Текст книги "Easy Love"

Автор книги: Kristen Proby

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Chapter Thirteen

I’m gonna spank your ass for that.

And, boy, did he.

I grin and bite the end of my pen as I sit at my desk. I had a productive morning, but now all I can do is daydream about being at the inn…Making love until the wee hours of the morning…Breakfast with Gabby and a very chatty Sam…Walking in the gardens.

Eli finding my G-spot.

I also thought that was a myth. Apparently, I was wrong.

So very wrong.

I giggle and touch my suddenly very warm cheeks. Is it hot in here?

“Hilary!” Mr. Rudolph calls from his office, and I roll my eyes. That’s the third time today that he’s called me Hilary.

Seriously, I’ve been here for three weeks. Shouldn’t he have figured out by now that I’m not Hilary? Kate isn’t a hard name to learn.

I walk briskly into his office. “My name is Kate, Mr. Rudolph.”

He glances up and flicks his hand, as if it doesn’t matter. “Whatever. I need you to run the month end tax reports for payroll.” He goes on about the other tasks he wants me to handle—tasks that are normally his—and keeps checking his watch. He seems twitchy. Nervous. Even his brow is sweaty.

He’s kind of creepy.

But then, he looks up at me, and his brown eyes are kind.

“Thanks for doing all of this. Kate, right?”

I nod and turn to leave his office, my to-do list out of control.

“I’m leaving for the rest of the afternoon,” he informs me, as he follows me out of his office and closes and locks the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He wipes his fingers over his mouth and hurries out, and I’m just…pissed. It must be nice to not have to work much. The man is out of the office more than he’s in it. He leaves every day at 1:30, like clockwork. Which really annoys me. Why would Eli have someone with such a poor work ethic working for him?

I set the list Mr. Rudolph just handed me aside, and decide to get some of my own work done. I examine the spreadsheet of all of the transfers of large sums of money that are unaccounted for so far, and try to find a common link. The amounts are all different. They range in size of a few hundred dollars to several thousand. It seems that lately, they’ve gotten bigger. One was almost ten thousand dollars. But they’re not sent on the same day, or even on a regular schedule.

The only consistent thing is that they’re transfers to Western Union. No name on these reports.

Don’t you have to have an I.D. to pick up money from Western Union? I call a local branch, and sure enough.

Okay, who were they sent to?

Just as I’m about to start digging to find a name, something else occurs to me. The time of day the transfers were made were all around 1:00 in the afternoon, give or take a minute or two. I flip through them all, and sure enough, every single one is around the same time.

Interesting.

I glance at the time on the computer and frown. Mr. Rudolph leaves at 1:30 almost every day. I find each transaction in the computer, and I search for the name of the recipient at Western Union.

H. Peters.

Who in the hell is H. Peters?

I frown and pull up the roster of employees, not finding an H. Peters in the bunch.

Well, shit.

I dial Savannah’s office number, but get her voice mail, so I dial her cell.

“Hello?” I can hear road noise and raise a brow.

“You’ve left early.”

“Lance asked me to meet him at home,” she replies with a sigh.

“Why?”

“No idea. What’s up?”

“I have a small lead, and I’m going to need some help. Is there a person that you prefer I use internally to do some snooping, or can I call in my own private investigator?”

“We usually use someone internally, but let’s bring in someone from the outside for this.”

I nod in agreement. “Will do, thanks.”

I place a call to Adam, a local investigator that a colleague recommended, and leave him a voice mail, outlining what I need, then hang up and study the transactions again. I’ve looked through them a hundred times, but didn’t see the time stamp similarities until today.

What else am I missing?

“You look serious.”

I gasp and throw the papers on the desk, startled, then cover my heart with my hand and sigh. “You scared me, Hilary.”

“Sorry.” She grins. “I have to go run some errands, but do you want to meet up for happy hour this afternoon? Say, around four?”

I frown and shake my head. “No, thanks. I had a long weekend. I really just want to go home and relax.”

“A long weekend, huh?” She leans on the doorjamb and crosses her arms. “Who is he?”

I laugh and shake my head at my new friend. “You’re incorrigible. It’s not always about sex, you know.”

