Dust (20 page)

Interesting.

I looked down.
Ahh
, this would explain the axe in my head, sock in my mouth, and horizontal view of the room. I was in the bed hooked up to the annoying machines. Well, it only explained part of it. How I got in the hospital remained a mystery. I wanted to ask but wasn't sure if I could make my thick tongue move. I looked to the side and saw long hair. "W-what happened?"

A hand touched my sweaty forehead. I shut my eyes, enjoying the cool feel of it. "You had surgery."

What? That didn't make any—

"Gabe." It all came rushing back. The news he was my brother. Rushing to find Liv. Fighting with him to save her. "Liv," I mumbled. Where was she? Was she okay? Did she get away from him? What the hell had happened after he stabbed me?

"She's gone. I'm so sorry."

The grief in that voice produced a sudden pain that shot through me and made me realize I was not completely numb after all. No way could she be gone. Please god no.

I wailed. Hands held me down, tried to at least until someone stuck a needle in my IV. I sobbed as they slowly released me and the room began to spin. She couldn't be gone. "How did he kill her?" I would hunt him down and rip his heart out while he watched. Seemed only fair to take his heart away since he'd taken mine.

She gasped. "Oh crap. That's not what I meant." My eyes fluttered as I fought against the effects of the drugs. They weren't strong enough to knock me out, but I suddenly felt like I weighed a ton. "She's okay. I mean, she's alive. Her mother came and got her. Took her back home." Her eyes watered and she sniffed. "I'm sorry this happened to you. If I hadn't been so stupid to think he liked me for me, maybe I could have seen this coming. I was being stupid, and it traumatized Liv and almost cost you your life."

"You had no idea what he was capable of. No one did," I slurred. I think I slurred. Hell, I might not have talked. Oh, the television was on. What were we watching? Where was that beeping coming from? "I have to take a leak." I looked at Jewel. She smiled. Yep, I said that out loud. "Thissss is some serious stuff." I waved my hand around and pointed at her. "You have not... I mean, you don't have to be sorry, Charlie." I chuckled. Hooo-ly shit, this stuff was awesome.

"Just relax," she said with a giggle. "Your grandpa is downstairs eating. You don't want to freak him out by acting silly."

"He shouldn't be here." I turned my head from side to side on my pillow because lifting it up to shake was so not going to happen.

"His nurse is with him. She told him he could stay until you got out of surgery to make sure everything was okay before they left."

"What part did they operate on?" I frowned and reached for my balls. "He didn't slice off my nuts did he? Or my dick? I need those."

I think she rolled her eyes, but everything was moving, so I couldn't be too sure. "No. He stabbed you in the side and nicked your kidney. If I hadn't called the police as soon as I got outside, the paramedics wouldn't have been there to take you in. You could've bled out or urine could've gotten into your tissues or something. It sounded serious."

Hmm. That did sound serious. "Is that why I need to piss?" I winced as I tried to reach for my...what? My penis?

"You have a catheter in. Just let it flow."

I relaxed against the bed. "Where is Gabe, by the way?"

Her lip trembled and I wanted to curse myself for asking. "The police have him. They took mine and Liv's statements before she left and then they took him into custody. Apparently his mother passed away a few years ago, so he lived in that house alone."

I guessed that explained the bedroom situation there. I felt a stinging pain in my back and growled.

"Oh look, I see yellow running in your tub. I should give you a gold star for going pee-pee."

"Can't believe you're watching me take a piss," I muttered. At least she was smiling again.

"It's not like I haven't seen you do it standing up." My gaze cut to her. She was biting her lip. "Sorry. That was rude."

"It's true. You have seen me do that before. And more. I'm sorry I was such a jerk to you after we met."

She waved her hand. "You weren't a jerk. Believe it or not, you were very kind in your rejections."

"Yeah,
that
makes me feel better."

"It's the truth."

I shut my eyes. Even under the fog of medication, I was tired of dealing with the truth. There'd been too much of that stuff released out into the open today. The worst part of it was what that truth had done to Liv. The look in her eyes after she'd learned it had been my father who'd taken her.

