Promise (39 page)

I’ve got one hand latched around her wrist while I use my free hand to grab the bottle of olive oil off the counter. I wrangle my Tasmanian devil over to the sink, and she sets her eyes on me.

“What are you doing? Are you going to
cook
me? You’re not that great of a cook, either. My eggs were rubbery!”

Snap.

“Alright.” I flash my dead, killer eyes at her. “I’ve taken a lot of shit from you the last twenty-five minutes, but that is enough. You can say what you want about me, but you insult my cooking, and we’ve got a real problem.”

Maybe my sense of humor isn’t quite gone. I didn’t say it was good, just not gone.

I meet her eyes and for the first time since I threw her wailing ass over my shoulder, she doesn’t look away, and I’m drowning already.

Sure, I’m pissed. But, I’m first and foremost here for what’s best for her. And right now, I feel like we need a little breather. A little humor. It takes her a second, but I see the way her locked down eyebrows give a little.

I’ve got her by the left wrist now, and I dump the entire bottle of olive oil over her hand, aiming it at her left finger.

“What the heck are you doing?” Her voice loses a bit of its sharpness, and she takes her free hand to brush at the wild strands of blonde hair still stuck to her face from her thrashing.

“I’m purging you of a sickness. Relieving you of a shackle.” I pinch the ring for a second between my thumb and forefinger, wiggling it until it is over her middle knuckle. Then, I shake her hand until it gives the rest of the way. It clatters into the bottom of the sink, and I send it down the drain. I shake my hand and let out a disgusted groan like I’ve just touched a steaming pile of dog shit.

“Hey!
Oh, my god,
that’s a
diamond
!”

“That chip of a yellow rock is
nothing
. It means
nothing
. It never existed. Now, we need to deal with a few things.”

I towel the oil from our hands before lifting her up and setting her beautiful, grumpy ass on the counter. I shift to get my body between her legs, but the little shit sets a pout to her lips and locks her knees and ankles together with a huff.

“Open your fucking legs,” I growl and shift sideways, bumping my hip into her, finding the wedge spot. I’m a machine, and her little body is no match for what I bring.

With one more shift and a carefully aimed swat, I’ve got her legs open, and I set my hips like an anchor between her legs.

“Ouch. You’re a jerk.” She sneers at me, but I can feel her façade breaking.

“Maybe,” I answer. She’s not going to get to me. I’m too damn happy to have her back in one piece.

She can’t help but look in my face when I settle my hands on both her cheeks, forcing our eyes together, our bodies touching. It is impossible for her not to feel what I feel because my dick is already on the starting blocks.

“Now,
what the fuck,
Promise? You put that
fucking
ring
on your finger
.”

“Yes, I did.” She sets her pout again in unapologetic defiance. “I’m getting my brother back. After your little show in the apartment Friday, you didn't leave me any options, did you? Now, even that’s over. Jeremy’s not a bad guy.
He
was going to marry me, and we were almost
guaranteed
to get Jordan. Now . . .” She shrugs as her chin starts to quiver.

I feel like I’m going to double over from the clenching in my stomach as her eyes flash red-rimmed and spill over like Niagara.

“Now, I’ll never get him.” She barely gets the words out.

The sobs come. Gut wrenching sobs. The kind I never want to hear again.

Her sounds fall down onto the cement floor, flooding around my feet in a thick, dark reminder of everything I never wanted for her. Every tear is filling the room with her desperation, and I can’t hold myself together much longer, listening to her pain drown out everything else that used to matter in my life.

“There’s always another way, and I am not letting you go. I am not letting you give up your life. He is
not
a good guy. He’s not. What you want, I want a thousand times more. I won’t back down. We will find a way, babe.
Please . . .”
I need her to stop crying because I’ve never felt more helpless, watching her and hearing her like this.

I grip her face until she comes back to me, the sobs softening, and I see
her
again. Her eyes focus on mine, and I can feel her inside of me.

“He said you weren’t a good guy, either.” Her eyes catch mine for a second, then fall down. “Who am I supposed to believe? He showed me things in your file. Things you did when you were younger, things he said could have kept you from getting into SEAL school, but he was the one that helped you because he thought it would straighten you out.”

