Dylan's Redemption, page 5
“Your voice is ringing in my head.” He stared into his coffee cup but glanced up to say, “You look good. Life’s apparently turned out all right for you.”
Jessie shrugged that off, focused more on the lost look in Brian’s round, sad eyes.
“I thought you died that night. I left and he killed you. Where have you been?”
“Around. Mostly Solomon. I have a house about twenty miles outside of Fallbrook.”
“You do?” The surprise lit his face.
“I started my life over. It’s time you did the same.”
Brian ignored that. Mired in the past, he asked, “What happened to you, Jessie?” His soft, anguish-filled voice pierced her heart and made it ache. She didn’t want to go back. She wanted to fix things for him now and move on.
She stood and walked away and stared blankly out the window. She hated thinking about that night. She didn’t want to talk about what happened, but Brian needed to hear it.
“What do you think happened that night?”
She’d heard some of the rumors, but she wanted to know what he thought. He’d been there at the beginning and on many other similar nights.
“Dad had been drinking pretty hard. After we quit for the day, he and some of the guys sat around knocking back a few while you put tools away and cleaned up the jobsite.
“We got home and you went in the kitchen.” He paused, thinking back. “You were chopping an apple at the counter when he started in on you, slurring his words, yelling, cussing. I don’t remember about what. Doesn’t matter. Never did. He’d pick something out of thin air for no reason, except to get in your face.”
He took a sip of the steaming coffee and shook his head, trying to clear the images from his mind. She knew from experience it wouldn’t work. Some things were burned into your cells. “He threw you up against the wall and choked you.
“I’d seen him do that so many times before, I can’t even count them all. I’ve seen him punch you and slap you.
“You never cried. Sometimes, I’d see the tears come into your eyes, and maybe one would fall, but you’d never cry. You took every blow, every nasty word, and you never backed down.”
Brian’s intense stare bore into her back. She hadn’t moved from standing in front of the dirty window looking out at nothing but a past she didn’t want to remember or hear about ever again.
“He wanted to break you. Beat you down and make you weak. He never could.”
No, he never could. The harder he’d tried, the harder she’d fought to stay strong.
After losing Hope, she’d come close to giving up. Even then, she’d somehow found the strength to go on, but it had been a near miss, standing on the edge of life and oblivion.
“He was angry with Mother. Not me. He blamed me because she killed herself. Really, he blamed her for leaving him. I was here, she wasn’t.”
“He yelled you weren’t his daughter. He screamed about how you look like her, and then he backhanded you.”
She turned from the window and focused on her brother, a pile of misery sitting on the couch. “I reminded him of her and her betrayal every day she was gone. She had an affair, and then me. The note she left when she died said she couldn’t accept the other man didn’t want her, had left her, and she didn’t want to live without him. The old man blamed me.”
“So you aren’t his daughter?”
She shrugged. “Who knows? Who cares? A friend of mine pointed out yesterday he was the only father I had.” She held up her hands in a “whatever” kind of gesture. “What’s important is you are my brother. We’ll bury the old man tomorrow and be done with the whole mess.”
“But all the blood. I left in the middle of the argument. I came back to an empty house, the kitchen floor covered in blood. I can still see it, smell it, like it was yesterday.
“You were nowhere to be found. When Dad came back the next morning alone, I thought he’d done something with you.” Brian hung his head and stared down at his now-empty coffee mug. The alcohol had worn off, the fog thinned. The guilt hung on him, weighing down his shoulders, his very spirit. The turmoil in his eyes and laced in every word tore at her.
“Brian, listen to me. It wasn’t your fault. He did it. Not you.”
“I left you alone with him, and he hurt you!” Brian roared from the couch. “How many times did I walk out the door and leave you behind without so much as one word in your defense? Never once did I pull him off you, or stand between you.”
“I don’t want to do this with you. It’s over. Done. Stop blaming yourself for something you couldn’t have prevented or stopped. When have you ever known me to need someone’s help?”
Well, maybe one time she’d needed Dylan, but he’d abandoned her.
Brian pulled her focus back. “Jessie. I need to know what happened that night. It’s haunted me for too long. Did he stab you? Did you end up in the hospital? Where did you go?”
Brian stood up to face her. Time to put the past to rest and move on, but Brian couldn’t do that until she told him what happened. She wouldn’t get away without telling him.
