Strength In Release (The Charistown Series Book 5)

by Lisa N. Paul

  “Ly”—Janie hopped out of the bed and rushed to Lyla’s side—“I’m sorry I hurt you, honey. Please know that. It’s just… Max loves you like a sister. He was ready to come over here himself.”

  “I don’t want his pity. Why can’t you understand that?” Why couldn’t anyone understand?

  “Why can’t you understand that not one person who sits around our table would ever pity you, you stubborn brat? I’ve known you for more than ten years, held you through your nightmares, lugged fucking boxes of who the hell knows what from house to house, watched you close down your emotions, turn away relationships, and even lock me out, and never once did I feel pity for you. The little girl who suffered? God, I hurt for her. But you? Not you.”

  Words. All the right ones, but Lyla couldn’t process them while she felt so shattered. She knew herself too well, and the only words that would come from her mouth would be all the wrong words. “I need you to leave.”

  Janie shrugged as she turned toward the door; there was no masking the deflation in her posture.

  “Jane?” Lyla whispered, stopping her friend just before she left the room. “I’m angry… no, I’m hurt.” Lyla spoke to Janie’s back. The lump in her throat made the words eek out. “Maybe you’re right. I might have brought in the big guns if I thought you needed help. Don’t know.”

  Leaving the room, Janie said, “No maybes and mights about it.”

  Once the door was closed, the locks reengaged, and the alarm reset, Lyla curled back into her bed and under the covers. She was wrecked by Janie’s betrayal and drained from the events of the day.

  “No more,” she whispered. “Please let this day just end.”

  The pounding on her front door told her that prayer would not be answered.

  “Shit.”

  ***

  PLANTED OUTSIDE LYLA’S door, Sebastian refused to leave Lyla’s house until he spoke to her. Max had texted to inform him that Janie’s visit hadn’t gone well and maybe he should give Lyla time to think, but in Sebastian’s opinion, the last thing she needed was time. The woman was her own worst enemy; history showed that given too much time, she would sell her fucking house and disappear. No, what she needed was constant reminders that she was loved.

  Loved… yeah, he had fallen in love with Lyla. Not that he would tell her that. Christ, if she heard those words from him now, she probably wouldn’t even bother selling her house. She’d just vaporize into thin air.

  The drive from his house to Lyla’s had taken forever as the details his friend had shared shuffled through Sebastian’s mind. She had suffered a lifetime of hurt yet showed the world such strength and resilience.

  The thought of the son of a bitch who had dared lay a hand on his own daughter made Sebastian clench his fist and grind his jaw. His thoughts traveled back to the attack in the alley behind the bar nearly a year earlier. Lyla helpless on the ground. How, at the time, his need had been to save her. Protect her. How she’d changed so completely since that night. How she’d distanced herself from everybody and had yet to cross the bridge and find her way back. It made sense now. Had she trusted anyone to help her when her father abused her? Did they let her down?

  Her eyes had drawn him to her. Their depth held truth, rawness, pain. Though he couldn’t name the emotions at the time, he’d connected to them.

  She was a survivor—a warrior.

  He’d wanted her at first sight. Admired her after months of getting to know her as an outsider. Needed her after spending time together. But after hearing how she’d defended him while fighting her own internal struggles, he found himself falling for the first time in his life. The free fall was breathtaking and he had no plan to stop. Not until he’d captured her trust, her heart, and her body for good.

  So there he stood, pounding on the door and knowing full well that no matter the outcome, he would fight for her. Lead her, follow her, stand beside her, keep her safe—be the soldier she deserved. Regardless of the battle, he would get them through the war together.

  “Lyla, I know you’re in there. Open the door,” he bellowed.

  Hearing movement inside the house, he let out a breath and waited for the familiar sound of the locks to turn. Instead, his phone chimed.

  Lyla: I can’t do this Sebastian. Not today.

  She was texting him while he stood at her door? He pounded again. “Ly, please. Max told me what happened with Carla, sweetheart. I’m sorry I never told you about Angie. Fuck, I’m sorry you had to meet my bitch of a mother.” He chuckled. “Though I heard you had no problem dealing with her on your own.”

