The Bad Girl and the Baby (Cutting Loose)

by Nina Croft

  She looked away, wishing she could get up and put an end to this conversation, but she had a suspicion that Regan would just follow her.

  “You still blame yourself for Emma’s death. But it wasn’t your fault. Any more than it was Matt’s fault or Steven’s parents’ fault. It was all down to Steven.” She hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and continued. “And Emma.”

  Darcy glanced away, felt her eyes prick—she was turning into a positive waterworks. “I always looked after her. I remember my gramps telling me—I must have been only four years old—that she wasn’t as tough as me, and I had to look out for her. So I did. Stopped her from being bullied at school, beat up this guy who kissed her when she was twelve.” She grinned. “She wasn’t too happy about that one.”

  “You know,” Regan said. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile when you’ve talked about Emma.”

  The comment brought her up short. It was a cliché, but it was true that time did heal wounds. She would always be heartbroken by what had happened with Emma, but she could also remember the good times.

  “But my point is, Emma was a grown woman. She wasn’t stupid, and she made a choice to stay with Steven. God knows why.” Regan shook her head. “How could two sisters be so different? I can’t imagine you putting up with bullshit like that for more than five seconds.”

  She imagined asshole Steven trying to hit her, then she imagined her fist smashing into his face and enjoying every moment. “One second.”

  “Yeah. But Emma stayed. When she was on her own, that might have been understandable, but once she had Lulu, it was indefensible. She wasn’t only risking her own life; she was also risking Lulu’s.”

  Trust Regan to get it right.

  Yeah, she’d been grief-stricken when her sister died. But she’d also been furiously angry with Emma. Only that anger had nowhere to go because Emma was dead. So it had turned inward, and she’d taken the blame on herself.

  Now for the first time, she accepted where the real blame lay. Steven and Emma.

  A tight band loosened from around her.

  She hadn’t even realized it was there, it had been part of her for so long. She felt light and free. “Thank you,” she said.

  Regan shrugged. “It was time someone said it. You wouldn’t have listened before. So, now that we’ve decided you don’t deserve to be punished for the rest of your life, and perhaps you do deserve love as much as any of us, can we get back to the subject of Soldier Boy and your broken heart?”

  “It’s not broken, just a little bent out of shape.”

  “Stop being brave—it’s smashed into lots of sharp little pieces. It looks like it hurts every time you take a breath.”

  Darcy poured herself a glass of wine and drank it while she considered her answer. “He told me he loved me.”

  Regan had been about to take a sip of wine, but now she lowered the glass to the table and stared. “He loves you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It makes no difference. We’re incompatible. Total opposites. He’s OCD, and I’m chaos and…”

  “And?”

  “He’s got a really dangerous job. I’ve lost everybody. I can’t spend my life worrying about losing him. Anyway, he said he loved me—he didn’t say he wanted to marry me or anything. He knows as well as I do that it would be a disaster.”

  Regan shook her head. “Did I just say you were brave? I take it back. You want polar opposites—look at me and Nate.”

  “He gave up everything for you.”

  Regan preened. “Believe me, I’m worth it!”

  Darcy huffed out a laugh. She didn’t want someone giving up everything for her. She didn’t want that responsibility. Maybe she was a coward, after all.

  At that moment, her cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her bag. Caller ID said it was Matt, and her heart rate increased. She’d been ignoring his calls, but maybe that was just another sign of her cowardice. It was time she grew some balls. Stopped hiding from herself.

  “What?”

  But it wasn’t Matt who replied. “Darcy?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Angie, Matt’s friend. We have a problem.”

  “We do?”

  “Matt is just about to get into a fight with three of the biggest fucking bikers I have ever seen.”

  “Why?”

  “Who the fuck knows? Actually, that’s not true, but there’s no time to go into it right now. You’ve got to get over here.”

  “I do?”

  “He’s not listening to us. But he might listen to you…though maybe not with the amount of scotch he’s had. But I can’t think of anything else right now.”

