by Lili Valente
When Eva brought him a tray a little after eight, he sent her away, opting for a tumbler of scotch on the rocks instead. He hoped the drink would dull the edges of his anger. But two tumblers later, all it had accomplished was to make it impossible to stop thinking about Hannah, the woman he’d locked in a cage for the crime of not giving him what he wanted.
He was behaving like an infant king, a tyrant given power far greater than his capacity for compassion.
Her sister destroyed your capacity for compassion and Hannah’s purpose is to give you what you want. It doesn’t matter that she isn’t Harley; you’re still paying for her obedience. She knew the rules and she knew she would be punished for disobeying them.
She brought every bit of this pain and suffering upon herself.
That line of defense held until eleven o’clock, when he turned off the lights and slipped between the sheets, only for his mind to stubbornly replay the events of the evening over and over again, keeping him awake and riveted by remembered fear.
He kept seeing Hannah struggling in the waves, reliving the terror that had flooded through him as he realized he might lose her until his heart thudded faster and his arms ached to hold her. All he wanted to do was to press her tight to his chest and assure his anxious mind that she was safe and alive. But she wasn’t safe and he doubted any amount of money could convince her to come willingly into his arms. She hated him. As she should. As she should have from the very beginning.
But she didn’t. She cared. And you paid her back with cruelty.
With a curse, Jackson flung the covers to the end of the bed and rose to pace back and forth on the cool hardwood. A part of him wanted to go to her, to try to make this better, but it was too late. It had always been too late.
Maybe if he’d met Hannah first instead of Harley. Maybe if he’d never become a criminal or learned to take what he wanted and damn the consequences, maybe then he and Hannah could have been something other than enemies. But as things stood, the situation was too fucked up for it to ever be put right again. Harley had made sure of that.
Jackson snatched his phone from the bureau, thumbing back to the picture of the two girls by the lake, feeling something painful flash through his chest at the sight of Hannah’s smile. It was the same smile she had as an adult, that sweet, open smile he’d seen in the moments she felt comfortable enough to let down her guard. It was the smile that had made him wonder if there was some way forward for him and Harley, as twisted and crazy as the path might be.
But Hannah wasn’t Harley. Harley was dead and Hannah was a stranger he’d known for barely a week.
She’s not a stranger. She’s yours.
“Fuck me until I know who I belong to.” The memory of her words was enough to make his cock stiffen, but he ignored his body’s response. Hannah didn’t belong to him and she never would. She deserved better than what he could give her. A broken man was good enough for the woman who had broken him, but he would never be good enough for anyone else.
Ignoring the odd rush of melancholy inspired by the thought, Jackson flipped forward to the letter he hadn’t had time to read earlier tonight. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was written in colored pencil and that the contents of the missive weren’t as childlike as he’d first assumed. The looping cursive was awkward, but the thoughts the words communicated were unexpectedly eloquent.
Dear Aunt Syb,
I miss you so much! I dream about the lake house every night and wake up sad that I’m not there with you. I wish it were already next summer. Don’t tell them I told, but Mom is still as sad as when we left and Dad is always at work. Sometimes I wonder if they wish they didn’t have kids, but I’m probably wrong. I guess I’m just cranky because Nanny Hammond is awful.
She punishes us BOTH every time Harley does something bad!
Harley says it’s because Nanny is too dumb to tell us apart, but I think she does it to try to make Harley feel guilty so she’ll stop getting into trouble. But Harley never feels guilty and at this rate I’m never going to get to go to my rock-climbing lesson again. It’s always taken away as a punishment.
It almost makes me want to break the rules just so there’s a reason for being punished, but my heart gets all jumpy just thinking about doing things I’m not supposed to do. The closest I got to being bad was sneaking into Nanny’s room and putting leaves in her underwear drawer. When Harley found out, she teased me for being a baby. She said she would have put mice or cockroaches in there instead. And she probably would have.
She’s so angry all the time, Aunt Syb. She’s not the same as she is when we’re at your house. So when we come home I miss you and her, even though she’s right here beside me.
Does that sound crazy?
I hope not. Sometimes I’m scared of ending up like Mom. Nanny says depression is a disease, so we can’t blame Mom for it. And I don’t, but sometimes, when I’m sad, I wonder if I’m catching depression, too.
But I know I wouldn’t catch it at the lake house, Aunt Syb. I know I would be happy and could grow up to be a good person, like you. I just want to be happy and good and not to be scared or sad all the time. That’s why I’m writing to ask you to please, please, please ask Daddy to let me come live with you. I know he’ll say yes if you ask.
And then I could go to school there and help you whenever your arthritis is giving you trouble. I promise I will be the very best kid ever and never let you down. Cross my heart and hope to die!
Much love and hoping to see you soon,
Hannah
Jackson set the phone back on the bureau, his head bowed and his throat tight. It had been a long time since he’d felt anything close to this fierce sense of empathy and he wasn’t sure what to do with the emotion swelling inside of him.
