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At the mention of his name, the phone slips from my hand and clatters to the floor. Hendrix picks it up.
“This is Olivia’s boss, Hendrix Caldwell. What is going on that has her so upset?” he questions into my phone.
Unable to hear what she is saying, I merely sit helplessly on the stainless steel counter in the back of the kitchen. I try to summon courage from songs. I try to recount every piece of motivational lingerie in my arsenal. Nothing is working, though. The thoughts bouncing around in my head are too deafening for anything else to get through.
Bryce needs a plane ticket. Where is he? Why isn’t he back in California? Has he been following me?
My gut twists as fear overtakes me.
I don’t even know how long I sit there in stunned silence before Hendrix’s voice brings me back from the depths of the darkness I had plunged into.
“No need to get her a ticket. I’ll make sure she gets there for him.”
Without another word, he swipes the screen to end the call and begins watching me. I can feel it even though I refuse to look up.
Needing to focus my attention on something other than my dad and his family, I begin counting the tiles on the floor.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six…
“Livi, talk to me,” Hendrix commands.
“Nothing to say.”
He cups my chin in his hand to make me look up at him. “You’re not a bull-shitter, Livi, so don’t start bein’ one now.”
“You ever lose a part of yourself, Hendrix? Really lose something you can never get back?”
“Was it lost or taken?”
Tears fill my eyes and I shrug. “Maybe both.”
“Talk. To. Me. Stop dancing around everything for once. You may not feel strong, but you are, and you aren’t alone.”
I blow out a breath. Can I share my deepest, darkest secret with him? Can I drop my past on him?
“I can tell by that phone call, you got issues with your dad or your stepmom, but he’s sick, Livi. He wants you to come visit. It’s obvious this isn’t something you’re comfortable with, though.”
“I would have to fly to California. I can’t afford that.”
“Livi, you’re testing my patience here.”
I roll my shoulders back. “Fine, you want the story, you got it. Hope you’re ready.” I glare at him for pushing me. “I was fourteen. Bryce was sixteen. I was a late bloomer, but I was developing, and I had more than buds. Bryce noticed.”
I can see Hendrix grinding his teeth in front of me. The anger is building inside him, while the disgust grows inside of me.
“He would come in my room, and at first, he would touch me and be gentle.” As the tears roll down my face, Hendrix moves his thumbs to wipe them away. “Sometimes, it wasn’t so bad. I know I’m sick and twisted, and it’s all wrong.”
“Nothing wrong with you. He found you young and vulnerable, and he took advantage.”
I shake my head. “I thought he would stop. Like, oh, it was a one-time thing. Heck, maybe I imagined it, I would tell myself. Only, he kept coming back. Every time I would visit my dad, he would find his way into my room. He was gentle in the beginning … kind of…” I hiccup as the sobs break through.
Hendrix rests my face against his solid chest and holds me as I cry.
“The first time, my shirt ended up over my head because I wouldn’t move for him to take it off. After that, my face was always covered. Then everything escalated. I felt suffocated, Hendrix. When I would say ‘no, please don’t,’ he would cover my head with my shirt and then a pillow to keep me quiet. He was so big over me. I didn’t dare fight.” I shake against Hendrix as I mumble all of this into his chest.
“I would beg my mom not to send me to my dad’s. It became my nightmare after I learned how wrong it was. I have lived in fear that if he gets a chance, he would do it again.” I breathe in the scent of him while I cry within the safety of his arms. My body shakes as the memories flood. “Consent wasn’t given, it wasn’t even asked for.” I sob more.
“Your stepmother, Victoria, said your dad had a stroke. He’s asking for you, only you. The doctors say he is having mini-strokes behind it, and they can’t seem to stop them. This may be your only opportunity. Do you want to see your dad? Take away the fucker who touched you, do you want to see your dad? I promise you on all that I am, Livi, no one is ever going to hurt you like that again.”
Do I want to see my dad? I don’t know.
Pulling back, I grab the bar towel out of Hendrix’s back pocket. I blow my nose into it, knowing I am a complete mess.