  Shock punched her straight in the gut. “Matt’s drunk?” Somehow, she couldn’t imagine that.

  “As a skunk.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Just around the corner from your place. The Red Lion.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “What’s happening?” Regan asked as she got to her feet.

  “We need to go rescue Matt.”

  “Six-foot-three, SAS-trained, lethal-weapon, Matt?”

  “Yeah, come on.” She waved at the waiter as she passed. “I’ll pay my bill tomorrow.” Then she was dragging Regan along the pavement. The pub was only a few streets down. She knew it well; it was all old-world charm and horse brasses, and usually catered to affluent city types. She bypassed the door, because there was a small crowd at the entrance to an alley that ran alongside the pub. She spotted Angie and pushed through the people, then patted her on the shoulder. Angie whirled around then pulled up as she recognized Darcy.

  “Your boyfriend is an asshole,” she muttered.

  “He’s not my boyfriend.” She tried to make sense of the situation. It wasn’t a fight so much as a scrap. And Matt was right in the middle. Surrounded.

  “The police will be here soon. He will get into so much shit for this.”

  “Hmm. Not exactly behavior befitting an officer and a gentleman.”

  “Actually, it was, really. The biker guy was beating up on his girlfriend. The little blonde over there.” She nodded to where a woman stood, cradling her wrist against her chest, chewing on her lower lip.

  Sirens sounded in the background.

  “We have to get him away from here,” Angie said. “Gary has gone to get the car, but Matt’s totally ignoring me. Asshole.”

  There were three on one. Matt was swinging wildly, but not managing to hit anything. Someone got a punch in on his shoulder, and he was knocked around and straight into one of the others. They grappled. It was messy. Time to put a stop to it.

  She waded in. Touched the third guy on his shoulder. He turned as Darcy kicked out, slamming him to the floor. “Stay there,” she suggested.

  The second guy went down as easily, a punch to the solar plexus and a chop to the back of the neck. That just left the one grappling against the wall with Matt. She approached cautiously, not wanting to get caught by one of his madly flailing arms. She studied them for a moment, then hooked one foot around the bad guy’s leg, pulling him off balance. He released his hold on Matt, turned, pulled back his fist, but then stopped as he took in his attacker.

  “Get the fuck away from him,” she growled.

  He looked her up and down. “I don’t fight girls.”

  “No, you just beat them up.” She so wanted to hurt this guy. But she’d done enough, and if she got caught, she’d risk her parole. Suddenly, she grinned. Because she’d controlled her anger, not the other way around. Whatever else came out of this fiasco, she could take that with her. “Piss off and take your friends with you.” She didn’t bother to watch as they moved away. Instead, she switched her attention to Matt.

  He gave her a wide, beatific smile. “My hero,” he slurred, then slid down the wall to the floor, his eyes closed. She sank down next to him, felt his pulse, which was slow but strong.

  “If it’s any consolation,” Angie said from behind her, �
�I don’t think he’s hurt. I think he’s passed out.”

  A car pulled up beside them, and the front door opened just as Matt lifted his head and his lashes flickered. He was coming around.

  “Take him home,” she said.

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “No. As you once told me, I’m a bad influence.”

  She turned and walked away, but then paused as she passed the blonde. After delving into her bag, she pulled out a business card and handed it to the woman. “Make this mean something,” she said. “I’m giving free self-defense classes. Come and sign up.”

  And she was out of there.

  Chapter Twenty

  His head hurt. His eyes were glued together.

  He’d just woken up, but he wasn’t in bed. At a guess, he was lying face down on the sofa, his legs hanging over the side. What the fuck? He rolled over, squinted one eye open, but the light was too bright, and he closed it again. He scrubbed a hand through his hair. He had a vague feeling that all was not right with his world. But his fuzzy head was doing a good job of protecting him from remembering what he was sure was better not remembered.

  A loud crash made him bolt upright, and he winced as pain shot through his ribs.

  The fight.

