by Sybil Bartel
The next day, he texted and asked how I was feeling. Then he’d texted the same kind of question every day for a month. I hadn’t answered because I was angry. I was angry at him for asking such a stupid question, and I was angry my mother had been taken so young, and I was angry that my own brother hadn’t even texted. So I’d ignored Ben, but then he’d threatened to call Marcus if I didn’t respond. I didn’t want my brother to worry when he was downrange, so I’d texted back. After that, Ben’s daily texts dropped to three times a week. Each one was more impersonal than the last, because that was who Ben Stark was.
He was an island.
And he always would be.
I pulled my hand free from his grasp and walked to the door. “Go. I’ll finish locking up.”
RAGE LIKE I’D NEVER known consumed me.
Watching her gingerly pick up her bag and move toward the door, I wanted to kill whoever had done this. And I was pissed as hell at her. Why the fuck was she hiding this from me?
“Elyssia.” I gave up trying to reason with her and took her keys from her hand. “I’m taking you to the ER to get looked at.”
“No.” With more force than I was prepared for, she snapped at me. “I’m fine.”
My nostrils flared. “Not open for discussion.” I didn’t know what the fuck I was going to do if she said no again. I couldn’t even pick her up without hurting her worse.
Her eyes closed, and she took three shallow breaths. Then her eyes opened and something had changed in her expression. “You aren’t here.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You never were. Why are you now?”
“What are you talking about?” I knew what the fuck she was talking about.
She struggled through two more shallow breaths. “When, exactly, did you get home?”
“Night before last.” I knew where she was going with this, but I let it play out anyway. I kept my distance from her, always. She wanted to know why the fuck I was here now.
“And you came directly to my house?” she asked.
“Yes.” I was done hiding from her.
“How many times have you done that?”
She was calling me on the carpet. We both knew I’d avoided her since her mother had died. “None since before Helen passed.”
Her throat moved with a swallow at the mention of her mother. “But the night before last was different?”
Staring at her, my chest constricted, then I realized something. “Yes.” Her face was untouched. All the bruises on her body, her face was unmarked. Whoever did this purposely left her face untouched.
“Why?”
The taste of rage filled my mouth. “Tell me who beat you.”
“Tell me why you came to my house,” she countered.
My jaw clenched, and I gave her more than I ever had. “To see you.”
Her voice turned quiet. “Why?”
“Give me a name.” I was going to kill whoever did this.
“Give me a reason.”
The Elyssia I knew wasn’t confrontational. She wasn’t a fighter. She was silently strong and determined. She’d put herself back together after her mother died, and she lived her life like there was good in everything. But this woman in front of me was different.
I could stand here and demand she tell me who did this, but I already saw she wasn’t going to budge. It wouldn’t matter what the hell I said right now. I could tell her I was going to kill the fucking bastard who did this. I could tell her she fucking broke me when she’d kissed me, and it’d taken a year to get over feeling like an asshole who wasn’t worthy of her. I could even tell her I was done trying to stay the fuck away from her. But I didn’t say any of it.
Like a coward, I evaded. “I didn’t like how we left things.”
She studied me a moment. “How did we leave things?”
I stared into her gorgeous eyes. “Unfinished.”
For one heart stopping moment, she stared back. Then she dropped her head and limped to the door. “Good night, Ben.”
Fuck. Fuck. I strode around her and held the door open. “I’m taking you to get checked out.”
She silently waited while I closed and locked the door to the dojo.
I handed her keys back. “I’m driving. Can you get in the Jeep or do you need help?”
She palmed her keys, but then her fingers gracefully came away with her car key. “I’m bruised, not broken. I’m going home to shower and change then go to work. You’re going back to your rock-star life.”
Her last three words hit my chest like a spinning round kick. “Is that you talking, or your brother?”
She opened her door. “Does it matter?”
“You bothered by the money or the fame?” Or was she jealous of the women? If she’d fucking ask, I’d tell her what she wanted to know.
