Chapter 19 Brady #2
I’m a little surprised I’m not bleeding from the side-eye she’s sending me, but she does set her phone down to fire back. “Do you make all your clients suffer this much, or am I just special?”
“You’re special,” I say, without missing a beat.
This earns me a tight exhale that might be a laugh. I reach over and punch a button on the dash, and music fills the SUV.
She blinks, recognizing the tune immediately, and looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head.
“Don’t judge,” I warn.
“I’m not. I just didn’t peg you for a Swiftie.”
“My sister made me a playlist once,” I admit. “It’s catchy as hell, and I’m not ashamed. Honestly, there’s something wrong with you if you don’t like Taylor Swift.”
She smirks. “I never said I didn’t like her music. I went to her concert last year when she was in Atlanta.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Who’d you go with?”
There’s a long pause. I glance over to see her staring straight ahead. “No one. I went by myself.”
“That’s unusual.”
“It was fin—really nice. Everyone was really welcoming, and when they saw I was alone, the group near me made sure I felt included.”
Her voice carries a rare hint of vulnerability that I’ve only heard a couple of times from her.
“None of your friends are fans?”
She doesn’t answer.
“My sister wanted to go,” I offer. From Sera’s analysis of Elizabeth’s bank statements, I know most of her charges are places where she would have business dinners, not outings with friends.
“Sera likes Taylor Swift?” Elizabeth looks shocked. “I figured she was more into… like… I don’t know… death metal or something.”
A loud laugh escapes me. “She is obsessed with Taylor. My sister is actually a very girly girl.”
Elizabeth looks at me skeptically. “Seriously?”
“She’s obsessed with reality TV,” I say, watching the road as I steer us through a curve. “Gossip blogs. All those dating shows, like Love Island.”
“You know the name,” she teases.
I grin despite myself. “There’s a surprising amount of psychology and strategizing on those shows. Don’t let all the fake eyelashes and bikinis fool you.”
Elizabeth giggles. The sound is so light and unexpected, I feel stupidly proud that I pulled the sound out of her.
“I would never have thought that about you… or her.” Elizabeth tilts her head, studying me. “You two are close?”
“She’s all I’ve got.”
The words land heavier than I intend. My hands flex on the wheel.
“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth says quietly.
I shrug one shoulder, forcing my jaw to unclench, and keep my eyes on the road. “Mom died about five years ago. Our dad was never really around, so yeah, it’s Sera and me.”
Her gaze lingers on my face, but she doesn’t press.
“Why didn’t Sera go?” Elizabeth asks after a moment.
I hesitate. She probably thinks it’s a segue back to an easier subject. Unfortunately, she’s wrong. I think about lying or saying something vague, but I find myself sharing the subject that torments me constantly.
“Her scars were still raw, back then.”
Elizabeth’s expression softens, but without the pity I feared—something my sister would hate.
“She’s self-conscious about them.” I blink. I can’t believe I just said that.
Sera has never admitted it out loud, but once I realized it, it was obvious.
Last year, when the scars were still red and puffy, she avoided wearing anything that showed her scars.
She kept herself hidden under layers no matter how hot it was.
It was Finn who finally made me understand why she sold her concert tickets.
I was walking past the cyber room when I heard him teasing her about spending more time shopping online for concert outfits than actually working.
Her ferocity when she snapped back, and then rushed past me with tears in her eyes, still hurts to remember.
“She’s a beautiful young woman.”
“I know.” It comes out gruff, almost a growl. My instinct to defend Sera is immediate.
“Is she in therapy?” Elizabeth asks.
I shake my head once. “No.”
She opens her mouth as if to say more, then closes it again and lets the silence stretch. Minutes later, almost hesitant, she asks, “How did it happen?”
My throat tightens. For a second, I consider shutting this conversation down.
This is my sister’s story, and I know she’d kill me if she knew I was telling it to Elizabeth.
But the urge to be honest with Elizabeth, to share what I haven’t shared with anyone else, is too strong.
Even though there is a risk she will look at me differently once she sees the darkness I usually keep hidden—the relentless fact that I will do anything to keep those I love safe.
“She had a boyfriend,” I say finally. “He didn’t take the breakup well. Started stalking her.”
My gut twists at the memory. “Sera thought she could handle it herself. Didn’t even tell me what was going on.
I only found out she had a problem when a contact at the courthouse tipped me off.
Twenty-two and so determined to be independent, she went by herself to file for a restraining order.
He was calling. Texting. Threatening her. ”
My knuckles are white on the wheel. I can still see the screenshots I forced her to show me.
The vile promises of what he’d do to her, and the knowledge that she hadn’t come to me for help, hit me like a punch to the gut.
I press the gas a little harder without meaning to, the engine rumbling under the hood.
“What happened?” Elizabeth whispers.
“She ended up in the hospital.”
“The scars…”
“Bastard was waiting in the bushes outside her condo.” I force the words past the knot in my throat. “Threw acid on her. She heard him at the last second and turned away, but…” My teeth grind until my jaw aches. “He still got her.”
For a moment, I’m lost in the past. My blood pounds in my ears as my nose smells again the sharp scent of the antiseptic. I see Sera’s tears when she first woke up and realized what had happened. The look on her face ripping me apart when she insisted on a mirror.
She cried for three days straight until they eventually sedated her. After that, my baby sister disappeared behind a hard, angry shell.
“That’s horrific.” Elizabeth’s voice is unsteady, and her eyes shine with tears.
“Yeah.” My voice comes out gravelly. “And the police didn’t do a damn thing.
He comes from a wealthy family, and by the time they questioned him, his lawyer was already there.
Even with the restraining order, they couldn’t touch him.
He wore a mask and cut the power to disable her security cameras.
His brother offered him an alibi, so without any other evidence, the police couldn’t do anything.
Aaron was smart enough to hurt her and be able to walk away clean. ”
The steering wheel creaks under my grip. The rage is a living thing in my chest.
“What happened to him?”
I don’t look at her. “He got the beating of a lifetime in a parking lot by some masked men. Lucky for him, a patrol car happened upon the scene, and the attackers ran off. He left town a few weeks later. Heard he’s hitting surf spots around the world, but he hasn’t been back to Atlanta or seen his family in person in over a year. ”
Elizabeth’s hands rest in her lap, and when she says nothing, I continue. “Life isn’t a fairy tale,” I say, voice low and hard. “The justice system fails people every day. Someone has to step into the breach. Protect the people who don’t have anyone else.”
I wait for it—the recoil, the fear, the judgment. Elizabeth is too smart not to read between the lines. But deep down, I need her to know, to understand that I have no problem crossing every line for the people I love.
When she remains silent, I risk a glance. The sunlight flickers across her face as we pass through another stand of trees, but her expression isn’t what I expect. Elizabeth turns to look at me with a smile, and rests her hand on my thigh.
“I wish I had someone in my corner the way Sera does,” she says softly.
I hold her gaze for a moment. “You do.”
Her fingers curl slightly into my leg, and I feel it all the way through me—a dangerous, inexplicable pull toward her. The pull to which my will to fight is rapidly surrendering.