by V. L. Brock
When I peeled my mouth away from him, I straddled his hips and sunk down onto it. He shifted and held me like a man loving his woman as I raised and dropped back down, the tips of our noses almost touching.
“I missed you so much,” he breathed when we found our rhythm.
“I missed you, too.”
We must have been more sexually frustrated than what we thought because before either of us realized, we found our release together after only a few more strokes.
Hooking sweat-infused locks behind my ear he looked at me intently. “What if I just assumed, back in the truck, that you had asked me to marry you?” he panted.
I rolled my lips over my teeth and sniffled as my hands ran down the slippery and leather-like flesh of his pecs, whispering in a broken voice, “What would you have said?”
Neither one of us needed an answer. The all-consuming kiss, the kiss which I felt down in my very soul, was the answer.
I groaned as the replay of those events caught up to the present, to where I laid alone in an empty Queen-sized bed with the birds chirping their song through the window. For the first time since being back in Maryland, I rose from the bed and hit the shower with a smile.
Within fifteen minutes I was aside the chaise-lounge at the foot of the bed with a towel wrapped around my body, the other working through my wet, clumpy tresses, when a small knock sounded my door. Pausing my drying, I made my way to answer. The powder blue shirt was the first thing I saw before being met with even bluer eyes, thin lips and a rather impressive head of gray hair…for his age.
“Morning, Dad.”
“Morning, chickpea,”––his hands dove into his black pockets––“I…just wanted to…umm…make sure you were up,” he stumbled over his words while frantically scanning the background of my room from over my shoulder. I giggled to myself at the textbook, concerned father in front of me. He could have just asked…
A decadent shudder paved up my spine, while a throb struck under my towel as the word “Mornin’,” came from the hallway. Regardless of how he tried to disguise it, hearing the voice made my dad start slightly and that made my smile even broader. See, we can be trusted…The Devil on my shoulder held her stomach and rolled with laughter.
Pulling the door further open, I stepped out only to have Dad’s arm softly guide me back into the room. Nevertheless, I briefly caught sight of Walker hanging his head and flashing those timid eyes on us as he rocked on his heels. From my position, I craned my head around the doorway, making sure my inappropriately-clad body was concealed before Dad nudged me back inside. Again.
“Morning, Walker. I trust you slept well?”
“That I did. I haven’t slept in a bed that quiet in quite some time…” he answered, prompting knowing, private smiles to break free from us both.
“Good to hear. Well, your mother has breakfast waiting for us, so go and get some clothing on, chickpea, and we’ll meet you downstairs.” Approaching my man in the hallway, Dad grasped Walker’s shoulder and turned him around, guiding him away while muttering, “It’s okay. She’s not going to shimmy down the shaft…”
As I closed the door behind me, shaking my head, I giggled to myself. Boston had completely corrupted me and my mind…
I was adjusting the draping neckline of my cream turtleneck as I stepped into the open area of the kitchen and dining room; beige limestone everywhere I looked, even the dining suite was beige.
“Good Morning, sweetheart.”
“Mornin’,” I responded while she dished out an assortment of food onto plates, before setting them on the table.
“So what has everyone got in mind for today?” Dad’s asked just as the front door slammed shut, and the buoyant voice of my little sister traveled through the rooms.
“The future Mrs. Garrett is back in one piece,” she said with flair.
“Clark, you better not have defiled my daughter…” Dad threatened, eyes turning hard.
Defiled Brittany Jenson? She had been defiled since she was barely seventeen. Giggling inwardly, I kept my mouth shut while Clark lifted his arms in defense. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Marcus.” My sister’s fiancé took a seat at the table, while she took a seat on his lap. “No, your daughter kept me up most of the night with wedding demands.”
“Mark off your calendars people, we decided on…the 18th of December next year…” Brittany squealed. “A Christmas wedding, my dream wedding––” she turned her attention to her fiancé and caressed his cheek, “my dream man.”
Once the usual congratulatory wishes were made, I was chewing a piece of pancake when Mom said from the end of the table, “Kady, we’ve been thinking. Now that you and Walker have reconciled, you’re not going to want to stay here, although you’re both more than welcome to.” She reached out and grasped Dad hand. “We were wondering if you’d like to go apartment hunting today…the both of you. You’re already back home, you have your family around you, why not stay?”
When silence suffused the room, I simply looked at Walker. It wasn’t only me I had to think of, Carriag was back in Boston, what if Walker didn’t want to move away? His family was sparse enough as it was…
“What do you think, Walker?” Mom asked knowing full well I was unable to give an answer. In that moment, I felt angry that my parents had just put him on the metaphorical spot.
Walker and I mirrored my parents, with his hand placed atop of mine. He offered a reassuring squeeze. “Wherever Kady goes, I go…” he smiled before jolting and quickly released my hand. From his jeans pocket, he tore out his cellphone. Looking at the screen with a frown he muttered, “I’m sorry, I have to take this,” before lifting from his seat and making his way into the backyard.
Wasted moments were cast aside in silence. Only the simple sounds of silverware and chewing filled the abyss before Laurie’s voice pierced the air like a knife. “So Brittany, have you got any ideas on a cake?” When my sister shook her head, Laurie continued, “I’m sure we can come up with something, there’s no cake too fancy at Ent-icing, right, Kady?”
