~Declan~
The cryptic phone call was my first warning that something was wrong.
Leah and I had planned to watch a movie after my workday ended. It had been a long day of filming, but the director had listened to me, and I felt like I had actually learned and contributed to the film. Pulling me aside, he'd said I had a lot of promise and would even consider bringing me on as an assistant director for another project. It would be a much smaller project, but still, it was directing. It was a huge step, and I couldn't wait to share it with Leah.
When I'd called her, I could tell the minute she'd answered, something had been off. Her voice had sounded flat, and she'd tried to get me off the phone the second she'd answered, saying she didn't feel good and just wanted to be alone for the night. She'd said she came home early from work and just needed some rest. When I'd offered to come over and take care of her, she'd paused.
Then, she'd said, "Come on, Declan. We're not a couple. We don't do that."
The f*ck we don't.
She'd basically hung up immediately after, and I had been left wondering what the hell had just happened. Had I missed something? Seen signs and feelings that weren't there?
Panic stepped in as I'd begun to wonder if I had been walking down the same path I had years earlier, loving a woman more than she loved me. But then, I'd remembered the look of pure joy on Leah's face as we'd danced in the snow and later spent the night under our tacky Christmas tree, making love for hours.
No. Something is wrong.
And per Leah's usual methods, she was shutting everyone out.
Well, f*ck that.
Twenty minutes later, I was unlocking her door with the new key we had made, only to find out the chain had been locked as well.
"Leah, it's me. Unlock the door."
I heard footsteps as she made her way toward the front door, but the chain stayed in place.
"Declan, I told you...I don't feel good. I just want to be alone. I'll talk to you later."
Her voice was rough and raw, like she'd been crying, and the words she said lacked conviction, like she was moving through the motions, but her brain had already checked out.
"Leah, this shit might work with others, but I'm not falling for it. You're not shutting me out. Unlock this door."
"I don't want to see you tonight. Just go away," she said softly.
Yeah...those words would have stung if I didn't know she was lying through her teeth.
"Open the f*cking door, Leah, before I break it down. Don't think I won't."
The chain unlatched, and I plowed through the entrance. She turned and walked ahead of me. Dressed in her fuzzy robe and slippers, her hair was down and loose around her face. She always wore it up when she was home. She hated having it down when she slept.
"I'm going to bed. You can stay if you want. I'll see you in the morning if you're still around," she said, heading off to her bedroom.
She hadn't even looked in my direction since I walked in. Just as her bedroom door was about to click, I pushed it open and flicked on the light.
"What the hell is going on, Leah? You're acting strange. You won't tell me what's wrong, and —motherf*cker!"
Just as I was delivering my speech, she turned toward me, and I finally saw her face. Her eye was nearly swollen shut, her beautiful cheek was now a mixture of blue and green, and her lip was cut.
I came to her, my eyes wild and frantic, as I started checking every inch of her body, parting her robe until it fell to the floor. My hands shook as I fought back the flood of emotions threatening to take me over as I noticed the hand-shaped bruise near a sprinkling of cuts that were clearly from fingernails. Suddenly, I saw red.
"Who did this?" I asked roughly.
She just shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks, until she collapsed on the bed with her face in her hands as she sobbed.
I didn't know what to do. I felt blinding rage flowing through my veins, and I didn't know where to direct it. She wouldn't talk, and I had no idea if she was hurt anywhere else that wasn't showing.
How would I know if she was damaged internally? Would she let me take her to the hospital?
One look at her defeated form on the bed, and I knew I'd never get her to the hospital. But I needed to know. I needed to make sure every inch of her was okay.
Turning, I walked out of the room and headed for the kitchen. I pulled out my cell phone as I opened the freezer. By the time I found an ice pack, the call connected.
"Hello?"
"Logan, I need you. Now."
It was the longest twenty minutes of my life. When the soft knock on the front door finally came, I jumped from my seat by Leah's bed to answer the door.
Logan and Clare greeted me.
"Hey, thanks for coming. I didn't know what else to do. She won't talk to me, and I just...what if..."
"Hey, Declan, it's okay. I'll make sure she's okay," Logan assured me as we made our way to Leah's room.
When she saw all three of us enter, her eyes widened, and that was when all hell broke loose.
"You called them? What the f*ck, Declan? I don't need a pity party!" she said, her voice rising louder than it had since I arrived.
Sitting next to her on the bed, I tried to be as gentle as possible. "Leah, you wouldn't talk, and I needed to make sure you weren't hurt anywhere else. It was either having Logan come here or taking you to the hospital."
"I'm not hurt anywhere else," she said, turning her head toward me.
