by Cecy Robson
In the span of a few seconds I went from someone who could possibly help her to her worst enemy for questioning Darren’s devotion and challenging their so-called love. It’s no surprise she’s turned against me, it’s happened to me before.
I ignore her remarks and stay calm. Nice or not, she’s been hurt and needs my help. “Do you want to feel safe?”
She tightens her jaw.
“Jennifer,” I say. “Do you want to feel safe?”
“What do you think?” she fires back, her voice stabbing at the air like a blade.
“If you want to feel safe, the man who hurt you needs to be placed somewhere where he can’t reach you.”
“No,” she snaps. “He needs to be with me. He doesn’t belong anywhere else. I need him. Do you understand what I’m saying? We need each other.”
“You need kindness and patience, and to feel safe in your own home,” I say, doing my best to help her understand. “Help us give you that opportunity.”
Although I keep my hands loose at my sides, I’m prepared to block her strikes if they come. Someone as fragile and angry as Jennifer is unpredictable. She’ll either completely break down or lash out. I can’t presume to be safe simply because she’s a victim herself.
Her expression crumbles and at once she’s sobbing into her hands. I motion to Brenda. She hurries forward and places an arm around her. Thankfully, Jennifer welcomes the contact.
“I’ll be over here,” I mouth to Brenda, pointing to the small seating area.
She nods, but in many ways she’s also in bad shape. Brenda is really smart and gentle, but I’m uncertain she’ll last in SACU.
I take a seat on the bench and remove my hearing aids, trying to give myself a break from the constant assault of noise. The abrupt silence should scare me, and sometimes it’s extremely jarring. Today I welcome it, taking a moment to breathe as I scan the packed area.
Tess is pleading out her first case involving a teen perpetrator. The defendant is young, about sixteen, but taller than she and a great deal more imposing. It explains Curran’s presence, as well as the deputies loitering a few feet away eyeing her closely.
Detective Melo and Hernandez are also here, dealing with separate cases neither seem happy about.
Despite all the obvious tension, Declan’s arrival makes me smile. He marches toward me. I’m not sure if he’s going to pass or stop and chat. I hope it’s the latter. Given everything that’s happened with Dad, and everything going on in the office, there’s very little that makes me happy anymore.
Dad’s surgery went as well as could be expected, but that isn’t saying much. I lost it when the surgeon told me about the mass she discovered on his liver. If it hadn’t been for Declan arriving at the hospital, I don’t think I would have stopped crying that night. Like always, he appeared when I needed him most.
I sigh, thinking back to my dad. As soon as he gets stronger, he’ll start chemo. The doctor hopes it will help shrink the tumor so she can remove it. But that means another surgery, and I’m unsure how much more my poor Daddy can take.
At least three times a week, I visit him after work, then spend the weekend catching up on everything I’ve put off to be with him.
He always meets me with a brave face, joking that I need to get a life. I don’t tell him that a life without him is one I don’t want to know. Goodness, there’s been little to smile about.
Except around Declan.
“Hi,” I say, when he lowers himself beside me.
“How’s it going?” he asks. I can’t hear him, but I read his lips without much effort.
“It’s going,” I say, struggling to keep my smile professional.
Since Declan asked me out, we’ve kept our talks cordial. Well, at least I have. In truth, he’s been absolutely, panty-singeing, good-God-I want-to-kiss-him flirtatious. I’ve tried to dismiss it as something he does with everyone, but I’m no longer sure.
He frowns when he sees me holding my hearing aids. “Too loud?” he asks, lifting his chin so I have a view of his mouth and that face that’s appeared in my dreams.
“Yes,” I admit. I can hear myself speak, but not much else. It’s a good thing right now, the absence of sound helping me settle.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He tilts his head in Tess’s direction. “Watching out for my own.”
I pause when I realize he’s only mouthing and not speaking. Since it involves Tess, perhaps he wants to be discreet given his role. The way he moves his full lips, though, is a bit of a turn on, and so is the way he’s taking me in.
