Chapter 47 Kashton #2
“We don’t want to overstep, but we want to offer help in any way we can.
Elli has an appointment tomorrow, and if Eve would like to take it, Elli will call and speak to the doctor.
Explain the details…without giving any information about Eve, of course.
” He pauses. “But I understand if that’s too much—”
“No,” I interrupt him. “It’s not too much.”
He adds. “She has no connections to the Lords in any way.”
“That’s very nice of you guys. Thank you. Please give her my information, and we’ll be there.”
I hang up and get to my feet, running up the stairs to my room. Fuck Isabella. The bitch isn’t going anywhere. I want Eve. My angel. She needs me now more than ever. I find her still in bed asleep.
It has to help, right? If Elli sees a therapist, then the idea can’t be as bad as I thought. They’re not going to drag her away from me and place her in a padded room. It’s just one conversation. For her to talk to someone who won’t judge her. Who knows what to say, what to do, and how to help.
A professional.
EVERETT
I sit in the passenger seat of the Cadillac Escalade V. The guys keep several in the garage at Carnage. Kashton flies down the highway. I woke up this morning and he helped me shower. Then Devin came by and looked at my bandages.
But we haven’t spoken. There’s tension between us, and even though he’s right next to me, I’ve never felt so alone. So disgusted with myself.
Not only does Kashton know my past, but so do his brothers. It’s humiliating.
He exits the highway and pulls into a parking lot. Getting out, he opens my door and takes my hand. We walk up a short flight of steps and enter a glass door. “Have a seat,” he orders, going over to a desk while I sit down. Looking around, I try to decide where the fuck we are.
Kashton speaks softly to a woman behind the desk, and she glances at me a few times before putting her attention back on him. It makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise. What the fuck is he doing?
“Miss Sinclair?” a woman calls from an open door to my right.
Kashton looks at her and then to me. He strolls over, grabs my hand, and pulls me to stand. “It’s okay,” he assures me, brushing my hair off my shoulders. “I’ll be right here waiting on you.”
“I don’t…”
“Hello, Everett.” The woman smiles brightly at me, and I’m confused as fuck.
Kashton ushers me through the door, and the lady closes it behind me.
I tense. There’s a couch, two chairs, and a love seat, along with a desk, and it smells of vanilla. I must be going crazy.
“Please have a seat.” She gestures to the couch.
I remain standing, trying to come up with a logical explanation for where I am and why. Kashton wouldn’t do this to me.
Her soft-brown eyes trace the Steri-Strips on my face from where Evan hit me with my gun so hard it cut my cheek. Then they drop to my bruised neck, and I swallow nervously. “It’s okay, Everett. I’m here for you.”
My chest begins to burn at her words. I’ve heard them before, and it was a lie.
I spin around, yank open the door, and rush out of the room. “Asshole,” I snap at Kashton, rushing past where he still stands at the desk, then out the front door.
“Eve? Eve, wait. What happened?” he calls out, chasing me down the steps.
I come to a stop, turn, and punch him in the face, ignoring the way my hand instantly throbs.
His baseball hat falls off his head in the process. “Fuck,” he groans into his hands, cupping his nose.
“Oh my God.” The lady from the front desk gasps from the top of the steps. “I’ll call the police.”
“No. No. No,” he rushes out, waving at her. “It’s fine. We’re fine.” He turns back to look at me, looking confused and wounded. Bending over, he picks up his hat and slides it on backward.
“But she—”
“I said we’re fucking fine,” he snaps at the woman over his shoulder.
I’m fucking shaking. “How could you?” I scream, slamming my fists into his chest.
“What?” He sighs. “What did I do?”
“A therapist? Really?” What in the fuck was he told? What would make him think this is okay?
“I’m trying to help,” he grinds out.
“Well, stop,” I shout.
He tosses his head back and laughs—a manic, body-shaking laugh—before running his hand down his bloody face. “I don’t know what to do, Eve.” His eyes frantically search mine. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“I’m fine.” I take a step back from him.
There’s nothing he can do, and the fact that he wants to help proves that he now sees me as broken.
What happened to the man who wanted to collar and chain me up in his basement?
He’s no longer here. Now this man wants me to seek professional help?
He wants me to allow a stranger to cut me open and bleed.
For what? Redemption? To be whole for him?
“Quit fucking lying to me,” he snaps. “And for God’s sake, quit lying to yourself.”
I go to slap him, but he catches my hand and yanks me toward the Escalade. At least it’s not back into the building.
I pull free, turn, and start to run in the opposite direction, but he’s quicker. Wrapping an arm around me from behind, I yelp when he picks me up and places me in the SUV before slamming the door. He storms around the hood, rips open his door, and falls into the driver’s side.
“Want to beat the shit out of me?” he screams. “Do it in the fucking car. Not in public.” He throws the car into drive and squeals his tires.
“Fine,” I growl and reach across the center console to hit him with both my fists. I rip his hat off his head and grip the bill, hitting him with it before I toss it to the back and continuing with my fists.
He tries his best to block me, but I get a few more hits in before I give up. I’m trembling at what he did. It feels like such a betrayal. He thinks I’m broken. I am, but I thought he was different.
This is what my father—Garrett—required. He made me seek therapy. Made me sit in a straitjacket and talk about my feelings. It was a way to control me. To fuck with my mind. To convince me I was insane and that all fathers treated their daughters the way he did me.
Even Bill didn’t force me into therapy after he found me. He let me work out my issues my own way. Maybe that’s the problem. I never did work them out.
“Are you done?” he snaps.
“No.” I hit him one more time in the arm and then plop back in my seat.
My heavy breathing fills the car, and he runs a hand through his hair before letting out a huff of annoyance.
I’m trembling, and angry tears sting my eyes. I drop my head to see my jeans have blood on them. At first I think it’s from the hand I used to hit him with, but then I realize it’s from my cut. “Fuck,” I whisper, pressing my shaking hand on it. The pain causes me to hiss in a breath.
“What?”
I blink away the tears and look out the passenger window. “Fuck you, Kash—”
He yanks my hand away and growls. “Goddammit.”
“If you wouldn’t have picked me up…”
He gives a rough laugh. “Me? If you wouldn’t have made a scene.”
“I was trying to leave,” I scream.
“I’m trying to help you,” he shouts.
Deafening silence fills the car, and he reaches down, undoing his belt. When he rips it free and hands it to me, he says, “Put it around your thigh. Nice and tight. It’ll hold until we get back.”
“I’m fine.” I cross my arms over my chest, refusing his help and hoping that I bleed all over his seat. That’s the least I can do after what he just tried.
He veers off the road and slams on the brakes, causing my seat belt to tighten on me. Leaning over, he lifts my leg, making me grind my teeth while he slides his belt underneath it and ties it off. I think it’s tighter than it needs to be.
I bite my bottom lip to keep from crying out. He grips my chin, placing his face in front of mine. “You might not care if you bleed out, but I do.”
Those angry tears return, and I swallow the knot lodged in my throat. He loosens his hold on my face and runs the back of his tatted knuckles along my bruised cheek. “I love you, Eve. I’m trying to show you how much. Tell me what I need to do. Tell me what I can do to help you, and I’ll do it.”
My eyes search his, but I don’t answer because I’m not sure what can be done. I can tell he sees me differently now, and I hate it. This is why I don’t get close to anyone. I prefer to live in my bubble, where I’m just a nobody. “Just take me home,” I whisper.