“OMG, you guys would do that for us?” Before we even answered, Brittany was racing around the table, kissing us on the cheeks. “You guys are…OMG. Clark, are you hearing this?”
“Consider that your wedding gift from us,” I muttered, being squeezed within an inch of my life, when Walker made his way back into the house. As soon as he walked towards us, I knew something was wrong. The look in his eye and the crease across his brow as he lowered himself into his seat, was evidence that something was eating him up inside. I reached for his hand. “Hey, is everything okay?”
“’Aye…umm…” his left thumb pad came up to his mouth, scouring down the center of his upper lip, deep in thought. “I need to talk to you,” he whispered.
Nodding, I took his hand and excused us both from the table for a few moments, then headed upstairs to my bedroom.
“What’s wrong, Walker?” I badgered him for the third time, sitting with my right ankle pressed under my left knee on the bed. When he didn’t say anything, I hunkered down into his voided vision. “You’re scaring me, is everything okay?”
He took my hands in his. “That was Liv on the phone…”
“Liv?” I spat. “Why is she calling you? I don’t care if there was a reason why she did what she did, but she can stay the fu––”
“It’s Liam…”
All I heard was Liv and Liam, and even through the degree of hate I held for them both after what they had done to me, I couldn’t help but ask, “Is she okay?”
“She went to the house,” he frowned. “She provoked him…” Instantly, my hand lifted to my mouth and my stomach flipped, my eyes burned. Please God, let her be alright… “She recorded everything…”
“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
He shifted on the bed. “She mentioned the beatings, the fact he was pouring pills down your throat, everything…he didn’t deny it, which is as good as a confession.”
It
was like I was blindfolded and my world was spinning at a thousand miles an hour. I couldn’t make sense of anything other than the fist in my stomach. “I’m so lost,” I scowled. “Has he hurt her?”
“He’s been arrested.”
That second, I felt my stomach lift to my throat and free fall back into my gut and all I wanted to do was to cry. Not because he was arrested, but in sheer relief simply because I knew in that moment, where he was.
“I meant what I said downstairs,” his husky brogue penetrated my musing. “Wherever you go, I go. But I want you to know all of your choices, darlin’.”
“Huh?”
“The hardest part has been done and he’s been arrested. You’re the one holding the power now. You can speak up, press charges, show him that you’re not a victim, but a survivor and get him out of your life for good. Or we can stay here and begin a new life. The ball is in your court, darlin’.”
Walker
Regardless of my hand holding hers for support, I could still feel her shaking. The trembling which coursed up my arm had my heart thumping even harder in my chest. The fear and shock I saw in her eyes when I told her that Liam had finally been caught out was both a relief and heartbreaking.
Kady was strong, I’d never deny that, but that bastard still had a hold on her, a hold that I didn’t understand––a hold that isn’t visible enough for the outside world to see. I wish I could, at least that way I’d know how to help her break through it and finally be free.
I never realized how much I missed the typical morning family noises until we walked through the entrance hand in hand. The discussion of wedding invitations was halted as every eye in the room shot to us. Apart from Brittany’s.
“We’re going to need addresses to send those invites…”
“You can send ours to Boston,” Kady announced, finally releasing that lungful of air she just managed to suck up.
Now every eye was on us…actually, they were swaying between both of us, with my side receiving the hardest glare from Marcus that I’d ever seen from anyone. “WHAT?!”
“I said,” she halted, licking her lips and hanging her head for a moment before looking back at her father. “You can send ours to Boston.”
“Sweetheart, you can’t go back, we were just talking about getting an apartment for you both here, what’s changed your mind?” Judy rose from her seat and made her way towards us. Her voice so tender with motherly affection, that it made my eyes water a little for my own.
“Can’t you tell Judy? It’s obvious she’s been swayed…” Marcus spat, his glare so intense that it made me drop my head like the omega male. I didn’t like or care for the insinuation, but this wasn’t my court, and Kady didn’t need to see her father and boyfriend rolling on the floor.
“Liam has been arrested. Don’t you see? This is my closure to moving on, it has to be.” She recoiled when a thump followed by clattering echoed around the open area, and I instantly pulled her into my chest. The mere fact that a man, in his rage, had made her cower away had my blood boiling. It may be his house, and he may be Kady’s father and that in return deserved respect, but I still shot him a glare, which was followed by his hands in his hair while he retreated to the patio doors.
Once I guided Kady to Judy’s hold, telling her to take her for a moment, I headed out on Marcus’ tail, making sure the door was closed behind me as I stepped out onto the patio.
The old, frantic hands grasping me by the shirt and holding me against the wall out of eyeshot of the people inside, was unexpected. I didn’t fight back. I allowed his hands to tighten on me; I allowed his jaw to clench and his eyes to burn the flesh from my bones. Why? Because I knew his anger was through fear. I could see it deep down in his stare as I stood determined, with my head and shoulders pressed back against the brick.
