by Chloe Walsh
“I’m not suggesting to kill them, Kyle,” he shot back quickly. “I’m merely saying I’m not opposed to committing a little grievous bodily harm . . .”
The front gate alarm went off, halting this crazy conversation. Derek froze and my whole frame stiffened.
“Reporters?” he asked.
I shook my head. “It’s five in the morning.”
Standing up, Derek stormed over to the window and drew back the curtains. “See, this is exactly what I’m talking about,” he growled. “This constant looking over your shoulder. We need a gun, dude.”
“A gun,” I repeated, staring blankly at him for a moment before I burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. For a moment there I thought you used the words gun and us in the same sentence.”
“I did. And we should. For protection purposes,” he said in a serious tone. “Jesus Christ, your life was threatened tonight, Kyle,” he shouted as if I didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation. “Your goddamn life, dude. What if he makes good on it? What then?” Crossing his arms over his chest he glowered down at me. “In case you didn’t notice, there’s a couple of girls upstairs whose lives depend on you, and no offense dude, but I’m not ready to be a surrogate Kyle Carter if you die.”
“You must be high as a fucking kite if you think I’m gonna allow a goddamn firearm in my house,” I snarled as I stood up and paced. “Have you seen my fiancée lately?” Shaking my head I stalked into the hallway. “She’s got a few holes too fucking many in her body because of guns. Your woman is under six feet of earth because of a gun, and you want me to buy one?” I slammed my hand on the intercom. “I’m getting you drug-tested. Walk your ass into the bathroom and piss in one of Lee’s pee cups.” Glaring at the intercom I barked, “Who is it?” before swinging back to stare at Derek. “I said go pee in a cup. Now.”
“Fine,” Derek roared as he stalked off down the hallway, reappearing a few minutes later with a full urine sample cup in his hand, and a fistful of the sticks Lee uses to test her pee with in the other. “Here you go, buddy,” he said mockingly. I ducked just in time to avoid a face full of Derek’s urine. “And when you’ve tested my piss, I’m taking you to get a psychiatric evaluation because you need your head examined if your plan is to sit back and let those creeps threaten you.”
“Did you just throw piss at my head?” I demanded in outrage. “Did you throw your piss at my goddamn head?”
“If you don’t like it, bring it up with my therapist,” he sneered before throwing the pee sticks at me. “She wants to meet you.”
“Maybe I will,” I countered in a disgusted tone. “And maybe, with a little help from god, she’ll lock your crazy ass up . . .”
“I’m Kyle,” he mocked as he jumped around and paced the floor, shaking his hands out. “I can’t sit still. I can’t stop moving . . .”
“I’ve changed my mind,” I snarled as I stalked towards a retreating Derek. “I’m gonna enjoy killing you . . .”
“Kyle, it’s me. Kyle, can you hear me?” Tracy Gibbon’s voice boomed through the intercom, stopping me in my tracks and causing my brow to rise in surprise. I was not expecting her. “You were right about things being worth fighting for,” she added. “I’ve decided to stay and fight, but I can’t go home. Not when he knows where home is.”
Sighing wearily, I raked my hand through my hair. “What do you want from me, Tracy?” I’d had just about all I could take for one night and chasing Lee’s mom around the state and fixing her problems wasn’t in my immediate plans. I was done with that. I was done the moment I’d received the text message from Lee stating she’d been let down. Again.
“Somewhere to stay,” I heard Lee’s mom say almost guiltily. Goddammit . . .”Just until I find somewhere more . . . secure.”
What the hell was I supposed to do now? I could hardly say ‘no, fuck off.’ She was a vulnerable woman on her own with nowhere to go. My own mother’s face decided to use this moment to make an unwanted reappearance into my mind, probably hand-delivered by my conscience, and I cringed. I knew what I had to do . . .
“Dude,” Derek hissed as he lunged towards me and slapped my hand away from the keypad. “Are you insane?” he demanded. “Lee is upstairs.” He pointed to the staircase. “What do you think she’s gonna say when she sees the prodigal womb at the breakfast table? Thank you?” Shaking his head, his eyes pleaded with me as he said, “Don’t do it. That intercom button has danger high fucking voltage written all over it . . . Never mind Lee’s daddy, she’ll kill you herself.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do?” I growled. “I can’t just leave her outside in the cold, Derek.”