No child should have to feel so scared and alone. His childhood home had been cold and loveless, but at least he hadn’t been constantly punished for a sibling’s misbehavior. And he’d gotten out, scheming his way to freedom when he wasn’t much older than Hannah had been when she wrote this letter. It made him want to reach through time, scoop up that lonely, neglected little girl, and find a way to get her to the aunt who loved her.
But he couldn’t rescue the child Hannah had been. The best he could do was save the woman she’d become.
Before he’d made the conscious choice to move, he was through the bedroom door, striding through the darkened great room and down the hall toward the master suite. Inside, the air still smelled like Hannah, a sweet and sexy smell he knew would haunt him long after she was gone, but he didn’t pause to draw it in.
Now that he’d made the decision, he couldn’t get to her fast enough.
He was already going to be too late. Too late to spare her another ugly memory of being punished for her sister’s crimes, too late to reward her loyalty to the aunt she loved so much or to show her that he wasn’t completely rotten inside. There was still some healthy tissue hidden away in the diseased corridors of his heart. She had shown him that, but unfortunately for the both of them, the discovery had come too late.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jackson
Outside on the patio, Jackson glanced down through the web of bars on the roof of the kennel to see Hannah asleep, curled into a pitiful ball in one corner of her cage. A sharp, slightly sour smell rose from her body, sending a fresh wave of self-loathing oozing through his chest.
He knew that smell. It was the smell of terror and captivity, made familiar from his first days in prison when his clothes had been constantly damp with sweat despite the chill in his cell. It had taken a week for his body to adapt to living in a cage, but his mind had never adjusted. Once you’ve known what it’s like to have your freedom unjustly taken away, it’s impossible to recover. Trust, faith, hope, and all the other fragile things that give life deeper meaning become impossible, locked away in a room inside of you that has no key.
He knew from experience something like this could never be undone. Hannah would never forg
et being caged for the crime of trusting the wrong person. She’d only been in the kennel for a few hours, but she would bear the scars of this encounter for the rest of her life.
Bracing himself for the worst, Jackson knelt to peer into the cage, where Hannah’s skin glowed like moonlight reflecting on the ocean. She was beautiful—the curve of her hip poetry in the darkness that surrounded her—but he still wished he’d given her clothes. It was warm enough that she shouldn’t be cold, but her nudity added to the cruelty of her punishment. He could imagine how vulnerable she must have felt in those moments before she fell asleep when she was lying naked and alone inside a cage meant for a dog.
She’d told him that she cared about him, and in exchange, he’d treated her like an animal. She was right to hate him. Hatred was all he deserved.
“Hannah,” he said, knowing putting this off until morning wouldn’t make it any easier. “Hannah, wake up. I’m here to let you out.”
She moaned and shifted in her sleep, but her eyes remained closed.
“Hannah,” he repeated in a firmer voice. “Wake up, Hannah.”
She woke with a start, her head snapping up, sending her tangled hair flying. With her curls obscuring her features he couldn’t see her face, but he knew the moment she saw him. She cringed away with a sound of disgust, pressing herself against the wall of the kennel and drawing her knees to her chest.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice low and hoarse from screaming.
“I’m here to let you out.” He flipped the latch, letting the gate swing open, but Hannah didn’t move. She remained in her corner, making it clear she’d rather stay in the dog crate than move a centimeter closer to him.
“What do you want?” she demanded again, voice rising sharply. “Why are you letting me out?”
“I thought you might want a shower,” he said as he backed away from the kennel, knowing it was the wrong thing to say when a bark of laughter burst from Hannah’s lips.
“A shower,” she repeated as she crawled through the gate and stood shakily, her arms clasped across her chest. “You thought I might want a shower.”
Jackson sighed, but she cut him off before he could find something less ridiculous to say.
“No, I don’t want a shower.” She lunged forward suddenly, sobbing as her palms struck his ribs. “I want to hurt you, you twisted son of a bitch!” She shoved him again, sending him staggering back a step. “I want to lock you naked in a cage and let you know what it feels like to have the walls closing in and your skin crawling off of your body.”
Jackson lifted his hands into the air, the gesture of surrender resonating in some deep, primal part of his brain.
He suddenly realized there was only one way to show Hannah how profoundly he regretted what he’d done. Slowly, he reached for the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head before letting it fall to the ground.
“What are you doing?” Hannah edged back a step, wariness in her tone.
“You said you wanted me naked.” He could sense where her thoughts were headed and how little she wanted him to touch her, but this wasn’t about sex. It was about being as vulnerable as she was, something she’d realize when she saw his cock limp between his legs.
He shoved his pants to the ground and stepped out of them before kneeling on the hard stone at her feet. “There’s a crop in the bedside table drawer. You should get it. If you beat me with your hands, you’ll hurt yourself.”
He watched her bare toes curl against the stone, but didn’t lift his eyes from the ground. He couldn’t stand to look at her right now. Seeing how close she was to a breakdown and knowing he was the one who had driven her there was even more painful than he’d imagined it would be.
“You want me to beat you?” she asked.
“I’m too big to fit in the kennel,” Jackson said practically. “A beating would be a reasonable substitute, but if you’d rather punish me some other way, that’s up to you. Whatever you decide, you have my full cooperation.”
