Tessa inhaled deep and slow, felt her whole body go limp with relief. Curtis held her face in his wrecked hands, stared at her.
“Yeah?” he said.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m OK.”
He got to his feet, gently lifted her. She clutched his forearms for support, then gave a cry when he scooped her up as if she was light as a feather. Right away, she was thrown back to that night at Curves when she’d gotten punched from behind, and Curtis had picked her up and carried her to the staff room, out of harm’s way.
Just like that night, Tessa buried her face in to his chest, her fingers gripping his t-shirt. He lowered his face to her hair, and like he’d done that night, he whispered to her. He told her that she was safe and he had her; he told her to just hold on to him. And Tessa shut her eyes, seconds away from crying.
She felt the mattress dip as Curtis lowered her gently to the bed. When he stepped back, she grabbed his hand.
“Please!” she said, panic rising. “Don’t go!”
“I’m just going to get some ice for your face, baby. Then we’re going to the hospital, OK? We need to get you checked out.”
Knowing how much she hated being fussed over, Curtis expected her to fight him on that point. But to his surprise and relief, she agreed with him.
“Yeah. We need to get all of this on the record.” She shifted a bit, and he saw a flash of pain cross her face. “I want everything done in an official capacity.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but he nodded. He went to the living room, looked around at the damage, at the blood on the floor. He kicked the door shut with his booted foot, and locked it. He was sure that Lloyd wouldn’t be back, but the act of kicking something made him feel a bit better.
Curtis went to the freezer now, wrapped an ice pack in a dish towel. As he walked back to Tessa, he felt guilt and self-loathing start to wash over him. He’d hit her, he’d thrown her against a wall, he’d spilled her blood. That was when Tessa’s words became clear to him, and he stopped dead.
Fuck. She’s going to report me to the cops. She’s going to document the fact that I hit her.
He thought about that, thought about his own mother. In all the years of beatings and broken bones, Cassie had never filed an official report. Domestic violence laws were different then, after all. Back then, cops couldn’t charge a man with beating his wife, not unless the woman agreed to lay charges. Cassie had never done that – she’d covered for her husband, lied to protect him, kept him in the house. Everyone involved had known what the hell was going on… but without the victim’s cooperation, nothing could be done.
Curtis straightened his shoulders, continued down the hall to Tessa. He wasn’t going to talk her out of filing a report, or giving an honest account of what had happened here. In a strange way, he was damn proud of her for not hiding at home, for not avoiding the doctors and the police. Curtis had hurt the woman that he claimed to love, and he deserved to face the music for that.
Even if it meant that he lost her.
You’re just like him after all. And for that, you deserve to lose her.
Chapter Sixteen
Tessa sighed, exhausted and in pain. She stared at her face in the hospital bathroom mirror, twisted a bit, and lifted her shirt to see her upper back and shoulders. The doctor had said that nothing was broken, but the bruising was something else. Her cheek was a sickly purple, her nose was swollen, and her eyes were tinged with black. Her back was a landscape of violet and green, and it hurt when she moved.
The police had already been at the hospital when she and Curtis had arrived, dealing with something else, so she hadn’t had to wait very long to make her statement. She’d seen how the cops had looked at Curtis as he stood there, his bruised and scraped hands in his jeans pockets. They’d glared at him with knowing suspicion, and he’d not said one word in his defense.
No, instead he’d looked oddly resigned, and deflated. He also hadn’t laid a finger on her after he deposited her in the hospital wheelchair, not even a careful touch on her face. He hadn’t been there when she’d been examined by the doctor, and hadn’t been there when she’d given her police statement, either. The doctors and cops had totally separated them, and Curtis had accepted all of that without protest.
Tessa had explained, over and over again, what had happened. She’d identified Lloyd Manning by name; she’d described how Curtis had hurt her as an ‘accident’. When that word was met with mistrust, and gentle reassurances from everyone that she was safe now, and that she could tell the truth about Curtis’ role, she’d glared at them, incensed.
As if Curtis had done this on purpose. As if he’d done to her what his father had done to his mother. As if Curtis was anything like that sick, violent fucker. As if he wasn’t out there in that waiting room right this second, twisting himself in to knots of guilt and shame.
Tessa knew the man, and she knew she had to get to him before he got it in to his head to do the noble and decent thing. For Curtis, that would be some variation of calling J.J. to come and be with Tessa, so he could get his odious presence away from her. He’d leave her, she knew, thinking that it was for her own good. He’d think that she’d be better off away from him – and he’d be wrong.
She tugged her shirt down over her aching back again, ran a tired hand through her tangled hair. Slowly, feeling every muscle and bone in her battered body, she left the bathroom, walked down to the waiting room.
Curtis saw Tessa a split second before she saw him, and his whole body tensed up in rage. Fuck, she look terrible… and most of that was down to him. Yeah, sure, Lloyd had left that bruising on her cheek, but everything else – the swollen nose, the bruised eyes, the limp – was all square on Curtis’ shoulders. He fucking knew it, and he knew that Tessa knew it, too.