  A sound came through the door. Was it a laugh? A giggle?

  “Lyla, are you by the door? Open up.”

  Lyla: I can’t. Don’t care about your fiancée. Just need time.

  “Dammit, I haven’t had a fiancée since I was twenty-three years old. My mother is a deluded whack job. Fuck,” Sebastian murmured. “Lyla, the only thing stopping me from kicking down this fucking door so that I can see your face is my respect for you. But honestly, it’s taking every ounce of self-control to hold back.”

  Lyla: Not letting you in Sebastian. I’m not in a good place. Seriously…go home.

  “Look, I know about your dad… I know… I…” He tried to find the right words. “I hate what you went through, but you’re here now. You’re surrounded by people who love you, friends who would do anything for you, baby. I would do anything for you. Let. Me. In.” Sebastian closed his eyes and scrubbed his fingers over his scalp as silence lingered in the air.

  The ping of his cell sounded like a crack of thunder in the quiet winter air.

  Lyla: I can’t do this. Go away, Gage.

  Gage… never had he hated the sound of his own name. Until then. He tapped out a response, slipped the phone in his jacket pocket, and returned to his truck. He had things to do, people to see, and situations to rectify. Standing on Lyla’s doorstep would get nothing accomplished. So he left.

  ***

  Sebastian: See ya, Lyla

  She read his good-bye over and over as she slid down the door onto the hardwood floor and cried. There was no reason to leave town when she had single-handedly driven away everyone she loved.

  “What have I done?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Slumber Party

  SEBASTIAN LEFT HIS house, his car pointed in the direction of the DeLuccas’ instead of the bar—he couldn’t remember the last time his Thursday night didn’t include time at Danny’s on Main. The day had been a steaming pile of shit on top of a manure mountain, and he needed to unwind. Max had decided it best to spend the night in instead of surrounded by a crowd. Therefore, Sebastian, Max and as crazy as it still sometimes seemed, Kyle were going to chill at Max’s place.

  Was it possible for a day to have more than twenty-four hours? Because the damn day had been endless. Knowing Lyla had sat just inches away from him but refused to bridge the gap was as frustrating as it was painful. With her skeletons no longer hanging in her closet but now out in the open, the alpha male in him had to step back. His plan had always been to put her needs first, but now that her history had been unveiled, her needs had changed.

  Then there was his mother. That woman had been crossing the line for years. What she’d done at his grandmother’s house was unforgivable, but what she’d done to his Lyla… deplorable. She’d run out of chances and he’d run out of compassion. Shit needed to get ugly, because Carla clearly didn’t understand anything else.

  While driving to Max’s house, Sebastian called his lawyer. “Hey, Michael, I’m sorry to be calling so late but—”

  “It’s all right. I have everything ready to go for tomorrow. One hundred fifty thousand dollars for your mother as well as the notarized restraining orders. I can deliver them first thing in the morning. If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

  Sebastian should have listened when Michael first advised against the generous offer, but he was definitely listening now. “Actually, that’s why I
’m bothering you after hours. I’ve changed my mind. I’m done with her. My father’s allegiance to his wife needs to be buried with him. It’s not my burden to bear. I’m sorry to do this to you, but we need to change the plans for tomorrow.”

  By the time Sebastian and his attorney had disconnected, the course of action was set, and for the first time, the thought of seeing his mother’s face made Sebastian smile.

  One step at a time, he thought, pulling up to Max’s house. It has to be.

  “IT DIDN’T GO well?” Max asked, opening the front door before Sebastian’s finger hit the doorbell.

  “Dude, what are you, a dog waiting by the door? And no, she wouldn’t even talk to me.”

  “Yeah, she’s pissed at Janie. But I keep telling Jane that she did the right thing.”

  “Who did the right thing about what? And why are we standing outside?” Kyle asked from behind Sebastian.

  Max met Sebastian’s gaze a split second before Sebastian turned and said, “My mother ambushed Lyla in the parking lot at the liquor store today.”

