CHAPTER 13
brIDGER
There are so many things I should say, but I don’t trust my voice. The thought of the woman in my arms falling in love with me should have me wanting to put distance between us. It has the opposite effect; I want to pull her closer.
The fact that Avery has so little she wants to take from this place makes me want to slap some sense into her parents. But I also understand it. Why take things that remind you of somewhere you never want to return to? She should only take the good.
Even though I couldn’t watch her the entire time we were packing up, I did notice the gentle way she touched certain items. A baby blanket she pulled out of the depths of her closet. A book that looked like a small photo album. A locket that was probably the least expensive item in her jewelry box.
These are the things that matter to her the most; I hope she’ll share with me why they’re so important one day. I want to know how to earn the same kind of soft, reverent touch from her.
Even though I don’t respond to her teasing about falling in love with me, she doesn’t seem to hold it against me. She simply sighs and lets me take a little more of her weight. I like the way she fits against my chest, probably too much.
“I’m done,” she sighs.
I look at the suitcases and bags and frown. “Okay,” I grunt. “I’m not sure how we’re going to get these things out of here?”
She looks at me from over her shoulder, her eyebrows pulled together in confusion. She looks so fucking adorable.
“What do you mean? We’re going to carry them downstairs and then load them into your car,” she says like it’s obvious.
Maybe to her it is.
“First of all, Sweetheart,” I grit out through my teeth, “you’re not carrying anything other than the baby in your belly.
” She narrows her eyes, and I can see the way she’s gearing up to argue with me, but I shake my head and add, “Secondly, I don’t want to leave you alone. Not up here and not down there.”
All the fight drains from her, and she nods.
“I see your point.” She looks at the bags again and nibbles on her bottom lip.
“Honestly, this suitcase,” she points to the ones where she put all the items she touched with reverent love, “is the only one I really need. I’ve been saving, I can buy more clothes.
It’s not like I have a job right now where I need to dress a certain way. ”
I hate the defeated edge to her voice. But at the same time, my admiration for this woman grows. It’s clear she doesn’t care about material things. She cares about the things she treasures.
“You’re not leaving anything behind for that woman, or anyone else, to get their hands on.” I nudge her toward the door. “Come on, we’ll figure it out.”
It turns out that my woman is stubborn as hell. As we step past her bags, she tries to snag one of the duffle bags to carry it.
“Avery,” I growl, a warning clear in my tone.
She gives me a sheepish look and pouts a little. As if that’ll have me giving in. When I stand with my feet spread and cross my arms across my chest while giving her a look that tells her exactly what I think of her actions, her cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink.
Finally, she puts the bag down, holds her hands up, and steps away. “Thank you,” I rasp.
The thought of her hurting herself, even if the bag isn’t overly stuffed and heavy, has my heart pounding in my chest. I’m not going to let it happen.
I grab two of the suitcases and take them out to the top of the stairs.
Then I sling the duffle bags over my shoulder and wheel the third suitcase out.
I look downstairs and even though I don’t see her mom, my gut clenches with the idea of Avery being alone with her or at the harpy jumping out of the shadows. I’m not going to let it happen.
Her mom is a piece of work. I could smell the alcohol seeping from her pores. And the things she said? The woman should be ashamed of herself. The sad thing is that there’s no doubt in my mind that she’ll never see the error of her ways.
Just like my mom.
She never saw the trauma she caused by allowing a steady stream of men in and out of our lives.
While she was looking for something she never was able to find, she exposed me to hatred and resentment.
I lost count of the number of men who tried to play dad to me to butter up my mom.
Then something would go wrong, and they’d be gone.
Being abandoned the first time was bad enough, but all the times after? I didn’t understand what was happening for a long time. Once I did, I no longer cared how the men my mom brought into our lives felt about me because of my own hatred and resentment.
“You stay up here,” I tell her.
Then I make two trips down the stairs with her bags before heading back up and leading her down the stairs. The moment we step off the last step, the front door slams open and a furious looking man storms in.
“Fuck,” Avery groans under her breath.