“Of course it’s always about sex.” She laughs and tucks her hair behind her ear. “And you’re having some. I can tell. I want to hear all about it. And you look like you could use a drink.”

I sigh and start to shake my head again, but she rolls her eyes. “You’re not saying no. Meet me at Huck’s at four.”

“Fine. Have a lemon drop waiting for me.”

“Can do.”

***

“So, talk. Who is it?” Hilary asks, as I sit and take a sip of a delicious lemon drop.

“Not telling.” No way, nohow.

“You’re not fun. I need details.”

“I’m not telling you who it is, but I’ll spill some details about the sex itself.”

“Right on.” She shifts in her seat and signals to the waitress for another drink.

“How long have you been here?” I ask.

“A little while. I’m a drink ahead of you. You have to catch up.”

I take another drink and lick the sugar on the rim of the glass. I love this damn sugar.

It’s probably why my hips are so wide. Damn hips.

“So, was the sex good?” Hilary asks.

“The best sex that was ever invented,” I confirm, and click my glass to hers.

“Impressive.” She sighs and rests her chin in her hand. “Does he do fun oral stuff?”

“Indeed.”

“Good. If a man won’t go down on you, it’s a red flag. Life’s too short for that.”

I giggle and nod. “For sure. My ex-husband refused to do that. It should have been a clue to his ass-hattery.”

“My ex-husband only wanted to have missionary sex,” she says with a wrinkle of her nose. “What’s the fun in that?”

“Missionary is good,” I reply.

“Yes, but every time? Let’s switch it up a bit.”

“True.”

“Was he a pushover, or did he wear the pants? Pun intended.” She sips her Bloody Mary through a straw and leans in.

“Oh, he’s bossy for sure.”

“I love the bossy ones.”

I nod in agreement, then watch in wonder as she drains her Bloody Mary and signals to the waitress for another.

“Slow down there, Speedy Gonzales.”

She giggles and shakes her head. “I’m celebrating.”

“Oh! What are we celebrating?”

“My new car.” She smiles proudly. “I just bought a new Mercedes.”

I blink at her, stunned. “Seriously? How can you afford that on our salary?”

“Oh, honey, where there’s a will, there’s a way.” She winks and sips her new drink, and all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. But before I can say anything, my phone rings.

“Hello?”

“We need you. Now.”

“Dec?” I frown and immediately reach for my purse; I mouth got to go to Hilary, who just nods and waves me off, already paying attention to her own phone. I reach the sidewalk and pause. “Where am I going? What’s happening?”

“Come to Savannah’s, now.”

“Is she okay?”

“No.”

My stomach drops and a cold sweat breaks out on my skin that has nothing at all to do with the heat of summer.

“Is she alive?” I whisper.

“Yes. Get here.”

“Wait! Where does she live?”

Declan swears under his breath. “Fuck, you don’t have a car. Get to Charly’s shop and she’ll drive you both here.”

“On it.” I end the call and run to Charly’s just two blocks over. She’s locking up the front door, her phone pressed to her ear, tears running down her pretty face. “Charly!”

“She’s here. We’re coming now.”

“What is going on?”

“I’m not sure; Declan didn’t want to waste time giving info, he just said Van’s been hurt, and we need to get there. Get in.”

We climb into Charly’s car and she speeds off.

“How far away is her house?”

“Three minutes.”

“How far is it normally?” I ask, and brace my hand on the dashboard as Charly weaves in and out of traffic.

“Ten.”

I hold my breath and pray as Charly gives the cab driver from my first day a run for his money in the crazy driving department, and finally she comes to a screaming stop in a driveway, cuts the engine, and we both go running for the front door.

“Van?!” Charly screams as she pushes inside. “Where is everybody?”

“Upstairs!” Beau calls, and we run through the beautiful home, up the stairs, and come to a halt when we find all three Boudreaux brothers and a man I don’t know just outside of Van’s bedroom. Beau is talking into the door.

“Who are you?” I ask the handsome, tall man with sandy-blonde hair and deep blue eyes. Eyes that look tortured and worried.

