"Go away! I said I'm fine."
"Savi, you're not going to shut me out anymore. Tell me what's going on."
Savi closed her eyes and winced when she tried to swallow. She turned back to the sink and cupped her hands, letting water from the faucet fill them, then bent over and slurped the water into her mouth.
He reached around her and held the bottled water in front of her. "Here. Drink this."
She grabbed it like a lifeline, stood, and tilted it back against her lips, gulping down half the bottle as if she'd spent a week in Iraq without a drop. Damián's hand stroked her back in what he intended as a comforting gesture, but she shrank away from his reach as far as she could with the sink in front of her.
"Savi, what happened in there?"
"I don't want to talk about it. I just need a few minutes alone to regroup."
Damián leaned his pelvis against her backside, pressing her into the sink. He'd given her personal space for two weeks, but he recognized the signs of PTSD when he saw them. Clearly, she needed to face whatever demons pursued her before they'd let go of even a fraction of their hold on her.
The bottle shook in her hand.
"I can help, Savi. I have been through some of my own living nightmares. It helps to talk about them. Takes away their power."
He allowed her enough room to turn and face him, but she stared up into his eyes for so long he didn't know if she was trying to formulate words to respond or was planning to wait him out in silence. Then she shook her head.
"He still has all the power," she whispered.
He brushed a wet strand of hair off her soft cheek and behind her ear. "Who, bebé?"
She shook her head again. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to remember." She held a shaking hand to her head and pressed her fingers against her temple. "Why do these memories keep bubbling up? I dealt with all this stuff in therapy years ago."
"They don't come up until your mind feels safe; until your mind knows you can deal with them" At least, that's what his shrink had told him. Maybe it would give her more comfort than it had him. If Adam hadn't been there for him…
"Of course. I know that." She was still shaking and clearly rattled by whatever memory she'd relived. "But I don't want to handle them. I don't want to feel anything!" Her voice grew louder. "Why can't they just leave me alone?" She tried to push him away, but he kept her body trapped between his and the vanity.
"I care, Savi. I understand. Let me help."
She shook her head, keeping her gaze cast toward the toilet. "No one can help me."
"Bullshit. I'm living proof everyone can be helped. Dad…Adam and Marc pulled me back from the brink more times than I can count." He ran his hand through his hair, realizing he hadn't tied it back yet this morning. "Savi, just talk to me. Tell me what he did to you."
She pushed against him, but he still didn't back down.
"I need to get back to Mari."
"She's fine with Marc and Angelina. Talk to me. What did he do to you?" He was pretty sure it had something to do with a pet cat, from what she'd said in the other room. Had her father abused her pet in front of her? Whatever had been done, it clearly had been to torture his daughter, maybe to buy her silence.
Savi needed to remember, to say the words. He brushed his hands up and down her arms trying to infuse warmth into her chilled limbs.
"I take it the flashback was of your father."
She closed her eyes and lowered her head, but she didn't deny it. "What did he do to you, Savi?"
In barely a whisper, she answered, "It's not what he did to me."
He leaned down so he could hear better, but she didn't continue. The beast stirred within. Had the bastard hurt Marisol, too?
"You're hurting me."
Damián was gripping her arms too hard and released her. Get ahold of yourself, man. He ground out the words, "What. Did. He. Do?"
She looked up at him, her forehead wrinkled more in confusion at his emotional response than a reaction to her own anguish. She gave the response he had demanded, but without any emotion, her voice matter-of-fact. "He killed Whiskers. He didn't take him to the pound. He told the little girl he would dump her out in the desert, too, if she ever told anyone about what he did to her when they were alone." He could feel her body quaking, could see the cold, blank stare, as she continued in a whisper, "She never told. She kept his secrets. All of them."
He couldn't let her stop now, even though he knew he wasn't prepared to hear her say the words. He reached up and stroked her cheek. "What little girl? What kinds of secrets?"
"Savannah's. He hurt her so badly. She shriveled up and died."
What the fuck? "You're Savannah. You didn't die."
Savi struggled to get out of his arms. "But she had to die. She couldn't live with her shame."
"The shame wasn't yours. You weren't to blame for what he did."
"No! You don't understand!" She dug her nails into his chest and pushed against him, but he didn't budge. She needed to release this misplaced guilt and shame.
"Then help me understand, Savannah."
The vehemence in her eyes was at least an emotion, not the dead look he'd seen since this flashback had started. She was feeling something—finally.
"Don't ever call me that again."
With a force that nearly knocked him on his ass, she shoved at him, but he quickly reset his feet and regained control. Still, he was glad to see her fighting back.
"It's your name, Savannah."
"No! She's dead!"
"You're not dead."
"No." She shook her head again. "I'm Savi Baker. He didn't hurt me. He hurt Savannah." She gasped on a sob. "Oh, God. I had to do it."
"Do what, Savannah?" She hung on the precipice of really letting go of the tight rein she held on her emotions and memories. Her mouth moved to speak, but no words came out. "What did you have to do?"
After a moment of struggling to form the words, she leaned back and looked up at him. "Oh dear lord. I had to leave her with the monster."
What the…? "Leave who?"
