The Beast Within (Book One of the Changes Series)

-Danielle’s POV-

The oppressive silence made me extremely uncomfortable; I wished I knew what Nathan was thinking.

When he had first appeared in the parking structure, I had to fight the urge to jump out of the car and throw myself into his arms. I had no expectations of how he would act, but he shocked me by how gentle he was.

Nathan stood at my door, awaiting my approval before entering my self-made safe haven. I caught a glimpse of the worry in his expression. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. The stale air of the cabin was replaced by a refreshing cool. As I lifted my face to look into his, the tears came rushing back. Nathan grasped my hand, guiding me into his embrace.

No words passed between us as he led me to the passenger seat of his car. The thoughts of how to explain the situation made me uneasy. I watched through the slightly fogged windshield of his Lexus as Nathan made sure my car was completely secure.

He was on his way back, giving a brief look in my direction as he walked. There were still no signs of disapproval or anger on his face. I felt enough of both for the two of us.

An expected dim glow lit up the cabin as Nathan opened the driver’s door. It wasn’t until he had started to take his place behind the wheel that I noticed something had changed. His scent was different. The new fragrance seemed to awaken something, stirring the restlessness inside of me.

I wouldn’t be able to endure another episode, especially not in front of Nathan. Shallow mouth breathing kept the scent at bay as I tried to suppress the mysterious impulses.

I gazed in Nathan’s direction, “I don’t think I’m okay, and I want to tell you why.”

***

After I had concluded my story, we just sat quietly in the car. Once I had started, it seemed to flow out of me, and I was careful not to leave out a single detail. The strange scents, sounds, moods, everything that didn’t make any sense to me. Well, none of what was happening made any sense at all.

Nathan didn’t interrupt me once, which was unexpected but appreciated. He would only periodically switch his gaze from me to staring out of the windshield as his expression remained blank, not revealing a hint of his feelings. Though, I wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good sign.

Nathan appeared to be deep in thought then and since. I tried to be patient, but my nerves were on edge; I needed to know what he was thinking about what I had told him, and most of all, what he felt about me.

As my impatience was about to boil over, Nathan broke our heavy silence.

“I wish you had come to me sooner.”

I heard the hurt in his voice, making it impossible for me to look him in the face.

“I’m sorry. It just all happened so fast. You said it yourself; I was working too hard. I just wanted to try to get a handle on the issue before worrying anyone.”

“I’m not just anyone Danielle, I’m your husband.”

I could hear the strain in his voice, teetering on anger. A fresh batch of tears threatened to pour down my cheeks. My head felt heavy as I occupied myself with a stray thread at the hem of my shirt. I gathered the little bravery I had left and found the strength to look Nathan in the eye.

“I know I was wrong to hide this from you, but I never meant to hurt you. I thought I could deal with this myself, and I was wrong.”

His clenched jaws softened, but his eyes kept their intensity.

“Danni, it’s obvious that this is an ongoing problem from the time of your pregnancy. I noticed a change in you then, but I thought it was just the extra responsibilities of motherhood. That’s why I got the nanny. But if I would’ve known you were on antidepressants… Did you ever consult a doctor other than your psychiatrist? A medical doctor would’ve checked your dopamine levels and hormones for possible brain activity issues.”

I suddenly felt defensive, feeling the need to protect myself from the conversation.

“No, I didn’t go to Eugene for fear of you finding out. My psychiatrist, Dr. O’Conner, said many mothers experienced postpartum after birth. Then she gave me the smallest dose of Paxil, and it worked. I haven’t taken the medication or needed Dr. O’Conner for over four years.”

“So you’re trying to tell me you haven’t been taking any medication for years now?”

“Yes, other than occasional Xanax when I have anxiety. The same meds you would prescribe for panic attacks.”

“Have you taken anything for the past couple of days?” Nathan looked at me accusingly.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Okay, I’m still not convinced it’s not a hormonal imbalance. I’m going to clear my schedule tomorrow and do a full work-up on you myself.”

Nathan’s attention was elsewhere as he vocally made his plans. The big picture was coming into focus, and I realized what Nathan thought, all too clearly.

“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

I knew I thought it myself, but the second I knew my husband shared the same thought, I was devastated. My gaze went back to staring at the frayed string at my hem. I felt the string and I were similar. We were both out of place, waiting to be plucked and discarded.

“I didn’t say that. I’m just going into this trying to cover all our bases. Without having a full family history for you, we can’t rule anything in or out.”

My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. I knew Nathan was comparing me to my mother. Even though my mom died from cancer, I couldn’t help but have a morbid fear of sharing her fate one way or another.

He let out a breath, “That came out wrong. I just want to make sure I’m thorough, so nothing will get by us. We are going to get through this as a family, okay?”

I lifted my head, trying to hide how his unintentional words wounded me, “Okay.”

It was evident to both of us the conversation had reached its end. Nathan turned the key in the ignition, accelerating away from my make-shift confessional box. The quiet was deafening and left me wondering if Nathan had any other thoughts he might have held back.

As we passed a few restaurants, I tried to remember if I had eaten anything other than breakfast. My stomach loudly gurgled in response.

Nathan instinctively pulled into “The Burger Joint” drive-thru, ordering my favorite chicken sandwich. After he paid and received his order, he drove up a little and turned slightly to face me, handing me the brown paper bag.

“You’ll always be my Danni.”

He grinned and moved in, giving me a firm long kiss. His affection left my lips faintly sore and puffy, but I didn’t mind, not one bit.