“Can I ask why? She seems like a nice girl. A bit on the quiet side, maybe.”
“She is nice. And quiet. She’s a good woman, Dad.”
“So what’s the problem?”
Brian exhaled. “She deserves better.”
His father’s brows pulled together. “She doesn’t like the fact that you tend bar for a living?”
“No, she never said anything like that.”
“Can’t handle your scars, huh?”
Brian remembered the heat in her eyes when she looked at his shirtless, scarred torso. The way her fingers danced over the ridged flesh as she rode him into ecstasy. “No, that’s not the issue.”
“Hm. Maybe she’s too demanding? Never satisfied? Always wanting more than you can give?”
“God, no. She’s the easiest person in the world to please.” He sighed. “I know what you’re trying to do, Dad, but the problem isn’t her. It’s me.”
His father thought about that for a moment. “She doesn’t do it for you, huh?”
That was the most absurd thing the old man had said yet. Immediately, her smile came to mind, warming a place deep in his chest. And her laugh. She had a wonderful laugh—quiet, like her, but rich and full and genuine. And her body, so responsive, so soft, fitting him so perfectly as if she had been made just for him...
He looked up to find his father watching him intensely. “Talk to me, son.”
Did he dare tell his father the truth? It was getting harder and harder to pretend, and he was so weary of having to. His shrink had told him talking to someone could help. Maybe it was time he listened. He couldn’t share everything, of course, but maybe something.
“I have this darkness inside of me, Dad. Always whispering. Reminding me of the things I’ve seen, the things that have happened. I can’t get past it.”
His father nodded soberly. “I thought so.”
“You did?”
“Son, a man can’t go through the things you have and not have it leave a mark. And you had it worse than most. You still seeing that doctor?”
“Not for a while now. There’s not much he can do, Dad. I don’t think anyone can.”
His father considered that. “This darkness. Is it there when you’re with Tori?”
“It’s always there,” Brian said softly. “But it’s not as bad when I’m with her.”
“Are you afraid you’ll hurt her?”
“Not physically, no. I could never do that. But emotionally...” He shook his head. “I can barely keep myself together some days. I’m no good to anyone like that.”
His father frowned. “Love doesn’t work like that, son. One person doesn’t hold all the cards. Sometimes you’ll need to be strong for her. Sometimes she’ll be the one holding you up. Do you think I could have made it all these years without your mother? When you went missing, and then when Lacie...” His father’s voice caught and he blinked rapidly. “Your mother was my rock. And I was hers. The only reason we got through it was because we had each other.”
It sounded nice, but their situation was different. They didn’t carry the same baggage. They’d had a strong foundation and more than three decades of being together to draw upon. “Tori and I are just friends, Dad. Or we were.”
“Saying it doesn’t make it true.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you aren’t as good at pretending as you think you are. Do you think we can’t see your torment? Sense your pain? Do you have any idea how hard it is to watch someone you love suffer, knowing there’s not a goddam thing you can do about it?”
Brian was floored. “Dad, I—”
“No, it’s your turn to listen. You’ve got family and friends who love you. People who would give anything to help you. You might think you’re protecting us, but all you’re doing is shutting us out, forcing us to watch you lock yourself away, convinced you have to handle all this on your own. You don’t.” He paused to take a breath and pinned Brian with his gaze.
“And, since we’re finally being honest here, the only time you seemed to care about anyone but yourself was when Tori was around. She was able to do something the rest of us couldn’t. She reached you, son. She gave us hope that everything was going to be okay.”
“Dad — ”
“Oh, and one more thing. Stop lying to yourself.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
Later that night, Brian found himself replaying the conversation over and over as he navigated the mountain roads, knowing every turn, every dip, every bump like the back of his hand.
His father’s words had hit with the accuracy of a sniper rifle and were just as effective. He’d thought he’d been doing such a good job of hiding his darkness, holding everything inside to make it easier, but they hadn’t been fooled. In fact, it appeared he’d made things worse by shutting them out.
And yet, no one had said anything. They’d remained quiet and patient, silently hoping he’d find his way. Accepting him and his choices. Letting him do things his way, even though that had to have been painful to watch.
The dark whispers taunted him, laughed at him for being such a fool, telling him he was even worse off than he’d thought.
They were right. And so was his father. He needed to stop lying to himself or things were never going to get better.
Lie Number One: He was the only one hurting. As much as he might like to think he was insulating himself, protecting them; he wasn’t. He had a family and friends who cared for him. They’d been suffering right along with him, though he’d been too self-absorbed to see it.
Lie Number Two: He could handle everything on his own. If he really wanted to make progress, he needed help. He was extremely fortunate to have people around him who understood. People who had been reaching out all along.
Lie Number Three: He didn’t need Tori Donovan in his life. He was miserable without her. Knowing she was just as miserable made him doubly so. Maybe, just maybe, they could give it a shot. She’d seen his scars, gotten a glimpse into his dark and damaged soul, weathered his mood swings, and hadn’t turned away. Perhaps it was time he stopped trying to pretend she didn’t know what she was getting into and trust her.