“This is Ben,” Eli replies. “He’s been a good friend for many years.”

“Vanny, you have to open the door, baby. Let us in.”

“What is going on?” Charly demands.

“Van called me,” Declan says. “She was sobbing; I couldn’t understand much, but she said she was home and needed help. I called everyone. But she won’t come out of her bedroom.”

I’m staring into Eli’s scared, angry whiskey eyes. He pulls me hard against him and hugs me close, takes a deep breath, as if he needs this to anchor him, then lets me go and moves to the door.

“Savannah, Charly and Kate are here. Will you open the door for them?”

“Only they can come in,” comes a small voice from the other side.

“Jesus, what the fuck?” Beau asks, pushing his hand through his hair. Ben is silent, but clearly agitated, as he paces back and forth.

The door opens a crack and I lead Charly inside and immediately feel the blood leave my face.

“Christ,” Charly says, as we both rush to her side. Savannah is sitting on the edge of the mattress of her bed. It’s been stripped bare, the sheets and blankets thrown about the room, along with lamps, the alarm clock, anything that could be thrown has been. There is glass shattered. Savannah is wearing her white dress shirt, but no pants. I immediately cover her with a white bed sheet. “What happened, baby?”

Van’s hollow eyes are on mine, and I know. I know exactly what happened. I want to fall apart, but I pull myself together and know that I have to get through this for Van.

“Where did he hit you?”

Tears fill her eyes. “He kicked my ribs.”

I lift her shirt and bite my lips to keep from crying out at the blazing bruises across her ribcage.

“Where else?”

She shakes her head, but she’s cradling her right arm against her.

“Is your arm hurt, honey?”

She nods. She’s begun to shake. “Yeah, he pulled it behind my back really hard.”

I look up at Charly, who has tears streaming down her face. “Tell the boys to call an ambulance.”

“No.” Van shakes her head and starts to stand, but I keep her next to me.

“Yes. Savannah, you’re hurt.”

“Can we come in?” Dec asks from the doorway.

“I don’t want them to see this,” Van whispers.

“They need to,” Charly says, and nods at Dec. The four big men fill the room, and all four look like they’re about to kill someone.

“What happened, baby?” Beau asks softly, his voice in direct contrast to his tense body.

“Let’s finish figuring out where she’s hurt,” I interrupt. “He wrenched your arm behind your back?”

Savannah nods, and won’t look any of the men in the eyes.

“Are you afraid of us, bebe?” Eli asks quietly as he squats in front of her.

“No, of course not. I’m embarrassed,” she replies quietly, and watches Eli’s face as her tears spill over. “How could I let this happen?”

“What did happen, Vanny?” Declan asks.

She swallows and looks at me. “My shoulder is dislocated. I’m pretty sure. I think a rib is broken.”

The men all still and watch very carefully as I smooth her tears from her cheeks. “Okay. What else?”

She shows me her wrist, which has bruises in the shape of fingers around it. “Check my other shoulder,” she says.

I pull her shirt away and we all gasp at the sight of more finger-shaped bruises on her opposite shoulder.

“He pulled my arm around my back and held onto my shoulder with the other hand.”

“And kicked you in the ribs,” I confirm, and Van nods.

“Why are you wet, honey?” Charly asks, and I frown as I realize that Van’s hair and clothes are all sopping wet.

She starts to shake her head, but Eli takes her face gently in his hands and says, “Why are you wet, my sweet girl?”

Ben stomps into the bathroom and swears ripely. Beau follows, then both men come back into the room.

“He tried to drown her in the tub,” Beau says, as Declan calls for an ambulance. “He’s a dead man.”

“Why?” Savannah asks, still staring into Eli’s face. “I don’t understand. He called me and said he wanted to tell me something, at home, in private. So, I came home. And he was in here, pacing back and forth. He looked…frustrated. Said that he’d been fucking some young thing that decided that she couldn’t fuck him anymore because he’s married and it’s wrong. So, it’s my fault.

“I told him that was easily fixed. He can fuck whomever he wants, for the rest of his life, and I’ll happily sign papers. But that only made it worse, because Daddy made him sign a prenup, and he won’t leave me just to lose out on all the money after all these years.”