I thought that was when Logan and Clare got the full view of the side of her face because Clare gasped, and I heard Logan curse under his breath.
"How do you know?" I asked Leah.
"He only hit my face. He only ever hits my face," she muttered.
"Who is he? And this has happened before?" My hands tightened, and I counted to ten, trying to keep a check on my raw hatred of whoever had done this.
"It was your father, wasn't it?" Clare asked softly from across the room. "This wasn't the first time, Leah? How long? Why didn't you ever tell me?"
Leah's eyes shot up to her best friend. "It wasn't all the time. I knew how to control it and avoid it for the most part. As long as I didn't antagonize him, I was safe."
"Jesus, Leah. You should have told me," Clare said, her eyes full of concern.
Leah must have read concern for pity because she retaliated. "Yeah, well...we all can't have perfect childhoods, Clare."
"I didn't mean it like that. I just...never-mind. I'm going to go wait out in the living room," she said, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
Logan watched her walk out before taking a step toward Leah. "I want to examine your injuries, Leah. Will you let me?"
She just nodded, and I felt myself take a breath finally. I wouldn't feel right until I knew she was okay or at least not hurting anywhere else.
"Do you want Declan here?"
Before she could even respond, I answered for her, "I'm not leaving."
She didn't protest, so Logan proceeded and asked to sit on the edge of the bed. He checked out her eye, which had already been cleaned up. The bruises and marks on her arm were looked at as well, and then the questions came.
"Leah, did he hurt you anywhere else?" Logan asked.
"No, I don't think so."
"You're not sure?"
"I blacked out after he backhanded me," she answered softly.
I bit back a curse but remained quiet. Logan just nodded and asked her to lie down, so he could check her abdomen for any signs of injury. When that appeared fine, one last question was necessary, and I felt my breath quickening, knowing Logan would have to ask.
"Did he...has he ever hurt you...sexually?"
"No. Never. The only thing that gets my father off is booze," she said with little to no emotion.
Oh thank God. I didn't know if I would have been able to let the motherf*cker live for another minute if he had ever touched her. Even now, I wasn't sure how long his life expectancy was going to be.
Logan finished up and gave directions on how to care for the bruises and cuts. The directions were more for me than Leah since she obviously knew how to treat wounds with her medical background.
I walked Logan and Clare to the door and thanked them for taking the time to come over. I knew they'd had to drop Maddie off at Clare's parents' house in a rush to make it over here so quickly. I just didn't know what I would have done without their help.
"It's nothing, really. We would do anything for our family," Logan said, looking at me.
I nodded and pulled him into a brotherly hug.
Clare came next, and I whispered in her ear, "She didn't mean it."
She pulled back, smiling. "I know. Twenty plus years of friendship with Leah have taught me a thing or two. I'll get an apology call from her tomorrow."
After locking the door, I made my way back to the bedroom, finding Leah in the same position as before, curled in a ball on her bed. She looked so small and frail in her cotton shorts and T-shirt. Her robe was still in a heap on the floor where I'd dropped it. I picked it up and hung it on the hook where I'd seen her hang it so many times before. I padded to the other side of the bed. I removed my shoes and started to unbuckle my belt.
"You don't have to stay, Declan."
I finished undressing before lying down next to her. I pulled her around, so we were face-to-face.
"Look at me, Leah. That shit you throw out at others might work most of the time. Hell, your short tongue alone might send others running. But let me tell you something right now. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to be here while you cry, scream, and let it all out...because all of us, even you, need someone to hold us when we cry."
The rest of the tears she'd been holding in while Clare and Logan had been here came spilling out. It was like the breaking of a dam. I held her until she cried herself to sleep, and then I held her while she slept, hoping my arms would protect her from all the harm life had shown her. While she slept, I remained wide-awake, gently stroking her hair, as I decided how to get rid of her father...for good.
~Leah~
I awoke slowly, covered in a warmth I'd grown accustomed to since Declan had come into my life. I smiled briefly, feeling his heated body flush against mine, as I listened to the even tone of his breathing. I felt peaceful...until my smile grew too big, and my lip started to split back open.
Then, the memories of the day before came roaring back —the trip to my father's house, the stupid trip when I'd asked questions I'd known I would never get the answers to. The trip had only proven what an even bigger soulless a*shole my father was. And the anger...the anger was what I thought of the most. His eyes had glazed over and his rage was unleashed, as his nails had bitten into my delicate skin. I remembered the things he'd said. It wasn't the first time I'd heard them. My father loved to remind me of his sacrifices all the time. I'd like to share a few of mine with him, but I usually managed to keep my mouth shut.
Declan stirred a bit, and I turned so that our noses touched, and I could watch him sleep. He looked younger this way, vulnerable. What he had done for me last night...there were no words.
