Under Locke (37 page)

Will might not answer my emails or bother to pick up a phone and call me, but Sonny had always looked out for me. It had always been an even give and take between us. We weren't forced together by
obligation
, but instead he'd gone out of his way to be in my life and I'd gladly accepted it.

And I hoped—I knew—I always would.

"I love you, dude. We'll always be fine."

The long sigh he answered with was relief for both of us. He promised to call me again soon and let me know what he found out, and I promised not to do anything stupid again. If he only knew.

I pushed all thoughts of my dad out of my head over the last minute of my trip to Dex's. I didn't think of him as I parked the car and made it in. I didn't think of anything as I grabbed clothes out of my duffel and headed into the shower.

But about a minute after I'd stepped into the stall, I thought of him.

And I screamed.

Not like a horror-movie scream, but the same kind of scream I'd expelled when I knew without a doubt that there was no hope for my mom. It physically hurt me.

The tears that followed afterward were just as painful.

Sonny had told me once that I'd felt everything more with our dad because I was the one who'd had him the
longest
. More than Sonny by far. Will was only five when he'd left us, and I doubted he remembered much about the bearded man that used to tuck him into bed. The man he'd cried over for months. I'd been the one with the most memories. The kid who had cried over him for longer than a few months.

Those memories, right then, I damned. Because I was too old to feel so territorial, so betrayed. I had no right. I had no reason.

I couldn't help it though.

The fact that he'd had another kid while we'd gone through so much made me feel insignificant. Whatever issues I think I'd secretly harbored with abandonment flared up.

I thought of Will. Of my poor mom, and I wondered if she'd known about Colorado. The idea that she might have found out killed me a little inside.

Before I knew it, the tears had turned into sobs, then the sobs had turned into whimpers, and the anger and sadness was replaced with cold indifference.

By some miracle I managed to turn off the water—I hadn't bothered with soap or shampoo—and I tugged my clothes on, fighting back those pathetic tears that were ready to commit suicide again. The reflection in the mirror showed me that I was a mess. I didn't have an appetite and all I wanted was oblivion for the night.

The problem was that the home I was in wasn't mine.

And the man who owned the home happened to be standing in the hall outside of the bathroom, waiting for me when I opened the door.

Dex's eyes were hooded, his normally sensual mouth parted, and his gaze bore a hole straight into me.

I dropped my own eyes down to the floor, the memory of what exactly had happened at Mayhem only stacking onto my misery. "Not right now, Dex," I told him in a voice that sounded more of a croak than anything. I walked right past him, heading into the living room where I flopped onto the couch, taking over the main length of it, face-down like a fussy kid. My face buried into the soft material of the pillow I set on the end of the sofa
that
morning.

The floor creaked with his weight. I could sense him standing just off the side of the couch. If I turned my head, I'm sure his feet would
ha
ve been in my vision but I didn't do it. He just stood there for what seemed like forever.

"I'm not kidding, Dex."

He huffed. "Why?"

Why? Ohmigod. I wanted to scream again. "I'm feeling pretty worthless right now, all right?" I whispered into the cushion, just loud enough for him to hear. "The last thing I want is for you to make me feel like a pathetic
moron again."

Did he say anything? No.

Instead, I felt the heat of his body get even closer right before the pillow below me was lifted,
raising
my head right along with it. A heartbeat later, he plopped into the empty spot, dropping the pillow on top of his lap so that my upper body rested on his thighs. The weight of his hand settled between my shoulder blades.

I tried sitting up onto my knees but his hand kept me down on top of him—well, the pillow. My boobs were smashed against his thigh but I didn't care. The last thing I wanted was for him to see me cry.

"Dex," I kind of whined.

He palmed the back of my neck, shifting down the couch just a bit. "Ritz."

"I don't want to hear it right now."

Dex made a humming noise. "I'm not gonna talk shit to you right now," he said in a silky, low voice. "I wanna know what the fuck had you screamin' in the shower, babe."

I hated him. Just a little.

"First I thought it was me that was makin' you cry but after a while, I figured I couldn't have made you that mad."

"Don't flatter yourself," I groaned. "You made me mad," I turned my mouth just to the side so I wouldn't drool all over the pillow. "But no, I'm not going to cry over you calling me ugly names and being a total dick."

He groaned, the hand on the nape of my neck tightened. His fingers massaging the sides. "I was
pretty
fuckin' pissed."

"Anytime you're pissed, you're always really
friggin’
pissed," I explained to him, earning a snicker from the big man beneath me. "You
we
re a
jerk
."

Another groan. His hand slid over to my right shoulder blade. "You were bein' an idiot, Ritz."

"So you had to call me a dumb little shit in front of your friends?"

He didn't answer. Dex's large palm swept over to my other shoulder, cupping that one, too. "Lu told me I was too harsh with you," he admitted in what I could only assume was a contrite voice. "
I was worried, all right?
"

Hmm.