“Yes, you can,” Derek countered in a dramatic tone, nodding his head excessively. “That’s exactly what you should do. Leave her outside. Walk away. Wash your hands of her. She’s not your concern. Her daughter is. Just step away from the button . . .”
“I can’t,” I sighed and pressed the button. “Gate’s open,” I muttered. “Come on up.”
“What about all that shit you were spurting about Lee being your home?” Derek asked, his tone laced with disgust. “A little heads up, dude, your home is gonna be really fucking pissed when she discovers what you’ve done . . . In fact, I wouldn’t bat an eyelid if your home up and runs.”
“That’s not funny, douchebag,” I snarled, even though a huge chunk of nervousness had settled in the pit of my stomach. Lee would understand I couldn’t leave her mom outside . . . wouldn’t she?
“I’m not joking, asshole,” Derek countered in a snarky tone. “You may as well go outside and find someplace warm to sleep because your ass is heading straight to the dog house . . . what are you doing now?” he demanded when I brushed past him and ran for the stairs.
“Some damage control,” I muttered as I climbed the staircase quickly before adding, “And clean up your own damn piss.”
Dammit, Derek was right.
Lee was going to have my balls for this. I needed to start listening to other people. I needed to start listening to anyone but myself. Seriously, I made terrible decisions. Maybe my old social-worker had been right. Maybe there was something very wrong with my brain. Jesus . . .
Turning the doorknob, I pushed our bedroom door inwards and took a deep breath. The curtains were still drawn and with the hallway light shining in I could only make out Hope’s sleeping figure on our bed. My eyes searched the room anxiously and caught sight of the dull glow of a phone-screen in the far corner of our room.
Lee was sitting on the floor sliding a fluffy pink sock on her small foot as she used her phone to see in the darkness. Jesus, she had tiny feet. She was a size three. I snorted every time I saw her sneakers lined up next to mine. Concentrate, Carter . . . Clearing my mind from the direction my thoughts had veered to, I stepped towards her. “Princess, I fucked up . . .”
“Shh,” Lee whispered, inclining her head towards our bed. “She’s exhausted. Let her sleep. And I know she’s here, Kyle,” she murmured as she grabbed the other pink sock and slid it on. “I heard you and Derek talking.”
Fuck. “How much trouble am I in?” I whispered as I watched Lee climb to her feet. Her 5’2” frame looked even smaller than usual draped in a pair of my sweats and a baggy t-shirt.
“You’re not in trouble,” she replied calmly and I was stumped. Not in trouble? Of course I was in trouble. I was always in fucking trouble.
Scratching my head in confusion I watched in trepidation as Lee rolled the sleeves of my shirt up to her elbows before bunching her hair together and securing it with a hair-tie from her wrist.
The moment she stepped into the hallway I had to force myself not to flinch. She was paler than her usual self and I knew why. My girl was battling her demons again, and the sight of her frail, scar-covered body confirmed to me that the foreboding feeling of dread inside my heart was dead on the money.
Shaking my head, I inhaled deeply and forced all the horrible images out of
my mind, choosing to focus on the here and now instead. “I didn’t know she was coming here, princess,” I told her, needing Lee to know I would never fucking ambush her again.
“I know you didn’t.” Cupping my cheek with one of her small hands, she stepped towards me. “You were twisting and turning all night,” she whispered as she traced light circles on my cheek with her thumb, her gray eyes wide and full of concern. “What were you dreaming about?”
Clearing my throat, I smiled to ease her worry and pulled her into my arms “I can’t remember, baby,” I replied, my tone thick. I couldn’t exactly tell the girl who was afraid of her own damn shadow that I was worried about her safety. That I was fucking petrified her father would make good on his promise and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.
“You’re sure?” Lee whispered, pressing her cheek against the skin over my heart and I inwardly shuddered. “Kyle, you know you can talk to me, right? If you’re worried about my father . . .”
“I’m not worried,” I mumbled quickly, cutting her off, lying through my goddamn teeth. “Are you sure you want to see her?”
