Charles walks past my station looking tired, dark circles under his eyes. “Can I speak with you in my office please?” He gestures his head toward the back.
“Sure,” Tossing a paper towel in the trash, I follow him.
He closes the door behind him, then walks around the desk, pulling out his chair and sinking into it.
Charles points to the chair in front. “Have a seat.”
Falling into the chair, I lean back, relaxing.
His expressive face changes, becoming almost somber. “I owe you an apology. I sent you into the lion’s den last night.”
I lift a dark eyebrow. “Yes, you did. She was not pleased to see me.”
He draws his lips in thoughtfully. “I know how Jules is; I shouldn’t have sent you there. Especially knowing how important this is to her.”
“Jules?” Hearing her name has my pulse thumping.
Charles runs a hand down his face. “Damn it.” He shakes his head. “Yes, her name is Juliette, only a few people call her by her birth name. She prefers Mills, especially in the workplace. She doesn’t want the guys to think she is a princess of some sort with such an elegant name.”
Her name is Jules. What the hell. How have I been intimate with this chick and not know her first name? How ignorant have I been not to inquire? When she told me her name was Mills, I never pushed the issue. Did I think it was odd she preferred to be addressed by her last name? Maybe. I just assumed she had a name she hated, like Harriett or Mildred.
Charles runs his hands over his face. “Do me a favor. Do not tell my daughter I let her name slip. There is only so much apologizing I can do in one day.”
I acknowledge his request with a nod. Leaning forward, I place my elbows on my knees. “She was pissed off when she noticed me standing in the shop. I was more pissed off she was there alone.”
“She’s been doing it for a few months. I know the name of the clients for security measures. She forwards me a list each month with their contact information.”
“That’s good to know.”
He rubs both hands over his face, then over his shaved head. “She came over to the house this morning and chewed me a new asshole. My daughter is a ball of fire when she is pissed.”
“Don’t I know it. She tried turning her wrath on me last night.”
“How did you fare?” His eyes widen with concern.
“Not well at first, but once she settled down, eventually she conceded to allowing me to help her.”
Charles leans back in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin. “Did she now?”
“She did.” I nod my head.
“She neglected to tell me.” Pleased with himself, Charles’ face softens with a gentle smile.
“Can I ask you something, and you’ll be honest?”
“Always. Don’t ever expect anything less,” he replies curtly.
“Was that the real reason why you sent me to the shop? Knowing I would find her?” I’m curious now.
“I can’t get anything by you, now can I?” He smiles knowingly. “Sometimes my daughter needs a little push. The backlash isn’t always as I anticipate, but in the end, the results are all the same.”
“Why didn’t she want anyone to know?”
“That, my boy, is for her to explain to you.”
Why would she be embarrassed about what she’s doing? Why not have as many people as possible in the shop helping? The more artists who volunteered their time, the more clients they could offer their services to.
After finishing up with my last client, I head home, physically and emotionally exhausted.
Once settled in my apartment, I start my internet search. I make a few calls, narrowing down who I plan to hire. Providing what information I know, I can only sit back and wait for the results the private investigator can find.
Results I’m praying are in my favor.
Results that may change everything.
Chapter Twenty
Juliette
I wake up in Lee’s arms, the warmth of his body behind me. He holds me tightly against his chest. I’m enveloped in his scent as it clings to his sheets.
Lee begins to stir behind me, running his finger up and down my arm. Goosebumps blanket my naked body.
The past few weeks have been perfect. When we’re not working, we’re spending time together.
Yesterday he worked me with at Novocain. Every once in a while, I’d catch his eyes on me in between customers. He always looked as if he was lost in thought. We worked side by side, giving our clients their new cloak of armor to face the world. Each one left the shop with their heads held high and smiles on their faces.
“I have an appointment this morning. I need to get showered.”
“Can you push it back?” His voice is raspy, filled with sleep. “Stay in bed with me.” He nuzzles against my neck.
