17
MAVERICK
FACING THE PAST
Clint is driving, and I’m grateful. My hands are shaking as Taylor’s words replay themselves over and over in my mind. The things she’s experienced at the hands of her father have torn me up. The things she’s witnessed… Well, I know the damage that violence in the home can do to a person, and Taylor’s been through so much more than me.
She’s sitting next to me in the back of the vehicle, staring out the window. Her hands are clasped together in her lap. Maybe she’s shaking, too, and doesn’t want me to see. I take her dainty hand in mine, bringing her knuckles to my lips. I press a long, gentle kiss there, wanting her to feel tenderness and care in the face of so much anxiety.
“We’ll get there,” Jesse says firmly. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine.”
He has so much confidence in his voice. That’s the thing with Jesse. In daily life, he believes he can will the things he wants into existence. He has an unshakable certainty that he can control the world around him. Apart from when his ex-wife took his son and moved halfway across the globe, he’s never felt a moment of turbulence in his life. He’s never felt powerless. Not like I have.
Taylor squeezes my hand, and I know his reassurances aren’t touching her. She has the same level of faith in the world that I do, which isn’t much.
In our world, bad guys have the power. The ones who will take what they want are the ones who get what they want, no matter how terrible their methods. Taylor escaped her father’s clutches when she no longer served a useful purpose to him. He discarded her, and she found her freedom.
Except she didn’t.
She went from one man who felt he owned her to three more who really did.
I cringe at the role I’ve played in her life since the auction, but when I turn to Taylor, she looks at me with the softest expression. “Thank you,” she whispers.
“What the hell for?”
“For helping me. For being good to me. For making me see that not all men are bad.”
Her words are supposed to be kind, but they only make me feel more ashamed. No woman should find themselves in Taylor’s situation.
When we get to Molly, we have to let Taylor know that we won’t hold her to the marriage or role in our household and lives. It wasn’t her choice to enter the auction, so we should give her a choice now. My heart aches at the prospect of losing her but shackling her to us is so deeply wrong. If you love somebody, set them free. We need to do that for Taylor, no matter how much it might hurt.
It’s almost seven pm by the time we enter Taylor’s hometown. She sits forward in her seat to direct Clint to her friend, Natalie’s, house. Squinting into the fading glare of the evening sun, she strains to find road names and landmarks.
“Take the next turning on the right,” she says, gripping the back of Jesse’s seat. “And then the first left.”
Clint follows her instructions. “It’s down here on the right—” She pauses, her eyes fixed ahead.
“Oh no—”
There’s a man on the sidewalk, picking something up from the ground. He tosses it at the house. When we get closer, it’s clear that he’s tossing rocks at a house.
“Is that your…?”
“Father.” Her hand is already on the door handle, but I grab her arm.
“You’re not going out there, Taylor. Leave this to us.”
Clint parks twenty feet up the road and the three of us are out of the vehicle in seconds, running towards Taylor’s deranged parent.
“Hey,” Jesse yells. “What the hell are you doing?”
The man turns with a large rock from the garden still clutched in his hand. “Who the fuck are you?”
He’s a grimy mess with a wild and feral look in his hollow eyes and his thinning hair hanging in loose matted strands. Malnourished and unsavory, he strains to stay upright as if he has already had a few drinks. And then the stench hits me. He sneers as he casts his hazy gaze between us, revealing a mouth of decaying teeth. His sunken cheeks make him look much older than his years, but the aggression radiating from every inch of him is no match for the rage and fury inside all of us. This sack of shit is Taylor’s father?
Jesse’s fist in the man’s face is the only appropriate response. The man’s head twists violently, and he drops to the floor, knees first, then shoulder, then head. It’s a hollow sound, like a watermelon smashing.
Feet pound the sidewalk behind us, and I turn to find Taylor running.
“Where’s Molly?” she gasps, running towards the home that must be Natalie’s. She bangs on the door before I can reach her, yelling “Molly. Natalie. It’s okay. Open up.”
A woman’s voice sounds from inside. “Taylor?”
“Yes.”
“Taylor. Be careful. Your father—”
“It’s okay, Natalie. Open up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. They’ve got him on the ground.”
When I get closer, the damage to the front door comes into view. Jesus. The wood is splintered in places, and the paint is chipped. Rocks litter the front step. Taylor’s father was riled up enough to do some serious damage.
The door opens just a crack, with a security chain preventing it from opening fully. A young woman’s face appears. “Taylor?”
“Natalie.”
Her eyes flick to me, and Taylor turns. “Don’t worry. This is Maverick. He’s a good guy.”
A good guy.
But I’m not, am I? Not good enough for her.
