Just the sound of his name was like a knife through my chest. “No. I ended things with him.”
“Can I ask why?” He sat on the edge of my bed.
“I got punched in the eye because of a fight he started.”
Dad took the Kindle from my hands and set it down on my nightstand. “I always thought your mom would be around to have these talks with you.” He chuckled. “You’re eighteen, and you’re dating. I don’t know where the time went.”
“I often wonder what Mom would say if she were here. I didn’t get the chance to know her well enough.”
“Well, I knew her. You can ask me a question, and I can try to tell you what I think she would’ve said.”
I smiled. “I like that idea.”
He stuck out his chest and lifted his chin. “Go ahead. Try me.”
The way I’d been treating Dad since we’d left Florida was wearing on me. I didn’t know if it was due to my recently damaged defenses, or if I was feeling the upcoming holiday spirit, but I felt weakened under the weight of my emotions. My fading resolve had me missing the way things used to be between us.
“Tanner has a huge heart. He’s funny, and caring. He’s handsome.”
“Those are all very good qualities.”
“He has anger issues, though. I get where it all comes from. His dad is really sick. He’s dying, actually.”
“Oh, no. What from?”
“Cancer.”
“Ah …”
“But his anger makes him do crazy things. It’s like he’s a different person. I’m worried that he could really hurt somebody someday.”
“Do you ever feel like he could hurt you?”
I shook my head. “No. It was never directed at me. Then again, we haven’t fought. I’ve only known him for a short time. I don’t really know what he’s capable of, and that scares me.”
“Well, as your father, I will say that his anger worries me, too. Your mother, on the other hand, would tell you to ask your heart what it’s feeling.”
“All my heart tells me is what I feel for him. Not very helpful.”
“Your mom was a firm believer in following your heart. She would say that your head only makes you worry about things, and it could create an entire problem out of nothing. She always said your head is not to be trusted.”
“She sounds so brave.”
“She was.” Dad’s eyes gleamed. “She was brave right until the very end.”
“I wish I could be more like her.”
“You’re more like her than you realize. You just have to trust your heart.”
“It’s not that easy, Dad. You have to listen to your brain. Your brain is what keeps you safe.”
“Then I guess you need to decide if you want to play it safe, or if you can try to be brave. Safe will keep you protected, for the most part. Safe will give you a fine life. Brave, on the other hand, could give you opportunities and experiences that you would never have known if you didn’t take the chance. Your mother believed that life was about taking chances.”
“I am careful. I am safe. I don’t know how to be any other way.”
“I imagine Tanner feels the same way.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s angry and hurting. He doesn’t know what to do with it, and he doesn’t know how to be any different. You came along and changed his whole world. He needs more time to adjust.” Dad looked down at his hands. “People are going to make mistakes, Charlotte. It’s how we learn, and grow, and change.
“I know you hate feeling pain; you were so young when you lost your mother. But you can’t shut pain out. You can’t shut people out. Sometimes, you have to be brave and give someone another chance to prove that he won’t do it again.”
I knew he was talking about more than just Tanner. I leaned over and wrapped my arms around him. Tears stung my eyes, and I hugged him tighter.
“I’m sorry for ruining things between us,” Dad said, his tears wetting my shoulder. “I don’t want you to hate me forever.”
“I’m sorry, too,” I choked out. “I don’t hate you. I just want things to be like they used to.”
He held me out in front of him. “Then give me that chance. We’re all we have. Just you and me. I don’t want to lose you. I know I made a horrible mistake, but I need you to forgive me.”
We often look at our parents like superheroes. We think they can do no wrong. They raise us, protect us, and care for us. Then, we get to a certain age and realize our parents are only humans. They make mistakes, just like we do. They don’t know what they’re doing any more than we do. This realization is like a slap in the face. Another betrayal. First, there’s no Santa. Now, you’re telling me that my parents make mistakes?
What we need to practice isn’t how to be perfect. We’re all trying to figure out our lives, and we’re all going to make mistakes. What we need to practice more of is forgiveness.
Looking into my father’s eyes, I knew it was the right thing to do. My father was the only man I had ever loved, and he was the only family I had. Even though he’d betrayed my trust, he was still my father. I couldn’t control what happened to my mother, but I could control where my relationship with my father went.
And sometimes, when a girl gets her heart broken, the only thing she needs is her dad.
* * *
“This is going to be so much fun!”
I swallowed hard as I looked at the gym from inside my car.
Mallory’s shoulders slumped. “Why do you look like you’re going to puke? You’re the one who wanted to do this.”
I fixed my face and shot her a look. “I’m fine.”
I’d seen a flyer at school for a self-defense class at the nearby gym. As a teenager, I’d always wanted to go to one. It would be fun to learn how to kick someone’s ass, Carla and I would say. I didn’t think I would ever need to defend myself in order to stay alive.
Now, I did.
So I asked Mallory to join me, knowing she would be on board, no questions asked.
When we stepped through the gym doors, we were hit with a musty smell. So many things were going on at once in different areas of the open space, I stopped to take it all in. From young co-eds to gray-haired men, all walks of life threw punch after punch at long, black punching bags hanging from the ceiling. Some flipped giant-sized tires, while others slapped ropes against the floor. Everyone glistened with sweat. Everyone looked like they knew what they were doing.
