Under His Care (2 page)

“It doesn’t matter,” she said softly.

“Just come back to my house and talk to me for a minute,” Easton said. “If you still decide you hate me, I’ll drive you home. But I can’t let you walk in the city at this time of night, and certainly not with this clown.” He nodded in Blake’s general direction.

“Leave Blake alone,” Kennedy said.

“So now you’re defending him? Didn’t you tell me he sold you out to the tabloids?”

“He made a mistake. We’ve all made mistakes,” Kennedy said, glaring at Easton now. Her fury was building. “On the other hand, some people are too arrogant and egotistical to admit their mistakes and change. Those are the kinds of people I try and stay away from.”

“I’ve admitted my mistake,” Easton said, “and you need to give me more than ten seconds to change, Kennedy.” He stepped towards her and took her hand in his. Kennedy’s entire body felt as though it was softening, melting at his touch, and she realized that she needed Easton—she needed him so badly that it scared her to the very core of her soul.

“Please, just leave me alone,” she said, closing her eyes.

“I won’t—I can’t,” Easton replied, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand insistently.

“I don’t mean to intrude,” Blake said, clearing his throat, “but I think she said she wants you to…you know…leave her alone. If I heard her correctly.”

Suddenly, Easton was letting go of her and turning towards Blake, and Easton’s shoulders were up and he was moving fast, as he grabbed the smaller man by the shirt and cocked his arm to let a punch go.

Blake cowered, hands up, trying to protect himself.

“Don’t you dare hurt him,” Kennedy yelled out, her voice firmer than she would’ve imagined it might be.

Easton stood rooted to the spot, his arm still cocked and ready to throw that punch. She knew if he did it, she would never forgive him.

Blake wasn’t a threat, and if Easton hit him it might hurt him badly. She’d seen what Easton had done to genuine threats, gangsters who knew how to protect themselves and fight. Blake was none of those things.

Finally, Easton let him go and Blake stumbled backwards, eyes wide, panicked, his tongue swirling around his lips like a stricken dog, as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “That was assault,” Blake said, pointing at Easton now. “Assault.” He glanced anxiously toward Kennedy. “You saw him.”

“You’re fine,” Easton replied, grinning ever so slightly. He turned to Kennedy again. “I didn’t smack him but he deserved at least a scare for what he did.”

“Is that how you handle conflict?” Blake cried. “Violence? Like a thug?”

Easton turned his head and his eyes blazed. “You’ll see how I handle conflict in a second if you don’t shut your mouth.”

Blake turned and began walking quickly away from them.

“I need to go,” Kennedy said, realizing it was all too true. “I’m not going to let him walk home alone.”

“He got here just fine, didn’t he?” Easton said. “Let the guy go. He’s a creep, and he’s not right in the head, Kennedy. Come back to my house with me.” He reached out to her but after a moment’s hesitation, Kennedy stepped back.

“You can’t just pull me in and push me away at your convenience,” she said, shaking her head. The truth was that she’d been so close to giving in, and yet some part of her just couldn’t justify it. Not after the way he’d treated her.

“I’m not doing that,” Easton told her. His eyes were imploring, and pained. “I’m not pushing you away. We had an argument, a disagreement, and I need to explain about my father and why—“

“No, no, no,” she said, putting her hands over her ears and shaking her head. “No!”

Easton stopped talking and just stared at her.

“You can’t treat me this way anymore!” she cried, and now the tears were coming and she wiped them away, but couldn’t seem to do it quickly enough to stop the flow. “You can’t treat me like dirt, like a puppet, someone you keep around only to do what you want me to do when you want me to do it. I don’t want to hear any more explanations. You kicked me out of your house, you humiliated me for the last time, Easton.” And then she turned and left him standing there, and this time, when she hoped to feel him grabbing her arm, speaking her name, it didn’t happen.

She glanced back and saw just the shadow of him, still standing there, not moving, not doing anything, and her heart nearly broke.

But Kennedy couldn’t take it back, didn’t really want to take it back. She felt like she needed to stand up for herself, to truly speak her mind and not feel bad about it. Just because she’d made mistakes, just because she was naïve, innocent, perhaps silly—did that mean she should be degraded and treated poorly?

No.

The answer would be no from now until the end of time.

But it hurt terribly. It burned like fire in her belly, and she felt empty and sadder than ever.

When she finally caught up to Blake, he was still upset over the altercation.

“Your boyfriend’s a real menace,” Blake told her, still walking fast, as though he feared another encounter with Easton.

“Slow down, I can’t walk this fast for long,” Kennedy told him.

He glanced at her. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she admitted. “I feel like crap and I’m sad.”

“Well, I feel like crap too,” Blake said, “and I’m cold on top of it. I’m going to see if I can do one thing right tonight and hail this cab.” He stepped out into the street and flagged it down, practically standing in front of it to get it to stop for him.

He opened the back door for her and let her slip inside first, and then Blake got in and shut the door behind him.

The cabbie was disinterested, talking to someone on his cell phone.

Blake gave the address and they took off like a shot, heading down the nearly deserted street.

Kennedy turned around, half-expecting to still see Easton out there, even though they’d left him far behind. But it broke her heart just the same, knowing she might never see him again.

It was really over.

The reality was sinking in now, and it wasn’t pretty.

Losing Easton was like losing her own soul, her own center—she cared that much about him. And yet she’d left him in the street, walked away from him.

She’d been forced to. If she continued to go back for more punishment and cruel treatment from Easton, than she wouldn’t be able to respect herself anymore.

Perhaps she’d gotten the wrong impression, but Kennedy had truly believed that Easton cared about her, was falling in love with her—that they were becoming equal partners.