I tell myself he’s only being friendly, no matter how much I’m enjoying the attention and despite that I no longer think Declan and I are just friends. We haven’t acted on our feelings. But with each day that passes and moments spent with him, makes it harder for me to keep my distance.
“It looks like she has a good handle on it,” I say.
“She does,” he agrees. “But this little bastard is too volatile for his own good. We’re pushing for a psych eval. Tess isn’t budging until she gets it.” He glances over to where poor Brenda continues to try to reason with Jennifer. “How’s it going over there?”
“I don’t think she’s going to testify,” I admit.
He shakes his head. “Ramirez has been working his ass off on this case. It’s not going to mean jack if she doesn’t step up. Did you try talking to her?”
“I did, but I don’t have a rapport with her and she shut me out.”
“I wish we could make her. But labeling her a hostile witness isn’t going to help.”
“No,” I agree. “Our side will just be taking on the role of her abuser.”
He watches her for a beat. “If she could just get away from this idiot, she could have a fresh start,” he says.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Even with him in prison, someone as damaged as Jennifer is likely to find another abuser to take his place.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right,” he says.
He lifts one of the hearing aids from my hand, holding it carefully by the clear and flexible hook. He examines it carefully, twisting it slowly around. Most people, when they imagine hearing aids tend to picture large clunky plastic devices. Mine are practically invisible.
“So when are you going to have dinner with me?” he asks.
This man, who positively drove me crazy, shouldn’t make me smile this easily. “I thought we decided it wasn’t a good idea.”
“No. You said it wasn’t a good idea. I’m saying it is.” He shrugs. “I know I’m not one of those half-naked cowboys on the cover of those naughty books you like . . .”
I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from laughing.
“Or a pirate on the seven seas, my bare chest exposed to the wicked winds.” He bows his head. “And if you want the truth, I don’t even own a kilt.”
I cover my mouth.
“But I’m not so bad. And if it’s the kind of thing that turns you on, I’m sure I can find a place that rents assless chaps.”
If it wasn’t so loud in the common area and he wasn’t turned so I’m the only one who could read his lips, I doubt he’d tell me everything he is.
I like what he has to say. Declan is tall, suave, handsome, I’ve always known that. But this is my favorite side of him, the one who teases and plays, and proves there’s more to this man than ambition.
“No need for ass-less chaps, I assure you.”
The twinkle in his eyes warms me in all the right places. “What about a parrot and an eye patch? Are pointy nipple pirates more your style?”
“No,” I say before I can stop myself. “I like you just the way you are.”
His gaze skims over my features. “Then what’s the problem? Personally, I like what I see.”
If I allowed it, I’d melt right in a puddle at his feet, but I can’t. “Declan, my dad’s your boss. We work together. This can’t possibly end well.”
“You won’t even give me a chance,
will you?”
As our stares weld together and I realize I’m feeling more than simply lust, I want to give into that desire to fall into his embrace.
“It’s not a good idea,” I say again. I’m already vulnerable around him. If we start to date and things don’t work out . . . I can’t go there with him. Not if I’m going to stay strong for my father. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
“All right,” he says, placing my hearing aid gently against my palm.
I stand and make my way to the elevators, passing the crowd of people waiting for their turn before the judge. As I step into the elevator and turn back to face the group, my focus falls on Declan, and that’s where it stays. That’s where it always wants to stay.
CHAPTER 9
Declan
Trenti is one of the most elite restaurants in town, custom tailoring their menu for each guest. The food is incredible, the service impeccable. I’ve been here a few times, all with big-wigs with even bigger wallets. But tonight’s a little different. I’m not here to rub elbows with a bunch of suits. I’m here to show a woman what she’s missing out on.
