Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
That tight, uncomfortable feeling Tom’s visit left clinging in my chest doesn’t go away for the rest of the day. Not as I close up with Travis and Jude, not as I drive home, and not as I make dinner while Travis disappears who-knows-where. He said something about grabbing a couple things downtown, but I was barely listening.
Tom works for George Eden, who knows where I am. Who wants to interview me to… what, exactly? Expose my family? Why else would he ask for evidence of abuse or neglect?
I rest my elbows on the kitchen counter, head pounding. If I put my heart on mute and only listened to my head, I know what it would tell me—my parents didn’t protect me growing up, so I don’t owe them a thing now.
I shut my eyes because no, I don’t want to go on national TV and talk about my past. I won’t reach a happy, calm life by stirring the pot.
“Smells delicious in here,” a deep voice says, shattering my train of thought.
A deep voice that doesn’t belong to Travis.
Thinking of the time someone almost broke into my old apartment, I’m about to grab a kitchen knife to defend myself when I spot a familiar figure with a huge smile on his welcoming, wrinkly face.
“What does an old man have to do to get a hug these days instead of stabbed?” Uncle Neil asks, taking his hat off and placing it on the back of the couch.
I’m sure the relieved breath I let out can be heard across the state. “I thought you were a murderer.”
“No murders. I’m only here for some of that delicious food. C’mere, my sweet girl.”
I can’t help but smile as he wraps his arms around me. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Travis shutting the door behind him. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”
He pulls away, keeping both hands on my arms as he gives them a friendly squeeze. “I was at the bar and invited myself over for dinner. Had to see that you were really living here.”
My eyes find Travis’s over his uncle’s shoulder. “It’s, um, a temporary thing while I find a new place.”
“And how’s that going? Any luck so far?”
If only I had looked at a single listing in the past three weeks. “It’s not going too well, but I’m optimistic.”
He pats my arm. “I’m sure Travis could use the company. Right, old man?”
I chuckle when Travis gives him a grunt.
“Dinner is ready,” I tell both men. “I didn’t know you were coming, Uncle Neil, but I think there’s enough for the three of us.”
“You didn’t have to cook. I was going to order some takeout,” Travis says, brows pulled together, as he walks into the kitchen. “But it smells fucking good.”
I try not to beam at his praise. “Thanks.”
“Sit down. I’ll take care of everything,” he says.
I follow Uncle Neil to the dining table and sit across from him. Unlike his nephew, he doesn’t need much to start an amicable conversation.
“So, Allie, Travis tells me you took over the accounting at the bar. I didn’t know we had a nerd among us.”
The way he says it tells me he’s only teasing. I’m pretty sure I’m imagining the glimpse of pride in his eyes, but I run with it nonetheless.
As Travis sets the table and brings over the roast chicken I made, Uncle Neil tells me how he also enjoyed that part of the job back in the day, and how he would’ve liked to get a formal education in finance when he was younger.
Travis doesn’t say much when he sits down with us, focusing on his meal instead, but I don’t mind it. Uncle Neil talks enough for everyone and isn’t shy with sharing embarrassing stories about younger Travis.
“He came home with his hair chopped off in odd places one day,” he tells me. “Said he wanted to look like one of those rock stars from a magazine. Can you believe it?”
I throw my head back in laughter, mirth swirling in my chest as I slide my gaze to my brooding boss. “That’s cute, Travis.”
He only grunts.
Uncle Neil adds, “He was always a serious kid, but sometimes he did out-of-pocket stuff like that. It was those friends you had. Troublemakers, all of them.”
Travis finishes up his food and takes a sip of water before responding, “Don’t you think it’s getting a little late, old man?”
Uncle Neil rolls his eyes. “All right, all right. You want some alone time with Allie-girl, I get it.”
My cheeks heat up. “Oh, that’s?—”
“Damn right I do.”
My heartbeat quickens.
Uncle Neil’s smile doesn’t go anywhere as his gaze pinballs between me and his nephew. What he sees there, I’m not sure I want to know.
He leaves soon after that, agreeing that he’s tired and wants to watch his favorite show in peace anyway before going to bed.
While Travis drives him home, I shut myself in my bedroom and grab my laptop. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t get my conversation with Tom out of my head. Searching my name online is the only way to find out if damage has been done.
