Every Tear You Cry (Redeeming Love Book 4)

by J. E. Parker

  The sight of them together made my chest burn.

  She looks at my daughter as a mother should. Like—

  My thoughts ceased when the sound of the front door opening and closing reached my ears. Trepidation followed when the echo of high heels clicking against the marble floor floated through the house.

  "Son of a bitch," I murmured to the dimly lit room as the sound drew closer, bringing with it the inevitable fight to come. "I don't have the time nor the patience for this shit."

  I dropped the picture to the top of the kitchen island and ran my hands through my styled hair, mussing up the short locks. It would be a miracle if I made it through the next few minutes without ripping every strand out.

  Every muscle in my six-foot-four frame was drawn tight as I waited for her, the most vicious bitch I’d ever encountered, to appear.

  I didn't have to wait long.

  Seconds later, she rounded the corner, a cloud of expensive perfume surrounding her. Wearing a form-fitting ice blue dress, silver stilettos, and a diamond necklace fit for royalty, she looked every bit the cold-hearted princess she was.

  Upon seeing me, the corners of her lips curled up into a malevolent smile.

  Here we go.

  Coming to a stop on the other side of the oversized island, Chastity Blair, the woman I abhorred more than any other person on the planet, stared at me with a coldness that would make most men wither on the spot.

  I didn't wilt nor falter beneath her vicious gaze.

  I was used to it.

  "Well, well, well," she said, placing her silver Valentino clutch on the counter, "if it isn't my husband."

  Her words made bile churn in the pit of my stomach.

  I glared back at the woman who was the bane of my existence and slid my fisted hands into my pockets while trying my best to appear calm and collected, two things I was confident would drive her crazy. "Ex-husband," I corrected her. "Our marriage has been over for two years, Chastity. It crashed and burned the night I found you drunk off your ass and snorting coke while our toddler screamed in the next room. You hadn’t fed her, hadn’t changed her, and you left her sitting alone in the goddamn dark. Remember that?”

  It was a memory that I tried to forget.

  Her smile faltered for the briefest second, but like always, she recovered quickly. "It doesn't have to be over," she replied, ignoring my comment about her drug use.

  The hell it doesn't.

  I ignored her statement. "What are you doing here? Last I checked this wasn't your home."

  Not anymore, I mentally added.

  She tapped her nails on the countertop and smirked. "As Isabella's mother, I have every right to drop by and check on my daughter whenever I see fit."

  My temper flared.

  I ripped my hands out of my pockets. "Your daughter?" I asked, my tone scathing. "I hate to break it you, but it takes a lot more than giving birth to be considered a mother. Especially when it comes to my little girl. Besides, let’s not forget the not-so-small fact that you gave up most of your visitation rights at our last custody hearing; therefore, you have no ties to Bella nor me. Not any-fucking-more.”

  Chastity's face fell. Flicking her pale blonde hair over her shoulders, she rounded the island and maneuvered her body in front of mine. "That girl," she spat, "is as much mine as she is yours."

  "Isabella," I spat right back, "has a name and if you don't want me to throw you out on your bony ass, then I suggest you use it."

  Her conniving smile returned. "Are you threatening me with physical harm? Really, Brantley? As an attorney, a defense attorney at that, I thought you knew better." She was enjoying every bit of this. "I wonder what the family court judge would say about this? Maybe I should call my attorney and—"

  I'd had enough.

  "What do you want, Chastity? I know you didn't come by"—I glanced at the illuminated numbers on the back of the stove, checking the time—"at one in the morning to check on Bella. So spit it out. I don't have time for you nor your bullshit. In case you didn't notice when you traipsed your troublemaking ass in here, I still have stuff to do before the movers get here in a few hours."

  Chastity poked out her collagen-enhanced bottom lip.

  She was trying her damnedest to appear sad.

  I wasn't buying it.