Candles flicker along each table in the dimly lit room. I march across the dark wood floors, following behind the hostess who pauses to give me a very long and appraising glance. Maybe it’s the Armani suit I’m wearing, or the cologne, or lack of tie that caught her interest. Either way, I don’t care. I keep my attention on the table at the far end, a smirk splaying along my lips when I catch sight of Melissa’s stunned face.
As much as I want to speak to her first, I address her father because it’s been too damn long since I’ve seen him. “Good evening, Miles,” I say, shaking his hand. “Sorry, I’m late.” To Melissa, I simply wink, trying not to laugh at the way her jaw practically smacks against the table.
She lowers the glass of water she’s holding onto the white tablecloth. “What are you doing here?” she asks slowly.
“What do you mean?” I say, keeping my grin. “I couldn’t miss your father’s coming out party.” I motion to his menu. “Ready for more than just mashed potatoes, Miles?”
He chuckles, placing his hand against his stomach to suppress the pain laughing causes. Seven inches of colon. That’s how much they removed. Two days after the surgery, he was already calling to check up on things. “I have it covered. Just get better,” I told him.
I only hope he can.
Miles confided in me that Mel visits him almost every night after work. He’s worried about her. I am, too. It’s like all this woman knows is SACU and her dad. It wouldn’t be so bad if Miles wasn’t so sick. But he is.
She keeps her chin up and I admire her for it. But if she gave me the chance, I’d like to give her more to smile about, more to enjoy in life. Except every time I ask her out, she shoots me down.
“Did they cater a menu to your needs?” I ask, pretending like I belong here as much as she does, despite the way she’s covering her face.
“Salmon stuffed with black beans, covered with a zesty diablo sauce over tortellini,” Miles says. He makes a face. “But when Melissa informed them of my recent surgery he switched it to polenta with a light mushroom sauce.” He narrows his eyes at his daughter, feigning anger he doesn’t quite manage. “She gets the good stuff. I get cornbread topped with mushrooms.”
“I’m not surprised,” I say. “That daughter of yours is too much of a rule follower for her own good.”
She ignores my reference to her “thou shall not date a co-worker” commandment. “It’ll be easier to digest.” She points at me. “And you butt out, counselor.”
“Now, Melissa,” he says, “Is this any way to talk to our guest?”
“Dad, behave. You’re already in trouble with me. Cozy dinner my Aunt Fanny,” she mumbles.
I lift my water glass and take a sip, enjoying the exchange between Melissa and her father.
“You hear how she treats me?” Miles asks. “You’d think after all those dates I gave up to take her to the movies, and door to door selling those damn cookies, she’d show me a little respect.”
She crinkles her nose, laughing, although she’s trying to sound annoyed. “You never gave up any dates. If anything, you used your sweet little innocent daughter to get them.”
“Bull shit,” Miles says.
She turns to me, pegging me with an expression that tells me she’s up to no good. “Okay, we’ll let Declan be the judge.”
I hold up a hand. “Oh, no. I’m only here for a delicious drama free meal.”
Melissa ignores me, edging her seat closer until our knees bump. If her old man wasn’t here, my hand would be finding its way on that knee. She’s in a seafoam green dress with capped sleeves and she looks fucking fantastic.
“Okay,” she says, motioning to her breasts. “You might have guessed I hit puberty a little young.”
I try not to laugh and even harder not to look. I fail on both counts. Melissa notices, her eyes widening briefly before she averts her gaze and glances at me with lowered lashes. Aw, hell, she’s sexy.
She clears her throat, edging a little further from me. “Dad was oblivious. ‘You don’t need those things’, he said when I asked him to take me bra shopping.”
“Those things?” I ask, shifting my attention to Miles.
“Declan, I was more prepared to fly a plane around the world than I was for puberty. You’ll forgive me if I wasn’t exactly jumping up and down.”
“He was mortified,” Mel agrees. “At first.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, catching the way Miles’s face reddens as he chuckles.