As intimidating as it was, I felt a bubbling in my gut. Gun, check. Ass-kicking skills, here we go.
“Hello, ladies. Welcome to my gym.”
I snapped my head toward the deep voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mallory’s mouth fall open. I think I even heard a gasp escape her lips. Before us stood a tall, muscular man covered in tattoos. Arms, legs, ribcage. Even his knuckles and neck were tattooed. The only place that wasn’t inked was his face. Chiseled jaw, ice-blue eyes, and dimples that framed his Colgate commercial smile. His cut-off tank- top revealed his incredible physique. I’d heard of a six-pack before, but this man’s stomach had muscles I didn’t even know existed. He was an odd mixture of beauty and badassery.
He held his hand out. “I’m the owner. My name is TJ.”
I slipped my hand inside his, bracing for a hard squeeze. “I’m Charlotte. This is Mallory.”
TJ shook my hand gently and turned to do the same to Mallory. She shook his hand like a robot, still speechless. “Nice to meet you both. What are you ladies here for?”
“I saw a flyer about a self-defense class.”
TJ nodded. “You’re right on time. Follow me.”
Mallory grasped my arm as we followed behind him. “Please tell me he’s the instructor.”
I stifled a giggle. “I can’t believe someone was able to render you speechless.”
“I feel as if I’ve seen a unicorn. A big, sexy, muscular, tattooed unicorn. Who looks like that? Seriously. His six-pack has a six-pack! I bet his dick has a
six-pack, too!”
The laugh I’d been suppressing burst from my throat.
TJ turned around with a curious smile. “What’s so funny?”
Mallory’s nails dug into my forearm. “Nothing, sir. Sorry.”
“Sir? I like the sound of that.” He winked and gestured to the three women standing in the mirrored corner of the gym. “Are you ready to begin?”
They nodded eagerly, looking just as awed by him as Mallory and I probably looked. The two younger women looked like sisters in their early twenties. The older woman looked to be their mother. Unlike the other gym members, they didn’t have exceptional muscles nor did they look tough or menacing. They looked like regular women, just like me and Mallory.
“You can leave your coats and purses on the bench in the corner,” he instructed. “Spread out, and we’ll get started.”
For the next hour, TJ led us through a series of maneuvers. He took turns working with each of us, explicitly explaining what he was going to do before he did it. The moves started out simple. How to jab someone in the throat. How to break free from someone’s grip on your arm. How to use your attacker’s weight to your advantage. Everything led to the final maneuver, when we were taught how to flip an attacker over our shoulders and slam him onto the ground. That move was my favorite.
At what I thought was the end of the session, TJ instructed us to sit in a circle with him. We wiped our sweat with the free towels he’d provided and gulped from our water bottles while we caught our breaths.
“I always start my class with the physical moves. That’s what everyone expects out of a self-defense class. We all have fun slamming people onto the ground, don’t we?”
We nodded in agreement.
“But I am going to teach you something that will help you more than any of the exercises we just did. Defense is only half of the lesson. You need to learn how to play offense, too.” His eyes narrowed, and he pointed his index finger around our circle. “Each one of you has inner strength. You might not know it. You might not believe me right now. But it’s there. You need to remember this always. Your attacker is going to be strong. He, or she, is going to have confidence. Predators see victims as weak. They believe they can take advantage of you. Don’t let anyone think they can take advantage of you. Don’t give them a reason to think you are weak.”
Instantly, the image of my father and I tied to the oven in our Florida bakery flashed through my mind. As if I was looking in on myself from the outside, I saw a scared, vulnerable girl.
“What are you thinking about right now?” TJ was looking directly at me.
“Huh? I, uh … nothing. I was just listening.”
TJ gave me a knowing smile. “Were you ever in a situation where you felt weak?”
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat as I nodded. “Yes. Once.”
“Will that situation ever happen again, after today?”
“I hope not.”
“Hope isn’t enough, Charlotte. You need to believe that it won’t happen because you won’t let it happen. You need to believe in yourself. Do you understand?”
Again, I nodded. But how?
TJ pointed to the mother of the two girls sitting beside Mallory. “Jessica, would you like to share your story with our new classmates?”
“Of course.” Jessica turned to face us. “Ten years ago, I worked in Manhattan. I had to take the subway to and from my job five days a week. I was a secretary for a law firm. I always dressed professionally. Heels, skirts, blouses. Anyway, some nights I stayed late and had to take the subway during the less-crowded hours.” She laughed once. “Sounds nice, right? Most people would love an empty subway car to themselves.”
My stomach twisted as I anticipated where this story was headed.
“One night on my ride home, I was listening to music on my phone with my earbuds in. People got off at their usual stops, leaving me and a man who I thought was asleep a few seats down. When we started moving again, the man stood and lunged at me, grabbing my arm and pulling me onto the floor in the aisle. I thought he wanted my purse, so I tried to give it to him. It was when he tossed my purse aside that I realized what was about to happen.”