The man marches through the entry way like he’s heading into battle, and I watch my woman change in front of my eyes. Gone is the woman who stood tall and told her mom where to shove it. Her shoulders curl in on themselves and her eyes lock on the floor like it’ll solve all her problems.
If I didn’t hate her father before this moment, I would have all the reasons in the world to feel that way toward him now.
The moment he sees Avery, he sneers at her. “What are you doing here?” He barks the question at her, and she shrinks back as if making herself smaller will give him less of a target.
But that’s not how men like him work. Seeing her scared, seeing the way she becomes what he’s been molding her into for far too long, gives him a sick sense of satisfaction. I can see it in the way his eyes glint as he watches her.
“You said I had 48 hours to get my stuff before it was thrown away. I’m here to get my things,” Avery’s voice is hollow and thready. That would be bad enough, but the way it wobbles breaks my heart.
Her father’s eyes narrow and he grunts out a sound filled with displeasure. “I’m disappointed that you chose this option. The smarter plan would be to get rid of the bastard you’re carrying. You can still redeem yourself by marrying Eric.”
At the mention of getting rid of our baby, Avery’s spine snaps straight and the fire ignites in her eyes again. I’m not even a little bit ashamed when my cock thickens behind the fly of my jeans.
“I’m not getting rid of my baby and I’m not marrying Eric. I never wanted to marry him, but you didn’t ask me what I wanted, you just called me into your office and told me I’d be engaged and when.”
Her father can’t hear the warning in her tone and doesn’t look the least bit ashamed of his actions or words. He looks over her bags with an appraising eye and I know he’s going to make this more difficult than it needs to be. At least he’s going to try.
“You’ve always been worthless, Avery,” his tone is droll as if it is an everyday thing to say to your daughter.
It isn’t.
And it takes all of my will power not to close the distance between us and beat him until his blood spills all over the marble floor. Maybe sensing my need for blood and vengeance, Avery grips my arm. Her will is the only thing holding me in place.
Just because my feet aren’t moving doesn’t mean I’m not planning.
He thinks he’s untouchable because of his job and the status he’s worked to achieve and hold onto.
He has no idea that I know people with skill and far more money, even if this house does try to flaunt every penny he has.
I’m already making lists in my head about who I need to call.
I want to know about every skeleton in this man’s closet.
Then I’ll figure out if I want to feature them in a media parade designed to shame him until he can’t even look at himself in the mirror.
Without meaning to, I smile, the thought of taking him down making me a little giddy.
Avery squeezes my arm, and I look down at her to find her assessing me with questions swirling in her eyes.
Later, I’ll answer all of her questions.
Not giving a fuck about her father standing just a few feet away from us, I press a sweet kiss to her forehead and then one to her petal soft lips.
The contact isn’t just for her; it’s for me too. I need it to calm myself down.
“This is who you’d rather be with? Not Eric who is a fine, upstanding young man with a bright future ahead of him,” he sneers the words, but I don’t look his way.
I can’t. I’m too captivated by the adoration shining in Avery’s dark blue depths.
“This is the father of your baby? A miscreant with tattoos? He’s probably unemployed and barely graduated high school.
Your little bastard will be just as much of a drain on society as the father is. ”
Slowly I turn my head and look at him, not because he insulted me, my intelligence, or my ability to take care of Avery. No, I look at him because he had the gall to speak about our baby. Again.
“Say what you want about me,” my voice is low, menacing, “but you will stop talking about Avery and our child in such a way.”
“Or what?” He challenges me while thinking he’s above it all.
I shrug one shoulder, not giving him the reaction he wants.
“There are a lot of different ways this could go.” Avery’s mom joins us and steps close to her husband, thereby making a clear statement about where her loyalties lie.
“Good, you should hear this too because I’m only going to say this once.
You think you’re untouchable, but you’re not. ”
“Are you threatening me?” He bristles and gears up to attempt to exert his dominance.
I hold a hand up, trying to keep my cool when all I want to do is rip his limbs from his body and beat him to death with them. Does blood stain marble?