Turning over to face him, I cup his cheek in my hand. “I wish I could, but I can’t.” Leaning in, my lips brush against his. “I’ll see you tonight.”
With that, I push off his chest, rolling over to the side of my bed, and sling my legs over the mattress. My feet hit the cold floor, and a chill runs up my spine. I grab a bathrobe off the chair near my bed, slipping my arms in and securing the tie around my waist.
“When did you get the tattoo on your inner arm?” Lee asks. His eyes focus on my arm and grow serious.
His question stops me in my tracks. Biting my lip, I look away. “It was my first.” My voice drifts into a hushed whisper, and I swallow the knot forming in my throat. “I got it on my sixteenth birthday.”
Where is he going with this? Why is he interested in this specific tattoo? Questions race through my mind. Squeezing my eyes shut, I push down the panic beginning to riot within me.
Lee stands up, curling his fists as he stretches and yawns. He walks over toward me, his naked torso exposing his defined abs. He lifts his hand, running his finger over the cursive writing, reading it aloud. “When it rains, look for rainbows.”
“Charles took me to the shop where he worked. He did it himself. It was then I fell in love with the art of tattooing.”
His eyes watch me closely, studying me with curious intensity. “Where did you get the phrase from?”
My shoulders sag when I think of my childhood friend. “Someone who meant the world to me used to say it to me when I was a child.”
As soon as it was out of my mouth, I felt like I’d said too much. Is it easier to leave my walls up? As time passes and we spend more time with each other, I’m finding him difficult to resist. I’m tired of fighting the feelings I have for Lee. I decide to throw caution to the wind and share a small part of my past with him.
When I speak, my voice wavers. “I’ve always loved to draw. I remember my best friend giving me my first sketch pad and markers for my seventh birthday. From that moment on, I would lose myself in my drawings. I have hundreds of pads scattered between my parents’ and my place.”
Lee’s luminous eyes widen in astonishment, and his lips press tightly together.
I shrug. I don’t know exactly what to say or how to say it without revealing too much. My pulse quickens as I say the last part. “Drawing was always a way for me to escape.”
Lee tips my chin to look at him. His usually vibrant blue eyes are now gentle and contemplative. “Escape from what?” he asks calmly.
My lids slip down over my eyes. Swallowing hard, I bite back tears. “Tattoos and piercings became another way for me to escape.”
“Mills…” His soft gaze holds mine, hands framing my face. “Escape from what?” Lee questions softly.
His question breaks my heart into a thousand pieces. After years of trying to heal, one question has me spiraling. Past visions of me hurting myself flood my mind; a flash of grief rips through me.
A sigh escapes my lips. “The pain. The numbness,” I whisper breathlessly.
Lee takes my hands in his. “What’s your story? I know you have one.” His tone has a degree of
warmth and concern.
My shoulders drop with a sigh. My palms become damp, and I rub them against my bathrobe as my stomach clenches, thinking back to what I’ve overcome. “If I told you my story, you would hear about heartbreak. You would hear about people I once loved who were ripped away from me. How I was dealt a pretty shitty hand in life, one I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. For a period, I gave up on life and did some not so smart things.”
“Like what?” he asks, leaning down, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“I don’t share my past. Just know I have been to hell and back. If it wasn’t for Charles and Maureen becoming my parents by adopting me and loving me unconditionally, I don’t know if I would have survived.”
His eyes widen when I mention being adopted. Lee’s face darkens with an unreadable emotion. “I need to know more about your past, Mills.”
Panic riots within me. I haven’t talked about my past in years. Not with anyone, especially not someone I’m sleeping with. Who am I kidding, this thing between Lee and I is more than sleeping together. I’m falling for him.
Fuck, I already fell.
Hard.
I’m in love with him.
I nod, unable to speak past the sudden lump in my throat. I need space. I can’t breathe. Taking a minute to catch my breath, I bend over, putting my hands on my knees.
“Let me in. Please talk to me.”