“Why?” she said. “Look at me, Jackson.”
He kept his chin tucked close to his chest. “You know why.”
“Jackson, look at me,” she repeated. “Let me see your face.”
Slowly, he tilted his head, meeting her gaze in the dim light. The moon was hiding behind the thick clouds that had moved in not long after sunset, but there was enough illumination to see the way her eyes glittered with a mixture of rage and suspicion. It was clear that she would never trust him again, not even the small amount that she had before.
The knowledge made his chest feel heavy and his voice flat when he said, “Because I deserve it.”
“What did you do to deserve it,” she pressed, refusing to let him off easy. “Tell me what you did wrong.”
“Once I knew who you were, the ugliness should have stopped,” he said. “I never should have fucked you on the beach or dragged you back here against your will. And I sure as hell shouldn’t have put you in the kennel.”
“Then why did you?” she asked, shaking her head as if he were a puzzle she would never be able to make sense of.
But there was no puzzle. He was a simple creature, a simple monster, and after all he’d put her through she deserved to know his creation story.
“Because I’m a twisted son of a bitch. Like you said. And I’m never going to be anything else.” He took a deep breath. “It started six years ago when your sister filed a report with the military police accusing me of rape.”
He let the rest of the story spill out, every detail of that summer that had started out golden and ended in a nightmare he couldn’t wake from, no matter how many times he’d insisted that he had never touched Harley in anger.
“I don’t know how she did it,” he continued. “In the video of her interview with the police she was covered in bruises, but the last time I saw her she was fine. There wasn’t a mark on her. I saw every inch of her.” He swallowed hard. “We slept together and I told her that I loved her for the first time. She said she loved me, too, and…I believed it. I believed her.”
His lip curled, disgust for the fool he’d been making his skin crawl. “Later, I found out that she’d been killed later that same night, on her way to elope with my best friend, days after framing me for a crime I didn’t commit. I was sentenced to eighteen months in a military prison and dishonorably discharged from the Marines. My family hasn’t spoken to me since I was taken in for questioning.”
Hannah’s breath rushed out. “Jesus.” She sat down across from him, her arms still folded at her chest. “I thought it was something like that, but I never… I had no idea that you’d gone to prison. Or that the man who was in the car with her was your friend.”
“Don’t pity me,” he said in a brittle voice. “That’s not why I told you the truth. I told you so you’ll understand that I have nothing to offer you except the chance to even the score. Now go get the crop.”
“I don’t want to get the crop,” she said, sounding exasperated. “You know, there’s such a thing as an apology, Jackson. Where you say you’re sorry for something you’ve done and the other person says you’re forgiven.”
“I don’t deserve to be forgiven.”
Her gaze softened. “Then I guess this time it’s lucky for you that people don’t always get what they deserve.” She reached out, laying a hand on his arm. “I believe that you’re sorry. And I forgive you.”
He shook his head, fighting to swallow as a wave of emotion tightened his throat. “You can’t.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she said stubbornly. “That’s not the place we’re in right now. I want to forgive you, so I will. And I hope you’ll forgive me, too.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he said, sitting back on his heels, the knot in his throat even worse than it had been before.
“Yes, there is.” She moved closer, taking his hand in both of hers. “I played my part in the confusion you’ve been feeling for so long. I didn’t realize it,
but…” Her fingers tightened around his palm. “That wasn’t Harley you were with the night you climbed through her window, Jackson. It was me.”
He glanced up but was too stunned to form a response.
“I tried to tell you,” Hannah said, anxiety creeping into her tone. “But you thought I was playing along with the game. And then, after the first time we were together when I had the chance to tell you it had all been a horrible mistake, I…I didn’t want to.”
Her gaze fell to their joined hands. “Because it wasn’t horrible. It was wonderful. And that’s why I smiled when you took the blindfold off. Because I’d been hoping to see you again for so long, even though I knew it was wrong, and that it was Harley you cared about, not me.”
“I…I can’t…” He trailed off, still not knowing what to say, only that so many things finally made sense now. Not just the bruises, but the way Harley had seemed so naturally submissive that night, almost like a different person.
It was because she had been a different person. She’d been Hannah. It was Hannah who had made him believe he and Harley had a future. It had been Hannah all along.
“Can you forgive me?” she asked.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” he repeated, hoping she could tell that he meant it. “I should have known the difference. If I hadn’t drunk half a bottle of scotch before I came through Harley’s window, I would have. It was my fault as much as yours.”
“Not really,” she said, her lips lifting on one side. “But thank you.”
“God, Hannah, don’t thank me.” He tried to pull his hand away, but she held tight. “I’m glad you told me the truth, but I’m not that man anymore. I couldn’t be, even if I tried.”
“I don’t believe you.” She drew his hand toward her, guiding it to rest, palm down, on her chest.
His fingers fit neatly between her bare breasts and the feel of her soft, warm flesh had the usual effect on his body. His cock didn’t care that he hated himself. His cock only cared that he could have Hannah’s breast cupped in his hand with a shift of his wrist.