  "I thought you and I could spend some time together before you leave for Georgia tomorrow. It's been so long—"

  "Not a chance in hell," I said, cutting her off. I moved to the other side of the island, putting some much-needed space between us. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but you need to leave..." Fighting to keep my composure, I let my words trail off. "Now."

  Like always, she didn’t listen.

  Seductive expression locked in place, she sauntered toward me again.

  The games she plays...

  I held my hands up, palm out, to block her from getting any closer. The short hold I had on my waning control was slipping. "I won't tell you again. You need to leave. But before you go, make sure you drop your key on the counter."

  An incessant throb pounded away in the base of my skull.

  "Tell me, how many copies did you make before you moved out, leaving me, and abandoning our daughter? One? Two? Ten, perhaps?" A humorless chuckled spilled from my lips. "Your crazy knows no bounds does it?"

  She opened her mouth to respond but snapped it shut when her gaze dropped to the countertop next to her. A second later, a look I recognized slid over her face.

  That look? Straight up rage.

  Without having to follow her gaze, I knew she was looking at the picture I'd been staring at minutes earlier. The same photo that with just one glance stirred something deep inside me I'd never felt before. Just looking at it grounded me, bringing me instant comfort.

  I lunged for the picture as Chastity made a grab for it. She scooped it up half a second before my fingers reached it. She then held the photo up in front of her eyes and glared at it. Her right cheek twitched, her hands shook.

  "Who is this?" Her voice was calm despite the chaos dancing across her features. When I didn't answer her right away, she gripped the photo tighter and shoved it in my direction. Any semblance of calmness disappeared. "Who is she, Brantley?"

  I reached for the picture, but once again I wasn't fast enough. Chastity snatched it back, evading my grasp. "That is my business. Not yours," I tried my best to remain in control even though I felt anything but. "Now give it here."

  She shot me an icy glare. "Is she the reason you're moving to Georgia?"

  "No." It was the truth. I'd decided to move closer to my brother well before I ever met Clara. If anything, being closer to her unsettled me. I wasn't ready to deal with the emotions she stirred up. Hell, I didn't even know how to handle them. I was way out of my depth with her, and that was a first for me.

  Chastity's anger-filled blue eyes met mine. "Then tell me who she is."

  I gritted my back teeth together and fought the urge to jump over the island and rip the photo out of her money-grubbing hand. Seeing her hold it made my insides twist in disgust.

  She was tainting it with her filth.

  "She's Hope's best friend," I said honestly. "I won't ask you again, Chastity. Hand me the fucking picture. Now."

  "Are you sleeping with her?"

  I curled my fingers around the countertop's edge. "Who I’m sleeping with is none of your damned business."

  Chastity became unhinged. "The hell it isn't!" Eyes bulging, she shoved the photo forward again and pointed at Clara's face with her index finger. "This bitch is holding my daughter on her lap!" she screamed. "And I have every right—"

  That was the final straw for me.

  "Your daughter?" I yelled right back as I prayed that Bella wouldn't wake up and come downstairs. "Don't you mean the living ammunition you use against me every chance you get?" The same ammunition you can't be bothered to spend any time with unless it earns you a couple more dollars from my bank account!"


  Unaffected by my vile words, Chastity marched her ass around the island and jabbed a finger into the center of my chest. Her claw practically dug into my skin, but I didn't flinch nor move away. "Isabella is my daughter too and—"

  I dipped my head, bringing my face inches from hers. "My daughter," I snarled, "is not yours. You lost the chance to be her mother when you used her as a bargaining chip to get what you really wanted. Remember the ultimatum you gave me, Chastity? Remember how you threatened to end my little girl's life before she ever took her first breath if I didn't marry you?"

  My blood was boiling.

  "And let’s not forget how you threatened to take her after she was born and go into hiding, never allowing me to see her"—I paused—"and all because I asked you to sign a prenup."

  A thick silence fell between us. Our heavy breathing and the incessant ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the adjacent dining room were the only sounds that could be heard.

  Unable to stand the tension bearing down on my shoulders like a thousand-pound weight, I pointed at the photo she still held in her hand. "Give me the goddamn picture, Chastity."