Jessica’s daughters took each of her hands as she told us the rest of her horrific story. Tears streamed down my face. Mallory’s, too.
“I kept it from my family. I felt embarrassed. Dirty. Used. Pathetic. I quit my job and told my husband that I’d been let go from the firm. I never wanted to step foot on that subway again.” Then, something in Jessica’s somber expression changed, as her chest swelled and her chin tilted upward. “Last year, I met TJ. I’ve been training with him for ten months.”
“And now?” TJ asked.
“Now, I’m in law school. I’m going to be a lawyer.”
“And she takes the subway,” Jessica’s daughter added.
“I never want my daughters to experience anything close to what happened to me. I allowed myself to be a victim for a long time.” She shook her head. “Not anymore. I’m a survivor.”
“Victim versus survivor. Do you understand the difference between the two?” TJ asked, looking around our circle. “A victim is the result of a situation. The result. The end. Your story doesn’t have to end after something heinous happens to you.
“A survivor is someone who remains. Someone who copes with the aftermath and rises above it.” TJ looked at me, a soft yet determined expression on his face. “Are you going to be the victim for the rest of your life, Charlotte?”
Acid boiled in my stomach. The burning crept up my body, spreading out into my arms, and simmered in my throat. “No.”
TJ slowly broke out into a Cheshire grin. “And why is that?”
“Because I am a survivor.”
Twelve
Tanner
“Moana! Moana! Moana!”
“Can’t we watch something else? You’ve seen this movie a hundred times.” I stood and cleared plates from the dining room table.
“Why don’t you put Frozen on?” Mom asked on her way into the kitchen.
“Let it go! Let it go!” Khloe sang as she twirled.
I covered my ears. “Forget what I said. I’ll watch Moana.”
Khloe giggled. “Yay! Moana!”
“You are a tiny tyrant, you know that?”
“But she’s my tiny tyrant,” Dad said, standing from his chair at the head of the table. He held his hand out for Khloe to take. “Lead me to the living room, Kokomo.”
“Daddy, what does tyrant mean?”
I watched with a smile as they made their way into the living room. I stacked as many plates as I could, and was about to bring them into the kitchen when I saw something out of the corner of my eye.
Dad collapsed onto the floor.
“Daddy, get up. Daddy! Are you okay?” Khloe shouted.
I slammed the plates down on the table. I ran into the living room and scooped my father into my arms.
“What’s going on?” Mom asked. Her hands flew to her mouth when she saw her unconscious husband in my arms. “What happened?”
Tears streamed down Khloe’s face as she wrapped her arms around my mother’s leg. “Daddy fell! I didn’t do anything. I promise! He just fell!”
I shifted Dad’s weight in my arms and snatched my car keys off the table near the front door. “Take your car and meet me at the hospital. I don’t want Khloe with me while I drive. I’ll call Chase on the way.”
Mom just stood there, nodding and blinking.
I carried my lifeless father out the door. I wasn’t waiting for an ambulance. I’d get there faster. I clipped my father into the passenger seat, and his head fell forward. I reclined the seat and positioned his head more comfortably. I couldn’t bring myself to check for a pulse. He had to be alive. This can’t be it.
I called Chase’s phone when I was on my way, but it kept going to voicemail. I made one last attempt before I arrived at the hospital.
“Hello?” he answered, huffing.
/> “Meet me at the hospital.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m on the way to the hospital with Dad.”
“What do you mean? You’re heading there now?”
“Yes! Get your head out of your ass and listen to what the fuck I’m saying!”
“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”
I dropped my phone into my lap and glanced over at my father in the passenger seat. “Please hold on, Dad. Hold on. We’re almost there.”
Several minutes later, I screeched to a halt in front of the emergency room entrance. I lifted my father out of the car and carried him into the waiting room as fast as I could. Two people wearing scrubs came running out from behind the double doors.
“What happened?” the woman asked, while the man signaled for a gurney.
“He just collapsed. He has cancer.” I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know what the fuck was happening.
A third person pushed the gurney toward us, and I carefully placed my father onto it. They rolled him away from me, shouting things to each other. I didn’t understand any of it.
“Sir, you have to wait here,” the man ordered.
“The fuck I am! That’s my father.”
The man remained calm while the others wheeled my father farther away. “If you want us to help him, you need to stay here.”
I was tempted to knock him out and chase after the gurney. Don’t do anything stupid. He’s going to help Dad. I remained where I stood, watching the doors close slowly behind them.
“Sir,” the receptionist called. “You can have a seat and start filling out paperwork, if you want. It’ll help take your mind off things for a bit while you wait.”
I stared at her blankly, and turned my head back to the double doors. Mom would be here soon. She would be able to fill out the paperwork. I needed to stand right here and wait for Dad.
Charlotte
I rubbed my eyes as I turned over in bed. The alarm clock on my nightstand read 3:00 a.m. I reached over for my phone, irritated that it was going off in the middle of the night. Fumbling to find the right button, I declined the call and set it back down. Why do wrong numbers always seem to call when you’re sleeping?
The Other Brother (The Collision Series) Page 11