Who'd raped her. That look had cut me to the core. God, my father used
darlin'
all the time when talking to women, and anytime she heard that word now she'd freak out...because he'd called her that. How could she stand to even look at me knowing I was a product of that man? Didn't matter that I thought I could move beyond my father's past and make a future of my own. Gabe was proof my—
our
—father's blood was poison. If I loved her, I had to leave her. I couldn't stand to hurt her, and all I'd do is cause her pain. If not by losing my temper then by just being me, being the reminder of the worse day of her life.

And I did love her, more than I ever dreamed I was capable of. It would kill me, but nobody said loving someone was easy.

"What's that look for?" Jewel asked, and she squeezed my arm. "Are you hurting?"

She believed my pain to be physical. If only that were true, but there was no comparison. I knew what I had to do now and it would be harder than anything I'd ever done in my life. The ache was so deep I didn't know how I'd learn to live with it, and I knew even time wouldn't cure it. "More than I've ever hurt before."

I
stood
in my room staring at my blank walls.

It had been weeks since Killian broke up with me over text message. At first, I'd been too numb to react to it. So much had happened and my mind had been filled to overflowing with revelations. I'd needed time to process what I'd learned. I'd told myself he needed that time, too, so I hadn't demanded explanations or called crying. We both got answers to questions previously unacknowledged, but now that the truth was out, there was nothing we could do about being privy to it. His father had kidnapped me. We both had to live with that now. And I didn't blame him for wanting to be away from me. Not only would I remind him his father had kidnapped me, I would be a constant reminder of the day that horrible man killed his mom. There was no going back, no other reality for us.

I wasn't completely unaffected by the sudden distance, though. After the numb period, I'd had my moments were I silently called him a chicken shit for not dumping me face-to-face or at least telling me over the phone. It wasn't as if either of us had done something malicious, but it was easier to point fingers. Just because I hadn't called him crying didn't mean I hadn't had my blubbering moments. Not my finest for sure, but this sobbing stuff was new to me. It seemed once I allowed myself the use of that emotion, it wanted to make up for lost time. My mother had consoled me, and we bonded over our shared tears. She'd called it a breakthrough. I'd called it a product of the stupid stick. She hadn't understood, and I didn't want to explain. It made sense to me, but I worried she'd think I was being literal and had abused myself with an actual wooden object. My mom was cool and all, but she had her flighty moments.

Killian and I hadn't talked at all since the day at Gabe's house. I'd been at the hospital waiting for Killian to get out of surgery when my mom had shown up, taken one look at my face, and demanded I get seen by a doctor. My face had gotten pretty bruised after being introduced to Gabe's mean right hook, so I hadn't argued with her. The doctor had cleared me of any major damage but had given me a shot of painkillers and told me to rest. Mom had driven me straight home and put me to bed. The next morning had been awful. I'd woken up with a serious headache, although I hadn't been sure if it was because of the pounding my face had taken or a hangover from the narcotics. But it had quickly become insignificant once I looked at my phone and read Killian's heartfelt text message.

"I'm going to do what we both know is right and end our relationship. You mean more to me than my own happiness, which is the only reason I can force myself to do this. Be happy in life. Light up the world with your beautiful smile, firecracker. I will remember you always."

I'd read it many times a day since, but never replied to it. Would could I say? Part of me knew he was right. Staying together would likely get us on some trashy talk show sitting next to a couple fighting over paternity test results. We were damaged apart, but even more so if we stayed together. But the other part of me? That side wanted to rebel, to fight against the odds and never look back. There were two people in this relationship though, and both would have to want that for it to have a chance to work.

I did send him one text message on the day of his graduation telling him congratulations. He replied thanking me. Not immediately, but a few minutes later. I liked thinking he'd been reading it over and over with a racing heart and struggling with how best to reply. Then again, he was a man. Did men do those things? Regardless, he'd settled on a quick,
"Thanks."
Other than that, I'd gotten nothing from him. I battled my reactions to even that. He'd wanted distance to make this breakup easy, but I wasn't sure if I'd wanted it to be a cakewalk for him. It sure as hell hadn't been for me, but I loved him. I wanted what he wanted no matter how much it hurt. Mom and I had gone to the ceremony because I had to watch him get his degree. Plus I knew I'd be able to look at him from afar without standing out in the crowd. He'd looked good, tired but good. I'd silently cheered for him with Jewel by my side.