Taking a deep breath, I try to relax. “I don’t talk about it. What I told you is more than I’ve told anyone. Please drop it. Please.”
I turn to walk away, and Lee grabs my wrist. His finger rubs against it. His eyes widen and his nostrils flare.
This can’t be happening. As soon as I see his facial expression change, I know he’s going to inquire about my scars.
“Do you want to tell me about these?” he spits through gritted teeth. Frustration and fury cover his face.
Biles rises in my throat. Blood begins to pound in my temples. I swallow hard, trying not to reveal my humiliation, but I’m sure the crimson color heating my face shows otherwise.
Snatching my arm from his iron grasp, I scream. “What don’t you understand?” I scowl at him, his eyes blazing with fire.
“Everything,” he hollers sharply. “You don’t tell me shit. You keep everything inside,” his curt voice lashes at me.
Lee extends his arm, and that’s when I see the writing on his inner arm. “When it’s dark, look for stars.”
My eyes widen as my hand flies to cover my mouth, and a sob escapes me. My eyes warm with tears. I don’t believe it. It’s him.
He comes close, studying me. His cobalt blue eyes rest on me. “Shall I call you Juliette or Jules? Because I refuse to refer to you as Mills.”
I step back, suddenly feeling weak and vulnerable.
“Brennan?” My eyebrows pull together in question.
He nods his head. “Yes, it’s me.”
Without thinking, I move forward, slamming my fists hard against his chest. “You told me your name was Lee,” I sneer, still hitting him.
“You lying motherfucker! This can’t be happening. No fucking way!”
A pained look mars his face. “I stopped letting people call me Brennan when you left.” His voice dies away. He looks at me intently. “I couldn’t bear the sound of it, not after hearing you scream my name when they carried you out of my house and put you in the car. Your voice echoed on the silent street for what seemed like hours after you were gone. The sound of it sickened me. It was burned into my memory. I refused to answer to Brennan. My mom finally started calling me by my middle name.”
I take two steps back, putting much-needed space between us. “Brennan Lee Hart. How have I been this stupid?” I turn away and begin to pace the floor.
“Lee Hart. How didn’t I put the pieces together?”
This explains why I’ve always been drawn to him. Why he is the only man I’ve allowed to get close to me. My heart has always belonged to Brennan. Even though I was a five-year-old child when I met him, he always made me feel loved. From the moment I laid eyes on him, his boyish grin owned me.
Brennan always knew what I needed without me having to put it into words. He knew how to love me even when he was just a child himself.
The feeling of betrayal washes over me. “I believed every lie you sold to me.”
“I never lied to you. I swear.” His jaw tightens with anger. He reaches out to clutch my hand, but I withdraw it quickly and turn away.
My hands form fists at my sides before I point my finger at him. “When did you figure out my identity?”
He shakes his head; his aqua eyes refuse to meet mine.
My eyes widen. “Have you known all along? Have you been sleeping with me, knowing we had a past?” With each question I shoot at him, my voice rises, anger radiating from my body.
He raises his eyes to find me watching him. “NO! NO! I didn’t KNOW until right now.”
His eyes bounce around, taking me in as if seeing me for the first time. “Maybe my heart did.” His voice softens.
My hands squeeze tight into fists of angst as curses fall from my mouth, along with the tears that fall down my cheeks. Brennan is standing before me. My Brennan.
“The moment my eyes landed on you in Murphy’s, I felt something inside. Something shook me to the core. I was drawn to you.” His blue eyes are more shadowed than normal.
His breaths become ragged. His hands pull on his hair, then over his face. “I can’t explain it. Maybe it was your uniquely colored eyes. They’ve always spoken to me, even when you wouldn’t. It was those gray eyes that haunted me for years.”
Lee’s eyes blaze into mine with a mixture of compassion and sorrow.
“I noticed the tattoo on your arm the first time we slept together. But I was caught up in the rest of your body and how you made me feel. I didn’t stop and process the words. When I saw it just now, it finally clicked. The memory of me drawing it on your arm flooded my mind.”