“Neither.”
I wasn’t going to let her turn this around on me. “You’re beat to hell, and you need medical attention. If you won’t let me take you in, I’ll call Marcus.” I pulled my phone out, but what I really wanted to do was take her into my arms.
Her hand covered mine. “I’m okay.”
I had to ask. “Why are you protecting who did this?”
“I’m not protecting anyone. There’s nothing to tell. I fell. It was an accident. End of story.” She dropped her hand and gingerly lowered herself into her car.
She was full of shit. “Since when do you lie to me?”
“I’m tired and I’m sore, Ben. I need to rest before I have to be at work. Please step back.”
My hands on my hips, I did as she asked. “You’re really going to work?” I was incredulous, but if I’d stopped to think about it, her job was a hell of a lot safer than being in a karate studio looking like she did.
She pulled her door shut, but opened the window. “I sit on a stool and take people’s money.”
“You should be off your feet.” Except she was so fucking bruised everywhere, I wasn’t sure there was any way she could lie down that wouldn’t hurt.
A mask fell over her pained expression, and for the first time since I’d known her, a cold distance filtered into her tone. “I already have an overbearing brother. I don’t need another man in my life telling me what to do.”
Goddamn it. “May I please take you to get checked out?”
“Go home, Ben. Find some other woman to harass.” She started the car.
I squatted to be less threatening, and ignored the other woman comment. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on, or why you’re hiding this from me, but if you’re embarrassed, stop. I’m not here to judge. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Jesus, I wanted her to be okay.
Her hands on the wheel, her gaze focused straight ahead, she ground out two words. “I’m fine.”
I’d been fighting the fucking unspeakable scenario since I first saw the discoloration of her flesh, but I couldn’t deny the possibility anymore. My voice dropped to a whisper, and I asked something I never, ever, wanted to ask her. “Were you raped?”
Anger flamed her cheeks, and despite her injuries, her head whipped to face me. “You think I don’t know how to defend myself?”
Relief surged and my chest filled with air despite the bitter irony of her question. “Elyssia—”
“This conversation is over. I don’t know what you thought you were hoping to gain by coming back around me and Marcus, but leave us alone. Find your own family.” She yanked her door shut.
Memories and an image of her at fifteen hit me. Smiling, joy on her face, she sat with her mother at their old kitchen table and told her “One day Ben’s going to love me.” Her mother had grasped her hand and told her what I never could. “He already does, sweetheart.”
She threw the Mustang her brother had bought her into gear and backed out of the lot.
I stared after the taillights, then I pulled my phone out and dialed Myles’s uncle.
Neil Christensen answered on the first ring. “Ja.”
Dani
sh, ex-Special Forces, Myles’s uncle was now a commercial contractor who built luxury high-rises all over Florida. “It’s Ben. I need a favor.” I could’ve called Myles, but I didn’t want to deal with his questions.
Neil wouldn’t interfere, but he did state the obvious. “You have only been home one day.”
“I know. But one of the employees at Seven-oh-One needs a week of PTO, effective immediately.”
“I do not run the club. Call Hank.”
I knew he and Myles were out of the day-to-day operations of the place, but Hank the manager was a surly fuck. “I’ll call him next, but I wanted to okay it with you first.”
“Employees there are hourly.”
Meaning they probably had no paid vacation time. “One week isn’t going to cut into profits, and I’m asking for a favor.” I could give Elyssia the money, hell, I could give her a damn annual salary with what I made, but she wouldn’t take any money from me, and I knew she’d never agree to taking a week off to heal without pay.
“Who is the woman?”
I’d never said it was a woman. “Elyssia Maher.”
“The MMA fighter’s sister,” Neil stated.
I frowned. “Marcus Maher isn’t in the circuit.”
“Yes, he was. He was in the American Fight Circuit. He wanted Hank to authorize unsanctioned fights at the club during the day.”