  It was coming back to him. He’d picked a fight in a bar. That was a first. And not with just one man, because that wouldn’t have been stupid enough for him, but with three. The asshole had deserved it. Except he wasn’t actually sure whether he’d won or not. He remembered pretty well everything until he’d stepped outside, but the moment the fresh air had hit him, the drink had gone straight to his head, and after that, everything was blurry.

  He had a vague memory of someone coming to rescue him. A guardian angel?

  “Aw, Sleeping Beauty awakens.”

  The woman’s voice came from the direction of the kitchen, and he forced himself to turn his head—slowly. Regan leaned in the open doorway, a steaming mug in her hand. Summer stood just behind her. She’d put on weight, but it suited her. As marriage clearly did—she looked radiant.

  He peered past them, but there was no sign of Darcy. And he couldn’t believe the stab to his guts. Of course, she wasn’t here. There was no reason for her to be. Then again, there was no reason for Regan and Summer to be here, either, and yet here they were.

  “She’s not here,” Regan said.

  He ran another hand across his scalp, pressing down, trying to ease the ache. “How did you get in?” he asked.

  “Your nanny let us in. She came to clear out her stuff, but she’s gone now.” Christ, he remembered now. He’d arranged with Diana to come that morning, explained that Lulu was leaving—that there was no nanny job any longer. “We said we’d do any nannying that was required,” Regan continued. “Do you need a nanny, Soldier Boy?”

  “Fuck off,” he muttered. Then shook his head. “Sorry.”

  Regan’s lips twitched. Great. He was just so amusing. “I think Mr. Perfect is unraveling.” She looked around her. “This place is a mess.”

  He hadn’t been doing the housework. What was the point? Lulu had been with his parents the last few days—they were off visiting old friends. They’d decided it would make the change easier if she spent the last few days with them. He hadn’t wanted to agree, but he saw the sense in it. And really, every moment he spent with Lulu hurt right now. He told himself things would feel better once she was gone and it was settled, but he hadn’t managed to convince himself of that.

  He wanted Darcy. Not for sex. He wanted to burrow his head against her breasts. He wanted her to stroke his hair and tell him everything would be all right.

  Except it wasn’t. And he had an inkling he’d messed up so badly things would never be right again.

  Anyway. Housework had seemed unimportant when everything that really mattered was slipping away. The room was littered with clothes and coffee cups, papers…

  Summer pushed past her friend. She carried two mugs—she was an angel—and handed him one, then reached into her pocket, pulled out a bottle of painkillers, and handed him those as well. She was clearly the nice one of the group. He put down the mug, shook a couple out, and swallowed them. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken painkillers. Probably not since his last injury. “Thank you,” he muttered, then picked up his mug, sat back, and closed his eyes.

  When he opened them, they were still there, staring down at him.

  What did they want?

  Why couldn’t they just go and let him suffer alone?

  Regan sat down opposite him and sipped her coffee. Summer took the seat beside her. They both watched him, gazes unwavering. He stopped himself from twitching through force of will. He reckoned being interrogated would be easier than this. Maybe they were about to waterboard him. He’d gone through that in training. Finally, he broke. “What do you want?”

  Regan put her mug down. “She said you love her. Is it true?”

  Not what he’d been expecting. Except he hadn’t actually been expecting anything. Part of him wanted to tell them to mind their own business. But the rest of him liked the idea that Darcy had these two looking out for her. She thought she was alone, but she wasn’t. She’d let these two in. Or maybe they’d pushed their way in, like they had into his home.

  “Yes.”

  Summer smiled. “I’m glad.”

  “Don’t be. It makes no difference. She doesn’t want my love. Or Lulu’s.”

  “Well,” Regan said, “as you’ve just given Lulu away like an unwanted puppy, that might be just as well.”

  “I offered Darcy joint custody,” he said. “She didn’t want it.”

  Regan raised a brow. “Hmm, she didn’t tell me that. I wonder why.”