Allison Buccieri to speak out on family abuse? George Eden insists her statement could change the social media landscape.
Far from being scared, my blood boils as I read the headline. Because what is this? When did I agree to speak out at all?
I suppress the urge to call Tom and demand him to tell the truth, to say I want nothing to do with this. Or better yet, to keep my name out of their mouths. But when I spoke to Jada earlier, she advised me to stay calm.
“Headlines will mention your name in the upcoming days,” she accurately predicted. “You know how the internet works. They want to bait people for clicks. Don’t pay them any mind—that’s what Paul and I are here for. We’ll update you if it gets out of hand.”
But I can’t look away, frantically searching online spaces I shouldn’t be in for more clues about George Eden’s intentions. What if he reveals my new identity? My location?
Just the thought of a bunch of reporters waiting for me outside The Lair is enough to make me nauseous.
I’m about to click on another article that mentions my family when a knock on my door makes me shut my laptop so fast, I may have shattered the screen. I’m too nervous to check.
“It’s Travis,” says that familiar voice I’ve come to associate with so many things—calmness, safety, butterflies.
I swallow. “Come in.”
He’s hesitant as he opens the door. “Can we talk? You’re fidgety today. Anything happen that I should know about?”
It starts quiet, unsure, as if my brain can’t decide if we’re safe enough to let our guard down or if we need to keep hiding.
I’m so tired.
And so my heart takes the lead, just like every time Travis is involved, and against my better judgment, I break down.
It begins at the tips of my fingers, then climbs the length of my arms and up to my shoulders. My bedroom isn’t cold, but my body starts violently shaking all the same.
“Hey.” He kneels before me, eyes seeking mine. His voice is gentle but firm. “Talk to me.”
My mouth is too dry, and my heart is beating too fast.
Because what could I even say to him?
That I’ve been lying to everyone since I set foot in this town?
That my real identity is at risk of being unveiled to the entire country on national TV?
That I don’t know how to stop hating myself for all I’ve done and continue to do?
Travis is careful as he sets my laptop aside and grabs my shaky hands between his warm ones. “Breathe with me, Allie. Come on.”
My chest heaves when I follow his command, and it takes me three tries to take a full breath.
“In. Out. Again.”
His thumb starts rubbing soothing circles on my cold skin.
“That’s it. You’re doing so good, Allie. Will you breathe with me one more time?”
A tingle travels down the length of my neck, and I nod.
“Are you feeling better?” he asks after a few moments of silence that stretch in time because I can’t find my voice. I manage to nod.
He stands to his full height, still holding my hands in his. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Before I allow myself to overthink it too much, I use his strength to push myself up. Without letting go of his hand, I follow him out of the room. I’m not expecting to end up next door—in the only room of Travis’s house that sits completely empty.
He wants to show me something… here?
Wordlessly, he shuts the door behind us and leads me to the opposite end of the room before sitting down on the floor. He tugs at my hand. “Come here.”
The usual alarms that go off in my head every time I think of getting closer to Travis are gone. Slowly, I lower myself to the wooden floor until I’m sitting next to him.
I don’t know how long we bask in the silence and darkness while I wait for my heart to calm down. With my head resting on the wall behind me, I turn so I can check on him. His eyes are already on me, his head in the same position as mine.
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask, my voice a whisper.
He hears me anyway. “For honesty.”
A knife slicing an open wound hurt less than those words.
My voice sounds strained when I speak next. “What do you mean?”
What if he kicks me out for being a liar? We didn’t sign any contract, so I’m sure he can do that if he wants to. And I wouldn’t dare to argue because he would be in the right.
“There’s a reason this room is empty,” he starts.
Somehow, my heart knows it’s going to break in the next few moments. I don’t fight it.
“I enlisted in the Navy when I was eighteen to get some weight off my uncle’s shoulders.”
His voice has never sounded this somber. I don’t like it at all, this dark pit I can tell Travis’s mind has just crawled into. Fighting against the urge to drag him out of it, I hold my breath and listen to his story. One I never thought I would hear.