“A fucking dead man,” Beau repeats, and Ben simply leaves, the door downstairs slamming behind him.

“Did he say he was going to kill you?” I ask her.

She nods stiffly, shaking in earnest now, shock setting in. “He kept holding my face in the water, until I thought for sure I was going to die, and then he’d pull me back out. Oh, my God,” she breaks down crying. “And then he dragged me back in here by the hair and…”

“And what?” Declan asks.

“I don’t want you to hear it,” she says to her brothers.

“Vanny, we love you,” Beau says softly. “It’s okay.”

She looks around the room, then settles her gaze on mine and whispers, “He raped me.”

I swallow hard. I want to throw up. I want to run away. I don’t want to hear this, hear how brutalized my best friend was by the man who was supposed to love her more than anything. But, instead, I lean in and kiss Van’s cheek.

“You’re safe. The ambulance is coming. We need to take pictures, Van.”

“What?” she gasps.

“To press charges, we need photos,” I repeat.

“Am I pressing charges?”

“If he lives long enough, yes,” Eli confirms. He and his brothers are scary. Lance should be very afraid.

“Of course you are, honey,” Charly says, and caresses Van’s hair soothingly.

“You’re leaving him,” I say firmly. “This is it. No more.”

“What do you mean, no more?” Declan asks.

Charly sighs and winces in pain. “Not the first time.”

“What?” Beau demands, and Eli stands to pace, unable to keep still any more.

“But, it’s the last,” I repeat, before her brothers can ask more questions. “Eli, can you please have the locks on the house changed today?”

“Done.”

Sirens call in the distance as the ambulance gets closer. My fingers shake as I push Van’s hair behind her ear. I want to fall apart. For me. For Van. For this whole family that has been shaken to the core by an evil that none of us quite understand.

But I can’t. Not yet.

“Come with me,” Van whispers.

“Every step of the way, friend.”

“Love you so much,” she says, and begins to cry again.

“Love you more.”

Chapter Fourteen

Eli

“Where the fuck is he?” Beau asks the room at large for the fourth time in twenty minutes, and continues to pace my office.

“We’ve been all over the city,” Declan answers, clearly as frustrated as the rest of us. And, out of all of us, Dec is the calmest one. Seeing him agitated is always unnerving. “Maybe he skipped town.”

“We’ll find him,” I reply and sip my brandy. “He can’t go far. We’ve frozen his bank accounts.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have done that,” Beau replies. “If he uses the bank accounts, we know where he’s been.”

“He’s not getting one more dime from this family,” I reply coldly, my gut churning as I remember the look in sweet Van’s eyes as they held mine and asked why?

Why?

Because he’s a piece of shit. Because he wouldn’t know what it is to be a man if it fucked him up the ass without lube.

Because he didn’t know a good thing when he had it.

But none of that would have made her feel better. Nothing can make her feel better, except time and love.

“We should have known,” Declan says as he rubs his face, his elbows planted on his knees. “I should have known.”

“We all should have known,” Beau replies in resignation.

“We did,” I say, and sip the brandy. “We knew he wasn’t a good man. Even if Savannah never would confirm it; we knew something wasn’t right.”

“It was her choice to be with him,” Beau says, and holds a hand up when Declan starts to argue. “Think about it. She was young and convinced and proud, Dec. There was no talking her out of it.”

“But it’s our mother fucking job to protect her,” I reply softly. “And we didn’t.”

We all blink at each other for a long minute. Our fists clenched. Our jaws tight.

“Dad would have killed that fucker himself.”

“He would,” I agree with a nod. “No one ever fucked with his family and lived to tell the tale.”

“Dad never killed anyone,” Beau replies with a half smile, as though the thought is entertaining.

“No one dared fuck with us before to test him,” Declan says.

“He’s going to pay,” Beau says, and swallows his glass of brandy.

“He already has,” Ben says, as he stalks into my office. We all still when we see him. He’s sweaty, dirty, and has blood on his shirt.

“What the fuck?” Declan demands.

“What happened?” I ask, much more calmly than I feel.

