Atonement: An Interracial Romance (Possession Duet Book 2)

by T. K. Leigh

  At some point, I find myself in a section of town I’m not all too familiar with, but one I keep passing. Convinced I’m lost, I pull to the side of the road and grab my phone to check the GPS. Just as I’m about to punch in my home address to get my bearings, I stop myself, peering at the steepled, brick building just up the block. It’s not the fact it’s a church that catches me off guard. It’s what church.

  Elevate Life Church.

  My mother’s church growing up.

  Maybe there’s a reason I ended up here. Maybe my mother had a hand in steering me here during my moment of crisis. Maybe she knew I needed direction. Forgiveness. Clarity.

  I navigate my car into the church parking lot and kill the ignition. The instant I step out into the crisp air, beautiful music surrounds me. The parking lot is mostly vacant, apart from a handful of cars, which leads me to believe it’s simply a choir rehearsal, not a Saturday evening service.

  A force pulling me forward, my legs are on autopilot as they carry me up the short flight of stairs and toward the large, white doors. I half expect them to be locked. But as I tug and it opens, I smile, remembering my father’s words that God’s house is never locked. Even after the shooting that took my mother’s life, he refused to lock his church, despite the fact it could have prevented the loss of life on that fateful night.

  I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he still refuses to lock the doors.

  My steps light, I walk through the modest lobby. It’s a stark contrast to the over-the-top, extravagant look of Sawyer’s church, everything showy and flashy, a disgusting display of money. Apparently, Sawyer must have been sleeping the day we learned about greed or avarice being one of the seven deadly sins.

  Just before I enter the sanctuary, I pause, my eyes falling on a series of portraits of previous pastors. I stop at one of the man who served as pastor in the seventies when my mother was a little girl. I can almost picture my grandparents walking with her, dressed in her Sunday best, white gloves on her hands and a respectable hat pinned to her curls. I don’t remember much about my mother, but the image of her in my mind right now is incredibly clear.

  I slowly make my way into the main church, the music growing louder. Doing my best to remain as quiet as possible so as to not disturb the rehearsal, I slip into one of the pews and inhale a deep breath, a feeling I can’t quite explain washing over me.

  Something drew me to this particular place tonight when I could have ended up anywhere in the Atlanta area. As I listen to one of my mother’s favorite hymns, I know in my heart there was a reason a force bigger than myself intervened and pulled me to this building.

  I’ve avoided God and religion for years now, everything Sawyer and my father did leaving a bad taste in my mouth. But maybe this is what I need. After all, my father often told me that religion and God are different things to different people. That God is whatever that person needs Her to be at that time in their life. And right now, what I need is some higher power where I can put all my troubles. Where I can let go. Where I can breathe again.

  Where I won’t be judged for my mistakes.

  I tilt my head back, closing my eyes, allowing the mercy and forgiveness inside these four walls to feed my soul with positive energy and hope. Lately, I’ve run low on faith. Hell, since Nick’s attack, my faith in anything, in anyone, has been questionable, at best. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I need to find my faith again. To feel some sort of grace again. To feel human again.

  “Reminds you of her, doesn’t it?” a deep baritone cuts through my moment of self-introspection.

  I jump, flinging my eyes toward the source, gaping when I see my father sitting beside me. I stare, dumbfounded, unsure how to respond or what to say. There’s so much I should say now that I have the opportunity. For years, I imagined what I’d tell him if we were ever in the same room again. But now that we are, I don’t have it in me. I’m just so tired of fighting.

  “I can’t really remember her that much,” I answer curtly.

  He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, briefly hanging his head. “That’s partly my fault.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “I should have spoken about her more. It just hurt so much, ya know?” His voice wavers with emotion as he draws a deep breath. “And the older you got, the more you looked like her. It only made me miss her even more.”

  I stare forward, not responding. How am I supposed to react to this little trip down memory lane? I’m not sure it’s a trip I want to take with him. Not after everything.