“I already told you my parents passed away when I was young.” I nod, but he doesn’t see it. He’s looking at my hand, still wrapped in his. “I’d always been close to my uncle, so when he took me in, it wasn’t a huge change. I already spent most of my time with him growing up.”
I squeeze his hand. A silent cue that I’m here, and I’m listening.
“For a few years, we struggled to make ends meet. We could barely afford one meal a day for both of us.” He takes a deep breath through his nose. “I started working at a car repair shop to help him pay the bills. It wasn’t much, but at least we didn’t go to bed hungry anymore.”
In a quiet voice, I tell him with my heart on my sleeve, “I’m sorry you had to go through all that, Travis. You didn’t deserve it.”
I almost miss his headshake. “It’s all in the past.”
If there’s anyone who understands that just because it’s in the past doesn’t mean the wound is healed, it’s me.
“Enlisting was the obvious path after I graduated high school. I wasn’t particularly patriotic, but at least my uncle would have one less thing to worry about.” Thing . He isn’t a thing . If my heart wasn’t broken before, it sure is now. “I spent twelve years in the Navy, sending him as much money as I could. That’s how he eventually opened The Lair. It did well, and our financial struggles disappeared shortly after.”
“I’m sure your uncle is very proud of you,” I tell him. I’m proud of you . “You changed both of your lives.”
It’s difficult to explain how my body is able to feel the shift around us. How the air thickens, how the tension rolls off his body in invisible but powerful waves.
“There was a cost. I’ve seen some shit in the Navy, Allie. Shit no human should fucking see.”
All because he wanted to keep a roof over his uncle’s head. Because he wanted to put food on his table. Because he wanted a better future for the one man who had always been there for him.
“I left after twelve years because I couldn’t take it anymore. I’ve seen friends die before my eyes. Men who had families here, children, wives they couldn’t wait to go back to. I’ve seen…”
He shuts his eyes, and I squeeze his fingers again. He brings both of our hands to his face, and I caress his bearded cheek as he leans into my touch, a heavy breath leaving his chest.
“I came back a different man.” His whispered voice is rough, pained. And I won’t, but I itch to climb into his lap and hug him until the horrors go away. “A detached, lone fucker who gave up on too many hopes he didn’t know he had.”
His chest shakes with a heavy breath. “I bought this place three years ago. I got a good feeling about it but thought it was too large for just me. I got it despite…”
Suddenly, I understand that this is who Travis has been all along—a sheltered soul waiting for the right moment to crack open.
“I used to want a family of my own. I didn’t grow up with great parents, but I wanted to…” He runs his free hand through his short hair, exhaustion marring his face. “I don’t fucking know. I didn’t allow my parents or the shit they did and didn’t do to define my formative years. I always saw my uncle as my only father figure, so it’s not like…”
Travis isn’t a man of many words, and this conversation only proves it. How the words get stuck in his throat, struggling to come out, to say what he wants to tell me.
I can feel the frustration rolling off his body, so I keep caressing his cheek and ask in a slow, gentle voice, “You wanted to be a dad?”
A sea of goose bumps breaks out on my skin when he nods. Why does the thought of Travis having children with some faceless woman make me breathless? I’m ridiculous.
After the hell my parents put me through, the idea of having children of my own wasn’t appealing for a long time. But over the years, I started to realize I would never ever do to my kids what my family did to me. I might be a liar, but I’m not a controlling narcissist.
For the past couple of years, I’ve imagined what it would be like to start a family someday with a man who loves me and shares my values—values that don’t include compromising our kids’ safety for a check. But that man can’t and will never be Travis, so I should tell my heart to stop beating so fast at the mere idea of a future I have no right to imagine.
It’s surprisingly easy to forget about all those things when the reality of what he’s just confessed sinks in.
He used to want a family. He used to want to be a father.
Used to.
“You don’t want that anymore?” I ask, hoping he understands he doesn’t have to answer if he doesn’t want to.
“After I came back, the horrors I’d seen… I couldn’t stand the idea of losing anyone I cared about. Still can’t.”
It’s only now that what I should’ve realized from the start clicks—Travis never gets close to anyone because he’s scared of losing them.
That’s why he’s a total grump at the bar. Why he would rather work than hang out with his friends. Why he hasn’t been in a relationship for years. Because, if he allowed himself to build connections, he could end up hurt again.