“You don’t need specifics,” he replies, and takes my drink from my hand, gulping the brandy, and holds the glass out for more. “I found him.”

“Is he alive?” Beau asks.

“He’s wishing he wasn’t, but yes.”

“Do you need an attorney?” I ask my friend since childhood. He shakes his head and swigs more brandy.

“Not necessary. He’s already turned himself in.”

“He’s turned himself in to the police?” Beau asks incredulously.

Ben nods and leans his hips on my desk.

“How did you pull that off?” Dec asks.

Ben simply smiles, a cold, hard smile that would make most grown men piss in their pants. “I made it very clear that it was either turn himself in, or I’d kill him.”

“You would have,” I say, with a bit of surprise, although it shouldn’t surprise me. Ben has been in love with Savannah since puberty.

“Without hesitation,” he replies coldly, and takes another sip of brandy. When his glass is drained, he slaps it on the desk and walks toward my door.

“Ben,” Declan says, stopping our friend when he grips the doorknob. “What exactly is Savannah to you?”

Ben glances over his shoulder at Dec, shakes his head, his eyes suddenly sad, and leaves without a word.

“Fuck,” Beau whispers. “This could turn into a shitstorm.”

“It won’t,” I reply. “Our people will take care of it. He’ll pay. Dearly.”

“What an idiot,” Declan says with disgust. “He did this over a piece of ass?”

“He did this because he’s an evil son of a bitch,” Beau replies. “It really has nothing at all to do with Savannah. It was never about her.”

“I’m going to go grab a shower and then head up to the hospital,” Declan says.

“I’ll go with you,” Beau replies, just as my phone rings.

Kate.

“Hello, cher.”

“Hi.” Her voice sounds tired. “Gabby is here at the hospital with Van. She’s going to stay with her tonight.”

“They’re keeping Van overnight?” I ask and check my watch. Damn, it’s almost midnight.

“Yeah, it’s late, and she’s pretty hurt. They want to watch her. Can you please come get me? I wouldn’t ask, but Charly already went home and—”

“Of course I’ll come get you.” I grab my keys and head for the door. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

***

I hate hospitals. The smell, the sounds. I fucking hate that Savannah is lying in a bed here.

I walk into her room and curl my hands into fists. Her face isn’t marked at all. The fucker was sure to not bruise up her pretty face. But her arm is in a sling, and she’s cradling it against her like it aches.

My own chest aches.

Gabby sees me first and runs to me, launching herself into my arms. Our girls are always so strong. So fierce. But they aren’t afraid to lean on their brothers when they need us.

And, as far as I’m concerned, that just makes them all the stronger.

“It’s okay, bebe,” I murmur and kiss the top her of head. Gabby is not just the baby, she’s also the smallest. The rest of us are tall, but she’s petite. And if you didn’t know her, you’d mistakenly think she’s fragile.

“I just need a hug,” she murmurs before pulling away and smiling reassuringly at Van.

“You’re a sweet girl, bebe,” I whisper in her ear. “Who has Sam?”

“He’s with Mama. She took him home with her. I called Cindy and asked her to watch the inn for tonight.”

I inwardly cringe, but nod. Cindy has been Gabby’s friend since grade school.

And she spent an out-of-control, mistake of a night in my bed.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, as I lean in and plant my lips on Van’s forehead. She’s cool to the touch.

No fever from shock or infection.

“Sore,” she says, and smiles as I pull away. Strong women. “I’ll be okay.”

I kiss Kate and drag my knuckles down her smooth cheek before sitting on the bed at Van’s hip.

The looks that Van and Gabby exchange aren’t lost on me. They’ll grill me later.

“I have news.” I take Van’s hand in mine and look her dead in the eye.

“Tell me.”

I exhale, wondering how much information I should give her. “He’s in custody.”

She closes her eyes in relief and her body seems to sag. “Thank God.”

“He won’t hurt you ever again.” She frowns and looks back into my eyes.

“Is he in custody, or in the morgue?”

I grin ruefully. “He’s not dead. Unfortunately.”

“But he’s hurt.”

Strong and smart.

I nod, but don’t elaborate.

