Read Online Found (Captive Heart #2) by Carrie Aarons - Free Book Online
Authors: Carrie Aarons
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has broken his hand and has a few broken ribs, but other than that he’s fine. He’ll take a little while to heal, but he will make a full recovery.”
Relief floods my system at the doctor’s words. “Thank you for letting me know. Can I talk to him?”
“No, I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t even be calling, but he insisted. He’ll be in the hospital ward for a couple of days, so I don’t know that he will be at visitation on Sunday. He says he loves you though. I have to go now.”
The line goes dead without me even being able to get another word in. Fear for Tucker, relief that he’s okay and sadness that I won’t be able to see him all conflict and war with each other inside my heart.
I wait for the anxiety to come, but it never does. I don’t even feel a trickle of an impending attack. Tucker’s robbery may have triggered this condition, but he would also be the antidote. Because I had to get better, for his sake. Had to be solid and together.
I got in my car and drove home, feeling stronger than I had in months.
15
Charlotte
Eight Months Ago
M onday’s are usually terrible all around. They’re loud and overload your senses with their alarm clocks, traffic and schedules. Your body didn’t even really adjust to the lazy weekend routine, and now you’re throwing it back into the boxing ring of corporate America. It’s like trying to fit in a day’s worth of sightseeing on the worst day of jet lag.
For me, Monday’s were a mixed bag. I was usually tired from my drive out to SCI Mahoney, and sad about missing Tucker. Days after a visit were the worst kind of emotional hangovers. But I also loved my job. So, like I said, mixed bag.
Today was a good Monday. Mostly because I was on a Tucker high. I’d watched him receive his college diploma yesterday. Watched as the smile spread across his face and he looked renewed, a man who had accomplished the impossible. I was always proud of him, but yesterday the pride had suffused my body, as if I were swimming in a pool of Tucker’s self-esteem.
Each time I had a crisis at work today, I just pictured his face as they handed him the degree. Beaming and looking down at me, sitting in the small crowd, with such love on his face. We were going to get through this. We only had a couple months left to go.
I unlock my black Jeep and hear the honk of the locks as they click open. Four months ago, I would have walked with my key pointed out like a knife in my hand, scanned the parking lot for anything suspicious. Now? I am confident and commanding as I clack across the pavement in my heels.
I’ve been working with a new therapist, someone referred to me by a close colleague, and she’s incredible. She’s helped me loads more than the last one, and I haven’t had an attack in nearly two months. I’m going to be so mentally strong by the time Tucker comes home that I’ll be able to give Professor X a run for his money.
The short drive home to my condo is peaceful as I listen to James Taylor on the radio.
“I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain …” I sing along, humming the tune to myself as I pull up in front of the cobblestone curb.
“Hello, Charlotte Ann.”
The blood in my veins freezes as the hairs on my neck stand at attention. She wouldn’t.
Turning, my mother stands besides my door on the small stoop. I want to get back in my car and pretend she was never here. But she’s seen me already.
“Mother.”
She’s tried to reach out before in the last few years. Calling, texting, emailing. I had to change all of my modes of communication just to stop her from harassing me. It was always the same.
“We need to talk about that man. Although man is too nice of a word.”
She always wanted to discuss Tucker. How she could get me away from him, how we could ruin his life. It made me want to hurl the contents of my lunch onto the sidewalk. Or on her.
“I have nothing to say to you. Just like the last time you decided to show up. Or the three
Relief floods my system at the doctor’s words. “Thank you for letting me know. Can I talk to him?”
“No, I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t even be calling, but he insisted. He’ll be in the hospital ward for a couple of days, so I don’t know that he will be at visitation on Sunday. He says he loves you though. I have to go now.”
The line goes dead without me even being able to get another word in. Fear for Tucker, relief that he’s okay and sadness that I won’t be able to see him all conflict and war with each other inside my heart.
I wait for the anxiety to come, but it never does. I don’t even feel a trickle of an impending attack. Tucker’s robbery may have triggered this condition, but he would also be the antidote. Because I had to get better, for his sake. Had to be solid and together.
I got in my car and drove home, feeling stronger than I had in months.
15
Charlotte
Eight Months Ago
M onday’s are usually terrible all around. They’re loud and overload your senses with their alarm clocks, traffic and schedules. Your body didn’t even really adjust to the lazy weekend routine, and now you’re throwing it back into the boxing ring of corporate America. It’s like trying to fit in a day’s worth of sightseeing on the worst day of jet lag.
For me, Monday’s were a mixed bag. I was usually tired from my drive out to SCI Mahoney, and sad about missing Tucker. Days after a visit were the worst kind of emotional hangovers. But I also loved my job. So, like I said, mixed bag.
Today was a good Monday. Mostly because I was on a Tucker high. I’d watched him receive his college diploma yesterday. Watched as the smile spread across his face and he looked renewed, a man who had accomplished the impossible. I was always proud of him, but yesterday the pride had suffused my body, as if I were swimming in a pool of Tucker’s self-esteem.
Each time I had a crisis at work today, I just pictured his face as they handed him the degree. Beaming and looking down at me, sitting in the small crowd, with such love on his face. We were going to get through this. We only had a couple months left to go.
I unlock my black Jeep and hear the honk of the locks as they click open. Four months ago, I would have walked with my key pointed out like a knife in my hand, scanned the parking lot for anything suspicious. Now? I am confident and commanding as I clack across the pavement in my heels.
I’ve been working with a new therapist, someone referred to me by a close colleague, and she’s incredible. She’s helped me loads more than the last one, and I haven’t had an attack in nearly two months. I’m going to be so mentally strong by the time Tucker comes home that I’ll be able to give Professor X a run for his money.
The short drive home to my condo is peaceful as I listen to James Taylor on the radio.
“I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain …” I sing along, humming the tune to myself as I pull up in front of the cobblestone curb.
“Hello, Charlotte Ann.”
The blood in my veins freezes as the hairs on my neck stand at attention. She wouldn’t.
Turning, my mother stands besides my door on the small stoop. I want to get back in my car and pretend she was never here. But she’s seen me already.
“Mother.”
She’s tried to reach out before in the last few years. Calling, texting, emailing. I had to change all of my modes of communication just to stop her from harassing me. It was always the same.
“We need to talk about that man. Although man is too nice of a word.”
She always wanted to discuss Tucker. How she could get me away from him, how we could ruin his life. It made me want to hurl the contents of my lunch onto the sidewalk. Or on her.
“I have nothing to say to you. Just like the last time you decided to show up. Or the three
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