by Carina Adams
“I’m only asking one more time, Doyle. Where in the fuck is my sister?”
I huffed out a breath. “And what in the fuck are you gonna to do if I don’t tell you, Murphy?”
“Rob,” he warned.
“Matt,” I mimicked his annoyed tone. “She’s fine.”
“Fine?” he snapped. “Fine?” His voice rose to screeching levels. “Some asshole old enough to be her dad put his hands on her. He made her jerk him off in front of the whole fucking clubhouse. When she refused to get on her knees like some worthless whore and clean him up, he hit her. He told her he was going to rape her.” My eyes closed as he ground out each word, my lip curled in disgust.
“Then,” he continued with a growl, “you barged in and held a gun to his head. In front of her. That’s all before you forced her onto your bike and took her God knows where. Yeah, it sounds like she’s fucking fine.”
I slammed the spatula down. “Yeah, she saw what I did. She heard me tell him I was going to kill him. You would’ve done the same fucking thing.”
“Fucking right, I would’ve,” he growled back. “I wouldn’t have just threatened though. That motherfucker would be burning in hell as we speak.”
I was half surprised Matt hadn’t gone after him.
“Cris is fine. I’ve got her. But I’m not going to be at work tomorrow. Or maybe all week, so you need to step up and be foreman.”
He didn’t act like he’d heard me. “How fucked up is she?”
“She’s fine,” I assured him again.
“Do not leave her alone,” he ordered, voice stern. “Do not let her near the phone. Do not let her get close to a single dealer. This is the kind of shit that will make her relapse.”
“She isn’t going to relapse,” I argued, annoyed by his lack of confidence. I’d only been with her a few hours and knew that she was stronger than that. “She tamed those demons a long time ago.”
He sighed, a low, discouraged sound. “That’s what I thought, remember? This was around the time she fell off the wagon three years ago. I won’t let that happen again. I won’t lose her to a fucking needle.”
I turned off the burner and lifted each flapjack onto a waiting plate. Menial tasks, but my mind was whirring. Three years and one month ago, Hannah had been murdered.
I’d never thought about the two being related. I’d had no reason to. Cris had been a bratty, attention-seeking teen who hadn’t had any interaction with my daughter. At least, that’s what I had thought.
Matty had lost his mind when we’d gotten the news about her car accident. It had been so bad that they’d put the entire center on lockdown. I’d been mourning Hannah and had been disgusted that Cris had been so careless with her life when my little girl’s last breath had been ripped away from her.
I’d told Matt that his sister was only doing it for attention. I claimed she’d been jealous of a dead toddler. That had been the only time he had ever taken a swing at me.
I’d been a prick.
Part of me wondered if my best friend had kept his sister’s secrets, if he had known what caused the relapse. I needed to know. “Did you ever figure out what forced her over the edge back then?”
“No.” He sighed. “I still can’t get through to that part of her. Whenever I tried to talk about it, she changed the subject. Eventually, I gave up.”
“I’ve got her,” I promised. “I’ll call you in a few days once I figure shit out.”
“It’s a fucking mess right now,” he admitted. “Shooter’s in deep shit with the club. He’s gone dark and no one knows how to fucking find him. Tank came home late and left early. I don’t know what’s going on.”
“I’ll call you in a few days,” I repeated.
“I don’t care what you do. Just take care of her.”
Cris slept until almost eleven. When she stumbled into the kitchen, I could only stare. Still wearing my tee shirt, which was so large it hung off her. She’d paired it with pajama pants that were four or five inches too short, her hair was piled into a mess on the top of her head, and her face bruised. If I hadn’t known better, I’d say she’d stumbled straight out of a crack house.
“Morning,” I mumbled from my spot in front of the wood stove.
She held up her hand and shook her head once. “Ugh-uh.”
I watched her closely as she filled her coffee cup, dumped a good amount of cream and sugar, and shuffled to the table as if it hurt to move. There were times I forgot she was Matt’s little sister, but in that moment, it was like being with his clone. We sat in silence, both sipping from our mugs, until she glanced my way.
“It’s safe to talk now.”
I would’ve laughed if I hadn’t had her brother’s words running on repeat through my mind. I stood, walking to the cook stove, trying to keep myself busy so I didn’t demand details about what happened with Shooter. I wanted Matt to be wrong, even though I knew he wasn’t.
Piling a stack of pancakes on her plate, I slid it in front of her. “Eat.”
Her eyebrows rose, making her wince.
My fists curled and I turned away before she could see the fury on my face. I grabbed the bottle of painkillers and slid it in front of her.
“Take those.”
“You don’t have to wait on me, you know. Or cook, for that matter,” she informed me as I pushed the butter, syrup, and bacon onto the table.
I topped off my coffee and sat next to her, narrowing my eyes slightly. “You don’t like the food?”
“It’s delicious.” She offered a sheepish look. “Thank you.”
She ate a few more bites as the silence settled around us. Finally, she cleared her throat. “I don’t like it when you’re nice to me.”
My surprise twisted into a scowl as I digested her words. “What?” It came out harsher than I’d intended.
