Broken Butterfly: Fallen Brook Series: Book 3

by Jennilynn Wyer

  “This is nice,” I say. He sits down next to me on the bench and punches a few keys with one finger.

  “Can you play?” I ask him.

  “If you count chopsticks as playing, then yes.”

  I get an idea. “Here, help me turn the bench.” We maneuver the bench so that it’s vertical to the piano. I push Fallon down to sit in a straddle and then sit in front of him.

  “What are you up to?”

  “You’ll see,” I reply and move his arms around me to position his hands on the keys. Then, I place my hands on top of his. “Now, relax and let me do all the work,” I tell him. “All you have to do is feel the music and let me lead.”

  I press down on his thumb, middle finger, and pinky to play a C-major chord. Fallon peers over my shoulder to see what I’m doing. He moves closer behind me and rests his chin on my shoulder.

  I tap his fingers. “Relax, Fallon. This won’t work if your fingers are stiff as a board.”

  I try again until his fingers loosen up and allow me to guide them. I am the puppet master and he is my puppet. I go slowly at first until he gets the hang of what I’m trying to do. With my hands over his, I start playing a simple version of Pachelbel’s Canon in D major. When I need to shift to a different key position, I gently lift his hands up with mine and move them where I need them to go. After a few tries, Fallon gets the hang of what I’m doing and allows me to manipulate his hands and fingers with ease.

  “This is how my dad first taught me to play,” I tell him. “I always loved those days when it was just him and me in the music room. He converted one of the back rooms in our house to a music room, soundproofed it and everything. That’s where he kept all his instruments. I would sit in that room for hours as a little girl and just mess with all the cool instruments he had in there. One day he caught me and that was the first day he sat me in his lap and showed me how to strum a guitar. I was instantly hooked.”

  I can feel Fallon’s breath against my cheek as he watches our hands move in synchronicity across the keys.

  “I’m sorry about your parents, kitten.”

  I shrug off the tears that want to form because what more can I say at this point? I’ve already screamed and cried and thrown things. All that does is give me a headache. It doesn’t bring them back.

  “I’m supposed to go back home with the guys for Thanksgiving.” Then it hits me. “Wow, I just realized that Thanksgiving is only two weeks away.” My fingers stop playing. “I haven’t been home since that night. I told Jayson I wasn’t ready to see it, but I agreed to go back with them for Thanksgiving. With my memories back, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to face that part of my life. After what happened there, how can I look at my childhood home and not see a goddamn house of horrors?”

  As I divulge my fears, Fallon turns his hands over to grip mine. “He will never hurt you again, Elizabeth,” he says with certainty. “You already lost your memory once. Don’t allow Him to steal all of your good memories of your family as well. Those are the ones you should dream about.”

  I move our joined hands to my chest and hold tight. “Will you come with me when I go back?”

  “Wherever you go, I follow, remember?” Fallon lets go of me and stands up from the bench. “Let me show you to your room. It’s pink. You should love it,” he says, smirking and tugging on my hair.

  I laugh, glad that some of the tension that suddenly popped up between us eases. I pat the Steinway one last time in reverence and follow Fallon out of the room.

  “Tatiána is so nice. How can the two of you be related?” I tease.

  “She was lucky in the fact that her mother is a loving woman who cherished her daughter. That, and Tatiána never had to live in the same house as my father. I envy my half-siblings for that alone.”

  “Trevor mentioned that he speaks with your father on occasion.”

  Fallon mumbles something under his breath that I don’t catch.

  “Will you tell me someday, about your childhood. About your scars?”

  “Someday,” he replies. “If there was anyone I would trust enough to tell, it would be you.”

  “Fallon, did you just say something sweet to me?”

  “I take it back.”

  “Oh, no. No takebacks. I heard it and you can’t make me unhear it. See, Nutter Butter, you are a big softy.”

  We walk down a long hall. “Jesus, not that shit again. Don’t you dare tell my sister that stupid-ass nickname. I won’t hear the end of it.”

  “What do I get in return for keeping my mouth shut?”