She whispered, "Savannah."
Madre de Dios. What did that bastard do to her? How could he get through? "Savannah isn't dead. She escaped. You escaped. I'm holding her right now. Holding you." God, this conversation was fucked up. "Savannah grew up to be a wonderful mommy and to help other kids who were hurting like she'd been hurt."
She shook her head, a wild look in her eyes, but she didn't say anything.
"Bebé, you just had to put Savannah into hiding for a little while. To let your body and mind heal. To make a new life for yourself and take care of Marisol."
She splayed her hands against his chest and grabbed his shirt. "Don't let him near her. You have to promise you'll protect her if something happens to me."
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. She didn't fight, but stood rigid. "He's never going to hurt either of you again, mi sueño." Encouraged that she wasn't pushing him away this time, he held her tighter, trying to enfold her into his body where she could absorb some of his strength, his heat.
Her body shook with sobs for what seemed like forever, then she stilled to an occasional sniffle. When she spoke, it was in a ragged whisper. "I got away."
Damián doubted she'd ever escaped emotionally, but she had gotten away physically.
"Yes, you did."
"All thanks to you, Damián."
Bullshit. She'd had no help from Damián's sorry ass. Hell, he wasn't even around for her when she'd needed him the most. Instead, he'd dumped her on the rat bastard's front steps and ridden away. He hadn't even been there for her when Marisol had been born.
But he didn't want to shut her down again. "What did I do?"
"You gave me Marisol. Without her, I never could have left that house. You gave me the courage to leave."
"If I'd known…" How much abuse was Damián responsible for? After all, he'd returned her to the monster's house that night.
&nb
sp; She placed her finger over his lips. "It's not your fault. You're not to blame." Hearing her throw his own words back at him told Damián he'd at least gotten through to her mentally, whether she accepted the words for herself yet or not. Hell, she probably didn't believe them any more than he did. But guilt could eat a person alive. Man, did he know that.
Damián's gaze lowered to her full pink lips. Having her body pressed against his like this wasn't such a great idea at the moment. Control yourself, Chico. He'd spent more than six years regaining control of his life, his body, after Fallujah. Why couldn't he maintain control over one long-neglected part of his body at the moment?
He wasn't going to make a move on her, though. He'd only hurt her if he pushed her too far sexually, then abandoned her. Again.
Which he would have to do eventually. She needed a whole man.
That didn't mean he couldn't fantasize about being with Savannah again. Savi. Whatever the hell she wanted to be called. She was the woman he'd dreamt about for more than eight years.
Mi sueño.
Chapter Four
Savi had too much to lose to get involved with Damián. So, why did she feel the need to comfort him? She didn't want him to feel responsible for what her father had done to Savannah all those years ago.
She shuddered.
To her.
But she hadn't told Damián about her father back when they were two desperate nineteen-year-olds just seeking one day of perfection in each other's arms. There had been no need. She'd planned to end her life that night after he'd dropped her off at home. How could he know what horrors happened to her in the stately, but sinister, mansion on the hill in Rancho?
Damián's gaze warmed her lips, and she held her breath. She needed to get back to Mari. Now. Before it was too late.
Don't panic. This is Damián. He won't hurt you.
His head came toward hers and she shivered. How could she be hot and cold at the same time? Was she about to go into another panic attack? She opened her mouth to tell him she didn't want to do this, but Damián seemed to take it as an invitation and his lips brushed hers.
Savi's heart pounded. Fight or flight kicked in. Why couldn't she just enjoy the sensation of his kiss? Part of her wanted to respond and enjoy it. Heat pooled in her lower abdomen.
No!
I can't do this.
Damián pulled away and looked down at her. "You okay?"
She shook her head, but no words came out when she opened her mouth to speak. How had he known she needed to stop? No matter. The point was that he'd stopped, even without her needing to tell him to stop.
"I'm sorry, Damián."
"Sorry about what?"
"I can't." She couldn't even say the words, but surely he knew what she meant. She looked into Damián's deep brown eyes.
The pads of his thumbs brushed along her still damp cheekbones. "Tell me what you're feeling."
Feeling?
"Nothing."
But she had. And she didn't like it at all.
Savi shook her head and looked down in shame, trying to negate the response her body had had. She didn't want to feel anything sexual ever again. Kissing led to sex. Sex was dirty. Sex hurt. She splayed her hands against his chest and gave him a gentle push, but he didn't budge. Again the feelings of panic started to bubble up.
"Talk to me, Savi."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can. Look at me."
Her gaze rose to meet his. Why did he keep pushing? Worse still, why did she respond to him so docilely?
"Better." He smiled. "Now, when's the last time you were kissed—by a man, not Marisol or some air-kiss from a girlfriend. I mean the wet, heart-pounding kiss of a man."
Well, that was easy to answer. It had only happened with one person. "At Thousand Steps Beach."
He didn't mask the look of surprise on his face, then grinned and pointed to his chest, the obvious question in his eyes.
"Don't let it go to your head. I'm not interested in men for kissing or…anything else."
His grin widened. "I think we've made enough progress for one morning. I'll let you flit back to Marisol, mi mariposa, while I take a shower. A very cold shower."