Jewel had been my lifesaver since the day at Gabe's house. He'd been lying about her hatred of me and her involvement in his scheme. I knew he hadn't been describing the girl I knew, but he eventually got me to question her loyalty. In that he'd won, and I'd felt guilty. I'd even apologized to her about it. She'd been offended, but not for the reason I'd been apologizing for. She was mad I was even fretting over it. I mean hands-on-her-hips-bitching-fest that I'd waste brain cells worrying. I knew then I kinda loved her—in a non-lesbian way of course. And she'd become my rock where Killian was concerned. Seriously, after his text message she'd been there for me in so many ways. When I'd been on campus taking my finals he was still in the hospital recovering, and Jewel had reported back to me every day on his progress. If it hadn't been for her, I would've been camped out in his hospital room, adding to his grief. She knew how much it killed me not to be there myself, but she never told me what to do. She was behind whatever decision I made, and that even helped me give Killian what he wanted. After the first week, she'd driven up with the makings of White Russians and some chocolate. We'd all trashed men that night. Well, they delivered the snark. I just commiserated. My mom had beamed at my girlie moments with Jewel, effectively cementing her presence in our lives forever.

I think I would've had a similar relationship with Sam had she lived. We'd still have our cat fights, a necessary requirement for siblings who were female, but we would've been close. My friendship with Jewel wasn't a replacement for what I was missing with Sam. It was its own cool thing. But it made me think about Sam, especially since I was home and away from Killian. His words about my future lingered in my mind.

Which was why the walls I now stared at were blank.

I'd spent the morning taking down all the cards I'd made for Sam over the years. I'd keep them. Maybe make a collage with them, but it was time they came down. Time I stopped blaming myself for her fate. Time I started embracing my own. It hadn't been easy. I'd teared up a few times remembering the pain and sorrow I'd felt with a few of the cards I'd created for her. The process had been another step in my healing process, though. A necessity in finding the perfect balance of remembering Sam while learning to reclaim my life.

It was dinner time before I'd come out of my room. I felt freer than I had before I started the removal process, but I also felt scared. Thinking about doing it and actually taking the step were two different things. Without the constant reminder of those cards, the uncertainty of my future was scary. I was unsure what path I was going to take with my life, but even that, along with feeling the fear of the unknown, had felt somewhat liberating.

"There's my baby girl." Mom came over and hugged me before turning back to the stove. "Dinner is almost ready. We're having fish. You need to load up on your Omega-3s." A night of men bashing with chocolate was okay in her mind. But she had frowned when I'd started incorporating chocolate morsels into my daily diet. I grabbed a couple of plates and put them beside the stove. I placed forks and water on the table in the kitchen nook.

"What else are we having?" I asked when I walked back to the stove.

"Green salad with blueberries and steamed carrots." Yep, definitely payback time for the sugary diet. She scooped up the food, and I took our plates to the table. "You want a glass of wine?"

My gaze cut to her as I sat. "I don't drink wine." I felt nauseous at the very thought of consuming it.

"It's white wine, Liv. Red doesn't go with fish." She pulled out a bottle from the fridge, secured two glasses and an opener, and stepped over to the table. I stared at her like she was going to attack me with that thing as she sat down.

"I'd rather not," I grated out.

Her smile was sad, and it sorta pissed me off. "Look, Liv. You're making a lot of progress. I'm not asking you to drink red wine. I don't even like the stuff. Wine should be cold and sweet, not warm and bitter. Yuck." She made a silly face, and I relaxed a little. Then she opened the bottled, poured some in both glasses, and pushed one toward me. My back stiffened.

She sighed. "Sam died a long time ago. You used to be obsessed with counting the days that passed." She took a sip of her wine and muttered, "I wouldn't be surprised if you still do."

Eleven years, six months, and twenty-two days
. I didn't say it out loud, but from the look in my mother's eyes, she'd heard me loud and clear anyway.

"Maybe it's time you marked a different occasion to remember, and celebrate the passing days from it, rather than find reasons to mourn." She pointed to the glass of wine in front of me. "Just try it. If you don't like it, don't drink it." She shrugged. "But find new events worth remembering."