  I release a gasp when he shoves me against a wall and spreads his hands flat on either side of me. “What do you want, kitten?”

  I’ve ventured into dangerous territory. I lick my suddenly dry lips and his aquamarine eyes zero in on them. “Right this moment, I want to see where I’ll be sleeping.”

  “Liar,” he retorts, but backs away, allowing me to release the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

  I spend the next hour in my rose-pink room, unpacking and thinking about the choices I have made and the choices that are yet to come. What do I want? At this very minute, I think my answer would shock the hell out of Fallon.

  Tatiána has her culinary staff prepare us a lovely meal for dinner. Earlier, she gave me the grand tour of her palatial home while Fallon disappeared to who knows where. I quickly learn that I will have to make sure to eat something mid-day as dinner is regularly served late at night. Dinner consists of small plates of various local foods and dishes that my unrefined Southern self would call sampler platters back home. I am introduced to another Spanish favorite, the after-dinner drink carajillo, which is a hot coffee with a shot of liquor; in this case, anisette. Honestly, I don’t care for it, but I enjoy the experience of trying something new. As the night is still mild for the time of year, we eat dinner outside in the central courtyard gardens.

  “I fucking knew that getting you two together was a bad idea,” Fallon complains good-humoredly. It’s almost midnight and while we enjoy our carajillos, Tatiána has been telling me stories about her summers with Fallon that have me snorting with laughter.

  “I can’t wait to tell Ryder that one,” I hiccup, trying to catch my breath. My stomach is sore from laughing so hard and eating so much.

  “Try it and be prepared to suffer the consequences,” Fallon threatens, but he’s not able to hide the partial smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  I stick my tongue out at him and he leans over to tickle my sides. I squeal and wiggle off my chair, landing unceremoniously on my ass. Thankfully, I’m wearing jeans and not a dress. Tatiána giggles at my predicament and I glare up at her. “How much alcohol did you put in my coffee?”

  “Not enough,” she concludes and pours more anisette into my almost empty cup. I notice she isn’t drinking any coffee and has stuck to water the entire evening.

  Fallon comes over to help me up, that smug smirk of his making an appearance. When he offers me his hand, I tug hard and pull him down with me. Instead of landing on his derriere as I had hoped, he lands in a push-up position hovering over me as I fall backward, my hair fanning out all around my head.

  “Hi.” I giggle up at him and flick his nose with my finger.

  “So goddamn gorgeous,” he says back.

  “I’m sitting right here,” Tatiána loudly announces. My eyes widen and I push Fallon off of me. This time he does fall over on his ass with an umph. “Are you sure the two of you are not together? You act like una pareja enamorada.”

  I start mentally choking when my brain finally translates what she just said. “No, no, no. Fallon and I are just friends. I’m in love with—” I blurt before I realize my almost word vomit and shut my mouth tight.

  “What is the phrase your countrymen use? Friends with benefits? Um, fuck buddies? That’s what I am trying to think of.” Tatiána snaps her fingers when the words come to her.

  “Just friends,” I repeat, poking Fallon in the side with my elbow
because he’s being quiet on the subject. He pulls me between his legs—much like we were earlier at the piano bench—and wordlessly grins up at his sister with a wink.

  “Hmm,” Tatiána hums. “It is late, and I want to be fresh and beautiful for my husband’s return tomorrow. I will leave you two to wrestle like piglets on the floor and bid you a good evening. Fallon, breakfast is at seven. Elizabeth, it has been lovely spending time with you.” She bends down, “You are good for my brother,” she whispers to me then walks through the open archway back inside the house.

  “You are such a little shit,” I declare and pinch Fallon’s forearm. “She totally thinks we’re sleeping together.”

  “Technically, we are.” Hello, cocky asshole. Welcome back. “Speaking of which,” he announces and lifts me up from the floor. “Time for bed.”

  “You are not sleeping in my bed again tonight, Fallon Montgomery.”

  “Wanna bet?” He lifts me off my feet and over his shoulder and walks into the house.

  “What is it with you guys carrying me caveman-style?” Jayson and Ryder used to do this to me all the time.