“You’ve never lied to me, E. Not once.”

“No, ma’am.”

“So, why are you now?”

“I’m not lying.”

Gabby snorts and I send her a hard stare, shutting her up.

“You’re not telling me everything. How did you find him? Was he arrested?”

“I didn’t find him.”

She tilts her head to the side, and there she is. My Van. She narrows her eyes, and I know I’m in for it.

Thank Christ.

“What. The. Fuck.”

“Ben found him.” Her eyes widen, but I continue. “I haven’t seen him yet. But I saw Ben. Swollen knuckles, sweaty. A little blood.”

“Blood!”

“Don’t you dare defend that fucker,” Gabby says angrily.

“No, I want to know if it was Ben’s blood!”

I smirk. “Honey, nobody makes Ben bleed.”

She sighs in relief, but then frowns again. “So, Ben called the cops?”

“I honestly don’t know how it went down. I’m assuming we’ll find out tomorrow. Ben found him, and made him see that turning himself in was best for Lance’s well-being.”

Van’s lower lip quivers, making my gut tighten. “He did that for me.”

“We would do anything for you, bebe.” She grips onto my hand with her uninjured one and squeezes, holding my gaze in hers, and an entire silent conversation passes between us.

I love you. Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.

I love you. Always. You’re welcome. You don’t ever have to know what it is to live without us.

“Go home,” she whispers instead. “Take Kate home. She’s tired, but she won’t admit it.”

“I’m not tired,” Kate lies easily.

“She’s lying,” Van says.

“I know,” I reply with a grin and glance over at Gabby, who still has tears in her eyes. “You got this?”

“Of course.” She grins, the dimples in her cheeks showing. “Vanny’s stuck with me all night. It’ll be like when we were kids and I’d sneak into her room and sleep with her because my room was haunted.”

“Your room wasn’t haunted,” Van replies with a roll of the eyes. “You just liked my bigger bed.”

“My room was haunted,” she insists, talking to Kate now. “My things would be mysteriously moved. I heard voices.”

“Those voices are in that hard head of yours,” I reply and grin when she sticks her tongue out at me, just like she did when she was small. “But I am going to take Kate home now.”

“Kate appreciates it,” Kate says sarcastically. “She also loves it when you talk about her like she’s not here.”

“She’s testy,” Van says. “She’s been bossing the nurses around all day.”

“I’m right here,” Kate says.

“I know how to reel that bossy side in,” I assure Van, and laugh when Kate mutters right here, people. “We will check in on you in the morning.”

“Good night.”

I take Kate’s hand in mine and kiss it as I lead her out of Van’s room and into the hallway. As soon as we’re out of view, she pulls her hand from mine and walks ahead of me to the elevator, keeping her distance as we wait.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She simply nods, her eyes trained on the door of the elevator.

Another lie.

I move to brush her hair behind her ear, but she flinches away from my reach. My first reaction is frustration. Does she think that I would hurt her? But then she turns her sad green eyes to me and just shakes her head, and I relax.

It’s not me. She’s hanging on by a fucking thread.

I nod once and keep my distance to the car. Halfway home, I try to take her hand in mine, but she pulls away and clasps her hands tightly in her lap. Her whole body is tense. Her eyes trained on her lap.

For the first time in my life, I want to make it better for a woman. I want to hold her and protect her, and she’s not mine.

She’s never going to be mine. And the thought of her leaving makes me feel…

I don’t know what, it just makes me feel.

I park and she jumps out of the car, walking quickly to her loft.

“Kate. You’re coming up to my place.”

“No. I’m not.” She doesn’t stop walking.

“Yes, cher, you are.”

She stops and turns to glare at me. “No, I’m not. I don’t want you tonight, Eli.”

“You’re getting me.”

“You know what?” she rails, her eyes fierce, her gorgeous hair a riot of curls around her face. She advances toward me, anger vibrating in every muscle of her body. “I don’t need this. I don’t need another man telling me what I will and will not do.”

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

“Shouldn’t. Won’t. Can’t.” She gets up in my face, and I’ve never seen anything like her. She’s on fire, standing out here on the sidewalk in the French Quarter, yelling at me. “You’re an asshole!”