She saw him now, and her gorgeous eyes lit up. He met her halfway across the room, and when she walked in to his arms, he stiffened. He longed to slide his arms around her, to just hold her close and safe, but he didn’t want to press down on her injured back. He also didn’t think that he had any right whatsoever to touch this woman.
You’re dirty and dangerous, and you’ve damaged her just by having her in your space.
Tessa felt his resistance, and she pulled back, worried. “Curtis?”
“Yeah?” His voice was as gentle as ever, but he wasn’t meeting her eyes. “You doing OK, Tessa?”
“I am.”
“Alright.” He nodded, gingerly took her arm. “I’ll take you home.”
Tessa stopped dead. “You mean my place?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
He peered down at her, registered the anger in both her voice and her face. “Tessa…”
“Nuh-uh. Don’t you ‘Tessa’ me,” she said. “We’re going back to your place, Curtis. Our place. We’re getting in to our bed together, and you’re holding me all night. Tomorrow, we’re getting up late, and you’re making me that ridiculously-expensive gingerbread coffee that I bought today. Then we’re going to open our presents, and I’m going to love what you got me. Then we’re going to go to bed, and make love for hours, and when we’re starving, we’re going to eat the biggest, most calorie-laden Christmas dinner that I’ve ever had, and I’m not going to worry for even one second what the scale is going to say the day after tomorrow. Then we’re going to leave the dishes in the sink, and we’re going to go back to bed and make love some more.” Her glare just about knocked him flat on his ass. “What we’re not doing is what you seem to think I’m going to accept, which is going our separate ways because you feel some goddamn misplaced guilt. You can fucking forget it, big guy.”
Curtis stared at her, amazed at her yet again. Despite the burning pit of shame eating away at his stomach, he actually found himself close to laughter.
Tessa saw Curtis’ steely, hard demeanor crack, just a bit, and sh
e pressed her advantage. She threaded her fingers between his, and when he paused, and then carefully closed his hand around hers, she almost wept with relief.
“So,” she said, still terse. “Let’s go. Back to our place.”
“But, baby…”
“Stop talking,” she ordered him. “We’ll continue this at home. Move your ass, Manning. Let’s go.”
**
Curtis helped Tessa walk in to the apartment, then gently lowered her to the sofa. He’d started to unbend a bit on the ride back home, started to believe that maybe it could all be OK after all. Then he saw the drops of Tessa’s blood on the living room floor, and he stomped down hard on that thought. He didn’t deserve her, not after what he’d done here.
She saw where he was looking, saw the hardness return to his face. She patted the sofa next to her.
“Come sit, babe,” she said.
“Tessa…”
“Sit.”
He came, hating himself. He knew that he should just get the hell away from her, get as far away as humanly possible, and if he were a good man, that’s exactly what he would do. But he wasn’t a good man. He was a selfish bastard, and he craved to be close to Tessa. He needed her, needed her like a man needed food and water and air. The fact that his need was bigger than his best intentions ramped his self-loathing up a few more notches.
“Don’t,” she said softly. “Curtis, don’t.”
“Don’t what?” he asked, avoiding her clear green gaze.
“Don’t do this. Not to you, and not to us.”
“How the hell can I not?” he flared, letting his temper start to surface at last. “After what I did to you?”
“You didn’t do anything to me.”
He snapped his eyes up to hers. “Are you fucking kidding me? Tessa… look at your face. Look at your back. Look at the blood on the fucking floor over there.” He shook his head, despair creeping over him. “I did all that to you, baby, and nothing you say or do will change any of it.”
“Curtis –”
“I’ve worked my whole damn life to be nothing like that man,” he said in desperation. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be nothing like him… and today showed me that I’m my father’s son, through and through.”
“You aren’t, Curtis,” she said, alarmed. “You aren’t a thing like him.”
“I laid hands on you, baby,” he ground out. “I fucking hurt you. If that’s not being like him, then what is?”
“You didn’t –”
“I did. Tessa, I did.” He stood up again, ran his hands through his dirty-blond hair. “All I do is get the people that I love hurt. You, my Mom. I’m fucking not safe to be around. You need to get the hell away from me before I hurt you again. Worse next time.”
“OK, stop.” Angry, now Tessa stood up too. “Are you actually saying that you’re going to start beating the shit out of me?”
He spun to face her. “No!”
“Then what are you saying? That I’m going to get hurt by – what? Breathing the same air as you? Being in your physical presence? I’m going to get bloody noses and bruises and broken bones just by standing next to you?”
“No.” He flailed for a second, trying to get his head straight. “I mean – I mean, I’m a violent man, Tessa. I beat up people for a living, I boxed for money, and now I box for fun. I’ve got tons of shit in my life that’s following me around. It fucking won’t leave me alone, and as long as it keeps popping up in my life, over and over, you ain’t safe near me. I can’t keep you safe.”
“Oh, my God.” Tessa stuck her hands on her hips, leveled him the most terrifying glare he’d ever seen. “You don’t have ‘tons of shit’ in your life, Curtis. You have precisely one piece of shit in your life, and his name is Lloyd Fucking Manning.”