Almost immediately, he felt some of the weight on his shoulders start to lift. Now that he’d sorted that out, it was time to do something about it. The first thing he needed to do was apologize to his family for putting them through hell. They usually gathered together for Sunday brunch after Mass, so he could swing by and tell them all at once.
And then he would head over to Tori’s and come clean. It wasn’t going to be easy, not after what happened Friday night. He just had to have faith that she would accept his heartfelt apology and recognize his sincerity, even if he had to grovel.
In fact, groveling sounded like a pretty good idea. He should probably lead with that.
Tomorrow – Labor Day - he’d go to Maggie’s, swallow some of his pride, and talk to his brothers-in-law. They might not have gone through everything he had, but they had experienced enough to provide moral support.
And, if he was lucky, he’d have Tori by his side when he went.
Now that he’d made a plan, he was anxious to get started. He turned the Jeep around and headed back toward town. The sun wouldn’t be up for another couple hours, but that was okay. He had some preparations to make.
First, a shower and a shave were in order. Then, he’d stop by his mother’s favorite bakery and pick up some of those fruit-filled pastries she liked so much, as well as a few extra to take to Tori’s later. Maybe he’d get some flowers, too, while he was at it. He needed all the help he could get.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tori rose to consciousness, nursing what felt like the mother of all hangovers. Her head was pounding, her tongue was thick, and her eyes didn’t want to open. She wasn’t much of a drinker. In fact, she’d only gotten drunk once in college and after experiencing the after-effects, was quite sure she never wante
d to over imbibe ever again.
As far as she knew, she hadn’t.
She forced her eyes open with effort, blinking several times as she tried to focus. Disoriented, her surroundings felt strange and unfamiliar; she couldn’t place where she was.
The only light came from a narrow, rectangular window set high on the far wall. Above her, wooden beams spanned the width of the room, reminding her of her grandmother’s unfinished basement. The room was small, about eight feet wide by eight feet long, with cinderblock walls painted battleship gray. Besides the twin-sized bed upon which she found herself, there was little else.
The door opened and a man came in, carrying a tray. “Good. You’re awake.”
He came closer, his fuzzy outline becoming clearer the closer he came. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place him.
He held the tray out to her. On it was a sleeve of crackers and a bottle of water.
She pushed herself up to a sitting position, taking a few extra moments for the room to stop spinning. “Where are we? Why do I feel like roadkill?”
He studied her carefully. “How much do you remember?”
Thinking made the pounding in her head worse. “Not much at the moment, I’m afraid.”
He nodded and set the tray down on the bed. “Try to eat and drink something. You’ll feel better if you do.”
He turned to go.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
“I won’t be far. Don’t try to get up for a while.”
The whole situation was bizarre. Clearly, he knew a lot more about what was going on than she did.
“Hey, I’m talking to you. What did you do to me?” Tori pushed herself to her feet and tried to take a step, but her legs didn’t cooperate. She fell forward, unable to get her arms out in front of her fast enough. She went down hard, breath expelling from her lungs in a forceful whoosh as her chest made contact with the solid cement floor. Her face hit a split second later. Pain radiated along her jaw and cheek; fortunately, she’d managed to turn her head at the last minute, narrowly avoiding a broken nose and a couple lost teeth.
“Told you not to do that.”
He didn’t attempt to help her up. He closed the door behind him, leaving her in stunned, painful disbelief on the floor. She took a minute or five and breathed through the worst of the pain before crawling on hands and knees to the door. It wasn’t a far distance, but her progress was slow and like that of a drunken crab. Her balance was seriously off and she fell more than once.
Whoever he is, he’s an asshole.
Finally, she made it to the door and with Herculean effort, reached up to turn the knob, only to find it locked. “Hey!” she called out, pounding on the door with as much force as she could muster. “Hey, come back!”
Whether he heard her pleas or not, she didn’t know. He didn’t return and after exhausting herself, she was forced to accept that he wasn’t going to anytime soon. She propped herself up against the wall and tried to focus through the pain and confusion.
What is happening? Where am I? How did I get here?
Lots of questions, no answers. The one thing she did know: things were not good. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe through the panic that tried to overtake her. Losing it wasn’t going to do her any good. She needed to stay calm and remember something, anything, that might explain her current situation and more importantly, help her figure out a way to get out of it.
Unfortunately, her mind didn’t seem any more willing to cooperate than her body. The good news (if there was any) was that she didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger. If the guy wanted to hurt her, he could have, easily, although not helping and walking away still made him an asshole.
When Tori opened her eyes again, she was still on the floor. The room was darker than it had been before. Only a sliver of silver came through the tiny window, leading her to believe that night had fallen. What night, she had no idea, though it seemed like more than a few hours had passed.
Her head continued to throb but not quite as badly as before. The earlier nausea had become more of a gnawing hunger and she had the worst case of cotton mouth she’d ever had.
