Chapter Twenty
Pacino
Phoebe hasn’t said much since we left the bakery, and I’m terrified. After all the time I wasted waiting for someone like Phoebe to push me out of my comfort zone, I’m worried I just lost her.
It’s bad enough that my family targeted her. That can almost be forgiven, but then we kill four men in her bakery, one of which she directly witnessed? I can’t say I’ll blame her if she tells me that it’s all too much for her. That she wants to run.
But I can’t let her. I can’t protect her if she’s not with me, and even if I’m not exactly doing a stellar job based on what happened today, it’s better than her being on her own.
Phoebe is everything I didn’t know I needed in my life, and I’m at a loss at what to do. How to fix this. How to make her see that it will get better, and she’s not in danger once my family’s taken care of.
We got back to my place, and she took a shower. I offered to help, but she just said she wanted to be alone. The look in her eyes scares the shit out of me. They don’t shine like normal. Dull and emotionless.
I sat outside the bathroom waiting for her to come out, and then she looked at me and said, “I want to lie down for a bit. Alone.”
She walked into her room and shut the door. Ten hours ago.
I’m losing my fucking mind. It’s dark outside, and she still hasn’t come out. I need to feel her. Talk to her. Kiss her. Promise to make it up to her.
The door opens, and I jump up off the floor. The light is dim, but I can see the surprise on her face.
“You sat out in the hallway?”
Swallowing, I nod. “I couldn’t leave you alone.”
I want to touch her, but I’m not sure if she’s receptive. She pushed me away at the bakery, and it almost killed me.
“We need to talk.”
Four of the absolute worst fucking words a woman can say to her man. “Okay.”
“Can we go to your room?”
Or maybe not. “Of course.”
We walk inside, and I reach for the light switch, but her hand on mine stops me. “I don’t want the lights on.”
Definitely not a bad request. There are some good things that happen in the dark.
“You want to stay in the dark?”
“I can’t look at you when I say what I have to say.”
Well, shit. Now we’re back onto dread. “Oh. Okay.”
“Lay with me?”
I’m so fucking confused. I have absolutely no idea what the hell is happening, but I guide her to the bed, letting her rest her head on my chest. If this is her way of breaking things off, it’s not the worst way.
“Bear with me,” she whispers. “I’ve never told anyone this before. Not the truth.”
My heart races, and I almost want to tell her to stop. Not to tell me. Because I suspect my imagination isn’t nearly as bad as what she’s about to say.
She trembles in my arms, and I wrap her up tightly, wishing I could take away all of her pain. Her fear. Everything but her happy light that is nowhere to be seen.
“When I was little, my dad left Mom and me. I barely remember him I was so young.”
“Do you want me to find your dad for you?”
It’s something I can do. I can help with that. And it would make me feel useful because I feel pretty helpless right now.
“No, please. I know it’s not fair, but I blame him for everything that happened when he disappeared.”
My stomach churns. “Blame him for what, Yellow Crayon?”
She swallows and takes a deep breath, making me even more anxious. “When I was nine, Mom went through a rough patch. Lost her job, couldn’t find another one, and we had months where we lost electricity because it was bills or food.”
I massage her scalp absentmindedly, focusing on how soft her hair is between my fingers. “Is that why you force-feed people donuts?”
The small chuckle she gives eases some of the tightness in my chest. “No. Well, maybe. It’s why I bring leftovers to the homeless shelter. With you, I just kind of wanted to impress you. Something told me you were special, and it’s one of the few things I’m good at.”
There are more than a few things she’s good at. But I honestly don’t really know where this is headed.
“We moved in with my uncle at Grandma’s old farmhouse after we got evicted from our apartment. He offered us a place to stay while Mom looked for work, and she just had to help with groceries. Which we could do.”
I can’t help but brace myself for the horrible turn I know we’re about to reach. The pace of her storytelling is killing me. I’m about to jump out of my skin, but I understand she needs to do this her way.