“First of all, he’s a piece-of-shit, fucking liar. I don’t know what he showed you but, whatever it was, it was most assuredly bullshit. Did you ever consider that
he’s
the one that puts whatever he fucking wants in those files?”

“He said you left your mother in a burning house on purpose, and she died. He said you knew those boys were going to rape me that night, and you were even planning to be there with them. That you’d done it before. He showed me the papers, Beckett.
He showed me
.”

It’s not so much her words that wound me; it’s the look in her eyes that tells me at least part of her believed him. Her lips sink into a frown from which I’m not sure a smile can ever form again.

I’m spinning. The room is freezing, and her face is as desperate as her words.

“I don’t know
what
he showed you.” Every word hurts. I have to force them out of my mouth. “But, what I do know is you’re here, and I’m going to give you everything right now. All of it. And then,
you’re
going to have to decide who you believe.”

Her eyes turn little-girl. She so desperately needs someone to be her champion, to make her safe and to be unquestioningly her anchor. I am that person; I just need her to hold on.

“Okay.” The tears have stopped for the moment, and I take a deep, burning breath, saying a silent prayer as I start to let it all come out.

“There was a fire in our apartment.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I was eight years old. My Dad was already in a wheelchair by then, but he hadn’t started drinking yet. He was a
great
dad. And, he loved my mother like some fucking Harlequin novel.” Her eyes are following mine, and all I want to do is kiss her. But, I know she needs this. I do too. “Sometimes I would bury my head in the pillows or cover my eyes and yell at them to stop kissing in front of me. My dad would snatch her onto his lap in the wheelchair and spin them around. I remember the sound of my mom’s laugh and the way she held Dad with her arms around his shoulders and her face pressed into the crook of his neck. He would smile like a man smiles when the one woman in the world that touches his heart is happy. I know what that feels like now, and it’s a magic I don’t even know how to begin to describe.”

My thumbs move to eliminate every trace of tears from her cheeks, wishing I could be wrapped around her and tasting her lips instead of dealing with this right now.

“What does that have to do with what happened to me?”

“Just stay with me babe, I need you to follow along, you’ll see.”

If we’re going to move forward, we need the road cleared. Hard as that is, I’m up for the challenge because she’s worth it.

“Anyway . . . there was a fire. Dad was asleep in the recliner in the living room, and I’d fallen asleep on the couch. It was a Friday, and my Dad and I always stayed up late and built these crazy Lego contraptions long after Mom and Emily went off to bed. But that night, we worked on my science fair project. I was so fucking happy when he and I would do that shit together.” The edges of my eyes are prickling, and I clear my throat with a deep breath before moving on. “My sister was three then.” I take another deep breath. There doesn’t seem to be enough air in the room. “The fire started somewhere down on the first floor in another apartment. By the time my Dad screamed ‘Fire!’ the living room was half-filled with smoke. I remember Dad struggling to get into his wheelchair and telling me to go get my sister.”

I feel like I’m floating, detaching myself, because if I don’t, I know I won’t finish.

Promise sits silent. I see her jaw tighten, and I hate that she’s hurting just listening to me.

“I was so fucking scared. Dad got into his wheelchair and started toward the hallway where the bedrooms were. I knew if I didn’t get him out first, he’d die for sure. He was so sick, and in my kid-mind, he needed saving, and he was right there. So, I got him out, down the ramps and outside, screaming at me the entire way to go save Mom and Emily.

“By the time I got back, the apartment was full of smoke, and I remember my skin burned as I came through the door. My eyes were tearing, and I tried to scream and call them, but every time I took a breath, I doubled over coughing. I crawled, feeling my way along the floor until I got to the first doorway. I couldn’t stop gagging, and I couldn’t see anything. I could hear the crackling of the flames, and it was so hot.

