Chapter 20 Secrets and Lies
Secrets and Lies
Ilay in bed Saturday morning with fury burning a hole in my stomach, my body rigid. Eyes open wide and staring at the ceiling, I faced the inevitable truth with clenched fists. My email and cell phone number, the only link to Jakey I had left, had to go.
Waking up to a perfect summer morning, excited to spend the day with Kian and Isaiah only to catapulted into rage after reading an email from Gary was a unique brand of emotional whiplash Gary had specialized in.
And I was woefully out of practice.
All hope of keeping my contacts intact was gone.
Any hope that my old friends might reach out to me? Stolen.
This wasn’t the first time I’d traded everything I had for peace, it would, however, be the last. Because waking up to a supposed email from Jakey saying he wants to see me was too much. Gary’s cruelty knew no bounds. And this time, I couldn’t ignore it.
Without further thought, I tapped out a message, my every breath resoundingly harsh in the quiet of my room.
Fuck off, Gary. This is cruel even for you.
My lips trembled with long-suppressed rage. I didn’t even have Jakey’s cell number.
I’ve kept every message you’ve sent. I’m taking them to the police to get a restraining order against you. Consider this your only warning.
I sent the message, but it wasn’t enough. I swung my legs out of bed and paced back and forth. Spiked adrenaline coursed hot and fiery through my veins.
I could rip his head from his body.
When my phone rang, I snatched it up with something akin to glee but much, much darker. “Was I not clear?”
“Mo—Bridget?”
I fumbled the phone in my hands.
My jaw slackened as I grappled to rescue it before it hit the floor.
That voice, that sweet voice, so much deeper than it was when I last heard it.
“Uh, Bridget? It’s, uh, it’s me. Jake.”
Uncertain. Vulnerable. Quiet.
Oh, God.
My stomach dropped.
What must he be thinking?
Was he okay?
Oh, God! Was he okay?
Heart pounding in my throat, tears filling my eyes, I managed only one quivering word as I sank to the bed. “Jakey?”
His voice softened. “Hi.”
I closed my eyes as years of unexpressed love and grief surged to the surface with a harsh sob. After so long, I answered as only a mother could, “Are you okay?”
“Are you?”
I closed my eyes. “I’m better now.”
Jakey, or Jake as he called himself now, caught me up on all his news over the past year and a half. By the time I got off the phone, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and ended up doing a bit of both.
All day I held it inside me like the most precious of secrets, the most wondrous of gifts, going over and over our conversation in my head, fearful of forgetting a single word.
Praying he’d call me again soon.
When we took Isaiah to the beach and the park? I held it close.
When Isaiah stole my French fries, I held it tight.
When we went shopping for school clothes for Isaiah, barbecued in Kian’s temporary backyard, chased fireflies and read bedtime stories, I held it.
I held it, I held it, I held it.
By the time Kian sauntered back down the hall after putting Isaiah to bed, I was ready to burst.
That crooked smile I loved so much spread across his handsome face as he drew the blinds across the window and flicked on the lamp.
Its warm light gathered in the contours of Kian’s beautiful face then pooled across the floor toward my feet.
Sitting down on the opposite end of the couch, he pulled my feet up onto his lap.
“Are you going to tell me what’s had you wound up all day? ”
I beamed and released a shuddering breath. Saying it out loud made it real. “Jakey called me.”
His hazel eyes widened comically. “Jakey called you?”
I laughed, throwing my head back as joy over flowed. “Mhm.”
His eyebrows rose. “Is he okay?”
“That was my first question!” I replied, my smile huge. “He’s been trying to call me for a few weeks. He caught me up on his news and asked if he could come see me sometime.”
Kian squeezed my foot and lifted it to his mouth before planting a kiss on my arch. “That’s amazing, Bridget. You told him he could come anytime?”
My brow furrowed. “I did, but I also warned him his dad would not be happy about it. He doesn’t care.” I shook my head. “He’s grown up so much.”
“Let him come, Bridget,” he stated seriously. “If he’s reaching out to you, sweetheart, let him come.”
Butterflies revolted in my stomach. I didn’t want to hear what he was going to say next. “Why do you say it like that?”
I left him.
Massaging the arch of my foot, he continued, “A boy that age needs support and guidance. From what you’ve said, he probably isn’t getting it at home.”