But the way he’d looked at her and talked to her tonight—she’d realized that perhaps her impressions had been dead wrong. Easton was always going to view her as a lesser being, someone who should be catering to his whims, trying to please him, anticipate his needs and moods, treat him like a concubine with her master.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Blake said, interrupting her inner dialogue.

Kennedy pulled on her bottom lip absentmindedly. “It’s awful,” she said. “And I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and feel the way I know I’m going to feel.”

“Whatever happened, you two can work it out if you want.”

She laughed and stared at Blake. “You think we can work it out? Aren’t you the one who’s been trying to break us up, and didn’t you just refer to him as a menace about five minutes ago?”

“I know,” Blake said. “And, for the record, I do think the guy’s a menace and a jerk. I certainly don’t want to hang at his house or go to a ballgame with him, but at the same time—I don’t know, Kennedy. It seems like you must really care about him.”

“I do,” she said, “or at least I did. But maybe he’s just not very nice, and maybe I deserve better than that.”

Blake shrugged. “You know I think you’re awesome, kid.”

“And the way he threatened you,” she said, remembering it. “What was that?”

“He didn’t hit me, though,” Blake said.

“Don’t defend him now.”

“I’m not—I swear I’m not,” Blake replied, holding up his hands in the ‘don’t shoot’ position. “I’m only saying that maybe this whole thing got blown out of proportion, tempers were high and—“

“No,” Kennedy said. “I don’t want to hear anymore about Easton Rather. I’m forgetting he exists. I’m moving on, Blake. And if I’m moving on, then so are you. I don’t want to hear you speak his name again. Got it?”

“Loud and clear,” Blake said, sighing loudly. “You don’t need to tell me twice.”

Kennedy sat back in her seat, collapsing inward, her entire body feeling deflated, like a balloon that had been punctured. She was so, so tired.

Somehow, it had all come to a pathetic, lonely end for her in New York.

Maybe it was finally time to go home—back to Boston, back to her real life.

***

Not long after, they were exiting the cab and then going into their building.

At the door to his apartment, Blake stopped and turned to Kennedy. She thought he looked rather haggard, but at the same time, the insane gleam was gone from his eyes. He was back to being the Blake she remembered meeting, the nice guy who’d been kind and genuine. “Sorry about everything that happened,” Blake said. “And whatever part I played in your troubles, I really hope you’ll be able to forgive me.”

She waved her hand at him. “It’s over,” she said. “I’ve done so much in my short time in New York that I regret. So I can’t very well blame you for making mistakes, can I?”

He laughed sadly. “I guess not.” He turned the door handle and looked at her again. “Easton’s an idiot for hurting you,” he told her, and then he went inside and the door slammed shut.

Kennedy unlocked her own apartment door and walked inside. She threw her keys on the small table and looked around, feeling the silence and the emptiness of her living space.

After spending so much time in Easton’s townhouse, her own apartment felt so much grimier, tinier and less hospitable. But the worst part about it was the fact that Easton wasn’t there with her.

She hated that what had appeared to be just within her grasp—a loving, beautiful new life with the man she loved—had been so quickly ripped away from her.

But Easton came after you, tonight. He wanted you to come back, Kennedy. Couldn’t you have at least given him a chance?

Kennedy sighed, poured herself a glass of water from the tap and drank most of it in a few gulps. She was parched, dizzy and tired, but her thoughts were racing.

She thought about the way Easton had reacted to her request for some kindness, some softness after the night she’d experienced. His father had been cruel and demeaning, and all Easton had cared about was getting his rocks off the way he wanted.

Did he even care about me at all, or did he just like the way he could spank me, tie me up, gag me, make me do whatever he wanted without any complaint from me?

Kennedy didn’t like the answer that sprang to mind.

Of course, as she got ready for bed, her mind started spinning counter arguments. She recalled how loving Easton had been, the way he’d risked his job, standing up to Red on her behalf. He’d believed her when she’d told him that Blake had been the one who’d gone to the tabloids.

Crawling into her narrow, cold bed, Kennedy shivered under the covers, and the darkness of the room threatened to overwhelm her.

She missed him so much.

And yet, deep in the pit of her stomach, she was certain that Easton would never respect her if she just ran back to him after the way he’d treated her.

It was time to take responsibility for her own life, to stand on her own two feet.

Since coming to New York, all she’d done was replace one cloistered, secretive and oppressive environment for another. Easton Rather had taken her under his wing and into his confidence, but the price had been too high.

She’d paid with her own independence, becoming totally submissive, enslaved to him, willing to do anything and everything just to please him.

But at the end of the day, Kennedy knew that what she truly wanted was a relationship with a man who loved and cherished her, who would treat her like gold, the way she’d seen Red treat Nicole.

For hours and hours, Kennedy lay awake thinking about Easton, fighting inside herself, dreading the coming morning and the following days where she would feel the loss of him like a never-ending nightmare of loneliness.

The pain would be deep and aching, and sometimes it would be torturously acute, and she could already sense how it might break her completely to be without him.

I do love Easton,
she thought.
But I can’t allow myself to be with him anymore.

Finally, as if God took pity on her eventually, Kennedy’s eyes mercifully closed and she slept for a few hours.

She startled awake bleary-eyed and headachy, hung-over in more ways than one.

Her cell phone was buzzing on the nightstand next to her bed and she immediately felt her heartbeat jump excitedly at the thought that Easton was trying to phone her already.

Would she answer it?

She didn’t know, but just to see his number, to perhaps hear him speaking on the voicemail playback would be like a sweet balm to her ailing soul.