“I got one scream out. I called for my mom because I was so scared. Then I heard it. I heard her voice, and I got up on all fours and moved as fast as I could toward the sound. I found them. Mom had Emily against her chest on the floor near her crib. Emily wasn’t moving. The smoke was so thick, if you were just a foot off the floor, it was impossible to even get half a breath. I was gagging, and Emily was struggling to breathe. I didn’t know what to do. I knew I couldn’t carry them both.” It was so real again, that moment when I had to decide, and I didn’t want Promise to know. I never wanted anyone to know.

“I dragged Emily to the window; the curtains were on fire. I tried to get Emily to grab onto my neck, but she was limp. I could feel her gasping for breath. I locked her under one arm, crawling, and just before the window, I bumped into something on the floor. It was one of her plastic dolls. I grabbed the leg and swung it over my head into the window as hard as I could. It bounced back, and I swung again. I was suffocating. I couldn’t get any air, and I knew if I didn’t break the window, we were all going to die in there.

“So, I got to my feet. I don’t know how, but I did. I flung my arm back then forward, and the glass broke, and the entire room flashed in flames. The burning curtains flew up and connected with my face. The fabric was burning and melting, so it stuck to my skin. I pushed through the broken glass, face first, and jumped. I held Emily to my chest, and we landed in the bushes under the second-floor window.

“I remember the lights, the flashing red and blue . . . and the screaming. Then, someone was trying to pick me up, and I was kicking. Then, I was running. Then, it was Dad’s voice. He wasn’t asking if I was okay. He was screaming at me that I should have gotten Mom out. I should have left him and saved her.”

I feel as if it all came out in one breath, and I feel sick. I hate it as much today as I did that day.

“Beck . . .” Promise’s face is so white, I can see the tiny purple veins on her forehead.

I want to get it out and never talk about it again. Gravity is ten fold, and I feel heavier with each word. “They said Emily was dead before I jumped, but I’m not sure. Dad was never the same. After that, he started drinking, and I lived on the street until the State of Ohio so lovingly took me in. I emancipated myself at sixteen, got out from under them. That was the day I saw you in court.”

“And gave me that picture.” Her cheeks are pink, her hands are on my face, and I can feel her shaking. “You’re the faceless person in all my paintings. No one had ever given me anything so beautiful before. Anything like your drawing. I held onto that drawing through all the houses, all the court dates. It saved me a couple times when I just couldn’t go on. I remember how it felt that day when you handed it to me. Your hand brushed mine, and I felt like you were someone I knew. Someone there to save me. Then you were gone. I never even got to see your face.”

“You see it now. And I am here to save you. You do know me.”

I lick my lips and let her eyes tell me if she has questions. But, I want to get it all out and straight, so I just keep going.

“That other shit he told you about that night with Holder and Jennings? What happened to you and that I was somehow a part of it—it's complete bullshit. I knew those two guys, but I didn’t run with them. Lived in a temporary halfway house with them once. They were fucks. I didn’t know when or exactly what they were going to do. I just knew they talked shit, and there was some girl they wanted to fuck.”

I feel Promise flinch, and I hate that we’re here right now doing this.

I graze my thumbs over her cheeks and continue. “I didn’t know it was you, not until it was over. Then, I saw you with Jeremy at CPS, and you know how shit spreads. I overheard and then put it all together. Yes, I was there the night it happened. I saw those punks going into the house, and I thought I knew what was going to go down. I was walking home down the alley, and they were in front of me. They turned right to go into the house. I knew you were there, and I was going to follow them, make sure they didn’t do something. But, when they turned into the yard, I heard a woman screaming. Flames were coming from the back of her house across the alley from where you were. I took off running because her kid was inside. I had to help her, Promise. I had to. I’m sorry. I fucking failed you.” My voice cracks, and I don’t deserve her.

Her hands are on my cheeks, and I want to turn away.

“Did you save that kid?” Her thumbs are brushing back and forth over the scruff on my jaw. Her eyes are lighting back and forth, waiting for an answer.

“Not yet.” My voice catches but I can’t stop looking at her face. That face that I need to look at every day from now until we both fall over together about a hundred years from now.

We both know I’m not answering the question about the little boy in the fire. But, I’m answering the question that matters.