My hands lift to my hair, and I pull roughly on it. Rage builds like a fire in the pit of my stomach. “This can’t be happening,” I repeat over and over as I pace the floor, my stomach turning with each step.
“You never allowed me in, Jules.” His voice rises. “Maybe if you would have been open with me when we started seeing each other exclusively, I would have realized it sooner. You kept your past a secret; you never wanted to talk about it. I never pushed you, either.”
A suffocating sensation tightens my throat. The look in his eyes breaks my heart. I’ve wondered for years what became of him. Where did he live? Was he married? Did he have children? I should be ecstatic to have Brennan back in my life, but instead, I’m angry. My hands clench reflectively at my side.
“I never pushed, Mills, I didn’t think I had a right to. The Jules I knew would keep everything buried until I pushed, and she would break.”
My mood veers sharply to anger. “You think what those people did to me broke me?” I question him. “No!” I scream, and curses fall from my mouth. “When they took me away, that’s what broke me!” I shove my fist into his chest.
My eyes fill with tears of frustration. “You broke your promise. You told me you would never tell anyone. If you had just kept your mouth shut, they never would have taken me away. You broke me, Brennan! Not them! You did!” I shout.
Anger settles in my stomach as my fists pound against his chest continuously. He stands there, letting me take my anger out on him.
Brennan’s forehead creases with worry, and his expression slides into a frown. “What was I supposed to do?” He runs his hand through his dark hair. “I was twelve-years-old. I watched my best friend get beat on a regular basis. Each time, the beatings got worse. He burned you, for fuck’s sake. I couldn’t keep your secret any longer. I did what I had to in order to protect you. To get you away from those people.”
Swiping another lonely tear, I shiver with anger as well as grief. “I was all alone. I hated you for breaking your promise. I
resorted to other measures to feel.”
More tears. How is this possible? I haven’t cried in years. Not since I woke in the hospital with bandages on my wrist. The heart within my chest that has been a block of ice for years starts to thaw.
He sucks in a haggard breath. His eyes look as broken as I feel. “Jules.” His eyebrows knit together, and sadness fills his expression.
My heart thumps against my chest. It thumps with rage and defiance, all wrapped in one.
“Talk to me. Please,” he pleads.
Hot tears roll down my cheeks. I try to swallow but wince at the painful sandpaper burn in my throat. “Do you want to hear the ugly truth about my scars? Do you want to know how I cut myself for the first time when I was twelve? Do you want to hear how I almost died when I was sixteen?” I say in a harsh voice, one I barely recognize.
He grits his teeth so hard I see his jaw clench. His eyes never leave mine but darken to a sapphire hue.
“My scars are a memorial of what I have overcome. They are a reminder of what I’ve been through.” I tear myself away with a choking cry.
I know my words are hurting him. Our lives were bound together for five years. We could complete each other’s thoughts, our sentences. It was always Brennan and Juliette. We were inseparable. He was there for me through what I thought were the hardest years of my life. But what I did to myself after—those years were the roughest.
“Cutting created a craving, one I couldn’t resist. I welcomed the pain. It was a pain I could control. It was the only time I felt something, when I wasn’t numb. On my sixteenth birthday, I promised Charles I wouldn’t cut anymore.”
I lift my arm, pointing at his words etched permanently on my arm. “This is what I got. It was the last time I cut myself. I welcomed the pain of the needles from the tattoo. From that point on, when I got the urge to cut, I either got another tattoo or a new piercing. I found other ways to cope.”
Lee’s—Brennan’s—expression is like someone who has been struck in the face. He stands there, staring at me.
He shudders. His hands reach into his hair, and he tugs at it harshly, the same way he did when he was frustrated or angry all those years ago, his fingers twisting and pulling the strands. Brennan drops his head fully into his hands. When he looks back up, tears fill his once bright blue eyes.
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