by Ava Claire
Like he could smell her fear, he drove forward, but I stepped in between them. I shook with emotion, but it wasn't fear. I could see the scars of years of emotional abuse, neglect, and hurt all over Melissa. I'd be damned if I would let him cause her another iota of pain.
"That's far enough," I growled.
"Look, boy," he spat. "I don't care if you have more money than God. She's my daughter-"
"I remember, Daddy." Melissa's voice should have gotten lost in the back and forth between me and her father, but there was something so painfully calm in her words that both of us went quiet. Her voice, her body didn't shudder. She looked past me to her father, standing up a little taller. "Appearance is everything. Nothing else matters--including me."
"Now wait a minute," he began.
"Oh please," she snorted. "There's nothing more to say. The press will go away once the next inevitable scandal hits. I'll work remotely for a few days, and once they realize they're wasting their time, they'll move on. I apologize for any inconvenience I caused you." Her voice was cold. Strictly business. And as tough as he talked, I could see it hit him harder than any blow could.
She moved to the door, opening it and stepping out of his way. "Thanks for stopping by."
He didn't put up a fight, marching right out the door. He paused on the welcome mat. "We'll discuss this later. Alone."
She closed the door without another word then went to the window. She peeked in between the blinds, waiting until his car started and pulled away before she faced me.
There was no anger. No tears. No emotion.
"Still need to know what my dad is like?" she asked weakly. She didn’t wait for me to answer. “I’m ready to go, Logan.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Melissa
I thought that we'd hit peak madness already. The first instance of crazy was the point where I told him that I loved him when we barely knew each other. I'd only said that word to two other people--my dad and Jason. Dad was a given. We had our differences, and while his face made me want to rage at this moment, I still loved him. And Jason? That was years in the making. Slowly falling until I had no other choice but to admit that he had me.
The second wave crashed into me around the time that I realized that dating Logan Mason meant having a boyfriend worth more money than I could wrap my mind around and tangling with Delilah James. Oh, and he was going to be a father. I felt like any rational person would at least need a moment to catch their breath. Not me--I dove in headfirst.
But both of those things seemed like anthills to the mountain that was springing up in the middle of Logan's living room. Tiny bumps in the road, and here comes the crater to swallow me whole.
I'd made a dumb joke about wishing my father out of existence. I knew it was crass, and I didn't mean it of course, but saying it out loud seemed like a form of therapy--until Logan gave me the most chilling look I'd ever seen. He’d uttered the words that sliced me down to the bone.
Me too. It seemed like a fitting reaction, the perfect end for the man that raped my mother.
I didn't need a pen to connect the dots. It was in the undercurrent beneath his words. The ache in his eyes.
Logan was the product of rape.
I heard a buzzing sound in my ear, a painful clench in my chest. "Oh my god, Logan! And I was just making jokes about it, making light of it-"
"Babe, you didn't know. Now you do."
His words were indifferent and I took a step forward. My first thoughts were to throw my arms around him. I wanted to take away his pain, but I doubted my hug would even dull the agony. And his body language, shoulders angled away from me, eyes trained on the window, told me that he didn't really want to hug it out.
It would have been patronizing anyway. A flimsy band aid on a gushing, bloody wound. I stood there, scouring my mind for the right words to express how sorry I was. But I felt useless, my thoughts a muddled mess of good intentions and terror.
"I don't know what to say." I could feel the weight of this in the air, in the taut lines of his body. In the silence.
"I didn't, either," he answered. "My mother told me when I was six."
"Six years old? What the hell is wrong with her?" I gasped when I realized that I was outdoing myself in the foot and mouth department this afternoon. I had no idea what she had gone through, her reasons behind telling her awful story to her son.
I wouldn't have been surprised if Logan told me to get that hell out. I'd been talking crap about my father the whole ride back to San Francisco, how he didn't see me, and I didn't know him and he didn't know me. Logan didn't know his father either--except that he'd done something horrible to his mother.
"There's no good way to react to the bomb I just dropped." He gestured for me to join him on the couch. Even though I could see the hurt still burning in his eyes, it seemed he had whatever demons lying beneath the surface under wraps. I still hesitated before I followed him, mortified that I'd made light of death, about pain. In the face of what he had to endure, my issues with my father seemed pointless.
He leaned back into the cushion, and a flash of guilt cut through me when naughty thoughts raced through my head. Appropriate timing or not, the man made the most mundane things, even sitting, look sexy. Our eyes met and the smile returned to his lips, broadening and forcing out the darkness that cut his angular jaw.
"Is that a professionally honed skill, or are you just good at reading me like a book?" I said, trying to cool the heat in my cheeks.
"It's one of my many skills," he winked. The playfulness in his voice didn't linger. "With you, I have the pieces of the puzzle, I know how it all fits together. The pieces click together, but the picture is always changing. I keep finding out new things about you. Falling harder for you. And I want you to figure me out. I don't want any secrets between us. Secrets are like carrying around poison. Sure, it's easier to keep things to yourself, hide it away, but eventually, it'll bleed into everything."
