke and I founded a few months after we got married. We raised money for children’s causes with the Hannah Ryker Foundation. So far we’d funded pediatric cancer research and college scholarships in his late sister’s memory.

I’d stretch the reach of the foundation. Raise more money, support more causes. I needed an outlet, and when I crawled out of bed, which I’d have to do sooner rather than later, throwing myself into the foundation would be perfect.

But not yet. For now I needed to stay in bed and let myself cry about what could have been.

I leaned across the wooden bench I sat on, craning my head so I could see the door to the locker room. Terese, one of our trainers, still wasn’t walking through it, and a jolt of aggravation shot through me.

My teammate Luke approached, partially dressed for the game. “Hey, how’s Kate?”

“Fine,” I muttered, folding my arms across my chest.

“What’s up with her?”

I glared up at him. “Nothing. Why, what’d Jack say?”

Luke shook his head. “He just said you needed to be with her. But you missed a game, so I figured something’s wrong.”

I picked up one of my skates and tugged on the strings, needing to keep my hands busy.

“Okay,” Luke said, letting the subject drop. “You good?”

“I would be if Terese would bring my goddamn sandwiches,” I snapped. “Guess I’ll have to rub my own fucking neck, too. I got stuffed into a coach seat on my flight this morning next to a guy that took up all of his and half of mine. My fucking neck hurts now.”

“You’ve got to get dressed soon,” Luke said. “You want me to rub your neck?”

“You’re not touching my neck, asshole. You’ll just make it worse.”

“You’re a ray of sunshine today, sweetheart.”

“Fuck off,” I growled. The door to the locker room opened and I turned. Terese was strolling in with my two peanut butter sandwiches wrapped in a paper towel.

“About time,” I muttered, taking them. She rolled her eyes and walked behind me.

“I’m a trainer, not a waitress. You’re lucky I found some peanut butter. Now let me work on your neck.”

I looked ahead and scarfed the sandwiches in silence. I’d eaten two peanut butter sandwiches on white bread before dressing for every game for the last nine years. At least I’d gotten them in time. Everything was off today. I’d forgotten to pack the peanut butter and missed the pregame skate. And after the game, I’d be going to bed alone in a hotel room while Kate slept alone at home.

I couldn’t stop thinking about how tight she held on to my neck when I hugged her this morning. Her sweet coconut scent was back, but the sadness in her eyes was the same. I wanted to be with her right now; to hold her and love her and make sure she knew she meant more to me than this game.

Though I needed to get dressed, I couldn’t get my mind off of Kate. I reached for my equipment bag and dug through it for my phone.

“Hold still.” Terese scolded me and I scowled at her.

“I’m just getting my phone. Whatever you’re doing is helping, by the way.”

“I didn’t just ace Sandwiches 101,” she said, pressing her thumbs back into my neck as I texted Kate.

“It’s your man hands,” Luke quipped to Terese from a few feet away. “Bet your boyfriend digs em, if you know what I mean.”

My message to Kate was hurried:
Love you. Miss you.

I stared at the phone as the seconds ticked by, willing a return message to pop up.

“C’mon, Ryke, get dressed, man,” Luke said. I threw the phone down on my bag and stood up. It was time to go to work.

I pushed the covers aside and sat up in bed. After sleeping off and on for two full days, I couldn’t sleep any more. I looked at the clock – 2:36 a.m. I rubbed my temples, aggravated with myself. I’d missed watching Ryke’s game on TV. It was the first time I’d missed one since before we were married.

When I picked up my phone from the nightstand, I felt even worse. Five texts – the most recent one saying,
Hope you’re asleep baby. Call me.

I considered the time difference and said screw it, pushing his name on my phone’s screen.

“Hey,” he said, his voice deep and groggy.

“Did I wake you up?”

“I wanted you to wake me up. I missed you like hell today.”

“I miss you, too. I hate that I slept through the game. Tell me all about it.”

He groaned dismissively. “Just a game. The usual.”

“So you guys lost, then?”

“Yeah. We got cornholed by a shitty ref. How are you?”

“Well rested. I’m wide awake.” I wanted to hear his breakdown of the game, but he didn’t like talking about games his team lost.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “You know, emotionally?”

I sighed. “Okay. I’ll be okay.”

“You want me to come home in the morning? I can.”

“Don’t you have stuff scheduled?”

“I fly out at seven and I’ve got practice after landing and a charity lunch thing after that. But I can get out of them.” His tone was almost hopeful, like he wanted me to ask him to rush home. But it was silly to ask him to blow off his commitments and sit in our dark bedroom with me.

“No, don’t do that. I’ll see you when you get done. Go back to sleep, okay?”

“Are you sure you’re alright? You don’t have to act like you are with me.”

“I’m okay, baby,” I said. “I just need to get back into things. After tomorrow I’m going back to work and my stuff with the foundation.”

“Are you sure? It seems really soon.”

I smiled at the concern in his tone. “It’ll be good for me. Don’t worry. I love you so much, Ryke.”

“I love you, too. Keep resting for now, okay? And tell me if you need anything. You want me to send a masseuse over tomorrow?”