  My voice was low, menacing.

  Her eyes flashed, a telltale sign she was about to free the evil that lived inside her. "I'll give it to you,” she said, faux sweetness lining her voice. “In pieces."

  Before I could register what she meant, she tore the picture down the center. Smiling, she watched the ruined pieces float to the floor beneath our feet.

  My chest heaved as I fought for breath.

  I dropped to my knees and picked up the ruined picture with trembling fingers.

  A myriad of thoughts ran rampant through my head.

  The most prominent among them: She ruins everything she touches.

  My insides raged as I glared up at the woman who I'd vowed to love for the rest of my life. How could I have been so stupid?

  "Why?" I asked through gritted teeth. "Why the fuck would you do this?" She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could utter a single syllable, I stood and continued speaking, not allowing her time to respond. "Never mind. I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses." If my chest hadn't been so tight from the grief welling up inside me, I would have screamed at her, but I couldn't. The softball lodged in the base of my throat forbid it. "Just get the hell out of my house, you vile bit—"

  The cracking sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed through the room as Chastity's palm landed on my right cheek. "I loved you!” she screamed. “I gave you a beautiful kid, and this is how you repay me?" She grasped the front of my white, button-up shirt in her hand and tugged it hard. "By letting some ugly, redheaded bitch—"

  I lost it.

  Mad as fuck, I bent down and pushed my shoulder into Chastity's flat stomach and lifted her into the air. After grabbing her clutch from the island, I carried her to the front door.

  "You son of a bitch!" she shrieked, pounding her fists against my back. "Put me down!"

  I remained silent.

  Once outside, I hurried to the driver's side of her car—a brand new Mercedes which I was paying for—and opened the door. I didn’t say a word as I dropped her onto the seat and tossed her clutch to the floor at her feet. She wrapped her hand around the leather covered steering wheel and tried to climb back out, but I pressed my hand down on her shoulder, holding her in place. "If you don't leave, I'm calling the police and having your psycho ass locked up." I bent at the waist and leaned closer to her. "I wonder what your daddy would say about that? His little girl getting arrested for assault and battery right as his campaign for Mayoral re-election kicks off"—I made a tsking sound—"It wouldn't be great for his image, would it?"

  "You self-righteous bastard. How dare you—"

  I stepped back and blocked out the venom-laced words that spewed from her mouth. "Have a good life without us, Chastity." She sneered at me. "I would say that Isabella and I will miss you, but that would be one hell of a lie."

  Without offering her a second glance, I slammed her car door shut.

  Then, I turned around and walked away.

  Brantley

  It was a little after eight in the morning.

  Standing on my front porch, I held a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and my cell phone in the other. Jaw ticking, I stared down at the barrage of text messages I’d been receiving from Chastity for the past three hours. One after another they flashed across my phone’s screen, causing my blood pressure to skyrocket.

  I gritted my back teeth together, deleting each one as it arrived. I didn’t take the time to read them. There was no point. I already knew what they said, because she sent the same unbalanced messages day after day, week after week.

  Please don’t leave.

  Let’s try again.

  I’m sorry.

  I hate you.

  I never wanted her.

  None of them ever bothered me except for the last. I loved my little girl enough for both of us, but it still killed me inside that her own mother didn’t care about her. How that was possible, I didn't have a clue.

  Though, I shouldn’t have been surprised.

  What did I expect from a woman whose entire existence revolved around money and status? The former was the reason she’d gotten pregnant in the first place. All it took was one sabotaged condom and a handful of well-delivered threats for her to sink her claws into my well-padded bank account.

  Still, the joke was on her, because I’d gotten the better part of the deal.

  She may have received a truckload of money, but I got Isabella.

  In my eyes, there was no comparison between the two, and given the chance, I’d go through all the bullshit again if the end result remained the same. As long as I had my little girl, I was richer than my ex-wife ever would be.

  And that was the bottom line.