  “Dude, you have a mom? I mean, I had no idea she lived around here.”

  Max chuckled. “Yeah, there’s a reason for that. The woman’s fucking garbage. I keep telling him he needs to take that shit out. Come on in, there’s food and booze.”

  As they walked toward the kitchen, Sebastian told Kyle about his former fiancée and how his mother must have found entertainment in sharing the information with Lyla.

  “Shit, how’d she take it?” Kyle asked.

  “Let’s just say she isn’t speaking to me right now.” Sebastian threw another look at Max and relaxed when his friend nodded. Without words, an agreement had been made.

  “No offense, man, but your mom is garbage. Wait, DeLucca, what’s with the fire extinguisher?” Kyle examined the red tube on the kitchen counter.

  Max chuckled. “Janie left it out in case we”—he used air quotes—“‘decided to light our farts on fire.’ Swear to Christ that’s what she said.”

  “What the hell?” Sebastian tried and failed to hide his amusement. “We did that one time. Can’t believe you told her about that.”

  “Dude”—Max’s hands flew up in defense as a wide smile spilt his face—“she’s my wife. We’ve talked about some pretty fucked up shit.”

  The three men laughed as Kyle poured shots of tequila, then they drank them down.

  “Hmm, I’ve done a lot of stuff I don’t care to think about, but that is one thing I never did,” Kyle said.

  “How the hell would one even position themselves to do such a thing?”

  “Oh, man, I couldn’t do that anymore if I tried. You gotta be flexible. Now, Gage here, did you know he can twist himself up like a pretzel?”

  “No way,” Kyle challenged.

  “I’ll bet you two shots to my one that the big guy can wrap his legs behind his head,” Max taunted.

  “You’re on.”

  Sebastian followed their conversation like a tennis match before interrupting. “Yo, you think maybe I should have a say in what I’m doing with my fucking body?”

  “Nope,” Kyle and Max said together.

  The whole conversation was ridiculous. At his height and mass, Sebastian shouldn’t be able to do the things he could, but yoga had been a part of his workout for years. So…

  Click

  “The fuck?” Sebastian yelled, unable to get out of the position before another picture was snapped.

  Max and Kyle were bent in half, laughing like hyenas.

  “Damn, that was too easy,” Kyle wheezed.

  “Seriously”—Max held his stomach—“can’t believe you fell for that. Carla really has you off your game.”

  “Yeah… no shit.” Sebastian stood up, ignoring the protests of his muscles. Damn, maybe it is time to retire some of those positions after all. Not that he’d admit that to the two morons in front of him. “You two only wish you could move like me. Sixty-nine isn’t the only number this body can make.”

  Two pairs of wide eyes stared as he poured a couple of shots and slung them back. Lord knew his muscles screamed for relief.

  Pizza, poker, and shots of Patron filled the hours as Sebastian relaxed with his buddies and let loose.

  “SHIT HE’S HEAVY. Fucking guy weighs as much as an elephant.” The muffled words sounded as if they came from Kyle, but Sebastian was too wasted to know for sure.

  “This elephant won’t forget that comment, dickhead,” Sebastian responded… or that’s what he thought he said. It may have come out slurred; he wasn’t sure.

  “Get some rest, pretty boy, you’re gonna feel like shit in the morning.”

  That may have been Kyle as well. Who the hell knew? Who cared?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Feeling’s Mutual

  SEBASTIAN’S HEAD POUNDED with his heartbeat. Damn hangover. At least the coffee had finally taken the edge off. The night had been exactly what he needed, but recovering at close to forty was a whole lot harder than it had been in his twenties and that was the last time he had been that freaking wasted. He may just let another twenty years go by before he did that to himself again.

  Hitting a pothole, his truck bounced, jarring his still-queasy stomach. “Fuck.”

  He had woken up partially dressed and facedown on the bed in Max and Janie’s guest room. Memories of the night were clear in his head—yes, Kyle would definitely need payback for the elephant comment. Next to him had been a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water. There were two texts waiting on his phone. The first from Max:

  Get yourself together and take out the garbage. I’ll be here when you’re done. BTW—I have several pics of you from last night. Wonder what the going rate is?