My voice faltered as I repeated the words I suspected would torture me for the rest of my days. They became real, too, as I said them out loud. “They told him I didn’t want to see him.”
And I left him.
His head dropped to the side as his eyes softened. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
I heard his voice in my head, soft and hesitant.
They told me you didn’t want to see me.
I nodded, emotion clogging my throat. Unable to bear Kian’s scrutiny, I looked away and nodded again. My eyes darted around the room wildly, searching for something, anything, to ground me.
I left him.
“Bridge.”
“I’m okay,” I wheezed, my hands curling into claws on my thighs. Squeezing my eyes shut, I breathed through the pain.
I’d been here before. I just had to get a handle on it. Push it back down where it couldn’t reach me.
Kian’s grip on my foot tightened. “Bridget, come here right now.”
I froze in place, panic gripping me as a low keening moan strangled my throat.
Tossing my legs off his lap, Kian reached across the couch and yanked me into his arms.
I could hear Jakey’s voice in my head just as clearly as if he was standing in front of me, speaking slowly, hesitantly, afraid it might be true.
They told me you didn’t want to see me.
Sitting back on the couch, Kian held me tight to his chest.
I stared straight ahead, my eyes wide and unfocussed. He’d whispered it as if he couldn’t bear to repeat the words out loud.
They told me you didn’t want to see me.
I clung to Kian, inhaling his scent, latching onto his steady presence, as the world I left behind tore me to pieces.
Oh, God, he posed them like a question.
They told me you didn’t want to see me?
I didn’t do enough.
I failed to let him know just how much I love him before I left.
Left him alone with the monsters he called mom and dad.
I left him.
And love doesn’t leave.
“I should have stayed,” I croaked, the words ripping over my vocal cords.
“Aw, baby,” Kian groaned and rocked me back and forth.
Eyes wide with pain, incredulous even now, I confessed, “I shouldn’t have left him. How could I have left him?”
Kian’s large, calloused hand slid up to cup the back of my head, holding me against his chest. “You did what you could.”
“I should have called the police on Gary. I should have stayed in town for Jakey.” I sobbed, that old, all too familiar despair squeezing me into a dry husk.
“And what would that have done, hm? You think that would have made life better for Jakey? Or worse?”
“I don’t know,” I cried. “But I should have tried!”
Grasping my shoulders, Kian held me back a few inches and dipped his chin to meet my eyes. “You did what you thought was best at the time.”
I couldn’t hold his gaze, Jakey’s words spinning round and round.
His hesitation. His fear. His vulnerability.
His question.
My head fell back, my body weak with shock at what I’d done, what I’d buried deep along with every other part of my heart in my bid to survive.
My heart broke anew as the truth made itself known.
I was a coward.
A coward who cried like a child, sucking air into lungs straining to expel an ancient grief. Because they took my baby from me.
And I’d been powerless against them.
Kian pulled me against his chest and tucked my head under his chin. Muscles tense and quivering against me, he snarled, “I’m going to kill him. If he ever shows his fucking face, I’m going to kill him.”
His words broke through and sank deep, sliding like molten steel into the very marrow of my bones, warming me, strengthening my will from the inside.
Giving myself over, I relaxed against him. Wholly. Completely.
Letting my guard down, certain for the first time in decades, I was not alone.
Knowing with a certainty I’d only ever felt with my dad, that it didn’t matter if the whole world was against me, so long as Kian was for me.
Kian, who was strong enough to hold all of me.
Cradling me tenderly, he planted kisses along my hairline before resting his cheek on top of my head. “You didn’t deserve what they did to you.”
I stiffened in his arms, nowhere near ready for forgiveness or absolution, but he continued without pause.
“He didn’t deserve what they did to him.”
I nodded against his chest, melting back into him with that truth.
“You have an opportunity now to make things right for him.” His hands ran up and down my back.
I pressed my ear to his chest. Long minutes passed while my heart slowly regulated its beat to his.
“Kian,” I murmured.
His voice was rough, gritty with grief shared. “I’m here, baby.”
With him at my back, the hope I’d so long ago buried lifted her little head and looked forward. “I need to fix up the guest room in Anita’s apartment. Just in case.”
“I’ll do it Monday,” he promised.
“Thank you,” I breathed.
My eyes fluttered shut.
And I slept.