“Mmm-hmm. And I honestly felt bad for making him take me,” she admits. “But turns out, if you want to pick up women, all you have to do is take your little daughter to Victoria’s Secret and tell the horde―that’s right horde of sales associates who rush you―and all the single mothers shopping there with their daughters listening in―how you don’t know the first thing about lingerie. And how tough it is being a single dad and trying do right by your daughter―”
“She’s exaggerating,” Miles interjects, reaching for his water.
“Am I?” she asks. “How many phone numbers did you get the first time we went there?”
Miles shrugs. “Six, maybe seven.”
Melissa rolls her eyes. “More like nine. His social calendar was booked for the next month.” She veers on her dad. “By your third date, I no longer believed you were hanging pictures in your bedroom.”
“Hanging pictures?” I ask, taking another sip of water.
Mel purses her lips. “It’s how he explained all the banging coming from his bedroom.”
I almost spit out my water, making Miles crack up and hang tight to his side. “How many women were you taking home?”
He sits back in his chair, blotting the perspiration forming along his brow. As much as it appears to hurt him, he seems to welcome the laughter.
It’s probably been a long while since he had a good time.
“There weren’t that many women.” His eyes cut Mel’s way. “But enough that warranted an excuse, however pathetic.”
“He used to sneak them out in the morning before I’d see them.” She crosses her arms. “But I knew those tramps were there.”
“They weren’t tramps.” He pretends to think about it. “At least twenty-two to twenty-eight percent attended church on a regular basis.”
“Nice, Daddy,” she says, standing.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“Ladies room. I’ll be right back.”
I stand with her, sitting only once she disappears. “So tell me, out of all those women, you never found the one? Someone who’d make a good wife and mother?” Seeing how devoted he is to Mel, it’s shocking he never married.
Miles hangs onto his smile, but it lacks enthusiasm now that Mel’s gone. “The ones who kept my interest didn’t hang around for long.”
“Why?”
“One in particular couldn’t stay. The U.S. wasn’t her hom
e. The others wouldn’t stay because of Melissa.” He swivels the water in his glass, taking a moment to gather his words and allowing what he said to sink in. His admission is an emotional slap across the face. I barely move. Miles seems to realize, taking another moment to explain. “As with most new relationships, they expected to be the priority, and for me to devote my spare time to them. But I couldn’t, not when Melissa needed me more.”
“Because of her special needs?”
He nods. “I always thought I’d marry and have a few kids. It’s how life is, am I right? Something most people do. I never thought I’d have a child without a wife, let alone adopt one on my own. But when I met Melissa, I couldn’t bring myself to walk away. I’d handled enough cases to know what would happen to her, especially given how severely delayed and malnourished she was. She was just a kid. With no chance at surviving the system. Something inside me told me not to let her go. So I didn’t.” He lowers his glass. “It was the best decision I’ve ever made.”
He means it. I can tell. But it’s clear how much he gave up for her. “Any regrets?”
He thinks about it. “I wish I could have found the right woman, not for me necessarily, but for her. I played the role of mother and father, and for the most part I think I played it well. But there were times she needed more. If a boy hurt her, my first reaction was to threaten to pound the shit out of him.”
“That’s understandable,” I say, my anger stirring just knowing she’s been hurt.
“But that’s not what Melissa needed. She needed a protector, certainly. But she also needed someone who could let her cry and relate to the pain she was feeling. I couldn’t do that, too caught up in wanting to knock out the boy who reduced my little girl to tears.”
I think I should say something. But though I pride myself on being quick on my feet, nothing comes to mind. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe Miles just wants to be heard.
“She came to me the first time she had her heart broken,” he says, his stare growing distant. “He was the first boy she considered a good friend and the first she developed strong feelings toward. You can imagine how crushed she was when he asked a friend of hers to the fall dance instead of her. If that wasn’t bad enough, he admitted he couldn’t see himself with someone like her.”