"Hey..." a groggy Declan said, bending his head down to briefly capture my lips.
"Hi," I answered quietly.
A still silence grew between us, and I knew he was waiting for me to speak, to say something. After yesterday, he deserved some answers. And for the first time in my life, I actually wanted to share them with someone. I took a deep breath and began to share a part of me I never thought I'd be willing to give up.
"It didn't happen all the time," I said slowly. "The...hitting. I was usually able to avoid it —well, usually being the key word. I was still a kid, and being me...I wasn't the greatest at keeping my mouth shut...at least in the beginning. Growing up with an alcoholic father taught me to censor what I said in front of certain people. And that certain person in my life was him."
"How many times, Leah?" he asked. "How many times has he hit you?"
Declan's eyes locked with mine, and I saw compassion, acceptance...and something else. It was something I wouldn't allow myself to think about.
"I don't know. It was enough that I lost track...but not so many that I couldn't pass them off as injuries or mishaps when I was at school."
His jaw ticked, and I could see him holding back the anger brimming just below his calm facade. He was pissed. No man outside of my adopted family had ever wanted to protect me. My ex, Daniel, had left me when things got real. Seeing Declan react to my life without running away melted me to the core.
"The first time he hit me was a couple of weeks after my mother had left. Those first couple of weeks were the worst of my life. I wanted my mother back more than I wanted anything else in the entire world. My seven-year-old brain couldn't comprehend why she had left. I kept looking at the front door, expecting it to open up at any minute. I'd imagine her happy face walking through the door, and then she'd apologize and take me far, far away."
A single tear slid down my cheek, and Declan quietly brushed it away with his thumb. He bent his head to kiss my collarbone and then allowed me to continue.
"I became angry and bitter. It was a terrible way for a child to grow up." I briefly remembered the little boy in the hospital who had lost his mother. I thought about him often and wondered where he was and whom he ended up with. I hoped social services had found the family he was supposed to be visiting, and he was in a better place than I was after my mother had left. No child should go through that alone.
"When I tried taking my anger out on my father, I learned quickly that it was the wrong way to go. I ended up with a black eye, and I had to lie and pass it off as a soccer accident. After that, I learned how to be invisible and avoid most incidents. If I was quiet and just basically went unnoticed, I could usually escape bearing the brunt of his anger. There were other times when I wasn't as lucky, but I learned to dodge."
"And yesterday? What happened yesterday?"
"I should have never stayed. I recognized the signs as soon as I walked in. He'd had a lot more to drink than he usually does. He always has alcohol coursing through his veins, but this went beyond drunk. Usually, he's just numb and oblivious to everything around him. But sometimes, he drinks so much that it's like he wakes up and remembers everything. Then, he just gets angry...all over again."
"He took it out on you," Declan said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes. I asked him about Mom. I mentioned the headstone we'd found, and he lost it. He asked me for money, like he always does. I said no, like I always do. I bring him food and any other supplies he needs, but I never, ever give him money or alcohol. I know I can't do anything to stop him from drinking, but I won't support his habit."
Declan pulled me closer. Our bodies fused together, and I savored the feeling of his heated skin against mine. It was a cold morning, and feeling his warm hard arms and legs wrapped around me was blissful.
"What are your parents like?" I asked.
"My father is dead," he answered with little emotion.
"Oh, Declan." I leaned up on my elbows, so I could face him. "I'm so sorry. You mentioned that. I forgot." I remembered the conversation we'd had when he told me about his tattoo.
"We weren't that close. He was your typical stereotype of a wealthy man. He ignored his child, cheated on his wife, and acted like he was god when he was at work. It's no coincidence that he was friends with Logan's father. They were both from the same stock, although Logan had it far worse than I did."
"How did he die?"
"Heart attack. My parents were divorced several years before. My mother finally got the courage to ask for one, and he agreed. He hired the best lawyers money could buy though, and he left her with practically nothing. But she was free, and that was all she cared about. Years later, Karma caught up with him, and he was found dead in his penthouse by his twenty-two-year-old mistress."
"God, and I thought I was the only one with a f*cked-up childhood."
His eyes flashed and grew intense. "No, Leah...what I went through was a soap opera compared to the shit you had to endure. What you went through was hell. What that man did to you..."
"Hey," I said softly, "it's okay. I'm okay."
When I cuddled back into the safety of his arms, I felt him relax again. Letting myself drift back to sleep, I thought I heard Declan whisper in my ear, "I'll make it all better, I promise."
~Declan~
I got the address from Logan. It wasn't that hard to find. The old neighborhood was well kept with dated houses that looked refurbished in an attempt at revamping the city.