I knew his words were true. I bit my tongue so often that I was surprised I could taste anything but blood. Even though I kicked my dad out, I managed to not tell him how much he'd hurt me over the years. And all the love in the world couldn't dull the secret I hid from Jason--that I worried he'd never love me as much as I loved him. It ended up being irrelevant in the end, but maybe if I hadn't carried it around like a stone in my gut, things would be different.
"You'd think my father assaulting my mother and her decision to keep the product was the most horrible secret she had to carry around." Logan shifted his gaze to meet mine. "But it didn't compare to the one that landed me in the system. She tried to kill herself because she couldn't stand to look at me."
I gasped, covering my mouth in horror. "Oh, Logan, I-" Words failed. I couldn't even fathom what walking around with that must have done to him as a kid. He talked about not having a lot as a child, being bounced around in the system and being picked on by his classmates. It was too much for him to bear. Too much for anyone to bear.
The tears wouldn't stop coming. I didn't know what to say, how to make it better. So my heart broke for him. And he was the one holding me as I sobbed, stroking my hair, whispering that it was going to be okay.
Once I could draw a breath without my whole body shaking, he took my face in his hands. His gaze drew over every inch then he kissed my lips. I straddled him, our bodies fitting together effortlessly.
"I thought I was doing myself a favor by keeping people out, because the alternative was gut-wrenching pain. But I couldn't stay away from you. I couldn't keep you at a distance. My past helped shape me into the man that I am. I can't promise we won't have bad days; that we won't have days when we both just want to take the easy route out. I can't promise it will be easy. But I can promise that I will never let you forget that you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
We kissed like I didn't have snot practically oozing out of my nose; like my eyes weren't bloodshot, like I wasn't a hot mess. We kissed like love was the reason fo
r existence. We kissed like we were making up for every kiss wasted on everyone that came before. We kissed like we had forever, and forever started now.
We almost didn't hear the buzzing coming from the foyer, but there was no missing the buzzing combined with Logan's phone going off, sending vibrations through my thighs.
He gave me one last kiss and pulled it from his pocket. I stayed in his lap, peppering kisses up and down his neck as he made a groan that was equal parts approval and annoyance at whoever was on the other end.
"This is Logan." His hand was stroking my back, but he stopped, a frown on his lips. "If she's not on the list, why are you calling me? You're the head of security, handle-" Logan nearly forgot me altogether, moving to leap to his feet before he mouthed an apology. I hopped off and he rose, his voice rising with him. "She said she works for Delilah?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What's her name? What does she want?" Whatever the man was saying was just making him more angry, so he just shook his head, growling into the phone. "Just send her up."
He tore the phone away, dropping it on the couch as he straightened his shirt and brushed his hair from his eyes. He looked at me, almost pulling a fast one when he told me it was no big deal.
"What's wrong?" I asked, dread burning my throat. "Who is it?"
"Delilah's assistant, Mackenzie." His nostrils flared. "She said it's about the baby."
I gripped his hand, squeezing it supportively. "I'm right here."
The elevator signaled that she'd arrived, the doors parting. The girl standing before us looked too young to be assisting anyone. She had a cherubic face that was only amplified by her exaggerated makeup, jet-black hair, halter top, leather pants, and sky high heels. When she saw Logan, she looked like she was going to vomit. Or run for cover.
"It's okay," I called out to her.
Her Bambi eyes flicked in my direction, then back to Logan. She took a worried step forward, debating going back downstairs or following through with what brought her to Logan's doorstep.
Her voice was high pitched and shook with her visible nervousness. "No one else knows I'm here. And if she knew I was here she'd-” Mackenzie made a slicing motion across her throat.
"Look," Logan advanced, his tolerance level officially tapped out. "You're going to tell me or-"
"Babe," I said softly, trying to calm him down before the poor girl passed out.
He looked at me, drawing a breath before he faced her. His demeanor changed, his voice becoming more accommodating. "You're safe here. Mackenzie, right?"
She nodded, her bottom lip quivering.
"Okay," he added a smile for good measure. "Just tell me what's on your mind."
She looked at me and I gave her a nod.
Her shoulders slumped. "You're going to be pissed. I told her nothing good would come from it, but she just loves you so much." She lifted her eyes to meet his and set fire to everything. "The baby's not yours, Logan."
****
Thank you for taking the time to read Waiting For Forever (Beautiful Surrender, Part Four). Please take the time to leave a review.
xoxo, Ava
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The Beautiful Surrender Series
Waiting For You (Beautiful Surrender: Part One)
Waiting For Me (Beautiful Surrender: Part Two)--May 2014
Waiting For Us ( Beautiful Surrender: Part Three)--July 2014
Waiting For Forever (Beautiful Surrender: Part Four)--August 2014
Waiting For Always (Beautiful Surrender: Part Five)--September 2014
Check out other works by Ava here.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ava Claire is a sucker for Alpha males and happily ever afters. When not putting pen to paper or glued to her e-reader, Ava likes road tripping, karaoke, vintage fashion, and fantasizing about her favorite book boyfriends.
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Twitter: @avaclairewrites
Stay tuned to my blog for up to date information on my works in progress and release schedules!
