Jace kissed the top of my head. “See ya, baby girl. Love.”
“Love,” I replied, out of habit. My focus was trained on the other two men in my life, knowing both well enough to know something was about to go down.
As soon as it was only us, Blake jabbed an accusatory finger at Drew. “You knew,” he squared off. “You knew it was him, and you knew he was in the house with her. This could’ve all been avoided if you’d told me. Did something.” Vibrations rang off his body like a bell. He was on the balls of his feet, ready to lurch.
Drew’s hands flew up in defense, his voice pleading as he tried to rein Blake in. “I tried, man. It wasn’t like that.”
“Tried my dick. You did nothing!” he bellowed.
Victoria flinched, the smile melting from her face with her retreating step. It sent the monitor that was still attached to me beeping in a hurried rhythm, though no one else seemed to notice.
Drew’s eyebrows met in a sharp V, hurt etched on his forehead. “She begged me. Hell, she fucking fought me in your bathroom and made me promise not to say anything!” He threw his arm out to me, even though his eyes stayed trained on Blake.
I knew he was already calculating Blake’s body language, gauging whether or not he needed to go into attack-mode, and it scared the hell out of me. There was no way I was letting the two of them fight. Enough was enough.
“Guys—”
I was quickly cut off by the growl ripping from Blake’s chest. He took a step toward Drew, causing Victoria to back up another. “I don’t give a fuck what she said. When the guy that’s been raping her is in my fucking house—with her, you tell me!” His voice ricocheted off the walls. “I shook his hand. Welcomed him into my home!”
I swung my legs off the bed as quickly as I could, my adrenaline an anesthetic to the pain. “Stop fighting!” Everyone ignored my plea as the two guys each took another step toward one another.
“Do you think I didn’t want to tell you? That I didn’t want to kill him?” Drew yelled, his face turning a bright crimson. “Me of all people. You know I’d never let anything happen to her!”
“But it did!” Blake returned. “It did happen to her, and you could’ve stopped it!” He jabbed a finger, nearly poking Drew on the chest.
“Guys!” I tried once more, my heart racing at an unbearable pace.
“How is it any different from what you did, huh? You kept her secret and silently guarded her, right? Jace, too?” The fire in Drew’s eyes and the truth in his words brought the full-flame shooting from Blake’s to a simmer. “Look, we’re all guilty of doing what we thought was best to protect her. Sometimes it’s right, and sometimes it’s wrong. You can’t crucify me for that, man.” He hung his head, the weight of his own guilt sagging his shoulders in a slump. Blake didn’t respond, just sank further into his own thoughts as his posture weakened.
Drew continued, calmer. “I watched him all night. All fucking night, even after you guys went to sleep. I relaxed a little knowing she was with you, but I never took my eyes off him. The fucker passed out in the den, and I must’ve dozed off. I tried, man. I fucking tried.”
My insides were in turmoil. Happy moments of feeling so free were slowly being tugged away by the guilt these two hung over themselves when it was all me. I was the one who had made them make the decisions that they had. Unable to take this a second longer, I slid my hand over Blake’s crumbling shoulder and squeezed. In a soft voice, I pleaded, “Please. Stop. Don’t attack each other. It’s neither of your faults, and you both know it.”
Blake’s eyes skirted to mine and then back to Drew’s feet, before drifting up to his face. He scrubbed his jaw, deflating. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean to throw all that on you.”
“Nah, don’t apologize. It ain’t like I’m not already beating my own ass over it.” The corner of Drew’s mouth slanted up. “Anyway, I came to let you know you’re all clear. Cops took one look at the neck of the broken bottle on the floor by all that blood and took down all of our statements—that you acted in self-defense after he attacked you. Apparently, the fucker was coming after you and wasn’t going to stop at just Eva.” His eyes brightened as he took in the shock on our faces. “Just make sure your stories match.” He winked.
