Salvaged

by Jay Crownover

  I heard Poppy exhale a breath and then her fingers were lightly touching my arm. If I hadn’t been so twisted up inside my own memories, I would have let out a victory whoop. I understood the significance of her voluntarily putting her hands on me two days in a row and I could only pray that she did as well.

  “This place is all yours now, Wheeler. You worked hard for it and you deserve to make it a place where you want to be.” She tilted her chin down a little and let go of her hold on my arm. “You should make it a place that both you and your child will think of as safe and warm, a place you both can grow into … together.”

  Her words made me physically jerk, so I took a step away from her and turned to make my way to the kitchen. I hadn’t stopped to think about the fact that I was going to be responsible for creating a home not only for myself, but also for my kid. I’d never settled anywhere, the closest being the spot on Zeb’s bedroom floor when we were teenagers because his mom never told him no when he asked if I could stay over. I didn’t know if I had the tools required to turn a house into a loving home for someone else, especially considering I’d failed at doing it for myself up until this point in my life. It wasn’t like anyone had set an example for me when I was growing up. I’d been shuffled from place to place so often that to this day I still had stuff in boxes from when I’d moved out of my apartment and into this house with Kallie. That same stuff had stayed in boxes regardless of what foster home I’d been in. They were never unpacked and they sat gathering dust waiting for the next time I was uprooted and displaced.

  I heard Poppy follow me into the kitchen and wasn’t surprised when I heard the puppy as well. The little dog wanted to be right in the thick of things and wasn’t keen on letting his humans out of his sight.

  I tossed the trash and leaned back against the counter where the sink was. “I’m going to need a nursery. Fuck. What do I know about putting together a nursery?” I was clueless.

  Poppy stood on the opposite side of the kitchen where a big butcher-block island divided the space that Kallie told me she designed to be something called shabby chic. To me it looked like she had taken her grandmother shopping and let her pick out whatever struck her fancy. The more I was noticing my ex’s mark on my house, the more aggravated and restless I started to feel. That unease was intensified by the woman looking at me with sympathy and understanding shining out of her eyes.

  “You know home isn’t really about what color your couch is or what you hang on the wall.” Her voice was quiet like always but there was a firm thread woven throughout it that refused to be ignored. It was like she knew the words she was saying were going to matter to me long after she was no longer standing in front of me, so she had to make them unforgettable. “Home is about knowing you are in the right place with the right people.” She gave me a lopsided grin. “Plus, once you know what you’re having, you can get on Pinterest and learn all about how to decorate a nursery.”

  That startled a laugh out of me. “Do I look like I know how to use Pinterest?”

  She cocked her head to the side and lowered her lashes shyly. “I’ll show you how.”

  I pushed off the counter and took the steps required to move me across the space separating us. I needed to change the subject before I came up with any excuse I could find to keep her close. I copied her pose on the opposite side of the island and hid a grin when her gaze went immediately to where my T-shirt pulled tight across my chest and tugged against the bulge of my biceps. “Is that why you came here when you got out of the hospital? Denver was the right place and your sister found the right people?”

  I watched her shutters close and her walls go up. The brightness in her eyes dimmed as her lush mouth pulled into a frown. Right in front of my eyes the woman that had devoured her cheeseburger and enjoyed a simple night in front of the TV, like any other twentysomething typically did on a weeknight, turned into the woman that had escaped near death at the hands of her deranged lover. She shrank in on herself, almost as if she was trying to disappear inside her skin. It was the first time I’d ever directly addressed what she had been through and I regretted bringing it up, but the elephant in the room couldn’t be ignored forever, not if we were going to be spending as much time together as I wanted.

  “I’m sorry, Poppy. Not my story, not my business.”

  She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself in a gesture that I was starting to recognize as one she used when she was extra anxious. She wouldn’t let anyone else touch her, so she had resorted to wrapping her own arms around herself when she needed a hug.

  “No, it’s okay. I mean, I know you know. Everyone knows. I was on CNN for goodness’ sake.” She shifted on her feet and bit down on her lower lip. “No place felt safe after I got out of the hospital. My head was so caught up in everything Oliver had done. My body was broken just as badly as my mind, but Rowdy and Salem refused to let me disappear. They brought me here because they knew I wasn’t up to fighting my parents if they showed up to take me back to Texas. I was ready to give up on everything. Everything felt so pointless and hopeless. I always seemed to end up back where I started.” She tugged on the end of her ponytail and lifted her eyes to mine. The pain and the force of her bad memories sucked the air out of my lungs. I’d been let down and disappointed a lot in my life, but I’d never been destroyed like she had. It was gut-wrenching to see. Watching Poppy struggle to pull herself back from the edge of horror made me question if I would be strong enough to rebuild myself the way this young woman had. She’d been devastated but here she was, still fighting and forging on. “They chose me and as I got better I chose them back. So yes, I’m here because of Salem and Rowdy. I was lucky I got Sayer as well. They are my right people.”