What the fuck? “Since when?” Marcus was a fucking idiot.
“Past two months.”
“You said was.”
Neil exhaled. It was his version of a long-ass sigh. “He was kicked out. His trainer dropped him. It was either the unsanctioned fighting or he was too unstable.”
Jesus. “Are fighters hanging around the club?”
“There are always fighters at the club. Hank is the manager.”
And Hank had been training to be an AFC hopeful for years. Goddamn it. “How fucking safe is it for the female employees there?”
Neil didn’t hesitate. “Safe.”
Fuck, fuck. I rubbed a hand over my face.
“What do I need to know?” Neil demanded.
Damn it. “This stays between us?”
“Ja.”
“Elyssia’s beat all to hell. She won’t tell me what happened, or who did it.”
“Domestic?”
“No, she doesn’t have a boyfriend.” Not one she was copping to.
Neil paused a moment, then, “If it had happened at the club, I would know about it.”
“All right, I hear you.”
“Tell Hank I said she gets a week paid leave. Let me know if you need anything else.” Neil hung up before I could thank him.
THE DARK FORM ON the couch didn’t stir when I tiptoed in. Holding my belt, my bag and keys, I made it almost to the stairs.
“How bad?” he asked, a horrible scratch to his voice like he’d been yelling for hours.
“It’s nothing, go back to sleep.” My foot hit the first step.
He was always quicker than me, quicker and quieter than air. His arms went around my waist and his alcoholic breath washed over my face.
“How bad are you hurt?” Moisture from his eyes slid across my neck.
“I’m fine, Marcus.” His grip hurt every bone in my body.
“Jesus, Sia, don’t do this to me. I don’t remember everything, but I remember some. You promised, you promised me,” he agonized.
“Stop it.” I couldn’t take him like this, all broken and hurting. It was a hundred times worse than his anger or the marks I carried from last night.
“You said you would stop me, damn it. You’re strong enough, you can take me down, especially when I’m drinking. You know it’s why I drink, you know that. Why did you take it? You could’ve stopped me!” His pleas turned into accusations.
He was wrong. I couldn’t stop him. I wasn’t strong enough. I hadn’t been since he’d come back from Afghanistan the second time. “Let it go.” I shoved him away.
He dropped his arms. “You should’ve let it go. You should’ve let me take the whole damn bottle!”
I knew he was hurting. God, I knew he was. But we both knew he didn’t want to die. He never tried anything when he was sober. “Take a shower, Marcus.”
He shoved the back of my Gi up before I could stop him. “Look what I did to you,” he bellowed in agony.
“I’m fine,” I bit out, yanking the heavy cotton down. I didn’t even know which one of us I was angry at anymore. “Pick up the living room.” The remnants of his latest episode lay around in broken pieces of glass and splintered wood from the coffee table we used to have. “Then shower and hit the gym before it’s too late. You need a workout.” I hurried up the stairs.
“Sia,” he cried.
Ignoring him, I rushed to my bedroom, locked the door and sank to the floor. I knew I was living on borrowed time. Last night had been the worst I’d ever seen him. He was spiraling, and nothing I did was helping.
I didn’t want to think about Marcus, or the awful words I’d said to Ben, or the way he’d looked like I’d kicked him in the chest. I didn’t want to think about anything except getting through the next few hours at work. It was selfish and probably not the right thing to do, but I was so damn tired, I didn’t have the energy for any right choices anymore.
I gingerly showered and dressed for work, choosing an outfit that hid everything—skinny jeans and a long-sleeved blouse. I could get away with it because it wasn’t summer yet. Thoughts of the warm months used to fill me with joy. Swimming in the lake, fireflies at night, hanging out with Ben and Marcus on the back porch, but that was all distant memories now.
Shaking off my mood, I applied makeup and listened until the noises in the kitchen downstairs stopped. A few minutes later, the front door opened and closed and I breathed a sigh of relief. I picked up my cell and sent a quick text to Marcus.