She stared at her plate, and all I could see was the vulnerable girl beneath the cold exterior. I hated it. I didn’t know how to handle that Cris.
“I don’t like it when you’re nice to me,” she repeated. “It makes me uncomfortable, and puts me on edge.”
“I’m not being nice, brat. I promised your brother I’d take care of you.” I kept my words even as I watched her closely. “That’s all I’m doing.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” she snapped as she lifted her head, eyes full of fire. “I can take care of myself.”
There she was, the selfish and annoying child I recognized. I knew she would never open up, never tell me anything as long as she was uncomfortable, yet I didn’t need to let her get under my skin or pull me into a pissing match with her. That wouldn’t help either.
I tried but just couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I’d never been able to where Cris was concerned. She just rubbed me the wrong way. Oil and water. That’s what we were.
“Is that what you call it?” I goaded. “Everything that happened yesterday—that was you just taking care of yourself, huh?”
Hatred made her face harden, her eyes sparkling. “Yesterday, was a mistake. Things got out of control.”
“Yeah,” I snorted. I was sure that I’d look back and regret what I was about to say, but that didn’t stop me. “Why in the fuck did you go back to the clubhouse?” I demanded. “Need to score that bad?”
Nostrils flared as she shoved the plate away. “Fuck. You.”
“There’s no need to lie, Princess. It’s just you and me here. Matt’s not here to impress. My sister won’t overhear your dirty little secret. If you needed a fix that bad, you must still need one now. Just say the word, we’ll find one. I’m sure Ali’s book is hidden here somewhere.”
Her mouth fell open and her eyes narrowed. “Jesus, I hate you.” She stood, ready to flee.
I was faster and slid in front of her, blocking her escape. “Feeling’s mutual, brat,” I hissed. “What were you doing at the clubhouse?” I demanded again.
“None of your damn business.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, little girl. Everyt
hing about you is my business now.”
“The fuck it is!” she seethed back, trying to shove me out of her way.
“I claimed you, remember? You belong to me now. So, yeah, it is.”
My words were like a spell and made her freeze in place, her eyes wide. “What?”
My tongue ran over my bottom lip. I needed to push her, to make her tell me. “What were you doing at the clubhouse? Who gave you drugs?”
She bared her teeth at me like a feral animal. It didn’t faze me. She was the size of a twig. I didn’t back down.
She shoved her fists into my chest. “I’m clean.” She screamed the words. “I’ve been sober a long fucking time.”
“Then why were you there?” I demanded.
“I lost something there and needed to go find it!”
“What? What was so important that you misplaced it in a clubhouse?” I pressed.
“None of your business!” she seethed.
“Wrong again.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small chain, holding it up in front of her face. “Everything about this is my business.”
Cris took a small step back. She stilled, forcing her anger down. Her face was void of all emotion when she held out a palm. “That’s mine.”
“It must be pretty fucking important, if you’re willing to be someone’s whore in order to protect it.”
She paled. “It is. I’d do anything for that.”
“What is it?”
I knew. I’d known as soon as I pulled it out of my pocket the day before. Yet I needed to hear her say the words. From the way her eyes roved over my face, she could tell what I was doing.
“It’s all I have.” Anger and irritation flared in her eyes, but she kept her face neutral.
“Why?” I ground out. “Why do you have it at all?”
“Because I loved her!” she screamed at me, her resolve snapping. “I loved her more than anyone else ever could. She was mine. Mine!” She punched a fist into her chest, but I felt the pain as if she’d hit me. “But she wasn’t mine, was she?”
Tears flew down her face, over her swollen cheek and onto her split lip, but she didn’t wipe them away, as if she didn’t even notice them. “When that evil bitch came to get her, I couldn’t keep Hannah here because she wasn’t really mine.” Her voice broke. “I never got to say good-bye. I never got to tell her I loved her one last time. That’s,” —her chin quivered as she pointed to my hand— “that’s all I have left of her. And it’s not even mine.” Her shoulders slumped, but she continued, her eyes meeting mine. “I promised her that I’d protect her. In the way no one protected me. I swore to her I’d never let anything bad happen to her. And when the time came, I let her down.”
Guilt slammed into me. I hadn’t imagined this. I’d only wanted her to tell me about Hannah, maybe share a story or two. Admit that she knew my little girl.
This reaction, the pure misery expelling from her in waves, was heartbreaking.
I’d started to put it together, just begun to realize that the relapse was right after Hannah had passed. Yet junkies relapse all the time for less. Until that very moment, I hadn’t thought about what my daughter’s death might have done to Cris, how it might have affected her. Even after I’d seen the pictures that were scattered around Liam’s house, I still hadn’t realized how much she’d cared.
I was a selfish prick.
I rushed forward, attempting to pull her into me. “Don’t touch me!” Cris fought, shoving me away. “Get the fuck away from me!”
“Wish I could,” I hissed. “Maybe if you’d said that to Shooter yesterday, we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess!”
As soon as the words were out, I hated myself.
Her mouth fell open slightly, shock and betrayal flashing across her face.
“This is all your fault!” she screamed. “You did this! You didn’t believe me!”
I stepped closer, only the thought of comforting her on my mind. I’d fucked up, said shit I shouldn’t. Shit I didn’t even mean.