"I was plannin' on gettin' home and tannin' your ass like Ma used to do to me." His fingers went right back to my neck, the palm kissing my spine. "I don't really think you're a dumb little shit," he said.

I turned my head the other way to face his stomach. "Oh?"

"You're just a little shit, babe," Dex murmured. "You wanna tell me what all that
mess
in the shower was about?"

No, I didn't. Yet, there I was opening my mouth. "My dad's an asshole and an idiot."

"Whoa there, tiger. Watch the potty mouth," said the man that dropped the f-bomb at least
one
hundred times a day. Dex's long fingers swept down my spine all the way to where the elastic on my shorts were. A small part of me recognized that this was too intimate but the warm reassurance was exactly what I needed and wanted. "What happened?"

"He has another kid." I totally
wheezed
out the words. "My mom was friggin' dying, losing all of her hair, throwing up every day, and this asshole was off having babies with some lady, Dex." I gasped. "Does he not know what the hell a condom is used for? What kind of a selfish
jackass
does that?"

Of course, he didn't respond but I didn't care because the words just kept pouring out of my mouth.

"He loved my mom, was married to her, had kids with her and he left us. Just like that. Like we were nothing to him
. One day he was there and the next he was telling my mom he couldn’t stay any longer.
He was restless,
he said.
I always hoped that maybe he
’d come back.
Maybe he
’d miss us enough
," I rambled. "But no. Nooooo. That fucking asshole doesn't give a shit about anyone. Not really."

Dex's hand slid up my back again, circling one side of my shoulders before moving to the other.

"And he has another kid, and he left that one too." God, I was pretty sure I was wheezing. "I hate him, Dex. I hate him for breaking my mom's heart, and leaving us, and for not caring. God dammit. I needed him—," Screw me. I'd started tearing up again, my voice cracking. "And he
didn’t give a fuck
."

A watery cough escaped my body. “I just want life to quit taking a shit on me.”

That large hand kept up its circling swipes, down one side of my back before moving over to the other while I sat there, trying to compose myself. Trying to bottle up the momentary anger that had made its way out of me. For a long time, we just sat there. Me still laying partially over Dex's lap, Dex with his hand moving around my back over my t-shirt. The silence was okay because I'd said what I needed to. I'd released the crap I'd held in for so long.

Because apparently, whether or not I'd stopped thinking about my dad years ago, the effect he'd left on me had been stored into the recesses of my conscience.

After a while, I tried to sit up but the heavy hand on the middle of my back kept me down.

"You feel better now?" Dex whispered.

I sniffled. "I guess."

"You better, babe." His fingers inched down like he was acting out the Itsy-Bitsy Spider on me. "I know you
’
re hurtin' but that's enough."

Who the hell was this guy to tell me I'd cried enough or not? I tried to push back again but he wasn't having it. Dex made a tisking sound.

"No, no, no. You're gonna listen to me, Ritz. And you listen good."

Holy crap, this was going to be just like
yia-yia
's lectures.

"That fuck is not worth your tears. He is not worth the love you've given him. He doesn't deserve it and he never will. I'm sure you needed your dad as a kiddo, honey, but you got a shitty one. And that shitty one is not gonna define you. He is not gonna be the reason you cry or don't trust people ever again.

"You're beautiful, and you're so fuckin' sweet, and you're smart, Ritz. You have to get that from your ma because you definitely don't get that shit from your pa. Knowin' Son and how much he feels for you, I know your ma wouldn't want you to suffer like you are."

His fingers tightened on my nape. "You are never gonna cry over that asshole again. I don't even want you to get mad when you think of him. He doesn't exist anymore. His shit will never hurt you again. Do you hear me?"

I hiccupped into the pillow, nodding just barely. I felt so overwhelmed, so raw, it was draining. I'd think about him again, there was no way I couldn't but at the moment, it was nice to believe that I could wash myself of Curt Taylor.

Dex's fingers extended to where the palm covered all of the back of my neck and his fingers wrapped around most of my throat. "
My ma used to tell me you have to fight through some shitty ass days to get to the best days of your life
. So I
’m tellin’ you now, that you gotta hang in there. I swear to you, after this shit is over, you’re not gonna have to worry about him ever again.”
His thumb dug deep into my flesh.

I made a noise that sounded like I was dying. “Oh Dex.”

“Babe, you’re the sweetest little girl I’ve ever met. You deserve better than this broken heart bullshit.” His fingers kneaded the muscles on my neck. “If I ever see that beautiful face cryin’ again over somethin’ that worthless sack of shit did, I’m gonna make your daddy regret ever meetin’ your ma, you got it?”

A different kind of emotion overwhelmed me, temporarily blinding all the anger and resentment that had pierced my body. It made my insides clench and want to cry all over again. Because here was this man who had just called me a dumb little shit earlier, rubbing my back and promising things that were like some kind of super salve.