  I’m about to get up to leave, my moment of clarity officially ruined, when his voice stops me.

  “Lollipop…”

  Inhaling sharply, I whip my eyes to his, my throat tightening at the memory of my childhood nickname. He hasn’t called me that in ages. I didn’t think I’d ever hear it again.

  A pained expression crosses his face as he peers at me, his eyes swirling with something that borders on regret. It reminds me of the way he looked at me earlier today. But now it’s even more pronounced.

  “Don’t take Sawyer’s offer,” he whispers.

  I blink several times. Did I hear him correctly? I thought he’d want me to take his offer and return home. He was the one who told me to tell him yes all those years ago. To promise my life to him. To sacrifice my happiness for his. Why would he sing a different song now?

  Then again, as Hazel reminded me, people change. Maybe my father has changed, too. Maybe he’s been living these past several years burdened with regret and remorse.

  “I messed up, Londyn. Well, more than messed up.” When his sad eyes lock with mine, I settle back into my seat. “And I fear you’ll never forgive me for my actions. You probably shouldn’t. I can’t go back and change what I’ve done. That ship has sailed. But I can do everything to ensure you have the happiness you deserve going forward. And you deserve to be happy, Lo. Deserve to be loved. And there is absolutely no question in my mind that Wes loves you. If you ask me, that’s something worth fighting for.”

  He licks his lips, collecting his thoughts. “What I saw today, the love I saw today, doesn’t come around often. Once in a lifetime if you’re lucky. Don’t throw it away.”

  I nod, looking forward once more, unsure how to respond to his unexpected speech. I wish it were as easy as he makes it sound. Wish I could take a risk. But love doesn’t have the power to fix everything.

  “What do you think she would have done if she were in my shoes?” I ask after a beat, not having to clarify who I’m referring to. He knows.

  “Your mother would fight,” he replies without a single hesitation. “It’s who she was.” He chuckles under his breath, a gleam of nostalgia filling his gaze. “From the minute we met, she had this spark. This life. If she wanted something, she’d stop at nothing until she achieved it. You’re a lot like her in that respect.”

  “I’m not a fighter,” I say dejectedly. “For years, I’ve barely been able to keep my head above water.”

  “That’s not true, baby girl. You may think you were barely hanging on, but you used every ounce of courage you had to hold on when the world tried to throw you off. You fought. And I know you’ve got the strength to fight your way through this, too.”

  When he reaches for my hand, I allow him to take it.

  “I can’t tell you what to do. I won’t tell you what to do. Not anymore. If the past several years have taught me anything, it’s that you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself and making your own decisions. But what I will tell you is that I know you are one of the strongest, most courageous, resilient women I’ve ever known. No matter what you choose, know that I am so proud of who you are.”

  He stands, sliding out of the pew. He’s about to turn to walk up the aisle when he pauses.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

  His apology hanging in the air between us, I squeeze my eyes shut. For years, I’d hoped to hear him say those words, thinking it would be a magic pill that would fix everything. That it
would erase the shame, inadequacy, and disgust I lived with.

  “Why didn’t you?” I choke out, glancing back at him.

  “I wish I had a good answer.” He smiles sadly, scrubbing a hand over his weary face as he fully turns toward me. “I don’t. And there’s no excuse that could possibly make what I did right. I still struggle to fully understand it myself. The past few years, I’ve started attending meetings…”

  I cock my head to the side. “Meetings?”

  “For families of sexual assault victims.”

  “Oh.”

  This is more surprising than his admonition I not accept Sawyer’s offer. I grew up in a world where there was a stigma attached to so much as the mention of therapy. Where we were supposed to look to God for guidance. This proves my father truly isn’t the same man he once was.