  “I get a nice side view of your ass.”

  “You stare at my ass all day long.”

  “True. You have a great ass, so it’s really not my fault,” he rejoins. At least he hasn’t smacked my butt, so I give him props for that alone.

  Once we reach the Rosa room where I’m staying, he throws me bodily onto the high, large four-poster bed. I bounce a few times on the soft mattress and decide that was fun, so I stand up and start springing up and down a few times on it like a trampoline before I remember this is not my house and I am being an irresponsible guest.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Fallon’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  I plop down on the bed, legs outstretched. “You’ve never jumped on your bed before?” He shakes his head no. “Pillow fights?” Again, he answers no. Did he have any fun as a kid growing up doing stupid kid stuff? “Come here,” I motion to him to get on the bed with me.

  “Kitten, the only bed acrobatics I do are with my dick inside a pussy.” That startles a belly laugh out of me.

  “Think that’s funny?”

  “Yep!” I reply, popping that ‘p’ with emphasis and collapse back on the bedspread.

  Fallon reaches over and tugs at my ankles until my body slides across the bed to where he’s standing at the foot. My arms are splayed above my head, my cheeks are red from jumping around, and I have a silly grin plastered across my face.

  “I want to fuck you,” he snarls at me like he’s angry at me for the desire he feels.

  My grin evaporates. He said almost the exact same thing to me in Nordurljosavegur. God, it would be so easy to go there. To let him take me and use my body, to feel him on me, over me, and inside me, and not care about the consequences. Over the past two weeks, Fallon has infused himself into my heart in a way that will remain lodged there forever. He has been my savior, my friend, my comfort, my confidant, and my lifeline when I was drowning. I have fallen in love with Fallon, just like I did with Jayson, Ryder, and Julien when I was a kid. But Fallon is not what I would call my heart’s love. Only one man owns me in that way, and that’s the man I’m in love with. It’s like I said: you can love many people but there will only be that one special person you will give your whole heart to with all of your love. Fallon isn’t that person for me.

  He studies my face and releases his hold on my legs. “I’m sorry,” he exhales, scrunching his brow.

  I sit up and grab his arm. “Fallon, I wish I could tell you that things were different. I really do. It would be so easy to let go with you. Forget everything, forget my life, forget my responsibilities, and be with you. But I can’t, and I won’t. I’m in love with someone else. I’ve made my choice.”

  He strips off his shirt and jeans until he’s wearing only his black boxers. Even though I already told him we wouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed together again tonight, he climbs on top of the bed covers to sit beside me. I should tell him to go, but the lost and lonely expression on his face has me reconsidering.

  “Come on,” I say, pulling him off the bed so we can brush our teeth and I can wash my face.

  We’ve become very comfortable around one another’s personal routines. A few mornings during the past couple of weeks, I have sat on the lip of the tub and watched Fallon shave. It’s something I did often with Ryder. Fallon finishes brushing his teeth and leans a shoulder against the door frame, watching me dry and rub lotion on my face.

  “Why are you staring?” I can feel the intensity of his eyes boring holes into me.

  “What do you remember about the man from that night?” Well, that came out of left field.

  “His eyes. One blue, one brown. I remember His voice. If I ever hear His voice again, I’ll be able to recognize it instantly.”

  “What else?”

  I push him out of the way so I can close the bathroom door and change. Once done, I open it again and walk past him to get under the bed covers. He turns off the lights and joins me. Just like last night, we face each other and snuggle in. To me, at least, it feels like we’re two friends having a sleepover.

  “His smell. I remember the way He smelled like cigarettes and nutmeg. There is one thing that I still don’t understand though.”

  Fallon smooths my hair back off my face, his hand stopping to cradle the nape of my neck. “What’s that?”

  “He wanted me to see something. He kept repeating that over and over. He was screaming at Hailey saying she was stupid to think she could ever be me. It doesn’t make sense. What did He mean? I’m certain this was the older man Hailey had been sneaking around with. The man who abused her and hurt her. Why would she stay with him if He hurt her? Why didn’t she come to me for help? Why didn’t I see what was happening to her and save her?”