Fists pummeled into my chest, onto my shoulders, fingers raked across my face, yet I threw my arms around her and yanked her against me.
“You didn’t believe me.” She sobbed, devastation taking over, her body shaking. “You left her alone. You were supposed to protect her! You left us alone.”
I held tight while she let it all out. The rest of her words washed over me, not registering. She was right. It was my fault.
I’d lost my mind the day I came home to find a very pregnant Ali shooting up with her dealer. I’d beat the shit out of him, would’ve killed him had Uncle Liam not come home. Because I’d already been to juvie, they sent me back. That time as a repeat offender, mandated until my twentieth birthday.
If I hadn’t done it, if I hadn’t hurt him, I would’ve been home when Hannah was born. I would have gotten Ali the help she needed, been there for her. Or I could’ve had a fighting chance of keeping Hannah away from her mom’s abusive boyfriend.
One horrible mistake and my daughter paid the ultimate price.
Cris cried, yelling until she wore herself out. I held her tight, refusing to let go, no matter how much she fought me. After a few minutes, she gave in and sank against me. She seemed so small tucked into my chest, shaking as her misery spilled out.
I cupped the back of her head with one hand, holding her close. With the other, I rubbed her back, offering as much comfort as I could. Without thinking, I leaned down and pressed my lips to her temple.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered once her weeping had quieted. “I’m sorry that I let you down. I’m sorry I couldn’t save her.”
Tears started to stream down her cheeks again. “I love her. So much.”
I knew she did. The pain I still felt from Hannah’s absence was mirrored in Cris’s eyes. This woman had loved my little girl with every piece of her.
For years, I’d wondered if Hannah had been cared for and adored the way every child should be. There was no doubt in my mind that Uncle Liam had adored my daughter, but I wanted more for her than an old man who’d taken her because no one else had wanted her. Some nights I’d laid on my cot and imagined hearing Hannah laugh while Ali painted her nails, or wondered what it would be like to stand in the doorway to a playroom and watch my girls have a tea party.
Crissia Murphy had never been in any of those daydreams or fantasies. I’d never given her more than a passing thought unless it was to listen to Matt worry about her and the shit she was pulling. Or to bitch about her actions.
I’d been a fucking fool.
I’d never come home after Hannah died. I could barely handle facing Liam, let alone see the places my daughter had lived. If I had, I could’ve eased the guilt that had continued to plague me. I would’ve known that Hannah had had a mom—that she still had a mother who loved her more than anything.
Cris had given Hannah the best gift. Something I hadn’t even been able to offer. For that reason, Cris and I’d be forever connected.
I’d believed her when she’d told me that she loved Hannah. The pictures I’d spent the past few hours staring at, the ones that Uncle Liam had kept, proved that Hannah had loved Cris just as much. From the looks of things, they’d been quite the pair.
“Will you tell me about her?” It was a simple request, yet I felt like it was too much to ask.
Cris pulled back, her eyes red and swollen and filled with pain. “Every single thing I can remember.”
I reached out, cupping the uninjured cheek. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t anyone tell me she had you?”
Shame danced across her face. Followed by worry. And then self-loathing. She swallowed hard.
“After we lost her, I couldn’t handle it. I went on a binge.”
When she was quiet for too long, I pushed. “The accident.”
Cris nodded yet refused to meet my eyes. “The accident. By the time I got clean again, no one would talk to me about her. They were all embarrassed by me. They thought that I
’d dishonored her. It was too much.” Her eyes darted over my shoulder, avoiding mine. “I wrote to you. Letters all about her. Little things I didn’t want to forget. But I never mailed them.”
“Why not?” I’d have killed for those words. They would’ve gotten me through my darkest time.
“Because you hated me.” Her bright blues met mine. “Because I didn’t want to share that part of her with someone who detested me as much as you do.”
She pulled away, backing up a step. The truth behind her words, her selfishness, irritated me. But then she reached out and closed my fingers around the keychain.
“That’s yours.” She took a shaky breath. “We made it for you right before Ali took her. I need you to know that Hannah loved you. Very much.”
Before I could react, Cris squeezed past me and ran out the door.
12
Cris
I fled, desperate to get away from Rob. Eager to put distance between us, to separate present from past, I rushed outside and into the yard. The spring air was cool yet damp, the electricity heavy; dark clouds crowded the horizon.
A storm was coming.
Good. Let it come. It would match the one inside of me.
I’d barely made it off the front steps before I braced my hands behind my neck, leaned my head back, and attempted to take deep calming breaths. I needed to slow the thundering of my heart. It was too much. Emotion flooded over me; my thoughts skipped around so fast I could barely see straight.
I couldn’t think about her right then. I couldn’t break down completely. Not in front of that miserable ass.
So I focused on the one feeling I had complete clarity about, the one thing I knew without a shadow of a doubt. I hated Robert Doyle. Not only was he the biggest dick I’d ever met, he was also unnecessarily cruel. I didn’t know why he’d taken me back to Liam’s or what he’d hoped to accomplish, but if he wanted to break me, he was damned close to getting his wish.