The tray sat untouched where her mysterious host had left it. Not wanting a repeat of her earlier fall, she crawled on her hands and knees toward the bed. She went for the water first, her terrible thirst her biggest priority, then hesitated. Dare she drink it?
She’d come to the obvious conclusion that she’d been drugged, though the why and how of it eluded her. It must have happened some time ago, based on the signals her body was sending her brain. Intense thirst, fatigue, headache, and dizziness were signs of possible dehydration. How much time had passed? One day? Two?
The bottled water didn’t look as if it had been tampered with. She squeezed it, looking for any sign of pinholes or leakage, finding none. She twisted the top off the bottle of water, pleased when she felt the safety seal give way. While it was still possible that the water might have been drugged, she was willing to take the chance to ease her terrible thirst.
She raised the bottle to her nose and sniffed. Nothing suspicious. That didn’t mean anything; drugs could be colorless and odorless. Instead of chugging it as her body demanded, Tori forced herself to take small, measured sips. It tasted fine. In fact, it tasted better than fine. After several minutes, she felt no adverse effects.
The sleeve of crackers also appeared to be unopened. She went through a similar process, finding nothing that indicated tampering. She tore open one end and ate one, then another, alternating bites of cracker with sips of water. Before long she’d eaten half the sleeve. Both her nausea and her headache abated, and as they did, clarity began to return.
She’d been on the road, going... somewhere. She remembered hitting something... no, not hitting something, trying to avoid hitting something. Rocks! Yes, rocks in the road.
She’d swerved and gone off the side of the road, bumping her head in the process. Wincing in memory, she reached up and gingerly touched the raised bump just above the outside edge of her left brow. It was sore to the touch, but the swelling had gone down.
She’d decided to remain in the car until daybreak; she must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she remembered, the guy who’d brought her the crackers and water... Jim... no, John... no, Joe... Joe had been knocking on her window.
She remembered thinking that her silent prayers had been answered, because he’d happened by with a tow truck, of all things. They’d briefly discussed cost and options. He’d told her he could take her to his garage so he could better assess the damage and she could decide what to do from there. It had seemed like the best option at the time.
Tori took another sip of water and shook her head gently, trying to pull enough pieces together to make a coherent picture. Clearly, her ability to look beyond the surface had been on the fritz. He hadn’t seemed like an asshole then. There had been no warning signs, no red flags, nothing about the situation suggested he was anything but what he said he was.
She’d grabbed her phone from the dash mount and retrieved her overnight bag from the back and climbed into his truck. Watched him in the rearview mirror as he made quick work of things, using a winch to get her Jeep unstuck and lined up.
They’d started moving. He offered her beef jerky, which she’d politely refused. She said something about how lucky it was that he’d happened along at just the opportune moment. He’d smiled and said that everything happened for a reason.
He knew his way around the back roads, navigating them with confidence. Before long, he’d pulled off onto a dirt road and came to a stop. He’d gotten out of the truck; she’d done the same. It had been too dark to get a good look around, but they’d definitely been standing in front of a garage. It had two bays and wasn’t anywhere near as pristine as Sean Callaghan’s place.
She remembered thinking that beggars couldn’t be choosers, and she should have been glad he came along when he had, not critiquing his workspace.
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“Go on inside and have a seat while I take a quick look,” he’d told her, pointing to the small office.
She had done just that. The office was tiny and smelled of dirt and grease. Ancient-looking promotional posters for tires and motor oil hung on the wall. Parts were strewn about, stacked on every available surface, some in boxes, some not. A thick layer of dust and grime covered much of it, including the window.
Maybe he’s a great mechanic, she’d thought hopefully, like one of those hole-in-the-wall, dive restaurants that served the best food. Still, she had opted to remain standing.
She’d pulled out her phone, finding that it still showed no bars. It hadn’t mattered much. Who would she have called? What would she have said? Who would have cared?
Joe had come back in, and she’d gotten her first good look at him in the light. He’d offered her a tired smile, and she’d immediately felt bad. “Long day, huh?”
“Goes with the job.”
“How does it look?”
He’d taken off his cap and ran his hand through his hair. “You want the good news or the bad news?”
“Good news first.”
“It’s not as bad as I thought and I’ve got the parts and tools to fix it.”
“What’s the bad news?”
“It’ll have to wait till morning.” He had gestured toward the old-fashioned landline phone on the cheap metal desk. “You got someone you can call?”
She didn’t, of course, but had felt it better to keep that to herself. “You can’t fix it now?”
“Emergency towing service is twenty-four-seven. Repairs aren’t, and I need some shut-eye.”
“Right.” It had to have been close to dawn, and if he was half as tired as he looked, she was probably better off waiting. It wasn’t as if she was on a strict time schedule.
As if reading her thoughts, he had asked, “You got somewhere you need to be? I only need a couple hours. I can get an early start and have you back on the road by nine.”
It hadn’t been ideal, but she’d been short on options, and remembered thinking she could have done with a few hours’ sleep herself.
Not Quite Broken: A Callaghan Family & Friends Romance Page 13
