Keeping Karly (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Read Free Page A

me back onto the pillow. I don’t fight them. I’m too dizzy even to mumble a protest, but I really need to fix the mess I made. Larger hands hold me and caress my arm softly as I try once again to sit up.
    “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ve got everything under control. Lie back and rest for a while longer.”
    I know that voice. Thankfully, it doesn’t belong to my husband, but I can’t quite place who owns it. I know it’s the man who found me, the one who stayed with me while we waited for the ambulance, the one who saved me from my husband’s violent temper, but I can’t put a face to the name.
    “Grant,” the man says, obviously not talking to me but someone else in the room, “go see if you can find the doctor.”
    The man must have nodded because the only sound I hear is footsteps leaving the room.
    “You don’t understand,” I say, my teeth aching from the pounding in my head. “I need to get it cleaned up before he gets home. John hates it when the carpet is a mess.”
    “Yeah, well John can go and get fu—”
    “Karly,” my sister says in a voice clearly designed to interrupt the man’s words, “do you know where you are?”
    “Hostibitable,” I say. I feel like I’m talking around a mouthful of marbles. Why haven’t I noticed that sooner? I thought I was talking normally. My second attempt is no better. “Hopsittable.” Damn it. What the hell is wrong with me?
    “That’s right,” the man says in a soothing voice. “You’re in St. Michael’s Hospital. Do you remember why you’re here?”
    “Rules,” I say, struggling to get my mouth working correctly. “Forgot.”
    “You forgot the rules?” Casey asks, sounding surprised. “What rules?”
    “Dinner. Clean. H–Happy.” I try to pry my eyes open without success. I’m growing really frustrated. I don’t understand why I can’t talk. I ache all over. And Fuck! I need to clean the carpet! “Carpet happy clean dinner.”
    “It’s okay,” the man’s voice says in a deep soothing tone. “The carpet is already clean. Dinner is on the table. It’s okay now, sweetheart. Everyone will be happy.”
    I almost sob with relief and lie back down.
    I know the secret to a happy marriage. I can’t believe that I actually forgot.
     
    * * * *
     
    Grant was ready to put his fist through a wall. Six months ago they’d thought Casey had looked awful lying in a bed in this hospital. Karly’s appearance proved how wrong assumptions could be. Both of her eyes were black and swollen closed. She had a deep laceration on her forehead, and according to what Bryce had told him, she had several fist-size bruises on her ribcage. If he had to guess he’d say the body blows were deliberate—easily hidden from prying eyes and exactly what a cowardly wife beater would aim for—but that the cut on her head, possible concussion and swollen, black eyes had been from Karly hitting a bench or table edge as she fell forward.
    Hell. Karly had been so vocal about her hatred for men who bashed women that he would never have guessed the secret she’d been hiding.
    Grant and Bryce stood back as the doctor finally came into the room and started asking questions that seemed designed to check the severity of a brain injury. Grant held himself rigid as Karly answered several simple questions with strange answers. She got a few correct—at least he thought the unintelligible sounds she made were close to the correct answer—but he held his breath when the doctor indicated for Casey to follow him out of the room.
    Thankfully, his roommate and friend reached for his hand in a silent request for him to come, too. Bryce nodded, taking Karly’s hand in his own once more as Grant and Casey left the room.
    “The X-rays and CT scan came up clear so there’s no serious damage.”
    “Why did she get the questions wrong then?” Casey asked nervously.
    “Disorientation is normal after an accident like this.”
    “It wasn’t an accident,” Grant said through