Chapter Eleven
Sledge
I was an asshole. Eliana’s words, her life story, plagued me from the moment she pushed them out in that motel room.
Her story had hit me like a fucking freight train.
I’d wanted to say something, hell anything, but my tongue had betrayed me.
What the hell was I supposed to say? Sorry seemed like a sorry fucking excuse of a word in the face of what she’d experienced.
I knew better than most just how little sorry helped when tragedy struck.
I’d seen some shit, really ugly shit as a SEAL and I’d done some terrible shit too, but the image of Eliana as a little girl covered in her brother’s—her best friend’s—blood, screaming until she fell silent for three fucking years refused to leave me.
I hadn’t handled it well. Not at all.
Especially as all these weeks I’d been thinking she was some fucking do-gooder trying to pry into my business and silently blaming me for my daughter’s silence.
Instead she’d been trying to help because she knew what was going on in my little girl’s mind. I knew I needed to fix it, especially now that she’d be living in my house, and I would fix it.
Rebel and Nikki had already fed Zoya dinner by the time we got home.
Eliana disappeared off to the kitchen, no doubt trying to get away from me.
I was torn between trying to apologize to her and checking in on my daughter.
From the hallway, I could hear laughter.
It was light, sweet, and so damn rare I almost didn’t recognize it.
I stopped just outside Zoya’s bedroom door and leaned against the frame, watching. Listening.
Zoya and Olivia sat cross-legged on the bed, crayons scattered everywhere. Olivia sang something I didn’t know, loud and proud, and surprisingly beautiful, while Zoya clapped along, her small face glowing with joy. She looked like a regular kid for once instead of a haunted little girl.
Olivia turned and caught me staring. She blushed mid-verse and smiled.
“You sound good, Liv. Really damn good.”
Her smile brightened. “Thanks, Uncle Sledge.” She turned back to Zoya and wrapped her in a hug. “Thanks for a fun night, Zoya. See you later, I hope.” She paused a beat as Zoya hugged her back before she pulled back, waving as she left the room.
“Back in a moment, sweetheart,” I said and went to show out Rebel, Nikki, and Olivia.
When I returned, I couldn’t help but smile when I saw my daughter.
She looked relaxed and happy instead of worried and tense.
Her shoulders weren’t bunched up and there was a lightness about her that only came around once in a while.
“Did you have a good time with Olivia?” I asked.
She nodded, smiling wider.
“Good. Are you tired?”
Zoya shook her head, but her yawn told the truth she wasn’t ready to admit.
I smiled at her, my brows raised. “You wanna try that again, kiddo?”
She was still smiling, a soft giggle escaped that was so low I nearly missed it.
That sound of her laughter, her genuine happiness nearly brought me to my knees. “I didn’t think so. Come on, Sleeping Beauty, bedtime.”
Without argument, Zoya slid off the bed and went to her dresser to pick out pajamas and underwear.
I filled up the bathtub, letting her choose which scent she wanted and listened while she splashed in the tub for about three minutes before she got bored and finished.
She tilted her head back and waited for me to wash and rinse her hair, lifting her arms up so I could wrap a towel around her and plucked her from the tub.
“Now you smell like a peach.” I kissed her forehead and towel dried her hair before spraying it with detangler and brushing it out. “And now you look like a peach too.”
She smiled and hugged me, not giving a damn that her damp body wet my t-shirt. The routine was the same but tonight it felt different when she slipped into her pajamas and under the blankets with a book already on her lap.
“Story time?”
She nodded, holding a book about a kitten who snuck into fancy homes to eat their fancy food.
I loved the way she snuggled into me as I read, her head tucked under my arm so she could see the vibrant drawings.
I read the story using distinct voices that made her smile until I felt her body go slack against me.
She looked so peaceful like this, so worry-free, and I hoped tonight was a night without a nightmare.
With a soft kiss I tucked her in and left the door slightly open so she could hear me if she woke up scared.
Guilt punched me in the gut because I knew that no matter what I did or how fiercely I protected her, there was nothing I could do to protect her from the memories that kept her silent.
I had to figure out what it was.
Right now I needed food and booze, not necessarily in that order, and now that Zoya was asleep, it was time to do just that.
Except Eliana was already in the kitchen, which meant I couldn’t avoid her.
She stood in the kitchen wearing leggings and a tank top, her curls tied on top of her head with a bandana.
She stood there with her back to me, giving me far too long to admire the way the leggings hugged her ass, the gap between her thighs.
The strip of bare skin on her lower back.
Fuck.
I didn’t think I made any noise, but Eliana glanced over her shoulder, looked me up and down and sighed.
She turned away and finished doing whatever she was doing at the counter.
She turned with two plates, dropping into the first seat at the kitchen table before sliding a small plate with a sandwich on it across the table.
I looked at the sandwich and hunger took over.
I sat down and pulled the plate closer, saying, “Thanks,” before I took the biggest goddamn bite I could.
She’d made a proper fucking sandwich with real bread, fresh tomatoes, spicy mustard, and pickles.
“So fucking good,” I mumbled around a second big bite.
She nodded but said nothing, just kept her gaze fixed on her plate or the spot right in front of her face.
Asshole.
Apologize. Tell her why you acted like a fucking insensitive idiot.
“You don’t have to cook for me,” I said eventually. “I appreciate it, but it’s not a job requirement.”
“I have to eat,” she answered simply. “And as you can see, I love to eat.”
She wasn’t fishing for compliments, but I hated that flat tone, devoid of all spark and warmth, that said she thought there was something wrong with her body. I frowned at her. “What’s that mean? Your curves are beautiful.”