“Wow.” Blake exhaled. “You did that . . . for me? And I just sat here and slammed you for not being a friend.” He tugged a rough hand through his hair, then hooked his thumbs into his jeans. “I’m an ass. I’m sorry, man. I owe you. We owe you,” he corrected. “Thanks.”
“So, um . . . we good?” Drew looked hopeful, his eyebrows raising with the corners of his mouth.
“We’re good.” Blake held out his hand to shake Drew’s before pulling him in for a hug. “But you’re still not sleeping with my sister,” he added with a tilt to his lips and a side-eye.
“Blake!” Victoria cried, her cheeks blooming like a rose. “Seriously?”
Blake chuckled. “Seriously.”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “I’m ignoring you.” With her chin raised, she moved closer to me, her hand reaching out to pet the side of my head, combing her fingers through my hair. “How are you?” Her finger snagged on a knot, reminding me of its state and all that I’d been through. She winced, whispering, “Sorry.”
I waved her off, tucking that piece behind my ear. “It’s fine. I’m okay.” I edged toward my bed.
Blake began to follow when Victoria spoke once again. “Actually, Blake . . .”
Blake stopped and turned to meet his sister. She wrung her fingers together, fidgeting as though she couldn’t make herself say what she needed to. “Spit it out, Tori,” he demanded.
“Dad’s at the house.” She cringed, her eyes both apologetic and sympathetic. “I held him off as long as I could and tried to make him understand, but he wants to see you there.”
Pinpricks marched along my weakened body as a wave of anxiety rocked me to the bed, my legs turning to jelly. I wanted to be with Blake, to help him handle what was sure to come, but I knew they would never let me leave yet. The idea of him facing that man on his own and me trapped here, wondering what was happening, made me sick. Especially since it was all my fault.
Blake dropped beside me like a weight, his hand covering my knee as realization swam over his face. Neither one of us had contemplated this part. He worked his jaw, his eyes in a disturbed faraway state, no doubt formulating the words he would use. Finally, he squeezed my knee, then gave it a pat, and looked up at Drew. “Can you hang with her for a bit while I go handle things at the house?”
“Course,” Drew replied.
Blake nodded and turned to me with bright eyes. His deep swallow gave away that the confidence he was trying to exude was merely that—a show, most likely for my benefit. “I won’t be long. I’m just gonna go get this over with.”
“Blake . . .” I covered his hand with my own, unsure of what to say since I knew I was paralyzed to help him in this situation.
He pressed a warm kiss to my cheek. “Worry about the stuff you have to worry about. Don’t you think twice about this. I’m good.” He stood and rubbed his hands along his thighs.
Victoria laced arms with her brother. “I’m coming with you.”
Blake looked down at her, an appreciative smile spreading. “Thanks.”
Once they were gone, Drew dropped into the place Blake just vacated.
“So . . .” he began.
“So,” I finished.
He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “Get some good shots in?”
A smile broke across my face, and I fell into him, a relaxed calm swooping in to replace the lurking tension. “I did. I had a good teacher.” I laughed, the gloom of my reality finally lifting to let in some light. “You were right, though. The shots you don’t see coming are no joke. We’ll have to work a little more on those.” I rubbed the side of my head.
Before the overlying weight could return to the conversation, another white-coat entered the room, pushing a wheelchair. It came
to a stop beside my bed. “Time for another CT scan.”
“Fun times.” I winked, slipping into the chair. “We’ll catch up later,” I called to Drew.
“Later, Sunshine,” he replied with a wink.
The hall was a flurry of activity. Beeping things, nurse-call voices, phones, people pushing patients, rolling blood pressure cuffs, wheeling gurneys. My mode of transportation created a soft breeze along my bare arms, brushing along my cheeks and rustling my hair. I took it all in, feeling a little ashamed that I kept peeking into the passing rooms, but unable to stop myself all the same. My eyes roamed, ping-ponging from each door until one room stopped them cold.
An image of someone else being helped into a wheelchair whisked by, a familiarity to his physique that I would never forget.