  “A common theme among those of us who initially didn’t take the complaints seriously is that we didn’t want to admit that something so horrible could happen to someone we cared about.” His voice catches as tears well in the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t want it to be true, Londyn. It was easier to believe Sawyer’s version of events instead of having to admit something so horrible happened to my baby girl.” His voice rises in pitch at the end. “To my lollipop.”

  “I wish we could all be so lucky. I wish I could just turn it off and claim it didn’t happen like you did.”

  “I’m not saying what I did was right. It wasn’t. And this isn’t an excuse. I just…”

  He heaves a sigh as his eyes shift upward. His lips move, as if uttering a prayer. I’d seen him do this several times a day during my younger years whenever he was faced with a problem he wasn’t sure how to solve. He claimed he was having a conversation with my mother, who always seemed to have all the right answers. Maybe she has them here, too.

  Finally, he returns his dark gaze to mine. “It’s no secret that I’d been living in denial for ages. I’d been stuck there since your mother’s death. In a way, it was easier to deny what happened than accept it.”

  “But what about me? Did you not stop to think what your denial did to me?”

  He erases the space between us, lowering himself back to the pew as he clutches my hands in his. “Every day of my life. Not a single hour has gone by that I haven’t thought of it. Haven’t regretted it. I’ve never been a good father to you. I realize that now. And I must live with what I’ve done for the rest of my life. But you don’t have to pay the price for my mistakes.

  “When Sawyer came to me all those years ago with his proposition, I should have told him no. You deserved the same kind of love your mother and I shared. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought by encouraging you to accept his proposal, knowing you didn’t have feelings for him, that I was protecting you from suffering the heartache I did when I lost your mother.”

  He hangs his head. “In reality, I should have protected you from him. He had me fooled. Had all of us fooled. I didn’t realize that until today when I saw the way Wes looked at you. That’s what you deserve, lollipop. I’ve already taken so much from you. Sawyer’s already taken so much from you. Don’t let him take even more.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Weston

  I stare at my tablet, stylus in hand, reviewing the notes I’ve made about a new business plan that could keep our earnings what they were before the great exodus, as I’ve started calling all the firm’s clients who have taken their business elsewhere over the past several days.

  But as has been the case all week, my focus is somewhere else. This time, it’s not just on Londyn, but also Julia. I’d attempted to reach out earlier to apologize for the way I ambushed her last night. As expected, she refused my call, sending it to voicemail after a single ring. All I can do is the same thing I’ve done with Londyn… Let her know I’m here for her whenever she’s ready to talk.

  A gentle rapping cuts through, and I shoot my eyes toward the front door. Just like last night, there’s no incessant nagging from my mother announcing that she knows I’m home, meaning it can only be one of two people — Londyn or Julia.

  Lifting myself from the couch, I stride toward the foyer and check the peephole. When I see Londyn standing on the front step, I quickly open the door, drinking in her appearance. It doesn’t matter how long we’ve been together. Every time I lay eyes on her still feels like the first, her beauty ramming into me like a semi, leaving me breathless.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey,” she responds timidly, shuffling her feet as she avoids my gaze.

  Dread settles in my stomach that she’s here to tell me she’s made her decision, and it’s not me. I’d like to think she wouldn’t take Sawyer’s offer, that the price she’d pay for her freedom is too steep. But after this week, I’m no longer sure of anything.

  “Are you okay?”

  She chews on her lower lip. “Can I come in? I’d rather not have this conversation on your front stoop.”

  My Adam’s apple bobs up and down in a hard swallow. “Of course.” I step back, allowing her to walk into my house.

  It’s only been a little more than a week since she was here last, but this feels…different. I wish it didn’t. Wish we could go back to being who we were when we left to go to the New Year’s Eve Gala. Then again, those people are gone. All we can do is embrace who we are today and try to move on. Together.

  I hope she finally wants to move on together.

  “Do you mind?” she asks, gesturing to the half-full glass of scotch on the coffee table as she settles on the couch.

  “What’s mine is yours.”