“No,” she sighed as she stepped out of my arms and brushed the front of her shirt down nervously. “But I know that I have to.”
Sweeping my hair off my face, I smoothed down my shirt and followed a very puzzled looking Kyle down the staircase. “You’re sure about this, Lee?” Kyle asked, as he looked over his shoulder and gave me his best lost-puppy expression. I guessed he wasn’t faking it. He genuinely looked confused.
I nodded my head.
“You’re absolutely certain you want to speak to her?” Kyle asked. Turning around to face me, his fingers trailed over my cheek. I shivered from the light contact of his hands on my body. I felt that. Thank god . . .”Your dad called her, Lee. She’s afraid to go home. I can send her to the hotel first thing in the morn . . . Lee, baby, are you okay?” His eyes searched my face. “Are you in pain?” he asked in a gruff tone.
“I’m okay,” I replied, my tone of voice even and controlled. I wasn’t okay though. I wasn’t anywhere close to being okay. My life was becoming more bewildering by the minute and I had a feeling that I’d surpassed my limit of fear and worry for one day.
I supposed my father’s phone call had a lot to do with my inner turmoil. But I guessed the phone call I’d overheard Kyle having with Kelsie earlier–when I was pretending to be asleep—had much more to do with it. Perry’s accusations paled in comparison to my daddy’s threats and my daddy’s threats paled in comparison to Rachel Grayson actions. And in eight weeks I would be facing my best-friend’s murderer. In eight weeks’ time the fate of one woman and the retribution of another would rest in my hands. Kyle had said it. I’d heard him. I had exactly fifty-six days . . .
“I want to hear what she has to say,” I told him and I realized, surprisingly, that I was telling the truth. “That’s why I suggested having dinner with her.” Talking to Tracy on the grand scheme of things seemed infinite. I could do this. I could face her. One demon at a time.
Stopping in front of the downstairs bathroom, I tugged on Kyle’s arm and said, “But I have to pee first,” before rushing inside the bathroom and locking the door.
Deep breaths . . .
Deep calm breaths . . .
Don’t think about him . . .
Don’t think about her . . .
Striving to keep my emotions in check, I completed my—earlier than usual—morning ritual of testing my urine and weighing myself without thinking too much about what laid ahead of me. When I was finished I leaned against the sink, feeling weak and drained, and forced myself to look in the mirror.
I cringed at the sight of the washed-out woman looking back at me. Wild, unruly brown curls restrained in a haphazard pony tail. Large gray eyes accompanied by dark purple circles and thick clotted eyelashes. Gaunt cheekbones stained with streaks of dried-in tears. A couple of freckles flecked over the bridge of a small nose. Swollen uneven lips that were both chaffed and cracked. Well, I looked like I felt . . .
Grabbing my toothbrush, I opened my mouth and immediately felt a stinging sensation. Raising my fingers to my mouth I realized why. My bottom lip had split. The sight of the paltry dribble of blood on my index finger caused my stomach to retch and I quickly wiped it away with a tissue. Forcing myself not to shudder and dwell on my previous encounters with blood, I opened the cabinet that doubled as a mirror and grabbed my prescription. The pills that would keep me alive for another day.
When I walked into the kitchen, not even the sight of my estranged mother sitting at my kitchen table, at five o clock in the morning, could stir a reaction out of me.
Don’t feel too much . . . don’t crack . . .
“Hello,” I said in a calm tone as I stepped through the doorway. My gaze landed on Derek first, whose eyes bulged as he made a poor attempt at hiding a mop behind his back. I noticed Kyle nudge a mop-bucket under the table before coming to my side. The warmth of his arm around my waist eased some small part of my subconscious that was demanding I run. His lips on my hair steadied my breathing. The blue in his eyes soothed some emotion inside of me that only he could summon, and the stench of bleach on his clothes caused my eyes to water . . .
“I’ll . . . ah . . . just go check on Hope,” Derek mumbled before rushing out of the room, leaving me alone with my mother and Kyle.
“I’m sorry, Lia,” Tracy suddenly blurted out. “For not showing up to dinner tonight. For leaving you with that man. For every bad thing you’ve had to endure because of my cowardly behavior.”
