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“Good-bye.” I want him gone. He has to go before I lose it.
There’s no final hug, no apology. He simply turns and walks out. As easily as he did the last time.
John
* * *
I’ve fucked up. Badly. I forgot to tell Stella about her dad. I forgot. Why do I forget so many things? Important things. Things that will be deeply hurtful to other people when I forget. Why do I do this to people?
I run a hand through my hair and pace, cursing myself. But this isn’t about me. It’s about Stella. She’s out there with that fucking piece-of-shit excuse for a father. I thought my parents were cold. This guy is arctic. A functioning sociopath if I had to guess.
It’s clear he has little to no empathy or thought for others. But he can turn on the charm like a switch—all flash, zero substance. I’ve met people like him all through my career. They chill me to the bone. The worst thing is they usually get away with destroying everything in their path, only keeping around people they can successfully use.
That Stella had him to rely on growing up and still glows with such life and light is a bloody miracle. I know all about being alone in a loveless household. But I’ve had my mates by my side. I might not have always fully appreciated that, but I do now. True, Stella had Hank and Corinne, but it’s clear she never fully leaned on them.
God, she’s out there hurting. Helplessness plucks at my gut. I glare at the door, wanting to slam it open and throw her dad out on his ass. Stella’s voice was rising and falling, indecipherable but clearly angry. From her dad, I’d heard nothing. Now it’s silent.
Why is it so silent?
I’m about to say fuck it and go find out when the door opens. Stella stands in the shadow of the hall, her face pale, her blue eyes glassy. “He’s gone.”
“Are you okay?” She has to be. She will be.
“I’m fine.” She doesn’t sound fine; she sounds hollow. All the light has been drained out of her pretty face.
“Baby …” I walk slowly. She’s holding herself so stiffly, I’m afraid I’ll break her if I move too fast. With each step closer, she gets twitchier.
Stella licks her lips and blinks rapidly. “I want to say something first.”
“Okay.” She can say or do anything she wants; I’ll take it.
“When I was eighteen, my dad came to me with a job. He said it was easy money. All I had to do is hang on the arm of a guy he was working with and make the guy look good.”
My insides flip, sick dread filling me up.
Her eyes shine and a tear slips free, but she ignores it and stares at me unblinking. “I should have known, you know? But I was so …” She sucks in a shaky breath. “I wanted his approval.”
“Button,” I whisper. “I know. Believe me, I know.” I’d lost count of how many times I’d hoped my parents would show any glimmer of interest in my life. Eventually, disappointment wore me down and it was easier not to care too deeply—about anything.
A humorless laugh escapes her, and she looks up at the ceiling, blinking to contain her tears. “It soon became painfully clear the guy expected me to put out. Hell, he told me my dad promised him I would.”
Sick, fucking fuck. I suck in a sharp breath and blow it out to keep from turning around and hunting him down.
“Anyway,” she says, trying to sound lighter, “I got out of there. When I came home, Dad was gone. He left me a couple thousand dollars, an apology of sorts, I guess. I never saw him again. Until now.”
It takes two steps to reach her. She’s cold and stiff when I wrap my arms around her, but she doesn’t resist when I nestle her against my chest. “I’m so sorry,” I say into her silky hair. “I’m so sorry, Stella.”
She trembles and then sags into my hug, her arms slipping around my waist. “When you asked me if I was an escort, I reacted with more anger than I would have because, in a way, for one night, I had been.”
“Shit. Stella, I was a dumb ass.” I squeeze her tight. “We both know that. You think I’d shame you over sex? My pestering was never about the sex; it was just my lame way of wanting to know all about you.” Dipping my head, I find the shell of her ear with my lips. “I know you now, Stells. You’re wonderful, perfect, exactly as you are.”
Her muffled snort sounds dubious. “If only everyone felt that way.”
I hug her with all the tenderness and love I can, curling my body as far as I can over her smaller form as though I can somehow cover up all her hurts and take them away. I hold her until she becomes warm and soft, her breath slowing. I’ll hold her forever if that’s what she wants.
