At first, the hungry look in his eyes had thrilled her. But then... Rebecca blinked back the tears. As long as she lived she would never forget the look on his face as he traced the scars on her body. She thought that he of all people would be able to handle it. He had more than a few himself, if the stories were true.
She’d thought Kane was different; that he’d seen more than the old-fashioned but still widely accepted tenet of what a woman was supposed to be – soft and pretty and dependent upon others. That he’d recognized her need to make a difference, because that’s what he did. That he didn’t mind if she didn’t wear pretty clothes and makeup, or that she preferred quiet solitude to a social atmosphere. He was supposed to have understood.
But when it all came down to it, maybe he really didn’t. Maybe he was just like everyone else, thinking she was incapable of making sound decisions, or that she was someone who needed to be protected and mainstreamed for her own good.
And maybe, she thought finally, he was right.
Rebecca forced herself away from the door, feeling like she’d just lost more than a possible chance at a relationship. No, it was so much more than that. She’d just lost her best friend.
The numbness that came with shock was wearing off, her shields crumbling now that Kane was gone and she was alone. The newly forged hole in her chest ached so badly she set a path for the bar. She wasn’t much of a drinker; the sweet, dessert-type liquors were all she indulged in, and then only in small quantities and on special occasions. Tonight, though, she felt the need for something stronger. A few drinks and a hot bath, and maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to close her eyes and ease some of the pain until she was strong enough to face it again.
So caught up in her own misery was she that she didn’t hear the sounds coming from the sunken living room. She made a beeline for the bar and grabbed a bottle of blackberry brandy. It wasn’t the hardest stuff on the shelf, but it was a lot stronger than what she was used to, and it would do. It wasn’t until she turned and began walking back toward the stairway that she saw her brother’s naked body entangled with a voluptuous brunette on the S-shaped Liberator chair. Rebecca froze for only a moment, hoping to back track toward the foyer without being seen, but Aidan’s companion spotted her and let out a scream.
“Jesus Christ!” Aidan cursed, trying to cover himself and his partner. “You’re not supposed to be back until tomorrow!”
“Aidan,” Rebecca stammered, backing up, trying to dispel the images of leather shackles and whips that were now forever burned into her eyes. “I’m so sorry...” She turned on her heel and ran towards the door, her face flaming a deep, burning red.
“Becca! Becca, wait!” Aidan called, hastily pulling on his pants, but Rebecca had no wish to face him at that moment. She grabbed his set of keys from the side table and tore out of the house. It had been a long time since she’d driven a Benz, but she soon discovered it was like riding a bike.
She drove around for quite some time before finally finding herself outside the shelter as night began to fall in earnest. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Where else would she go?
The building was dark and empty. The last of the families had gone back to their homes the prior week; the center had returned to its daytime-only operating hours. That was a good thing. Rebecca wasn’t in the mood to see anyone or make idle conversation. She wasn’t ready to head back to Aidan’s quite yet either, though she knew he was probably worried. Rebecca almost laughed. Worrying about her was something Aidan was quite accustomed to by then.
She pulled the Benz around back, out of sight, and let herself in through the back door. She slipped into the recreation area and collapsed on the couch, pulling out the bottle of brandy and taking a healthy slug. She coughed as the alcohol burned down her throat, flaming a path all the way into her empty stomach. It didn’t last long, though, and soon she was only left with the heavy, sweet taste of blackberries. She took another.
What an idiot she was! How could she take such a perfect thing and ruin it? Typically, self-pity was not her thing, but tonight, just tonight, she was going to make an exception. Whatever she had with Kane was ruined, and she didn’t know how she was going to be able to look in her brother’s eyes again. There were just some things a sister did not need to know.
Who knows how long she sat there in the darkness, sipping at the brandy, letting the pain and grief wash over her, before she heard the unusual sounds. At first she thought she was dreaming, or possibly hearing things, but the harder she listened, the more certain she became that someone was trying to break into the shelter.