“It’s Lee,” I replied softly. Stepping away from Kyle, I went and sat on a chair opposite my mother. This moment was long overdue. I understood that now. I needed to do this in order to move on. “My name is Lee.”
“Yes, yes, of course . . .” Tracy’s voice trailed off as she studied my face. “Are you okay? You look so pale, darling?”
Darling. Darling. Darling. Darling . . . My cool contained state of my mind shattered. The mental walls I’d placed around myself came crashing down the instant I heard that endearment. A tremor rolled through my body and I gasped for air, but every desperate breath I drew into my lungs was laced with panic. It all suddenly became too much, too overwhelming, and I cracked . . .
My mother sitting in front of me alive and well. My father’s threats and lifelong beatings. That stupid television show. The anti-rejection meds that were disintegrating in the hot sweaty palm of my fist. The red-headed devil who was lying in wait for me. I was walking into her lair in eight weeks. Fifty-six days. . . .
A noise ripped from my throat and two pairs of eyes landed on me. I covered my mouth with my hand, but it was too late. The hysteria bubbling inside me had come to a boil and I laughed. I freaking cackled. I wasn’t sure why I was laughing, but I guessed it was laugh or cry . . .
“Jesus Christ, Lee,” Kyle hissed. “You’re okay, baby. I got you,” he promised as he crouched in front of me. Tears spilled from my eyes as the cackling coming from my throat turned into a soft wail at the sight of concern on his face. Gently pushing my head between my legs, Kyle rubbed my back in smooth steady circles. “Shh, that’s it, princess,” he crooned when I started to breathe more easily. “Good girl. Nice slow breaths . . .”
“I’m alright, Kyle,” I whispered, feeling embarrassed and overwhelmed as I straightened slowly, placing my hands on the table, and focusing on my mother. Pain, anger, hurt, and burning curiosity coursed through me. “Why?” I asked.
One word.
It was the only word that mattered in this moment. I sensed—more than felt—Kyle sit beside me, and when I felt his hand on my knee, his touch was like an intravenous drip pumping courage into my body.
“Why didn’t you love me?” Blinking back the tears of twenty years’ worth of torment, I sniffled and wiped my nose with the sleeve of my shirt. “Why . . . why didn’t you w-want me?”
It was the question of a young child.
My inner child.
Me.
“Oh, Lia, sweetheart, I always wanted you,” she sobbed as she snaked her hand out and grabbed mine.
I didn’t pull away.
“I’ve always loved you,” she continued, her small fingers squeezing into my flesh. I shivered in pleasure from the sensation of her skin. I focused on the feel of her soft warm skin covering mine. Her fingers touched more than my hand and I was engulfed in a state of confusion and need. “I loved you from the moment the doctor placed you on my chest. You were the most beautiful . . .” her voice broke off and I lowered my gaze to concentrate on my mother’s hand holding mine.
“My life wasn’t easy with Jimmy,” she said softly. Looking into my eyes, she said, “You’re probably wondering why I married him in the first place.”
I simply nodded. I was wondering that question. I’d been wondering that question my whole life. Taking a deep breath, I listened carefully as my mother bared her soul . . .
“My parent’s—your grandparent’s—were killed in a boating accident when I was sixteen and I was sent to live with my mother’s parents on their farm,” she told me. “Mimi passed on shortly after my arrival and I was raised by Papa, who was a devoutly religious and extremely old fashioned man.”
“Sounds like he was a real swell guy,” Kyle mumbled and I nudged him in the knee to shut him up. I needed to hear this.
“When I was eighteen, the boy who I’d been dating from my hometown came back into my life,” she said almost hesitatingly. “Mimi and Papa had taken me straight from the funeral and I hadn’t had a chance to tell him goodbye or give him my address. I didn’t think I’d ever see him again.” She sighed deeply, shaking her head. “When he arrived at the farm I was ecstatic. He’d been my whole world from the age of fourteen and losing him as well as my parents had crushed me. He’d grown into a handsome man . . . he took up work on my grandfather’s farm as a way for us to see one another . . . He told me he spent months after I moved trying to find me . . . and he had. . . .” she paused and exhaled a shaky breath before continuing. “My Papa hated him. ‘Good for nothing but the plough,’ he would tell me. He used to call him a rapscallion.”