  “She’s scared,” Summer said softly. “Scared of losing you. But that just means she cares a lot.”

  He knew that. He’d recognized her fear. She didn’t want to risk her heart on someone like him. He wasn’t a good bet. And he would always remind her of Steven. Why the hell would she ever want to love him?

  “And you’re scared as well,” Summer continued. He wanted to interrupt, to refute her words. He was just being sensible, but she didn’t give him the chance. “That’s okay. This is scary stuff. You’ve just got to decide if you want her enough to face your fears.”

  With her words, he realized he’d been in denial. That churning in his gut, the feeling he’d been trying to ignore, but which had been his constant companion since his mother’s offer to take Lulu, was fear. Plain and simple. He’d encountered it many times before. He recognized it from going into combat. The difference was, he’d never before given in to it. He’d always conquered his fear. Now it was conquering him. He was allowing his fear to get the better of him. Make decisions for him.

  But he’d never been this scared in his entire life.

  “I suppose what you really need to do”—Regan cut into his thoughts—“is decide whether you want to be a lonely, pompous prick all your life. Or whether you’re going to grab the chance to be happy.”

  “Darcy is the best person in the whole world,” Summer said. “She’s stronger than all of us. She just thinks she’s broken.”

  “And,” Regan added, “this whole thing with you has just reinforced that conviction.”

  “But she isn’t broken.”

  Finally, they went silent. What the hell did they want from him? He’d tried.

  “I told her I loved her. That I wanted to keep seeing her. I offered her joint custody. It makes no difference. She doesn’t want us.”

  “You didn’t offer her enough,” Regan ground out. “You have to offer her everything. Not some half-assed, let’s-keep-fucking-seeing-each-other, crappy offer. Not joint custody. Every-fucking-thing. And you have to convince her you mean it. Which means first you have to convince yourself. Is Darcy what you want? More than anything?” She rose to her feet.

  Summer followed. “We’ve said enough. It’s down to you now. But you’re a good man. You’ll do t
he right thing.”

  “You’d better,” Regan muttered. “Hey, isn’t your motto ‘Who dares, wins’? Well, time to start daring, Soldier Boy.”

  They let themselves out. Matt stayed where he was. He leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

  Could he do it? Could he conquer his fears?

  In that moment, he knew he had to. Or live with this gnawing sense of loss for the rest of his life.

  …

  This had been Matt’s mom’s suggestion. A going away party. Something Lulu would remember.

  They were flying out tonight. Darcy was going to the airport with them. She was trying not to think about it, because that would definitely put a damper on the party spirit.

  Darcy suspected the party was also a plan to get Lulu so exhausted that she would sleep on the plane. Highly unlikely.

  Regan and Nate were here, as were Summer and Nik. They appeared so happy—it made her sniff every time she looked at them. At least, that was her excuse. And Summer’s mom, Elizabeth, and her husband, Phil, came as well. They were having the party in one of the training rooms because the apartment didn’t have wheelchair access. Lulu had been fascinated by Elizabeth’s wheelchair and insisted on sitting on her lap, squealing loudly as Elizabeth drove it around the room.

  Darcy stood off to one side, watching, with Sam beside her. He was finally accepting that she wasn’t going back on the fight circuit.

  “What will you do?” he asked. “You’re not selling up are you?”

  She’d been thinking about it a lot. “No. I’ll keep the gym. But I want to do some work with women’s groups. Offer more self-defense classes. I’ve been talking with social services about holding some meetings at the shelters.” She was excited about the idea. If she could change just one woman’s life, make them see that they were strong, could defend themselves, then it would make her feel like she was doing something worthwhile.

  The wheelchair came to a halt in front of her, and Lulu held out her arms to her. “Lulu love Darcy.”

  Tears pricked at her eyes, but she forced a smile. “And Darcy loves Lulu.”

  “I know.” Lulu gave her a kiss on the cheek, and Darcy whirled her around until she was squealing again. “Zoo next week?” Lulu asked when they stopped.