“What the hell have you said to my daughter? You WILL change her mind. She isn’t going back to Boston, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!” He was furious, and regardless of whatever I was to say, he wouldn’t have listened…he wouldn’t have heard it. So I stood still and let him get it out. “DO. YOU. UNDERSTAND. ME?!” he repeated himself, his hands tightening on the fabric of my shirt, shaking me between each word.
Looking into his eyes––helpless eyes, guilty eyes––I saw his determination dwindling. “Marcus,” I muttered. “He took her ability to control her own life away from her for years. She was never allowed to make decisions for herself.” His gaze softened as did his breathing, and when I lifted my hands, setting them on his shoulders, hooded eyes which were the exact same as Kady’s, were gazing back at me with understanding. “If she runs, she will always be looking over her shoulder; do you want that for your daughter? She wants to do this, she actually wants to fight back…she made the decision by herself because now she has the ability to do it. Don’t take that away from her.”
“I can’t lose my baby, Walker. I lost her once…I can’t lose her again…” the tear he fought so hard to quash finally broke free, and was trailing down his cheek as his hands lost grip of my shirt. He caught my face and pulled me so our foreheads were touching. “You look after my girl with your dying breath,” he warned, his body trembling. “I mean it. You die for my little girl. Understand?”
“Marcus, I would die for her every time.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kady
I never came to truly understand why people have the habit of asking: where were you and what were you doing when you heard JFK was assassinated? Or: what were you doing the moment the second plane took down the last remaining tower on 9/11? I used to think that every single one of us had that sadistic element in us. It dates back hundreds of years. The people of ancient Greece used to watch on as gladiators fought and fell, cheering at each and every vicious swipe of steel into flesh, at each and every drop of blood spilled for entertainment…
I was standing in Walker’s tiny kitchen on my cell after being back in Boston for four days, when I finally came to understand that those questions weren’t asked out of sadism, but because they were life changing moments.
“Miss Jenson, are you there?”
My body was vibrating from head to toe. Tears stole my vision as my heart met my stomach.
“Miss Jenson?”
“I don’t understand,” I was barely able to free the words through the lump forming in my throat. “I came in myself, I told you everything…”
“Unfortunately, Miss Jenson, all we have it your word against his. As far as the recording goes, considering Mr. DeLaney didn’t give consent to be recorded, it’s moot. And to be honest, even if we could use it as evidence, it just wasn’t enough––”
“What do you mean it wasn’t enough? He confessed…”
“Mr. DeLaney’s lawyer listened to the recording, Miss Jenson. In DeLaney’s defense, he didn’t confess. He actually didn’t say a word.” Falling back against the unit, the officer’s voice traveled down the speaker in an echo.
“Well, can’t that alone be used as evidence? The fact that he didn’t deny it either?”
“I’m sorry Miss Jenson. It doesn’t work that way. There’s only your word against his now, unless you have medical reports of injuries you sustained or witnesses…”
“No,” I breathed, unthinking.
“Then I’m sorry, there’s nothing more we can do. Mr. DeLaney has been released. Miss Jenson, ther––” I couldn’t listen to it anymore. I was too scared to. So I simply ended the call before I was fed more garbage which aided and bolstered the fear of what could happen, now that I just pissed off the shrewdest man I knew.
The worst part of all was the unknown––the dread that makes you physically nauseous because you can’t relax for the fear of not knowing where he is, what he’s doing, planning…
In a crumpled heap, the contents of my stomach were expelled onto the kitchen floor and it was in that moment that true fear struck me, because I felt I would be safer in the same room as him. At least I could anticipate his next move, whethe
r it be the twitch of his lips, hardening of eyes, the drop in his hip before pulling his leg back or the flinch of his shoulder before a blow.
It was these mind games which were the worst, and I feared I would never see the end of them…
The turn in the situation wasn’t something you could discuss over a phone call, so I waited and waited for Walker’s return from the gym and McGinty’s. I didn’t want to disturb him with a bombardment of calls and texts since he had been with me practically every moment since getting back from D.C., holding my hand in the station while I gutted myself open and retold everything I had been through and had done to me. I knew Walker was strong, the strongest person with the broadest shoulders to hold the weight of the world for everyone. But he needed a breather. He needed some time for himself, and that was my order for him that day.
Each minute felt like an hour, and each second my heart was lurching from my chest. It’s funny how the mind works, how thought patterns are created and which road a simple concept or word can change the route of that thought’s progression.
Sitting on the couch, tapping my finger impatiently against the screen of my cellphone, I finally caved, and decided to text him:
Hope you’re okay, we need to talk when you come home.
Xxx
I was about to tap send when I heard the key in the lock of the apartment door. Twisting it, he booted it open only to have the chain halt its opening. Since the news I’d received earlier that afternoon about Liam freely walking the streets, I slid that chain in place instinctively. I don’t know why, it’s not like Liam couldn’t kick the damn thing in anyway.
“Kady? Darlin’?”
Relief flooded through my veins, and as I pushed away from the couch, I felt myself visibly relax. “Walker? You’re back?”
“’Aye,” he muttered as I shut the door slightly and unhooked the chain. When I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging onto him for dear life, he asked, “What’s the matter darlin’?”