Shot to the gut.

“I’ve never claimed otherwise, cher.” My voice is perfectly calm. My hands are in my pockets, so I don’t reach for her and pull her in.

Not yet.

“You just play with people and their emotions! You’re just selfish and heartless!”

My eyes narrow on her face. Her eyes are tearing up, her cheeks rosy, and her bottom lip quivers as she shoves her fists into my chest, knocking me back a step.

She’s surprisingly strong for such a little thing.

“You just hurt people!” she yells.

“Who are you talking to right now, Kate?” I ask softly. Her eyes focus on me, and her face crumples as she begins to cry. “Ah, bebe.” I hug her tight to me, and she fights me, trying to wrench her way out of my arms, but I hold firm. “Shhh. You’re safe, Kate. Let go. Cry. Scream. Do whatever you need to, sweetheart. I have you. I’m not letting go.”

“I don’t want you to see this.”

“God save me from proud women,” I mumble into her hair, as I press kisses to the top of her head, breathing her in. She begins to cry in earnest now, gripping onto my shirt rather than trying to get away. I scoop her up into my arms and carry her inside as she buries her face in my neck and cries; loud, body-shaking sobs making their way through her as though the storm has finally washed over her and all she can do is ride it out and survey the damage later.

And it’s killing me. I don’t take her upstairs to the bedroom. Instead, I carry her into the living room, sit on the couch, and simply hold her in my lap, my arms tight around her, and let her cry.

I brush her hair off her face, wishing I had a cool washcloth. Her back is slender under my hands as I caress her slowly, trying to comfort her.

Finally, after long minutes, the sobbing slows, and she is reduced to hiccoughs, then sniffles. Her small body still shaking. Her hands still clinging to me, as if I could let her go.

Not happening.

“Made a mess of you,” she whispers roughly.

“Doesn’t matter,” I reply in the same whisper. The house is quiet around us as we sit here, holding onto each other.

“I know what she felt,” she whispers, but then doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask her to. Finally, she says, “I know how it felt every time he kicked her. Pulled her hair. Wrenched her arm. Held her down while he—” The last word comes on a sob, and I tighten my arms around her as I wish for the chance to have Kate’s ex-husband alone in a room for just five minutes. “At least I was never almost drowned.”

I have to swallow the bile that rises up in my throat.

“Do all men hurt women?” she asks softly.

“No.”

She simply nods.

“I hate that this happened to her. She’ll question herself for a long time. What did I do to make him hurt me? Why wasn’t I good enough, smart enough, for him? If I had just done this or that, he wouldn’t have gotten mad.” My hands reflexively fist in her shirt. “Long after the bruises fade, and her shoulder heals, she’ll still be broken.”

“Do you think you’re still broken, Kate?” I ask softly. She stills, then loops her arms around my neck and hugs me close, burying her fingers in my hair, and I return the hug, enjoying the way she feels in my lap, pressed against me.

“Sometimes I think I’ll always be broken,” she whispers into my ear, tears in her voice.

I cup her cheek in my hand and tip her face up so I can look her in the eye. Her tears make me feel so fucking helpless. I don’t do helpless.

Shit, I don’t do feelings. Or I didn’t, until I met her.

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“Maybe,” she replies with a sniffle.

I grin and tuck her hair behind her ear, then let my fingertips trail down her wet cheek. “I think that you are smart, funny, and sexy as fuck.”

She grins and her green eyes darken, making my cock stir.

“I also think you’re stubborn.” She sniffles and raises an eyebrow. “I know you’re beautiful.” She tries to look down, but I tip her chin back up with my finger. “You are beautiful. Every freckle on your gorgeous little body drives me crazy. But, more than that, Kate? You’re strong. Determined. You have a backbone.”

Tears fill her eyes again, and I can’t stand it. I tip my forehead against hers. “You’re not broken, cher. He hurt you. But no one broke you.”

“Thank you for that,” she whispers, and kisses my lips softly before tucking her face back into my neck and beginning to cry again. Softly now. A cleansing cry. The kind of cry that sweeps out the demons and makes room for the good.