“She found a job, but it was nights. My uncle’s the reason I got that tattoo when I was nineteen. It felt empowering while I tried to put the pieces back together after Grandma died.”
“Is that why you hate basements? That’s where your uncle… hurt you?”
My mind swims. I’ll fill in the fucking basement with cement if that’s what happened. God, I hope that wasn’t what played in her mind that first night here. I feel like a fucking jackass now.
I do plan to find this asshole and chop his dick off, though. Then I’ll feed it to him.
“No, but yes. That’s where he took me, but I disassociated. That’s what the psychiatrist told me when I was thirteen. It’s not healthy, but it doesn’t really bother me as much as you’d think. It was usually quick.”
My jaw drops, and I want to say something. Anything. But what the fuck can I say other than I will find this bastard and kill him painfully?
“There are only two movies that trigger me, but I avoid them. It’s not difficult. I don’t think about it much.”
Yeah, none of this is fucking healthy, baby. But who am I to judge how she copes? I fucked a former escort from behind for years until Phoebe came into my life to deal with my issues.
“If that’s not the reason for the panic with basements, what is?”
I do my best to keep my voice as soft as possible. If I speak too loudly, I worry I’ll startle her like a stray animal. Even though it’s difficult, I think she needs to get this off her chest. Shit like this weighs a person down. I know from experience.
“Mom found out what my uncle was doing. I don’t remember how, but I was twelve.”
Three fucking years this went on?
“Grandma was coming back to Iowa to visit. She’d retired to Reno, and she was supposed to pick me up after school. She had a heart attack and was in the hospital.”
“What?”
Phoebe nods her head on my chest, and I feel the tears seeping through my shirt. “She was okay. I had to walk home when Grandma didn’t show. I walked into the house, and no one answered. I thought maybe Mom and my uncle were at the hospital.”
I don’t really understand where this is going yet. Her grandma didn’t die. I know that. She died when Phoebe was nineteen.
“I knew Mom was going to tell Grandma about what my uncle was doing, and I thought this was a sign that she shouldn’t. But then I saw the note Mom left for Grandma, and I knew they were in the house.”
The image of a young Phoebe left alone while her family fell apart makes me hold her even tighter. Like I can protect the little girl still inside if I hug her enough.
“My uncle did the same thing to Mom. He was ten years older, and he took her to the basement, too.”
Motherfucker. “And your grandparents didn’t know this?”
“No,” she says, letting out a sob. “She never told them. And when I read the note, I knew she was in the basement. I shoved the note in my pocket and ran downstairs to find Mom with my uncle.”
“What were they doing?”
My heart races. He wouldn’t have hurt her mom then, right? She wasn’t his type. He liked kids.
Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with this world?
Her body trembles against me, and I understand her request for darkness. I hate that she’s reliving this again, but she seems to need to get this out of her system. Even if it’s the only time she ever talks about this again.
“They were dead.”
I’m actually kind of pissed. I was hoping for a chance to make that motherfucker suffer. “What?”
“It was my fault. She shot both of them in the head. Blood and brains were splattered on the walls like today. Normally, I keep it locked up, but I couldn’t when I saw that guy… I was back in the basement… The memories didn’t stay locked up. They wouldn’t stop.”
Fuck. It wasn’t that she was terrified of what Capone did. It was the memory of finding her mother after she blew her brains out that broke her.
I pull her closer until she’s lying on top of me. “I’m sorry, Phoebe.”
“I took the gun from Mom’s hand and put it in my uncle’s. I was scared Grandma wouldn’t take me in if she knew the truth. No one else ever read the note.”
If it wasn’t such a tragic story, I’d be impressed and proud that she fucked with a crime scene at only twelve. “The cops thought he did it?”
Sniffling, she nods her head, the hot tears still hitting my chest. “I told them my uncle was sad lately, and he was talking about hurting himself. Then I said I told Mom, and she was going to try to talk to him before Grandma showed up. They put the rest together themselves.”