I stared at the wine glass. It should be really easy to drink it, but that man—Killian's dad—had smelled like alcohol. Being a kid, I hadn't known what he'd gotten drunk on, but I'd made the connection in my head that it had been wine. He'd had a wine cellar filled with the stuff, which was where my sister and I had been chained up. Maybe I could have stopped the association if nothing else had happened. But something had. He'd opened a bottle and made us drink some. It had been gross and had smelled awful. I'd never forget that stench. It had haunted me on more than one occasion.

But if I were making strides in dealing with my past, wine would be one of those obstacles. One of many, but still one of them. And if I were being completely honest with myself, it was probably one of the easier ones. I wasn't yet ready to address the counting-days-since-Sam's-death thing. Maybe one day I'd find a cause that justified resetting that day ticker in my mind. For now, I'd focus on what was in front of me.

I swallowed reflexively as I reached for the glass. I glanced at my mom and she smiled and gave an encouraging nod. I picked up the glass and sniffed. Not bad. Not the same foul odor as the stuff from the wine cellar, which was a good sign.

I sipped.

I swallowed.

I took another drink.

"It's good." It burned a little going down, but it wasn't unpleasant. "Not what I expected."

Mom reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "I think you'll find the same reaction to a lot of things you've avoided."

"Meaning?" I asked before taking another sip and setting the glass down. This could be about anything. Thank god I didn't offer any additional details about my habit of counting the passing days since Sam's death. I picked up my fork and stabbed a blueberry while I waited for her to continue.

"Your dad."

"I talk to Dad." I picked at my salad, rather than make eye contact. I knew what she was getting at, but I wasn't sure if I was going to like it.

"You should go see him."

I looked up. "I saw him at Christmas."

She frowned at me. "I mean visit him, without the shield of holiday requirements. He loves you. I think it'd make him happy to see how far you've come since the holidays, and I think it'd do you some good to get to know him better."

My relationship with my father had never recovered after Sam's death. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried...eventually...in his own way. He was a biological member of the sex I'd avoided. Maybe if he hadn't distanced himself initially or had tried harder to be there for me after I'd been kidnapped, I wouldn't have developed my aversion to the male species. But my child mind couldn't comprehend he'd been dealing with his own loss, his own pain. I'd taken it as rejection, on top of the torment I'd received from another man. Had it been fair to lump him in the forbidden category of all men? No, but as fucked up as it sounded, life wasn't fair. "You his fan club leader?" I smirked.

"Not exactly. But he is your father. You owe it to yourself to embrace your relationship with him. Not everybody can do that with their fathers," she said softly.

That was a low blow, but my head was tingling from the wine, so a proper retort failed me. "Are you getting me drunk so I'd agree with you?"

She smiled innocently. "Just drink your wine, and we'll talk."

I rolled my eyes. "It's going to take a lot to get me drunk, Mother." I hadn't been a wine drinker but that didn't mean I didn't partake in other alcohol and liquor choices.

"But is it going to take a lot to get you to agree with me on this?"

I sighed. She was right. I knew she was, but that didn't make this any easier. "No. I'll text him and see if he's free this weekend. Happy?"

Her smile was bright now. "Almost."

"Ugh. What now?" I did reach for my wine then. Maybe being drunk was the right idea for this guilt-ridden conversation.

"Killian."

I froze. "What about him?" I muttered.

She licked her lips. "Sweetheart, you have unfinished business with him."

I put my glass down. "Mom—"

She waved her hand. "Just hear me out. You love him. I know you do. I could see it in your eyes when he was here, and I can see how much you're hurting because of this breakup. I know you've been dealt a reality check that you're still struggling to accept, but you can't use it as an excuse to avoid him. Now, I'll be the first to admit, I don't like the idea of you rushing into any relationship. You're young and you've been through a lot, Liv. A lot. But that doesn't mean I think you should throw away something special. Who knows what could be in store for the two of you? Maybe you're not meant to be together, but you have to find that out on your own through the natural process of things. Avoidance is not living."

"It's not that easy, Mom."

"Nothing worth having ever is."

I rolled my eyes. "Did you read that on a fortune cookie?"

"An old horoscope." She lifted a shoulder. "But it applies."

"He doesn't want to be with me, Mom. If I go crawling to him, I'll look pathetic, and it'll hurt even more when he turns me away. Again."

"You have so much to learn about men, sweetie." She patted my hand and looked at me as if I were a child. "If he wants you, you have to convince him to give your relationship a shot. Men can be stubborn."