She laughed. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what,” I shot back. Fighting the urge to add, Don’t tell you that I stood and stared at your ass for far longer than I care to admit? That I thought about sliding my cock between that gap at the top of your thighs? I won’t say any of that because I’m your boss, but the thoughts are there.
Yeah. Given the state of things between us she didn’t need to know that I’d been jacking off in the shower to thoughts of her ass.
She stared at me, her brows knitted together, almost like she could read the filthy fantasies going through my head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t mind cooking,” she said, surprising me. Her mouth tightened as if she didn’t want to say anything. “Or in this case slapping together a sandwich.”
I wanted to push, but I didn’t. I knew I was the cause of her tone, of that flat look in her eyes, the gulf between us.
I didn’t deserve her smile, dammit, but I also didn’t deserve the sandwich I just devoured.
“Like I said, I appreciate it but don’t feel compelled.
” I stood and went to the fridge, bringing two beers back to the table.
We sat at the table in silence, staring at each other, daring the other to break first.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said. “I shouldn’t have left it the way I did earlier, but I couldn’t look at you, couldn’t see the pain in your eyes without seeing Zoya’s pain too. I’m an asshole, a fucking asshole.”
Her eyes flashed wide and then her eyes darted away. She no longer looked angry or hurt, just kind of sad. “I get it,” she finally said barely above a whisper. “It’s the same look, the same expression that my parents and my brothers wore for years.”
“That’s not it. Just hearing what you went through made me wonder what kind of shit my daughter saw. I should have been there for her, I should have taken her out of that situation sooner,” I muttered.
“You never told me about her mom. You were going to, maybe now would be a good time,” Eliana said as she glanced at me.
Well, fuck. I picked at the label on my beer bottle and let out a final sigh. “Trish and I were never serious,” I began.
She froze for just a second and then nodded, leaning back in her chair to give me her full attention. “Okay.”
“It wasn’t even really a relationship,” I explained. “We had fun, I guess for a few months. She didn’t ask for much and I didn’t give much. That’s about the size of it.” We partied together and fucked if we were the last two standing. “She disappeared and I didn’t think about her.”
She frowned. “You didn’t worry that something happened to her?”
“No,” I answered, taking a slow pull of my beer. “It happens a lot. Girls come to Vegas to make it big and when that doesn’t work, they end up doing other things to get by, including partying with bikers before they get bored and go back to whatever Midwestern town they called home.”
Eliana watched me but there was no judgment in her eyes. “So she was gone?”
I nodded, thinking about her. “She showed up about a year later trying to sell us out. She’d gotten into trouble up in Reno and came back here wearing a wire, asking all kinds of fucking questions.
” My hands balled into fists as that old anger returned.
“She was clumsy and there was nothing to tell anyway, but she caught one of our brothers talking about something else that got him put in jail where he was stomped to death by rivals.”
Eliana gasped. “I’m so sorry, Sledge.”
“Yeah, thanks. It had me all fucked up and I kicked her to the curb, told her if I ever saw her at the clubhouse, or in Steel City, I would make her regret it. I meant it too.”
“Understandable. You didn’t know about Zoya?”
“No. But Trish hadn’t gone home, or maybe she did.
All I know is that she never told me she was pregnant or that she’d had my fucking baby.
I never heard from her again at all. It was a social worker who showed up on my doorstep four years ago, asking all kinds of questions about Trish.
Turns out…” I exhaled, shaking my head. “Trish was picked up on possession with intent to distribute charges. Meth. It wasn’t her first offense and because she crossed state lines, the feds got involved.
” It was a lot to process so I shut the fuck up for a minute.
The shock was evident in Eliana’s eyes. She slowly nodded, studying me carefully. “That must’ve been quite the shock.”
“That’s one way of putting it. I was pissed she hadn’t told me.” My hands balled into fists and then relaxed. “I showed up and met with the social worker who gave me a crash course in fatherhood, but she was fucking useless when it came to getting Zoya to talk.”
“So you never saw or spoke to Trish again?” Her voice was so soft, that was probably the only reason I hadn’t bitten her fucking head off.
“Oh, I fucking saw her. I went up to the jail to see her. She was skinny as fuck and all strung out, twitching and unrecognizable. It was clear she wasn’t just selling that shit.
She never once asked about Zoya.” I wanted to strangle that bitch.
I let out a sigh. “When you told me about your brother it made me wonder if there was an incident that caused her to lose her speech. But the social worker said it was probably just neglect. There were no signs that Zoya had been physically hurt but she was ignored. They don’t even fucking know how long it’s been since she last said a word. ”
Eliana’s face tightened with emotion, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears under the low light.
“I can see if I can find that out for you,” she offered.
“At least from a developmental standpoint it’s clear there’s nothing wrong.
You’ve had her since she was three, right?
Maybe she attended a daycare center or pre-school.
I can see if anything was ever recorded in her records? ”
I raised my eyebrows at that. “Damn. That never even crossed my mind. I just figured the social workers had done all that shit.”
“Maybe they did. But I might be able to get her records and see what they found. I can do more work with Zoya and see where she falls on the developmental scale.” She grinned and though it was faint, it was genuine. “She might even be ahead of the curve.”
“Were you?”
She grinned. “Yes. All I did was read at first and I read everything, encyclopedias, the classics, comic books. Anything. It ended up being very helpful during the school year.”
Something in me unclenched at that. “So when she starts talking again, she won’t be behind in school.”
Eliana’s smile grew at those words. “That’s what I like to hear.”
“I’m working on it,” I assured her. “Thanks, Eliana. For sharing what happened to you with me. It hurt like a motherfucker but it… helped.”
“That is the only reason I unearthed it, Sledge.”
I knew that and it only made my gratitude—and something else—swell in my chest.