Savi didn't want to think about his being aroused right now, and she tensed.
Damián placed his hands on the tops of her shoulders. "What was that thought?" He seemed upset with her reaction. She shuddered and tried to pull away.
"You want more than I can give."
"But I'm not going to take it, Savi, if you aren't giving it. I can control my body. I will never force you to do anything. I'm not like those other men."
She hoped not. She didn't think he was, either. How else would she have been able to come to him for help? But she'd only wanted his protection—not his kisses, his affection, his advances. How had this morning turned into such a chaotic mixture of emotions? Her head swam, as if she were careening on the Tilt-o-Whirl Mari loved so much at the annual church festival.
"We'll go play with Marisol and her toys, then I'm taking you both out for Christmas dinner this afternoon with some friends of mine at a nice local place I think you'll like."
Not waiting for him to change his mind about letting her go, Savi slid sideways, pressure from his hips and his arousal that she was trying to deny caused her to suck in her stomach. He chuckled.
Savi nearly ran from the bathroom, then took a moment in the bedroom to compose herself. She held her cold hands to her warm face and tried to regulate her breathing. Slowly, her heart rate returned to something resembling normal and she planted a smile on her face. She'd be embarrassed to face Damián's friends after that panic attack. They must think she was unbalanced.
When she opened the door and walked into the room, Marc was kneeling on the floor next to Angelina and Mari, who was holding a squirming bundle of black-and-white fur in one hand and her new plush stuffed kitty in the other, introducing the two to each other.
Marc looked up at Savi and scrutinized her for a moment, then smiled. He stood up and reached down for Angelina's hand. They came over to her while Mari continued to enjoy two of her Christmas presents.
"I'm sorry about that…"
Angelina held her hand up to halt the words. "No apologies necessary. I'm just glad to see you're feeling better."
Marc looked toward the bedroom. Savi felt compelled to explain Damián's delay. "Oh, he needed to take a shower." The grin that widened across Marc's face told her what he thought, but Savi wasn't comfortable with him thinking that about her. She didn't arouse anyone, not on purpose, anyway.
"With Mari and me taking over his bedroom, his bathroom time can be a little hard to schedule." His eyes told her he didn't buy a word of it. "Anyway, thank you for bringing Mari the kitten. But I know you need to get to your Christmas dinner." She wished she could return to having a quiet Christmas alone with Mari. Okay, she wanted Damián to be a part of the day, too. For Mari.
But they could never be a real family, even if Mari connected them by blood. Savi was damaged goods.
"Oh, we're fine," Angelina assured her. "Mama makes enough food for an army." She paused a moment. "I hope you enjoy the meal at Adam and Karla's."
Savi figured that must be the restaurant Damián had mentioned where they'd be joining his friends later. "I'm sure it will be wonderful."
Angelina smiled. Maybe she'd recommended the place to Damián.
"Maman, I'm going to call him Boots. Is that a good name?"
Thank God she didn't choose Whiskers.
Savi looked at Mari's tiny hands and the ball of fluff curled up, sound asleep. The little fella trusted its new mama. She remembered how this kitten had taken great interest in Mari when they were at the outfitter's store two weeks ago. Its white paws and leggings looked like knee-high boots.
Mari crooned to her new little friend and an ache broke loose in Savi's chest. The two already had bonded. Savi would fight like a mama grizzly to make sure no one separated them. Ever.
Dam
ián came into the room wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt with a Harley emblem on it looking positively sinister. His hair had been drawn into the queue she'd come to expect. He came over to Mari and hunkered down, reaching out to pet the kitten for a moment.
Achoo!
Savi reached automatically for the box of Kleenex and handed it to Damián. "God bless you."
"Thanks." Achoo!
Red splotches broke out on his face and he was hit by another sneeze. Angelina dispensed the blessings this time.
Savi began to have a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Damián, you aren't allergic to cats, are you?"
Please tell me you aren't.
"Of course not." Achoo! His gaze went to the kitten and he squinted as if the possibility was becoming more real.
No way could she let him take Boots away from Mari. Her little girl needed something stable in her life after all the turmoil she'd been through the last couple of weeks. Mari needed this kitten. She'd already lost all the things they'd had to leave behind—all of Mari's photos, memorabilia from school, books, and toys.
She hoped she didn't lose those things forever. Savi had nothing left of her own childhood, not even from the happier years before Maman left. Having something she could call her own would make her little girl feel more secure.
After all, she couldn't impose on Damián forever, especially in his small place. They were practically climbing over each other as it was. Memories of the tight quarters in the bathroom with Damián sent an unfamiliar tension through her and a flush of heat into her cheeks. She'd imposed on Damián long enough. Maybe this was the impetus she needed to get her and Mari into a place of their own.
First things first. The first step would be to pursue legal channels and check into creating new identities for them. Then she could look into getting licensed in social work, find a job, and rent a separate place where she and Mari could live.
But Savi didn't want to separate Mari and Damián completely. Guilt over not trying harder to unite the two of them sooner ate at her conscience again. Savi owed him the chance to get to know his daughter; to let Mari get to know her daddy.
Nobody's Perfect Page 8
