Happy Thursday, all! Guess what? We’re almost done with Fifty Shades Freed, and that ought to bring us to the end of this train wreck of a trilogy. Last time, we were left with quite a cliffhanger, so let’s see what happens next.
There is only pain. My head, my chest . . . burning pain. My side, my arm. Pain. Pain and hushed words in the gloom. Where am I? Though I try, I cannot open my eyes. The whispered words become clearer . . . a beacon in the darkness.
“Why is she still unconscious?”
“Mrs. Grey has had a major contusion to her head. But her brain activity is normal, and she has no cerebral swelling. She’ll wake when she’s ready. Just give her some time.”
“And the baby?” The words are anguished, breathless.
“The baby’s fine, Mr. Grey.”
“Oh, thank God.” The words are a litany . . . a prayer. “Oh, thank God.”
Why is she still unconscious? I don’t know! Maybe because she had a head injury.
“If you don’t take her across your knee, I sure as hell will. What the hell was she thinking?”
“Trust me, Ray, I just might do that.”
Dad! He’s here. I fight the fog . . . fight . . . But I spiral down once more into oblivion. No . . .
“She said she was leaving me.”
No. No. No!
“Did you believe her?”
“At first, yes.”
“Darling, you always believe the worst of everyone, including yourself. You always have. Ana loves you very much, and it’s obvious you love her.”
She was mad at me.”
“I’m sure she was. I’m pretty mad at you right now. I think you can only be truly mad at someone you really love.”
“I thought about it, and she’s shown me over and over how much she loves me . . . to the point of putting her own life in danger.”
I have a pressing need to pee. I open my eyes. I’m in the clean, sterile environment of a hospital room. It’s dark except for a sidelight, and all is quiet. My head and my chest ache, but more than that, my bladder is bursting. I need to pee.
“Hush, baby, I know.”
“You do?” His admission halts my tears.
“I worked it out. Eventually. Honestly, Ana, what were you thinking?” His tone is strained.
“You took me by surprise,” I mutter into his shirt collar. “When we spoke at the bank. Thinking I was leaving you. I thought you knew me better. I’ve said to you over and over I would never leave.”
“But after the appalling way I’ve behaved—” His voice is barely audible, and his arms tighten around me. “I thought for a short time that I’d lost you.”
“No, Christian. Never. I didn’t want you to interfere, and put Mia’s life in danger.”
See, all she had to do was pretend she was going to leave him for him to straighten up. Because she loves the big lug.
“Jack called me at the office,” I murmur. “He gave me two hours to get the money.” I shrug. “I had to leave, and it just seemed the best excuse.”
Christian’s mouth presses into a hard line. “And you gave Sawyer the slip. He’s mad at you, as well.”
“As well?”
“As well as me.”
I tentatively touch his face, running my fingers over his stubble. He closes his eyes, leaning into my fingers.
“Don’t be mad at me. Please,” I whisper.
“I am so mad at you. What you did was monumentally stupid. Bordering on insane.”
“I told you, I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You don’t seem to have any regard for your personal safety. And it’s not just you now,” he adds angrily.
And he’s mad at her why? Because she honestly cared about his sister and didn’t want anyone else getting hurt? Why not just be grateful and relieved that she’s okay?
This is a long chapter, so there will be more highlights later this week. Until then!
3 replies on “Linotte Reads 50 Shades : Fifty Shades Freed, Chapter Twenty-three – Part One”
I must say, these recaps almost make me want to read the books myself, just so I can have the pleasure of yelling at Ana, Christian, the author… :)
EXACTLY. It’s very upsetting.
See, I can’t handle stories like this. There were some chapters in this that were so horrible. And it’s just so terribly written. It’s all well and good if what was in the books was what she was producing for herself and the fans who liked her work. But you’d also expect that since it’s published and possibly going to be marketed to a wider audience, the editors of the publishing company would have worked with her to produce a more polished product. I mean, that’s her name and face on that. It’s one thing if people don’t care for the book, but I would be horribly embarrassed if the work I produced was so horribly written that people could poke holes through it.