Cut Too Deep (20 page)

Hadley blushed.

Hadley: It was wonderful. Today was the best day of my life. Thank you for the ballet and the bracelet. It’s lovely, and the sentiment is beautiful.

Over the remaining hour, Hadley detailed her afternoon at the ballet to a man eager to listen, only oceans away from hearing her voice.

The month of July came and went while a relationship between Miller and Hadley bloomed. They texted every night. Weekly, Hadley would receive letters accompanied by poetry. Most of the poems spoke of new love and rare beauties. Miller would outline the comparisons between their relationship and the written words. Her favorite was a poem by a local poet, expressing how a woman, while created from the rib of man to nurture, could only succeed when nurtured first by her lover—a man who provided for and protected his love, filled her with the security to love as a mother and nurture their future children.

When Hadley first read the poem, she couldn’t comprehend how men could see a woman’s role in life so drastically different, or how they could fall on such opposite ends of the spectrum. Here this poet wrote of protection and providing—nurturing a woman as though she was a rare treasure. Then there was Miller who lovingly expressed his heartfelt belief in those words. Many others considered women merely to be slaves to their desires, whatever they may be. Men like her father, who offered punishment when his demands were not met, spitting nothing more than venom and hate.

Through the expression of a poet, Hadley learned you can only love another person as much as you love yourself. Hadley’s mother loved her with all she had to give, which, sadly, was very little. Helena Rosanov had never been properly nurtured by her lover. Hadley often re-read the poem as a reminder she wasn’t her mother, nor was Miller her father.

Hadley shared her feelings on the matter with Dr. LeClair. He swelled with pride. It had taken a generous amount of time, but his patient had finally managed stability. He cut her visits down to twice a month and agreed to another session of regression therapy soon.

Hadley’s new position at Jensen Marketing proved to be demanding as well as exciting. She successfully produced artwork for some large clients, resulting in the launch of several new campaigns. Most of her employees were easy to manage, and they worked well as a team, with the exception of her favorite co-worker, Tosser. Hadley did her best to ignore Patricia’s challenging behavior and small digs. Her boss expressed happiness with her performance and his opinion was the only one she concerned herself with.

Mac continued to take Hadley dancing when the opportunity arose. The experience was always exhilarating, like food for the soul. After telling him she’d never been, he took her to Times Square for the Fourth of July. The increase she received at work had been beyond her expectations. The extra income afforded her the luxury to spend weekends with Mac shopping or going to the movies. He helped her pick out clothes and new linens for her bedroom and bathroom. He’d become a comfort zone. When appropriate, Hadley shared small pieces of her history with him and Mac never pushed for more.

Other than a lingering worry of when her former guardian would return and what he had planned for her, life was fantastic.

M
iller sat on the dirty cot, his thoughts thousands of miles away. They all centered on his brown-eyed beauty. He stared at the photo in his hand that Hadley sent him a few weeks ago, the same one she texted him from the ballet. The candid photo of her radiating pure happiness comforted him many nights. She made his stay in this miserable place tolerable.

Over the last month, she opened herself up to him. Though Hadley wasn’t aware of it, Miller knew her and much of what she’d been through. His investigator confirmed her to be a girl from his past, one he knew was broken, but through their letters and texts, he learned she was a survivor and stronger than anyone he knew. She was also charming and delightfully funny. Her passion for dance and succeeding in her employment were admirable. During the moments Miller spent reading Hadley’s letters, he slowly began falling in love with her—not that he was ready to admit it, but he felt it. Caring and sweet, combined with strong and fierce, Hadley was a rush of fresh air for a man who’d been strangled by a failed marriage for the last five years.

Miller had spent nearly eight weeks in hell. Mr. Ralston came to visit him yesterday with a special delivery for his captors and the news of Hadley’s identity. Although it took longer than Miller expected for the investigator to break the encryption on the memory drive, it allowed him time to grow closer to Hadley without scaring her away.

His captors were aware of who he’d come to the country looking for, and that he would copy the information on the drive to try and find her. They didn’t care. His incarceration was more about money than getting the drive returned to them. Now that he’d given his captors the drive with a large sum of cash, it wouldn’t be long until he’d be able to hold Hadley and express how much he cared for her. He detested his time here, but felt he should get down on his knees and thank God almighty for bringing Hadley back to him.