  “I don’t think you’ll ever understand the why. He could have been obsessed with you, and Hailey was his way to get access to you. He could have been using Hailey as a substitute because he couldn’t have you.”

  “Like a stalker? Don’t you think I would have noticed some man creeping around? Jayson, Julien, and Ryder sure as hell would. The four of us were always together.”

  “You’d be surprised by how many monsters surround you without you ever realizing that they’re there.”

  “If you’re placing yourself in that group, you can cut that shit out right now, Fallon.”

  His fingers clench in my hair at the base of my head to the point of pain and I wince. “I am a monster, kitten. I hurt people, and I couldn’t give a shit. I cause pain because I like it. I do what I want, and I will steamroll over anyone in my way. My reputation is what it is for good reason.”

  I decide to take the plunge and dive off the deep end into dangerous waters. “Who hurt you, Fallon?”

  “You don’t want to go there, Elizabeth,” he bites out, jaw rigid and teeth clenched.

  “Yes, I do. Who hurt you?” He pulls at my hair again, but I refuse to react. He wants to scare me, to deter me from pushing for more. Joke’s on him. I’ve seen the real Fallon and I know he would never really hurt me. “Who hurt you, Fallon?”

  This time he curses and shoves up from the bed as if he’s preparing to walk out of the room. I watch his chest heave with strangled breaths. I wait him out, allowing him the time he needs to decide whether he trusts me enough to let me in.

  I hear him rasp out, venom coating every word, “My father. My mother. My brother. Everyone in my life who was supposed to love me.” He thumps a closed fist on the mattress and the bed shakes.

  With his bare back to me, I can see the scars on his lower torso. “Tell me,” I whisper, crawling up behind him and placing my hands over his scars. Every muscle in his body goes taut and his breath hitches violently like he’s forcing back tears but refuses to let them fall. I want to help ease his pain. I want him to know that he is loved. By me, by Tatiána, by Ryder. Fallon deserves to be lov
ed.

  I don’t know how much time passes, but eventually he starts talking.

  “My father is a cruel son of a bitch. He only cares about money and getting his dick wet in any available pussy. I hated living in his fucking house. I escaped every chance I got. I don’t remember the first time he hit me or locked me in the closet. I do remember the last time his did because that was the day I fought back. I was no longer the small, timid boy he could bully. I grew up and learned how to hold my own.” He crooks his head slightly to the side as if he needs to make sure that I’m still there.

  “That last time, he tried to burn me with a lit cigar. I broke his goddamn right hand,” he recalls and holds his hand up in front of him as if remembering. “Took a hammer and cracked every bone.” Fallon chuckles mirthlessly. “It ruined his golf game. He hasn’t been able to properly hold a club since.”

  Tears run freely down my face as I listen to Fallon’s childhood horror. If I ever come face-to-face with his father, that man better run in the opposite direction because I think I might actually kill him.

  “Then there’s good ol’ mom. The grand dame, Patricia Montgomery. The queen of the fucking castle. I bet her elitist friends would shit a brick if they found out she liked to fuck little boys.”

  I gasp against his back. After hearing about his father, I don’t know if I’ll be able to hear what I think he’s about to tell me. Please, no, I pray with everything in me. What the hell kind of deranged parents were they? I add his mother to my list of people I will likely kill given half a chance.

  “I came home one night and found my brother and Patricia in my bed. I never slept in my room again after that night. I found out later that she had been molesting him for a while.”

  I’m openly sobbing now, and I wrap every part of me around Fallon, needing to shield him from his memories. Then something he said penetrates my sadness. “Wait. What brother? I thought Trevor was your half-sibling?”

  “Not Trevor. I didn’t even know about him back then. I had an older brother, Peter. He was ten years older than me, so by the time I was born, Peter was already messed up. After he turned fourteen, he was in and out of drug rehab and mental facilities for the rest of his life. Pretty sure what Phillip and Patricia did to him made him that way. My parents made sure that no one outside the family knew about Peter. Most people thought he was part of the hired help. I didn’t think anything of it because that’s how it was growing up.