  I exhaled and ran a hand through my hair. She was right. She had made national news with headlines that screamed Kidnapping, Rape, Suicide. I remembered vague images of a frail body covered in blood and other too-horrible-to-imagine things being wheeled into an ambulance. I never stopped to process that the image on my television was this beautiful woman standing in front of me now. The knowledge turned my stomach and left a bitter taste in my mouth. “I’m going to ask you a question but you don’t have to answer, okay?”

  She considered me for a long moment and then nodded as she whispered, “Okay.”

  I tapped my fingers on the wood between us, my expression knitting into one of genuine curiosity. “Why didn’t you want to go with your parents? Believe me, I know all about being seriously disappointed by the people that are supposed to love you unconditionally, but you went through so much, why wouldn’t you want as much support around you as possible?”

  If it was possible she shrank into herself even more. She went pale, her normally rich and exotic skin tone dulling out. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the butcher block and then cradled her forehead in her hands. For a minute, I thought she was going to pass out. I moved over to where she was propped up and stood close to her. I almost put my hand on the center of her back until I realized that was probably the worst thing I could do at the moment. I desperately needed her to give me permission to touch her. Keeping my hands off her, especially when everything inside of me was dying to comfort her, was taking a near Herculean effort.

  “Forget I asked. Clearly, it’s a good thing your sister swooped in and brought you here before your parents showed up.” Her reaction had me thinking they were in the running for the shittiest-parents-in-the-universe award right next to my mom.

  She shook her head where she held it and peeked at me through a narrow slit between her spread fingers. “The stuff that wasn’t on the news is almost worse than the stuff that was.”

  I barked out a startled laugh. “How is that possible?” Her husband had stalked and tortured her. If that wasn’t enough she’d had no choice but to watch the man eat a bullet because he was too much of a coward to take responsibility for his actions when the cops caught up to them. I couldn’t imagine anything being more horrific than that.<
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  I heard her mutter something that wasn’t clear and after a drawn-out moment where I thought she was going to shut down on me, she pushed off the counter and reached up to pull her hair out of the elastic holding it so she could rake her fingers through the long honey-tinted locks over and over again.

  “My father is a difficult man. When he came across the border as a child, it was a terrible experience for him. His mother died when they were making their way through the desert in Texas and my grandfather convinced my dad that it was his fault. He told him she died so he could live. He insisted the only reason they were making their way into America was because my grandmother wanted a better life for my father than he would have in Juárez.” She huffed out a breath and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “The truth was my grandfather had gotten in business with one of the cartels and there was a price on his head. The whole family was in danger, but instead of taking responsibility for his actions, he blamed my dad and used his guilt to ensure his obedience and compliance. They were lessons my father learned well and had no problem passing on to his own children. Behave or bad things happen. I honestly believe he still holds himself responsible for his mother’s death.”

  I blinked at her and opened my mouth to say something but shut it just as quickly when I realized I had no words. My upbringing was no picnic but it was a breeze compared to what she was revealing about hers.

  “Salem used to push and push him. I think she was trying to force him to break. She wanted him to do something, to leave some kind of mark so she could prove that what was going on inside our house wasn’t right.” She let out a strangled-sounding laugh and put a hand to her throat like she was trying to capture the tragic sound. “But he never hit us, not once. He simply let us know every single minute, of every single day, that he deserved better, that God had let him down by saddling him with a worthless, ungrateful family, daughters that were sinful and unworthy. I did my best to please him. I followed in my mother’s footsteps. I walked on eggshells and didn’t speak unless spoken to. I brought home straight A’s and only allowed people he approved of in my life. I tried to be perfect.”

  She lowered her head so that our gazes locked, and once again the memories and recollections shining out of her eyes battered against me. Her experiences hurt and I wasn’t the one that had to live through them.

  “Occasionally, he would act like I’d finally done something right, like I’d earned his approval. I would soak those moments up like a sponge, until I realized the only reason he lowered himself to giving me any kind of praise was to hurt either my mom or Salem. We weren’t his loved ones or his family. We were toys he played with and tormented for his amusement.”

  She closed her eyes briefly and let out a sigh that had so much emotion in it I thought it was going to knock her off her feet. When her eyelids fluttered back open I knew I needed to stay braced for the rest of her story.

  “It wasn’t until I moved home after my freshman year of college that I realized what a truly awful man he was. Without me and Salem in the house the only person around to take the brunt of his blame and brimstone was my mom. He never loved her. He married her because she served a purpose and had standing in the community. She was good for his image and legitimized him as something more than a struggling immigrant. The only reason he stayed with her was because a wife and kids were part of the required packaging if you wanted to sell yourself to others as a man of God and as an upstanding citizen. He couldn’t preach about relationships and family if he didn’t have his own.”

