“How long?” I ask. A sluggish hesitant stride is taken,enough to clear the foyer and allow me to close the front door.
“How long what?” We walk through the house with slow and subtle steps. I can hear each sharp intake of breath, labored and fucking choppy. Goddamn, I know it all too well—fractured or broken ribs, which could mean a collapsed lung. I’m more than likely going to have to drag my friends into this mess.
“How long has this been going on?” I’ve kept track from the very beginning, watching my father’s moves, and he steered clear.
“Staying there.” A pause. “Few days.” We make it into the kitchen. Sure enough, Ronnie has the med kit on the counter, a bag of ice, and a towel.
“Can you sit down, or will that hurt too much?” Ronnie greets us, ready to dive in.
“Yeah, I mean no. I’m good to sit down.” I pull the barstool out, watching the entire scene play out.
“Take your time. There’s no hurry, and we can always move to another area if it’s too much.” Ronnie is doing more than I am right now. Then again, I’m battling with memories of my past and blaming myself.
“Thanks.” A nod of a head. Watching the person in front of me struggle to sit while trying to find a comfortable position isn’t helping matters. Right as Ronnie is about to clean up a scrape, I pull myself together.
“Foxy.” The tone in my voice captures her attention, and her hand hovers above a busted lip, a piece of gauze at the ready. I run my hand down my face, wondering how this is going to go and hoping things don’t get worse.
“Yes?” she replies, looking at me with a quizzical expression.
“This is Rory,” I state, looking from my woman to Rory.
“Hi, Rory. I’m Ronnie, short for Veronica. Only Jude calls me Foxy.” Ronnie starts to go about the task I interrupted.
“She’s my sister.”
“Yeah, I can tell. You two are the spitting image of one another, minus the hair.” I place the palm of my hand on the counter, trying to ground myself and figure out where to go from here.
“Technically, he’s my half-brother. Same dad, unfortunately, different moms. Though, I’m thinking we both ended up with the short end of the stick,” Rory says with a hint of laughter, causing her to wince.
“We can agree on that. Fuck, I’m sorry.” I’d like to say I knew about my sister from the very beginning, but I didn’t. Nearly seventeen years ago, I was still starting out on my own. I didn’t have the technology I do now and definitely not the knowledge I do now.
“It’s not your fault, Jude. The only person to blame is the one who did it.” Rory might be sixteen years old, but she’s older beyond her years.
“Are you okay with me being here for this conversation?” Ronnie asks, taking one of Rory’s hands, abandoning her lip and working on her hands instead.
“Yes,” my sister says with no hesitation. I remain quiet. Rory’s story isn’t mine to tell, and while ours are similar, I’m not living through it like she currently is.
“It might not be my fault, but I could have prevented it. The last time we talked, everything was good, and I gave youa phone to use, Rory. I’m here, no matter what.” Ronnie sends me a sharp look, basically telling me my tone of voice needs to go down a notch.
“I think you need a shower, but I have to ask, Rory, anything we need to go to the hospital for?” My sister vehemently shakes her head, tears tumbling from her eyes and cascading down her cheeks, chin trembling. Not for one moment since Rory landed on my doorstep did I think somethingmoremight have happened.
“It didn’t get that far.” My blood boils at Rory’s response. Her head goes down, shoulders start quaking, and thank fuck for Ronnie in this moment. “Everything was going well enough, or I thought it was. This was the longest time we’ve been in one place, and while I know my life wasn’t unicorns and rainbows, we were fine.” Rory swallows the lump lodging in her throat. “Then he showed up. I’m not sure how he found our address or knew anything about our whereabouts. Then again, it’s not like we moved states when we should have, but hindsight is twenty-twenty, because I would have had a hell of a time getting to you without transportation.” Through Rory’s recounting of events, she’s somewhat able to compose herself even though I’m sure she’s in so much damn pain. But Ronnie’s right we need to go to the hospital. We’ll do that too, no questions asked. We’ll just get in the car, be there for my sister, and find the best therapist or whatever she needs.
“How did you screw up? You’re a child,” Ronnie says with disdain in her voice. “A parent’s job is to protect you, Rory, not the other way around.”
“I know,” she says, while I clench my fists, trying toremain calm and not allow my rage to make me the man I’m fucking not. “Do you want me to keep going?” Rory asks.
“Yes, sweetheart, if you can.” Ronnie looks at my sister, making eye contact and getting a nod from Rory. I settle myself down and listen.
“I heard his voice. He must have followed her home from work, and before I could barricade myself in my room, the front door slammed open. My phone wasn’t on me, and the way Mom looked, she knew it would be a bad night. The slight shake of her head told me not to rock the boat even though the knife block was in reach.” When I found Rory and her mom, Bobbi, a few years back, it was by chance, and it happened to be by a digital footprint from my sister. Some kind of trending app where kids lip sync and dance. She didn’t know any better, so her name was out there on the world wide web using our father’s last name.
I shot out of my desk chair like a bat out of hell, seething mad, pissed that a woman would entangle themselves with my dad, only to have another child he’d hurt. My theory went out the window when I went to Bobbi’s work at a diner. You could tell she worked hard, did what needed to be done, and at the end of her shift, she walked to Rory’s school to pick her up. Yeah, I followed her around for a few days, keeping my distance until they were both in public, and told them my name. The minute the name Ellison was spoken, Bobbi looked ready to bolt. I assured her that I was nothing like my dad, and once she settled, we walked to a bookstore where we could sit and talk. Bobbi said she hadn’t heard from my father for years, and she kept him off all paperwork, living a simple life. Rory, on the other hand, didn’t take toolightly of me taking her phone away, replacing it with a new one for both of them, and locking it down so much it’d be hard for anyone to know what they do.
It still didn’t help them.The words swirling in my head hit me like a ton of bricks.
“I’d have to agree with your mom, Rory. That could have backfired, and he could have used the knife on both of you.” I’m still going through all of the logistics, like how she got out of the apartment and where her mom could be.
“I heard him hurt her, Jude.” Rory’s eyes close. I imagine he did if this is what my sister has in the form of showing his fatherly love. “When he was done, he came out of the back bedroom with his meaty paws on the back of her neck and threw her into the kitchen with me. I wanted to help her, but I knew that the minute I tried, he’d hurt me. Especially after the threat in his eyes when he walked by me.” Fucking hell. I got out, had friends who rallied for me, and I’m pissed at myself that I didn’t pull them out. I could have set them up far away or make a call I should have nearly twenty years ago. A call that will be happening as soon as I make sure Bobbi’s okay. “Mom whimpered, and I helped her sit down while we waited him out, and when I told her I’d call Jude, he overheard me. That’s when things went from bad to worse. I tried to block every hit to my head, curled into myself. Mom got his attention, and he went after her. She screamed for me to leave. As much as I didn’t want to leave her behind, I knew I didn’t have any other choice.”