  Speaking of Chastity… Isabella hadn't asked if she was coming to say goodbye. After almost five years of nothing but broken promises and outright lies from the woman who birthed her, my girl had learned that her mother didn’t love her as she should.

  I’d witnessed first-hand the confusion and longing that filled her eyes when she watched Clara with her kids. It broke my heart that she’d never have a mother like that, but I swore that I’d make up for everything she was missing.

  Until my dying breath, I would love my baby girl with every ounce of my heart and soul. Honest to God, come hell or water, I’d go above and beyond to ensure that she never questioned my love for her.

  That was a fact.

  "Daddy!" Bella yelled from the living room where she’d been coloring while not-too-patiently waiting for the moving truck to show. "Come here!”

  "I'm coming, princesa.” Setting my coffee cup on the porch banister, I turned and headed into the house.

  The minute my girl's gaze met mine, her eyes lit up. "Daddy!"

  A huge smile spread across my face at the sound of her calling me daddy. It didn't matter how often I heard it, the simple word combined with the affection in which she spoke it made my chest swell with pride.

  Bella stood from the plush living room carpet where she had been sitting and waved an oversized piece of paper in the air. "Lookie at what I drew!" Her excited shouts echoed off the walls before fading away.

  I sat down on the floor at her feet and pulled her down onto my lap. She pressed her back against my chest, and my arms circled her small waist. When her strawberry scented hair tickled the tip of my nose, I couldn’t help but close my eyes and inhale, pulling the familiar scent deep into my lungs.

  Isabella giggled and dipped her head forward before pushing the colorful drawing into my waiting hand. "Daddy, quit smelling my hair and look at my picture."

  I opened my eyes and placed my chin on the top of her head. "What did you draw—"

  "I drew our new family," she shrieked again, cutting me off mid-sentence. "The ones waiting for us in Georgia."

  Our new family... Her words hit me in the chest like tiny little shards of shrap
nel.

  The truth was, other than my twin brother, Evan, his fiancée, Hope and my nephew Ryker, the large group of people drawn across the page in vivid color weren't our family.

  Not officially anyway.

  Instead, they were a group of people that Evan and Hope had gotten close to after moving to Georgia four years earlier. Individually, most were societal misfits who'd been brought together by one lousy circumstance or another. Alcoholism, abuse, neglect, death—you name it, someone in that group had survived it. Yet, despite their pasts, they'd formed unbreakable bonds with one another, creating a makeshift family.

  And Isabella and me? We'd been adopted by the entire clan.

  Leaning back against my chest, Bella pointed at the colorful images she'd drawn across the cream-colored page, explaining each one in vivid detail. "This is Aunt Hope, Uncle Evan, and baby Ryker," she said, sliding her finger from one stick figure to the next. "And this is Maddie, Hendrix, and baby Melody."

  Maddie and Hope were roommates during their freshmen year of college. Quickly becoming friends, they'd been inseparable ever since. Now they both worked as social workers at the battered women’s shelter in the county next to the one where we would soon live.

  Hendrix was Maddie's husband. Together they had a little girl named Melody who was one and a half. They were expecting their second child any day now.

  Lips thinned into a straight line, Isabella turned her head and looked at me over her shoulder. "When will the baby that lives in Maddie's belly come out?" Brows furrowed, she scrunched her little nose up. "It's been in there foreverrr."

  I chuckled. "Any day now, princesa."

  She huffed out an annoyed breath before turning her attention back to the picture. "And that's Shelby, Anthony, Felix, and Ashley. And this"—she tapped on a short, black-haired stick figure twice—"is Lucca." Her eyes met mine again. "He's a troublemaker."

  Shelby Moretti worked as a victim advocate at the same shelter where Hope, Maddie and Clara worked. She was also Hendrix’s little sister. Smart-mouthed and short-tempered, she was married to Anthony, a homicide detective for Toluca Police Department. They had two kids: Ashley who was seventeen, and Lucca-the-troublemaker, who was three.