  “Poppy …” I breathed out her name not sure if I was urging her to stop or to keep going. My mom left me but ultimately that abandonment saved me from a life of being dragged from flophouse to flophouse as she chased after her next fix. I always felt like I was missing out not having a real family consisting of both a mom and a dad, but Poppy’s revelations were making me feel like maybe I had lucked out by getting left behind. Things had never been great, but they hadn’t ever been as bad as she was describing. Who wanted four walls to call your own when you were trapped inside them with a nightmare that never ended? Unending days of belittling and breaking down sounded unbearable.

  “When I came home from college, he told me over and over that I was a disgrace. He didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was disgusted by the mere sight of me. Salem was long gone by then and my mom was so emotionally stripped and physically worn down that I was his only available target. I spent so much of my life trying to earn his love, killing myself for his approval, that I let him convince me I was nothing. I believed him when he told me I couldn’t be trusted to make decisions for myself. I’d made a mess of things the first time I struck out on my own and there were no second chances.”

  I wanted to ask what went wrong when she left for college but I didn’t get a chance to put a word in edgewise. She placed her hands flat on the counter and leaned toward me a little, her long hair slithering over her shoulders and down around her face. If I pressed forward I could get my hands in it and stop her from hiding, but something told me she needed that layer of protection between us as she continued giving me words that wounded.

  “My father is the one that brought Oliver around.” When she said his name her entire body convulsed. “He was a deacon in Dad’s church and had all the things my father thought would make an acceptable son-in-law.” She frowned, her eyebrows snapping sharply above her nose. “Meaning he was a carbon copy of my dad: controlling, abusive, angry. He hid it well up until he had a ring on my finger, but not even an hour after our vows, he let his true colors shine through.”

  “Why didn’t someone help you? Where was your sister? Your mom?” The words came out far angrier than I intended them to but I was furious she’d had to face all of that on her own.

  She gave another one of those high-pitched, hysterical laughs and shook her head slowly from side to side. “Salem didn’t know until after the fact. She would have stopped it. She would have driven to Texas from wherever she was and kidnapped me to keep me from making such a big mistake, and my mom …” Again her head rocked back and forth. “She wouldn’t ever cross my father. If he hadn’t spent a lifetime ruining her maybe she would have tried to keep me from making the same mistake she did, but there was nothing left in her. I found that out the hard way when I told her that Oliver was hitting me and she told me to try harder to make him happy.”

  “The fuck!” My hands tightened into fists and I couldn’t stop myself from rounding the counter and walking right up to her. We were so close that I could feel the way she was vibrating and I knew she could feel the heat of my anger coming off my skin. “That’s not okay, Poppy.”

  She turned her head to look at me and I instinctively reached out a hand to stop her from moving away from me when she took a step back. I stopped myself before my hand landed on her arm and her eyes locked on my palm hovering awkwardly in the air. She faced me, and reached up and grabbed my dangling appendage and carefully laced her fingers through mine. I was stunned at the undeniable strength I could feel running through the thin and delicate digits.

  “It wasn’t right, which is why, when Salem got the whole story, she stepped in. She put herself between me and everyone that has ever hurt me. She went to Texas and blackmailed my father in order to keep him away. She doesn’t know that I know, but I overheard Sayer telling Zeb the story one night. She protected me and fought for me when I could barely stand being around her. She forced her way in after I did my best to shut her out because I was so ashamed that I’d ended up just like our mom.” Her voice dropped and she squeezed my fingers. “She did all of that because she loves me and she wants to defend me when I can’t defend myself. That’s how she made Denver home for me.”

  We stared at each other for a moment that seemed to stretch on infinitely. She held my hand but it felt more like she had those shaking fingers curled around my heart.

  “Poppy.” I whispered her name and she tilted her head back and blinked up at me.

  “
Wheeler.” I was astounded that there was a hint of amusement in her voice. How she could find anything to laugh about after what she just told me was unfathomable. Her father had handed her off to a monster like it was nothing. She made her way out of hell with one of the purest hearts I had ever seen.

  “I really want to give you a hug, probably more for me than for you, but I told you not to let anyone touch you without permission.” I knew I sounded a little desperate but I didn’t care. “So, can you put me out of my misery and give me permission to hold you, just for a second, please?”

  Her eyes widened and then her obscenely long lashes dropped as she nodded timidly. “Okay, since you asked so nicely.” The humor was now thick around every word and she was laughing for real as I carefully wrapped my arms around her.

  I sighed into the top of her head as I pulled her to my chest. Her hair smelled like flowers and felt like silk as I rested my cheek against the soft strands. We stood like that for a long time, me with my arms curled around her as she stood stock-still. I could feel her heart beat and I wanted to think it was racing like it was because she was affected by my touch rather than because she was terrified of being so close to a man she didn’t know all that well.