Three-hour workout minimum. Spar with Hank if he’s there.
A second later, he replied.
Got it
Then a few seconds later, he sent another text.
I’m sorry. I love you, Sia
A tear slid down my cheek as I typed a response.
Please, take your antidepressants.
I knew my request would upset him. I was about to tuck my phone away because I didn’t want to fight with him, when he replied.
I haven’t missed a dose in two weeks
I read it twice. Then I held my phone to my chest and burst into tears. What the hell were we going to do? If last night was him with the medicine, I couldn’t even imagine what he would be like without it. Despair, thick and choking, took over my lungs, and I fought for breath. It’d been over a year since she died, but right this minute, I missed my mother more than ever. Her arms around me, her strength, her wisdom. Oh God, what was I supposed to do now?
Brushing the tears away, I washed my face then reapplied makeup. I asked myself what could I do? I had to go to work. I palmed my keys and locked up the house. When I turned toward my car, my stomach tightened at the sight of the shiny blue Mustang.
After the first time Marcus had taken his aggression out on me, he’d woken the next morning and, unbeknownst to me, gone straight to the dealership. I’d gotten a strange phone call a half hour later where he’d asked me my favorite color. Reeling from the night before, I hadn’t put two and two together, and I’d said blue. A few hours later, he came home with the new blue Mustang and gave it to me.
Opening the door, I slid behind the wheel and winced. Every movement was taking a toll, and I cursed myself for forgetting to take some Advil.
Thirty minutes later, I was counting out my cash register and putting the drawer in when I felt movement behind me.
“Elyssia.”
I stiffened, then turned around. Fitted T-shirt under an open button-down, jeans and boots, Ben stood next to me freshly showered. If you saw him on the street, you’d never know he was a fourth dan black belt or that he played drums in a rock band that booked sold-out shows. He almost
looked like a college student.
I forced my voice to stay casual. “I didn’t know you were playing tonight.”
“We’re not.” He studied my face as if he were looking for evidence of our earlier fight. “I came for you.”
I averted my gaze and straightened some papers next to the register. “You didn’t need to do that. I’m fine.”
A warm, strong hand curled around my fingers. “I spoke with Neil. You have the next week off. I’m taking you home.”
My head snapped up, and I snatched my hand back. “I….” Shit! “You can’t do that.” Neil, along with Ben’s bandmate Myles, was the owner of the club, and when Neil was around, he was the scariest boss in the history of bosses. “I need this shift, and I need the money.” I couldn’t afford a week with no pay. I was a damn cashier at a nightclub. I hardly made enough as it was, and teaching karate to the young kids at the studio barely covered the cost of gas to get to the class.
“It’s taken care of.”
Was he crazy? “No, it’s not.” Panic pitched my voice up to a squeak, and I was freaking out that he’d said something to Neil in the first place, let alone the fact that he was here. “I… I get paid hourly,” I stammered, before the reality of what he’d done set in. “How could you tell Neil?”
His eyes zeroed in on mine. “I didn’t tell him anything.” His voice dropped. “No one knows.”
A dangerous calm I hadn’t felt in forever pushed at the edges of my panic, but I still protested. “You can’t do this.”
“You’ll get paid your normal amount. Get your purse, Elyssia.” Quiet, but completely dominant, his tone left no room for argument.
Hurting, stunned, I turned and grabbed my purse from under the counter so he couldn’t see the tears welling in my eyes. But before I could face him again, Ben’s hand settled on my lower back and his minty breath hit the curve of my neck.
His voice brushed past my ear like a caress. “Are you okay to walk?”
God, I didn’t want to feel relieved he was here. I didn’t want to place any hope in him or his presence, but I was hurting, and for once, I just selfishly wanted to let someone else carry the burden of what my life had become. “I’m fine.” It was only half a lie. I could walk, but nothing, nothing felt fine.