My psyche had been programmed to remember.
Although the breeze persisted and the swift glide beneath me continued to roll, my heart seemed to drop like a weight into my lap. A murmured lull hung on the dryness coating my tongue.
He’s so close.
BLAKE
THE FOYER WAS eerily quiet as the front door parted from the seam, the light from it shining in a widening ray, highlighting its wrecked state.
He’s gonna kill me.
Everything was still as it was when we had all run out with the gurneys. Beer cans, red cups, napkins, scuff marks. It was a crime scene, so I had called off the cleaning crew and then completely forgot to get them back here.
A can skidded across the kitchen floor, and Victoria’s grip on my hand tightened. I looked at her. “Why don’t you go to your room? Let me talk to him.”
The shimmer in her eyes showed her concern, but I wasn’t afraid. It was time to finally put an end to all this. With a quick nod, she turned and quietly made her way up the stairs.
“I don’t even know what to say about all this.” My father’s voice propelled me back to the moment.
“Father,” I addressed him without meeting his eyes.
A brief pause.
I didn’t turn—just heightened my senses, honing in on the sound of his voice getting closer, the click of his expensive shoes taking one step, then two, in my direction. “Y’know, it’s a good thing I’ve had time to myself here before you came back. When I first walked in, I might’ve killed you on the spot.”
I sucked everything inside of me. Any remaining hurt where he was concerned, any sense of wanting to please him or caring if he was disappointed. I turned, readying myself for the disdain I would see dripping from his eyes, but stopped in my tracks when that familiar sentiment was missing. Something bordering what I imagined was understanding trickled in instead. Or possibly a knowledge of something I wasn’t yet privy to.
Another click of his heel as he stopped in front of me, slipping his hands into the pockets of his overpriced slacks. His expression was so unreadable, years of not wanting to show his hand evident in the smooth curve of his forehead as he lifted his chin to me. “There are cameras all over this house, did you know that?”
All I could do was swallow, my mind banging back and forth between the years of parties we’d had in this house, all the times I’d thought he’d never known.
He smirked. “Never think there’s anything you’ll do that I won’t know about. Anything.” The drive in that last word started a race in my heart, wondering what else he knew.
I looked at the floor, relaxing my posture. “Listen, Dad, I’m sorry about the house. I’ll get it cleaned up, I always—”
“I don’t care about the house.” My father cut me off, making my eyes snap to meet his, which were still a bit rough around the edges. He deflated a fraction. “It’s just a house,” he added, softer, and for the first time in my life, I saw a father standing before me rather than a tyrant.
My knees wobbled, and my nerves weakened from all I had been through in the last couple of days. Years of hurt had trained me to look at him like stone rather than flesh. I wasn’t sure how to approach this new version of him, and I didn’t know if I had the strength left to figure it out.
The tense lines he always held in his hardened exterior melted, the concrete face softening. “I know.”
“You know . . .” The question lingered on my tongue.
“I can see the footage from the cameras anytime I want. Modern technology.” A small smirk danced in the corner of his mouth. I cocked my head to the side at the foreign gesture.
“They record,” he stated.
Like the sun pokes through parting clouds after a storm, a light emerged, slowly illuminating what he was saying. The slant of his lips told me that my father, always good at reading people, must have picked up on my enlightenment. “You have a tape of him assaulting her?” My voice was weak, barely cracking the surface as a prickling of hope bloomed that she finally had proof.
With the clearing of his throat, my dad adjusted his weight. “No, I don’t.”
My shoulders slouched, all of the tension they had been harboring sliding from them to the floor as I dragged my hands through my hair.
“The authorities do.” His sure-of-himself tone, the tone I had always despised, snapped my gaze back to his. I couldn’t remember a time, other than this, that I was happy to hear it or that it was for my benefit.