A little after seven in the morning, two guards entered Miller’s room, ordering him to follow them. Once outside, the natural light burned his eyes. Miller was escorted to a waiting car and greeted by Paul. He climbed into the back of the vehicle a free man, a man in love, and a man eager to return home. The car bounced over the dirt road and into a small village before his cousin spoke.

“Miller, I looked over the data your investigator sent, and you aren’t going to like what I found.”

At ten after eight, Hadley held the cell phone in her hand mildly worried about why Miller had yet to text her. By ten after nine, she paced her apartment frantically. She wracked her brain to remember if she had mentioned anything in their texts that would cause his captors to suspend the privilege, but could think of nothing. Later that night, she attempted to read a book as a distraction from her hysterical thoughts. She fought against the insecurity nudging her and the mean voice she hadn’t heard in weeks. She wouldn’t be broken down. With confidence, she knew if Miller could text her, he would.

By the next morning, Hadley was a complete wreck. On very little sleep, she shuffled her bare feet to the kitchen and made coffee. With a cup-of-Joe in hand, she sat on the couch and turned on the news. They’d all but stopped reporting on Miller's detainment and she wasn’t particularly interested in anything else. She turned off the television and went to prepare herself for work. She had a meeting with Mr. Jensen, along with the other Directors, and had no clue how she was going to focus on less than an hour’s sleep.

Mac’s butt was planted firmly on her desk when she arrived at work. When he caught sight of her puffy eyes and dark circles, he leaped off the desk and closed the distance between them.

“You look like crap.”

Hadley tried to smile, but her lip only quivered.

“I didn’t sleep well.”

Mac closed her office door.

“What’s wrong?”

“I told you, I didn’t sleep well.”

With his hip popped out, Mac eyed his friend skeptically.

“Girl, I know you don’t want to see me get all crazy. You’re a shit liar. Those bags under your eyes are more than lack of sleep. Start talking.”

Mac made Hadley laugh, which made her feel good. Friendship was a wonderful thing. She dropped her purse on her desk.

“Miller didn’t text me last night.”

“Text you? What are you talking about?”

Though unintentional, the secret was out. Hadley sighed.

“He sent me a phone, but you can’t tell anyone. Miller arranged it so we could text every night. We’ve gotten close, only last night I didn’t hear from him. Oh, Mac, I’m worried about him.”

Mac put aside his desire to inquire about the juicy details and hugged his friend. Hadley still struggled with affection, but needed comfort this morning.

“I’m sure the G-man is fine. You’ll see. He’ll explain tonight, but in the meantime, stop worrying. You can’t control what happens and bags are very unattractive.”

Hadley pulled away from her friend's embrace. His mention of control sent her thoughts in a million directions. The possibilities were endless. She could do nothing about any of them. She needed control. Control allowed her to be happy. Horrible things happened when she didn’t have control. She steadied her breathing and put on a happy face.

“Thank you. Now, don’t you have work to do?”

“Sure thing, boss lady. By the way, Dickhead is out today.”

“We have a meeting.”

“Cancelled.”

Mac closed the door after leaving her office. If Mr. Jensen was out, something definitely happened to Miller. She could only hope it wasn’t something awful that her heart would never recover from.

Hadley collapsed in the chair, questioning if anyone would notice if she snuck a quick nap. After deciding her brain would never shut off long enough to sleep, Hadley turned on her computer and checked her e-mail. She read the e-mail from her boss canceling the director meeting and outlining what should be done in his absence. She spent the remainder of the day working in a thick fog. Mac picked up the slack on a few projects she wasn’t able to get to. By the end of the day, fatigue beared down on her so heavily, her eyes closed–for only a second.

Shortly after six, Mac strolled into Hadley’s office to tell her goodnight. His friend slept peacefully in the chair behind her desk. He pulled a sweater she kept on a hook behind the door and draped it over her before leaving the office.

Hadley startled awake and rubbed her eyes before catching sight of the time–twenty to eight. She didn’t have the cell phone from Miller at work and would have to run home to make it in time for his text.

She was out of breath and her lungs burned, but Hadley made it home at exactly eight. By nine o’clock, she felt completely deflated. Out of old habit, she questioned if she’d said something wrong, if Miller was angry with her for some reason. Had she disagreed with him about something and he ignored her as a form of punishment? Her father often used this method to show his displeasure with something she or her mother did to upset him, usually when he wasn’t drunk and eager for a physical confrontation. Ignoring and denying affection was her father’s second favorite torture to instill on mother and daughter.