Natalie swipes the chain aside and opens the door. “We were so scared.” She falls into Taylor’s embrace, and the two women clasp each other tightly. Behind Natalie, a skinny girl of around thirteen or fourteen stands with her arms wrapped around herself. Her face is red and blotchy, and tears have left damp, salty streaks down her cheeks. Her hair is the same color as Taylor’s but hangs in stringy clumps around her too-skinny face. Taylor draws quickly away from Natalie and reaches for her sister, enveloping her in her arms. “Molly.”
The embrace is so fierce and intense I look away to give them privacy and so emotion won’t clog my throat.
At the roadside, Jesse spits on Taylor’s father, who’s still unconscious. “This piece of shit,” he growls at Clint. “This asshole used his daughters like they were his fucking possessions.” It’s not like him to swear, but I get why he feels the need to do it now.
“What are we going to do with him?”
“Call the police,” Jesse barks.
“Okay.” Clint pulls out his phone and wanders further away from the house to handle the conversation that Taylor and Molly should be protected from.
“I’m so sorry,” Taylor says, addressing Natalie. “What’s your mom going to say?”
“It’s okay.” I pull a wad of cash from my pocket and peel off some bills. “We’ll clean up the dirt and the rocks. You can get the door repaired and painted with this.” I pass Natalie the money and she eyes me curiously.
“And who are you?” she asks.
I know she’s not asking for my name again, but the reason I’m paying for Taylor’s repairs. I tip my hat and hold out my hand, and Natalie shakes it. Molly’s watching too with equally curious eyes.
“That’s a question for another day,” Taylor says. “Molly, do you have any of your things?”
Molly nods and disappears into the house, returning with a small blue backpack. That sorry man outside provided so little for his family. What kind of man could be this way to his own flesh and blood? I don’t know why I even bother to think that way because I know. Too many men. Too many men think their flesh and blood are there as punching bags or property.
“Take Molly and wait in the truck,” I tell Taylor.
She nods and leads her sister up the path to the sidewalk, turning to offer Natalie a small and apologetic wave. I know she must feel terrible for what her friend has gone through because of her father. No matter how much people tell us it’s not our fault, kids still feel a sense of responsibility towards their parents.
I turn to Taylor’s friend. “Thank you for taking care of Molly, and I’m so sorry you had to deal with this.” I wave in Taylor’s father’s direction. He’s groaning and writhing on the floor now with Jesse’s huge boot resting on his chest.
I pick up two of the rocks and set them back into the garden, filling dents in the dirt. Her mom has made a pretty display that I want to try to put it back as it was. It takes three more journeys back and forth until the step is free of rocks. “Do you have a brush?”
Natalie disappears inside, returning with a brush and a small pan. I sweep up the dirt as best as I can and drop it around the flowers. It doesn’t look too bad now. A professional will need to fix just a few dents in the door.
“You’re a good friend,” I tell her as I get ready to check on Taylor and Molly.
“She didn’t deserve a father like that,” Natalie says. “At least mine just fucked off and left us. But that man—” She shakes her head. “He doesn’t care about them. He’ll really hurt them if he gets the chance.”
“He’s going to get what’s coming to him.”
She nods, her hand rubbing her upper arm over her lilac sweater. “Are you going to look after them now?” Her dark brown eyes assess me, searching my expression.
“We all will,” I say. “For as long as they want us to.”
“That’s good,” she says. “Taylor deserves the world for all that she’s been through. You make sure you give her that and nothing less.”
I don’t know what to say in the face of such fierce friendship. I could tell her that I wish I could give Taylor the world, but most of the time, I don’t trust myself at all. I could tell her that with Taylor, I’m starting to hope for things I never dared to before. She brings out the best in me: protective instincts, kindness, a desire to do everything in my power to keep her safe and make her happy. But now’s not the time and place to confess things I’m not ready to admit to myself, so I smile and take two steps back before I turn and walk away.
It takes fifteen minutes for the cops to arrive. Jesse outlines Taylor’s dad’s crimes, excluding the bride auction. The threatening behavior, damage to property, and sexual abuse will be enough to get him put away. Taylor will give a statement because she wants to keep her sister safe. This is the only way to ensure her father won’t try to come for them both.
On the drive home, Taylor sits in the middle, and Molly rests her head on her sister’s lap and falls asleep. “She must be exhausted,” she whispers, stroking her hair back from Molly’s face with tender care. I rest my arm protectively around Taylor’s shoulders, wanting her to feel my strength and know she doesn’t have anything to fear now.
For the first time in my life, I trust that I’ll do the right thing by a woman, enough to make a life with her. All the years, I worried I would be like my father, that the pressure of love and family life would push me over the edge now seem so stupid.
I’m not him. I’m nothing like him.
I can do this. But what I’m capable of being to Taylor might not be what she wants.
“Everything’s going to be all right now,” I say because it’s what she needs to hear.
But even though my heart wants to believe it, too, I know Jesse, Clint, and I need to face up to how wrong our role is in Taylor’s life and make it right however we can.