“But you still bought a big house,” I wonder out loud, my voice so quiet that I have no clue if he can even hear me.
Everything about him makes so much more sense now, the things he does and doesn’t do. Every little thing.
For fuck’s sake, Allie. Because I want you to be safe at all times, goddammit. If anything happened to you…
Didn’t he say that to me when he was trying to convince me to move in with him?
I couldn’t stand the idea of losing anyone I cared about. Still can’t.
“I keep this room empty because I once hoped it would become a nursery, but I don’t think that’s gonna happen anymore.”
The air whooshes out of my lungs.
“I can’t bring myself to turn this into anything else. It doesn’t feel right,” he adds, his voice quieter than I’ve ever heard it.
“Travis…” I start, unsure of what I could even say to make his pain go away or if there is anything that could at all.
“I’m not telling you this because I want your pity,” he says, a little bit of his usual grumpiness seeping through his words.
“I know that. But I care about you, and I don’t like to see you hurting. You deserve to heal.”
His thumb caresses my hand. “I’m doing better now that I’m in therapy.”
I hate that my eyebrows rise in surprise. “You are?”
“For my PTSD, yes.”
Jada’s encouragement to give therapy a try echoes in my head again, but I push it away. “That’s amazing. I’m glad you’re getting the help you need.”
Even if there’s still a gaping hole inside my chest from just sitting in this empty room. One that was meant to belong to the most important little person in Travis’s life—a person he might never get to meet now.
No, don’t cry. This isn’t about me.
“What I mean to tell you is that I know you’re hiding something,” he says, stopping my heart with just a few words. “It’s not my business, but I wanted to say that living an inauthentic life isn’t fucking worth it. Not a single second, okay? If I had gone to therapy sooner, if I hadn’t lied to myself for so damn long, saying that I was fine, maybe this room wouldn’t be empty today.”
I don’t think I’m breathing anymore.
“I’m just gonna ask you one question, and you’re gonna give me an honest answer,” he says, sounding so serious that I can only nod. “Do I need to take care of anybody?”
My throat is dry. “What do you mean?”
“Is someone putting you in danger? Are you running away from people who want to hurt you?”
I shake my head, hoping he can hear the truth in my words. “It’s not like that. I’m not in danger.”
At least, I don’t think I am. Sure, my apartment almost got broken into, and there was that weird thing with my car window, but nothing has happened since. I feel safe now, sheltered under Travis’s roof.
He stares at me for so long, he seems frozen in place, but then he says, “You can tell me anything, Allie. I’ll always be on your side, no matter what.”
My lips part. The air shifts around us again, replacing the tension with a different kind of heaviness—one I’d read about before, seen in movies, but had never experienced. Never thought I would.
My hand on Travis’s cheek stills. I hold my breath as he slowly turns his head until his lips press against the cold skin of my hand.
“I’m sorry I’ve been harsh with you,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’m still learning how to let people in, but I’m not sure I’m doing a good job.”
“You are. Thank you for opening up to me,” I tell him. “You’re my favorite person, Travis.”
“And you are my weakness, Allie.”
My body sizzles with anticipation as Travis presses another kiss to the back of my hand. So gently, so at odds with the facade he shows to the world.
“Travis…”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
Tell him. Tell him now.
My eyes drop to his mouth, unable to look away because we’ve never been this close before, and I want to… I want to?—
The dogs start barking outside, making me jump. Travis curses under his breath, the moment shattering as he stands to look out of the window.
“What is it?” I ask, both alarmed and breathless. We were about to kiss.
He stays silent, glancing into the darkness as if it belonged to him. When a few moments pass and the dogs don’t bark again, he says, “I’ll check the cameras, but it was probably a fox or some other animal.”
“Right,” I mutter, silently grateful he can’t see the blush on my cheeks. I stand back up with as much poise as I can muster, then awkwardly say, “I’ll go back to my room. Thanks for…thanks for telling me everything.”
His nod is short, stiff, and he doesn’t look at me.
My stomach drops at his cold dismissal, but I tell myself it’s for the best. Crossing the line with my boss and landlord isn’t a good idea, no matter how badly my heart insists otherwise.