  The second text was from Kyle:

  I’ll start the bidding at $25. JK. Hit me up if you need me.

  Had Sebastian’s head not felt as though it had been hit with an anvil, he would have laughed at the messages. Instead he smiled, which somehow hurt like a motherfucker too.

  He pulled into the neglected parking lot of a rundown bar on the edge of town, turned off his engine, and stared at the building while he finished his coffee.

  Years he’d spent avoiding Carla, barely tolerating her existence after the shit she’d put him through. Ignorant to the way she’d been manipulating his grandparents, extorting their money and putting them through hell. It had been a couple of weeks since Florence filled him in on Carla’s blackmailing. At that time, he had filed for a restraining order, but a small voice in his head asked why it took his mother messing with Lyla before he decided to finally cut the woman out completely. Another voice roared, you know exactly why, fool! And it was true. He had rambled on about it to the guys over cards and scotch.

  His grandparents had chosen to continue the cycle with Carla. He respected their decision—hell, he was grateful for the protection they’d provided when he was young—but he wouldn’t do the same. No, his mother had fucked with his woman. Wrong move. Originally, he’d believed his mother didn’t warrant his personal attention, but after the stunt she pulled, Sebastian looked forward to delivering the parting words himself.

  “SEBBY, IS THAT you? Finally coming to see your momma, I’m thrilled.”

  Every word of that sentence, from the ridiculous nickname she knew he hated, to the sarcastic comment at the end, all wrapped up in her smoke-saturated voice, made his skin crawl. Not that he’d ever show an ounce of weakness to the waste of woman standing inside the bar.

  “Carla.”

  The woman rolled her eyes. “Would it kill you to call me Mom?”

  “Would it have killed you to act like one?”

  She rolled her shoulders back and flicked her hand as if his words had never been spoken. “Obviously you’re here for a reason. Shall I thank the new girl for this visit? Quite a looker, Sebby, even if her attitude could use a little work.” Carla smirked, as if taking pleasure in pushing his buttons.

  But he was no longer a kid with a
short fuse, and she was about to learn what happened when she pushed too far. Reaching into the inside pocket of his leather jacket, Sebastian withdrew an envelope. The pleasure he got from watching Carla’s greedy eyes dance was worth the visit. The rest would be the cherry on top.

  “I see Florence finally told you how this whole thing works. Good, I hated dealing with that old bat.”

  Anger raged within him as he forced his body to remain in control and his face impassive. “Yes, my grandmother told me how you’ve been extorting from her for years. How even after you ruined my relationship with Angie, you continued to bother them.”

  Carla rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. That girl was a disaster. I did you a favor. The least you could do is thank me.”

  “Thank you,” Sebastian said, making Carla stare in surprise. “What you did taught me lessons I will never forget. In fact, some could argue that you made me the man I am today.” While Carla’s face softened at what she thought was a compliment, Sebastian geared up for the final blow. Holding the envelope between them, Sebastian looked his mother in the eyes. “You reap what you sow, and you keep what you make. Consider this my gratitude for the life you gave me.”

  Carla’s eyes narrowed as Sebastian’s words sank in. “It’s empty, isn’t it?”

  Sebastian laughed humorlessly. “Why would you think that? Feeling guilty? No, it isn’t empty. But it also isn’t without strings. You’re gonna take the money I have so generously put in this envelope, you’re going to pack whatever crap you own from wherever the hell it is that you dwell, and you’re going to leave Charistown. Forever.”

  “But—” Carla screeched.

  “No buts. I don’t want to see you or hear from you again. You don’t exist.” Sebastian’s brow arched. “It’ll be pretty much life as usual for me, but you won’t have Gage money funding you. Pity.”

  Her lips twisted—he knew that look. She was plotting her next words instead of listening to what was being said.

  “Sebby, you stand here all high and mighty thinking you own this town,” she snarled, “but you don’t. I can stay as long as I want. I can do whatever I want and you can’t stop me.”