“Baby –”
“No, shut up. Seriously.”
He did.
“I know you think that you’re the reason your Mom got beaten and killed. I know you think you’re the reason for me getting hurt today. But, babe, there’s another common denominator in those situations, you know. Your asshole father was well involved in both things.”
His eyes flashed.
“He hurt your mother. He killed her. He showed up here today looking for money. He held me hostage, he punched me, he threatened to rape and kill me. He did all of that, Curtis. Him.”
“Tessa…”
“No. You need to really see this, OK?” Her voice was more gentle now. “You need to see that even though there are hundreds are ways that you’re not him, there’s one huge thing that separates you from him, that makes you so totally different from him. This thing means there’s literally not one damn hope in hell of you ever becoming him. No matter how much you may look like him. No matter how well you can punch, or how violent you can be when taking down some drunk with a knife… this one thing means that you’re not him. You’re better than him. You always have been, and you always will be.”
“What?” he asked, desperate. “What’s the one thing?”
“Regret.”
He froze, staring at her.
“You’re sorry for what you’ve done, even if you didn’t intend to get anyone hurt by doing any of it,” she continued. “You’ve done nothing but beat yourself up, and blame yourself for your Mom, ever since it happened. You’ve done nothing but hate yourself for elbowing me, ever since it happened. You’ve spent years tying yourself up in knots about your mother, avoiding close relationships to punish yourself. And I know you sat out in that waiting room kicking your ass about me. Hell, I bet you ever considered confessing to the cops. You’d probably have put the handcuffs on yourself, if you could have.”
He blinked, startled that she’d read his mind so completely, then he managed a tiny grin. “Uh. Yeah.”
“You think that he has ever had one second of regret or guilt for anything he’s ever done?” she demanded. “You think he lies awake at night, and wishes that he could go back and not hurt you or your Mom? You think that he’s sitting in jail right now, feeling sorry for punching me in the face? You think he’s ever felt sorry for anyone but himself, and sorry for anything but getting caught?”
“No,” Curtis said slowly.
“No.” Her tone was definite, final. “No fucking way. That man doesn’t understand regret, has no goddamn clue what it’s like to be sorry for anything. You do, babe, and that makes you as different from that monster as it’s possible to be.”
Hope sparked in him now. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She moved closer to him, stepped in to his arms. “You’re not him, Curtis. You never have been, and you never, ever will be. You’re a good man, Curtis. You’re the best man I know… and you’re the only man for me.”
“Oh, God.” Curtis caught her to him, trying not to hold her too tight. “Baby, I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m so damn sorry.”
“I know you are,” she said against his chest. “I knew it the second that it happened.”
He lowered his head now, just rested it on hers. He stood still and inhaled her shampoo and perfume, inhaled the scent that was pure Tessa. He was still feeling guilt in the pit of his stomach, and he would do anything to go back a few hours and do things differently, but he felt calmer, too. He stroked her hair gently, just held on to her, thankful that she was still here to hold.
Tessa pulled back a bit. “We good?”
“Yeah.” He stared down at her battered face, tried to forgive himself, just a bit. “We’re good, sweetness.”
“OK.” She took his hand. “Take me to bed.”
“Whoa. What?” He stiffened. “No way you can make love, baby. Your back –”
“I know,” she said softly. “I just need you to hold me. OK?”
His heart wrenched at her vulnerability. “No fucking problem.”
“Yeah. That’s what I figure
d.” She tugged on his hand again. “C’mon, big guy.”
He stopped, though, still needing to clear up one more thing. “Tessa?”
“Hmmmmm?”
“You filed a police report,” he said quietly. “You insisted on it.”
“Of course,” she said, puzzled. “Did you not want me to?”
“No, I did. I’d have insisted on it if you didn’t.”
“OK. So – what’s the issue?” she said.
“Why’d you do it? Like, really why did you do it?”
“Are you serious?” she said, incredulous. “How can you not understand why I did it?”
“Was it to – to help me?” Curtis asked softly.
Her smile was stunning in its beauty. “Yeah. Of course. I knew that if I got everything documented, and on the record, and I threw his name all over the damn place, he’d be arrested for assault and kidnapping.”
“And you’re ready to… take it all the way? If you have to?”
“You mean to trial, if it comes to that?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course,” she said again. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to get his ass thrown is jail for a few years. I want that fucker to leave you alone at long last.”
Curtis hated to break it to her, hated to educate her in the realities of the legal system, but he didn’t want her to get her hopes up, either.
“You know that the chances of that happening aren’t great, right?” he said, hesitantly. “Chances are, he’ll plea bargain out of jail time. Do community service instead, get a suspended sentence.”
“Yeah. I know that.”
He furrowed his brow at her. “You – you do?”
“Sure I do.” She shrugged. “I watch ‘Law & Order’.”
He laughed, surprised. “Uh-huh. But you put yourself through all that anyway?”
“Yep.”
“Why?” he repeated.
“Because.” She reached for him, pulled him down to her mouth in a sweet, soft kiss. “I wanted you to have Christmas in peace, for the first time in your whole life.”
Secret Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 5) Page 20