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“My bathing suit covers up a lot more than this. Dr. Dixon would be aghast if he knew I was showing off my stretch marks in such garish lighting.” She shook her head, talking about her liposuctionist with the same kind of familiarity as one spoke of the family doctor. “Sit. You look tired.”
Tired didn’t begin to cover it. I slumped into a kitchen chair while my mother went to get dressed. A moment later, she returned in her trim pants and silky blouse. Not a single strand of hair was out of place.
“Trayherne,” she said softly, passing her hand over my head.
I don’t know what made me do it, but I turned and buried my face in her stomach like I once had when I was a little boy. So many years ago, but with one whiff of her powder and lavender fragrance, I was thrust back into the past.
Unlike Mia, I still had a living mother. And by God, I didn’t want to lose her. I wouldn’t ever stop fighting to keep her safe.
“Stay here with us,” I whispered, not thinking of the implications. This wasn’t even my place. I had no right to be extending invitations. But it didn’t feel like I was being kind to a guest. This was my mother, the only one I’d ever have. I’d figure out the rest later.
She stroked my hair, subtly but definitively moving back. That inch between us felt like six miles. “Your father just lost control.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d heard that song and dance so much I could sing the chorus without accompaniment. “Yeah, how many times is that now?”
She eased back another inch. Soon, her hand would fall away from my hair. “You don’t understand what goes on in a marriage.”
“I guess not.” I curled my fist into the back of her blouse. Some stupid part of me refused to let go. No matter how often I told myself I was turning my back, I never really did.
“Don’t judge your father. He’s under so much pressure. A man like him, with so many responsibilities… Of course he’ll lose his grip on his temper now and then.” Without looking up, I could tell she was fumbling for her pearls. Always clutching them like a life preserver in turbulent waters that would never, ever calm as long as she stayed in them. “I pushed him too far. It’s my—”
“Don’t,” I grated, scraping the chair back. “Don’t ever say those words in my presence.” I stumbled to my feet, nearly blind with the rage and helplessness choking me. I lived with a version of it every day because of Mia, and having this one layered on top of the newer agony only made both sting more. “Someone I love is always wondering if only she’d made a different move, if things could be different. But she fought her way free. She bled.” I grabbed my mother’s shoulders and shook her, only realizing what I’d done when the blue eyes so like my own went wide and horrified.
My chest locked. My mouth went dry. I stared at her as if she were a stranger.
As if I was.
Finger by finger, I released the pressure on her upper arms. I hadn’t checked my strength, and I knew how easily I could bruise fragile flesh. I’d taken pride in it once. I’d gotten paid to make other people bleed.
I hurt Mia day after day. It was okay, because she wanted it. Because she said I could.
I wasn’t the same kind of sadistic bastard as my father, using my brute strength to harm those with less.
Don’t agree with me? I’ll force you. I’ll make you.
I wasn’t. I wasn’t.
“Tray,” my mother breathed, coming toward me as I backed up. The hand she extended looked like the bony arm of a skeleton, shriveled fingers trying to haul me back from the brink.
Too late.
A trapdoor slammed shut in my mind, walling off my thoughts. I wasn’t my father. I wasn’t Darren. I didn’t force women to do what I wanted, whether they acquiesced or not.
I would never allow myself to hurt those I loved. I’d walk away first.
Eyes blind, I fumbled my way out of the kitchen, out of the living room, tripping over my feet like a newborn colt who hadn’t grown into his legs yet. My keys were in my hand, grabbed from the table where I tossed them by habit.
My car.
I’d get in my car, and just go. I didn’t know where yet. It didn’t matter. Anywhere was better than here, staring at that flash of terror on my mother’s face while she wondered if she’d given birth to a carbon copy of my father.
One who’d been trained to kill.
7
Mia
My shift was halfway over when my cell vibrated in my back pocket. Normally I left it in my purse in the back room, but the situation with Tray and his mother had put me on edge. I hated not being with him when he was dealing with something so difficult, even if I wasn’t exactly sure how difficult it was. I didn’t know how deep and far it ran.