  “Thanks.” Grabbing the glass, she throws back a large gulp, almost finishing it off.

  “Do you want more?” I ask guardedly, sitting beside her.

  “No.” She blows out a nervous laugh. “It’s probably best I keep a clear head so I can get through this.”

  I nod, my chest tightening, anxious about what she’s here to tell me. I just want to remain in this place where I still have hope for a future between us. I fear that hope is about to be torn to pieces, along with my heart.

  “He commented on my mask,” she says after what feels like an eternity.

  I furrow my brow, shaking my head. “What do you—”

  “Jay… Nick. Whoever.” She waves her hand around, looking forward for a beat before returning her eyes to mine. All week, they’ve been lackluster, the spark gone. But now, they’re…haunted. “When I saw him at the New Year’s Eve Gala,” she adds in explanation. “He said it was fitting.”

  I remain silent, resisting the urge for the thousandth time this week to drive over to my parents’ house and use Nick’s face as a punching bag.

  “You have to understand what a shock it was, Wes. That’s why I didn’t say anything to you that night. Or the next day. Medusa may have been cursed with the power to turn men to stone, but the sight of him, the realization that he’s married to Julia, turned me to stone.”

  “What else did he say to you?” I ask through a clenched jaw.

  She shrugs, pinching her lips together. “He was the same manipulative asshole. Tried to tell me everything I’ve been through was necessary to get me to where I am.” She laughs under her breath, then tilts her head. “Do you want to know the really fucked-up part?”

  “What’s that?”

  “He truly believes he helped me.”

  “Helped you?”

  “That’s how delusional he is. He thinks by raping me, he freed me from the life I’d been living. Gave me my wings.” She turns her steely gaze back to mine. “Then he said he did the same thing to Julia.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. While I already sensed that was the case, I hoped I was wrong. Hoped there was some other explanation.

  “That’s why I lied to you, Wes.” Londyn grasps my hands in hers. “Why I told you I had a meeting with a client when my plan was to drop in on Julia at the bakery. I felt like I owed it to her to talk to her first. To help her.” Her gaze shifts over my shoulde
r, that haunted expression returning. Then she pulls away, a chill seeming to wash over her as she wraps her arms around her body. “But Nick was there instead.”

  “What happened?” I ask, my voice strained.

  She shakes her head, closing her eyes, anguish covering her expression. Neither one of us utters a syllable for several long moments as I silently beg her to finally put me out of my misery. I can’t go on like this anymore. Can’t constantly wonder what happened in the bakery, each scenario my brain comes up with worse than the previous.

  On a long inhale, she returns her tear-filled eyes to mine. “He figured out I was there to tell Julia.”

  “And how did he react?”

  “He claimed he wasn’t concerned because he’d already told her some convoluted version of the truth. I mean, not that it was me, per se, and not that it wasn’t consensual, but he’d obviously manipulated her into believing his version of events.” A contemplative expression crosses her face. “But I think somewhere in the recesses of his subconscious, he knew she might question his claims… Especially when I mentioned you.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re a chink in his armor, Wes. The Typhon to his Zeus. He may be able to exert control over Julia in a lot of aspects. But when it comes to you, he knows he can’t.”

  I process this, praying Londyn’s right. Then maybe I’ll be able to get through to my sister. Break the hold Nick seems to have over her. Even if she can’t see it.

  “What happened next?” I ask.

  “He told me he’d do whatever it took to protect the life he built. Pinned me against the wall, trapping me. I was eventually able to duck under him and get away. I didn’t get far before he tackled me to the floor.”

  Several tears cascade down her cheeks as she stares straight ahead, recalling what I can only assume to be one of the most terrifying moments of her life. And I hate that I wasn’t there for her. Hate I didn’t put the pieces together sooner and figure it out.

  “He had me in the same exact position he did all those years ago,” she continues, her voice low. “I tried to buck him off, but that only made him more…enthusiastic.”