Clayton Morgan's house stuck out like a sore thumb. It looked like it hadn't been painted since the original pale yellow had been brushed on decades ago, and the yard was covered in compacted leaves, now mushy and wet from the recent snow.
I pulled up to the driveway and felt my hands grip the steering wheel like a vise. Knowing this was the place where Leah had grown up while enduring years of misery at the hand of the man who lived inside did something to me. It brought out a side of me I hadn't known existed. I wanted to rush in there and rip him apart from limb to limb, making sure he could never lay a hand on her again.
And that was why Logan's car pulled up behind mine. When I called for the address, I also asked him to meet me here. I needed someone to keep me tethered, grounded, so I wouldn't do anything that could land my ass in jail for the rest of my life. As much as I wanted to end that motherf*cker, I didn't want to spend my life behind bars, away from the one thing I was intent on protecting.
I killed the engine and stepped out of the car. I met Logan halfway between our two cars, and we silently made our way up the driveway. He didn't ask what I was going to do. He just stood by me.
A few months ago, when I had gotten his wedding announcement, I'd thought he was weak for feeling so deeply for another person. But here I was, standing side by side with him as brothers-in-arms...fighting for a woman I would do anything to keep. And yet, I was too chickenshit to tell her.
I didn't bother knocking. I just let myself in. I made my way through the dingy kitchen that had crusty dishes in the sink and empty pizza boxes on the counter. I tried not to picture Leah living in this hellhole.
We found the piece-of-shit lying on a couch in the living room with a drink in hand, watching a rerun of some sitcom from the eighties. His eyes were half-closed, and he looked like he'd already drunk half a bottle even though it was barely noon. It was a miracle, or a f*cking curse, that the man was still alive with functioning kidneys.
It took him several minutes to notice the two large men in his living room. His eyes finally moved lazily from the TV to us, and then they widened in surprise.
"Who the hell are you? If you've come to rob me, you picked the wrong house," he said, his words meshing together in an almost comical way, like he didn't give a f*ck.
"Get up," I said, venom running through my veins.
He eyed me suspiciously, looking me up and down, before apparently deciding that I meant business. He rose from the couch, looking at us warily.
"You gonna tell me who the f*ck you are?" he asked.
"I'm the man who loves your daughter."
At my words, I saw Logan's head snap from Leah's father to me. It was the first time I'd acknowledged those feelings and said the words. It felt good. Like really good. I wanted to do cartwheels and shit. I didn't know when I'd get the courage to tell Leah how I felt, but at least I was being honest with myself now.
"Well" —he laughed —"don't get too attached, son. She's just like her mother —a tease and a whore. Find someone better and move on."
My fist flew so fast at his face that I didn't even process the fact that I'd hit him until his head snapped back. Good mood gone. I went at him again, but I was pulled back.
"Easy, man. Remember why you're here," Logan said.
Leah —I am here for Leah.
Breathing heavily, I tried to calm myself, even though every inch of me was now twitching with adrenaline. I watched as the f*cker wiped the blood off his split lip. At least he knew how it felt now.
"Here's how it's going to go, jackass." I pulled out my checkbook from the inside pocket of my leather jacket and set it down on the counter, talking while I wrote. "You are going to leave town. I don't care where the f*ck you go or what you do, but you are never coming back. From this day on, Leah doesn't exist to you."
I ripped out the check and handed it to him. His eyes focused on the amount and nearly bugged out of his head. I'd given him half a million dollars. It was more money than most people saw in a lifetime. I wanted to make sure he never came back.
"I don't care what the f*ck you do with this. Go to rehab, or drink yourself to death. I don't give a shit. But one thing you will never do is come back here, asking for more. The second you do, Leah and I will report you for abuse and have you in jail so fast that your head will spin. The only reason you're not there now is because I don't want her going through a lengthy public trial, but don't test me. I will if I have to, and I hear child abusers don't get treated real well in the slammer."
He hadn't looked up at me since that check had been shoved into his hands.
I grabbed the front of his shirt to get his attention. "Do you understand?"
He nodded. "Yes. Don't come back ever," he said, grinning.
Whatever hope I'd had that the man might have a tiny bit of decency evaporated as I watched him worship that check. He now had a new idol, and it was money.
"One more thing, and then we're out. I want everything you have that belonged to Lily. Whatever is left of Leah's mother, I want it."
He looked at me then, puzzled, before saying, "Sure, fine. It's all in the attic. Take whatever. I don't care."
"Oh, and Mr. Morgan? Or can I call you Clayton?"
He drunken gaze found mine.
"There's one more thing." My fist came flying toward his face for a second time that day. This time, when I punched him, I made sure he didn't get up.