“You came up with this at twelve?”
She sobs and presses her face against my chest. I just hold her, rubbing her hair until she calms down.
“Yeah. Before I called the police, I laid down next to Mom. I apologized and held her hand. She was still warm. Her eyes were open, and it felt like she was watching me as I walked down to find them. Just lying there, waiting.”
Tears sting my eyes. I lost my mother when I was young, but it wasn’t as tragic as this. The thought of Phoebe laying on the ground with her dead mom breaks me in ways I didn’t know possible.
“That’s what I see when I see a basement. Mom laying on the floor. Dead. I can’t stop the memory when that happens, and I’m losing my brightness, Tucker. The vault door opened, and I can’t shut it. The darkness is grabbing hold, and I don’t know what to do.”
Fuck, take a hammer to my goddamn heart. “You just gotta feel the pain, baby. You’re not alone anymore, and you don’t have to be the bright and cheery one all the time. I got you. We’ll figure this out together.”
“It’s worse because I know she’s mad at me. But I had to protect myself. And Grandma. I don’t think she would’ve taken me in if she knew what her son did. Or it might’ve given her another heart attack and killed her, too.”
“Phoebe, I think your mom understands.”
“No, she doesn’t. I know she’s angry, and it makes it harder. I failed her. But I didn’t know what to do.”
Kissing her temple, I refuse to let her go and retreat into herself, like I can tell she wants to.
“Baby, I think you got it all wrong. She kept her secret for years, and the only reason it came out was because she learned it happened to you, too. I think she understands better than you think why you’d keep it a secret. ”
Phoebe sobs into my chest, and I fight my own tears. I hate this for her. I want to take every ounce of pain she has away. Feel it for her. Hold it so she doesn’t have to. I can handle it, and I probably deserve it. She doesn’t.
“I needed you to understand,” she says with a shaky breath. “It’s really hard for me to see the good in anything right now. The memories won’t go away like I want them to. Seeing that guy like that… I know he deserved it. I heard what Capone said, but it…”
“I get it,” I whisper, rubbing her scalp. “You don’t have to pretend to be anything you’re not with me. If you don’t feel happy, the last thing I want for you is to fake it. We both know how that makes me react. I do stupid shit. Like get you drunk.”
A giggle sounds, and I feel like I can breathe. She’s not broken. We’ll get her back to her happy self, but I definitely understand the over-the-top cheeriness now. She chooses it, and I can’t believe she didn’t turn out more like me.
“You shared your secret with me, and I want you to know that I trust you as much as you trust me. I know you got freaked out by my reaction today, but I couldn’t… The thoughts…”
“I was scared you didn’t want to be anywhere near me after what you saw because you were scared of us. Of me. And I need you to know that I would never, ever do anything like that to you. I couldn’t hurt you no matter how upset I am.”
Sniffling, she kisses my cheek. “I know.”
“I will kill anyone who hurts you, though, Yellow Crayon. I don’t care how they’re associated to me. My brother touches you again, and I will rip his fucking head off.”
“You’re the first person to make me feel safe since I was a little girl. When you say things like that, though, I shouldn’t. But it’s who you are, and I accept that. Just like I hope you accept me as I am.”
That’s why this is different. Phoebe accepts me, and that’s what draws me to her. She doesn’t want to change me. She doesn’t see me like something broken that needs fixing. All she ever wanted was to know me and understand me.
“Always, baby,” I whisper around the lump in my throat.
If there was any wall left around my formerly dead heart, it would be completely fucked right now. Down like the Berlin Wall.
I can’t tell her how I feel right now, though. What she said was heavy, and I want us to sit with it. Process it. Telling her now will only mask what she’s going through, and it’ll make things worse.
Her breathing evens out, and she’s asleep on my chest. Kissing the top of her head, I just lay there, holding her. She’s not running. She’s not scared of me.
My girl is a hell of a lot stronger than anyone else. Even me.