But as quickly as it came, puffing out my chest and dancing along my prickly skin, it melted into a pool at my feet. “Wait. If you have a video of that, then you have a video of—”
“You?” His tone piqued. He rocked a little on his heels, lowering his gaze for the first time. “I wish I did, son.” He paused before peeking up at me. “I told them the cameras are on timers.” His lip twitched, almost jovial.
“We could see you come into the room, but then Damon reached for something, and it switched out to the foyer.” He shrugged.
Relief knocked into me, sending me on a wave so high I couldn’t stop tears from filling my eyes. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” I raked both of my hands through my hair and fisted them behind my head, looking to the ceiling as I blew out a puff of air.
My father continued. “The cops are on the way to the hospital right now. I’ve already called Damon’s father and told him I have proof that his son is a child rapist.” He cocked his eyebrow. “Needless to say, they won’t be fighting the charges—not unless he wants the video plastered over every major news station and his name in every paper. Which I can assure you someone of his stature does not.” He paused, giving me a chance to absorb all he was saying. “He’ll be pleading guilty. And since I know just about every presiding judge, I’d bank on him doing a good amount of time.”
My knees hit the tile, the sting to them nothing compared to the burst in my heart.
She’ll finally get her justice.
Months of my worry—stomach aches, sleepless nights, broken hearts—barreled into me, knocking me in the chest and then floating away on the thought that she’d finally be free. Once and for all. And all because of . . .
“Thank you,” I whispered, dragging my line of sight to the man before me. Without any other thought, I propelled myself at him, wrapping him in the embrace I had dreamed about since I was a child. With my eyes wet and squished shut, I squeezed, feeling profound satisfaction pumping through my veins. Probably shocked at my affectionate display, my father didn’t react at first, but after the briefest of pauses, his arms circled me as well.
He clapped me on the back. “I told you, I’ll always do what’s best for you. I’m a hard son-of-a-bitch, I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
I swiped my hand along my nose. “You’ll never understand what you’ve done for her, and what it means to me.”
“You forget this is what I do. Find justice for the speechless. For the weak. You have that little faith in your old man?” A playfulness was in his tone, and I wondered who this man was. But the relevance of what he had just said wasn’t lost on me.
I finally got it.
“You’re right.” The answers floated together,
completing the puzzle and bringing with it the clarity I had always longed for. “You may have had an off-way of showing it, but you were always right. This is what I’m supposed to do. Help the helpless. Give a voice to all of the broken angels out there.”
A smile, so foreign and yet so beautiful, broke out across my father’s face. “There’s my boy.”
BEEP.
Drip.
I wonder what he’s dreaming about.
Damon’s chest rose and fell in a relaxed rhythm, the calm on his face reminding me of the young boy I once knew. He was in worse shape than me, so most of his monitors were still hooked up. His chart said he had a couple of broken ribs and damage to his, um—I coughed out a laugh—scrotum, so he was probably on pain meds, and plenty of them. Most likely the cause of why he didn’t feel my presence at the end of his bed, staring all deranged at the IV machine connected to his veins. Wondering what would happen if I flicked the switch in the opposite direction, or tied the tube. My finger twitched on the footrest before my grip tightened.
He’s not worth it.
I had won. There was nothing he could do to me anymore. Small flakes of worry still floated around in the air like filthy little dust motes, but I was about to get rid of them, too.
“Ahem!” I tried to get his attention. When he still didn’t budge, I shook the rail and jostled the bed. I had a message to deliver, and I wasn’t leaving without getting my point across.
Damon jumped with a start, his glossy eyes zinging around, almost frightened until they focused on me where they transformed into something sinister. They had a different look this time, as though he was done with me. The lust was missing. What stared back at me in its place was evil, seething hatred.
My blood ran cold, my breathing clumped in my chest as the reason why I had come flitted from my mind. Those worry motes eating at my insecurities for a fleeting moment.
Immobilized, he tried to sit up straighter but failed. “The fuck do you want?” he spat.
Breathe You (Pieces of Broken Book 2) Page 38