“After you left . . .” She took a breath when her emotions backed up in her throat. She started again, “After you left, he kept at me. Usually, he’d wind down and start drinking until he passed out. That night he just kept at it. I don’t know what set him off, but I made it worse when I took a swing at him and gave him a nice shiner.” She smiled a little, proud of herself for standing up to him. “I knew better than to provoke him. I’d never back down from an argument, but I also wasn’t stupid enough to take him head on. That was the one and only time I took a swing at him.” At least she had that. “He grabbed the knife I’d been using to cut the apple and came after me.”
She stood there looking at Brian and seeing the past.
“Did he stab you, Jessie?” Brian’s soft, sad voice had her choking back tears.
“I turned to run as he swung the knife down. He cut a gash down my back.” The only way for him to know what happened was to show him. She turned around, crossed her arms over her middle, and pulled the hem of her tank top up to reveal the long scar down her back. Brian inhaled sharply. She put her shirt down and turned back to face him.
“As the knife went in, I fell to the floor. I rolled over and he stood over me with the knife in his hand. I could smell the whiskey on his breath. I thought he’d finish it then, but something came over him and the knife slipped from his fingers and landed at my feet. He grabbed a bottle from the table and rushed out the back door. He probably drove somewhere and drank himself unconscious.
“I dragged myself up off that floor and left. I refused to take it from him one more second of one more day. I’ll spare you the gory details about how many stitches it took to close up the gash.”
“Jessie, how the hell did you survive that?”
“I sucked it up and moved on. Which is exactly what you are going to do now.” Overwhelmed with her past, she needed to get out of there. She knew this would be hard, but not like this. She hoped this was the last time she ever had to think about and relive that night. “Marilee has all the information for the funeral and your job. I hope you come tomorrow. We both need to bury the old man and our past. It’s over. I hope you start new today. Either way, on Monday you better be at work, or I will come and get you, and you won’t like it if I do.
“And another thing, I’d make things right with your wife. I’ve already told her I’d help her leave you. I’d be scared if I was you. She actually took a minute to think about my offer. I won’t have another Thompson grow up with an alcoholic for a father. Clean up your act.”
With that hanging between them, she walked out the front door and ran straight into the one person she never wanted to see again. Dylan.
Chapter Six
* * *
DYLAN PULLED UP to Brian’s house and parked behind a sleek, black Porsche at the curb. Nice car, not exactly something you’d see in this part of town. He walked up the cracked path to the front door, but five steps away, the door opened and a beautiful woman walked out. They stared at each other. His heart stopped, his throat closed, cutting off his breath, and everything inside of him froze for a second before the relief washed over him and he realized he wasn’t staring at a ghost.
“Jess.” Her name came out on an exhale.
God, she was beautiful. And all grown up. Fifteen the last time he’d seen her, at twenty-four she was a knockout. He took her in from the fall of her rich-brown wavy hair pulled back into a ponytail, to the tight white tank top hugging the curve of her full breasts and slim waist, to the tight blue jeans that showed off the slender curve of her hips and strong thighs, down to her black cowboy boots.
No wedding ring. If he’d been relieved to see her alive, it was just as powerful to discover she wasn’t married.
A gold chain hung around her neck and disappeared down the front of the tank top and into her cleavage. Light makeup enhanced her eyes and mouth. God, that mouth. He wanted to kiss her.
Dylan wanted her as much today as he had at eighteen. All the years he’d thought about her, wondered about her, dreamed of her, hadn’t done justice to having her close. His chest hurt just looking at her.
“Jess? Is it really you?”
He reached for her, grabbing her arm to pull her close. She gave him the shock of his life and seized his hand, spun, and using his momentum and her leg, flung him to the dead grass. He landed on his back, and she stood over him.
“Hey!” Still shocked, he didn’t know why she glared down at him with enough fury in her eyes to scorch him.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again.”
Everything inside of him refused to accept that warning. All he wanted to do is hold her close.
“You can’t toss people to the ground, you know. Nice move though.” He tried to lighten things up, despite the murderous look in her eyes.
“You deserve to be dropped on your ass. No worse than what you did to me, and far less than you deserve. What are you going to do? Arrest me?” She waved her hand, dismissing the idea, but paced away and back again, her anger turning to uncertainty in her eyes.
“No, Jess. I just want to talk to you. Where have you been?”
“Why the hell do you care?”
Dylan rolled to his feet, raked his fingers through his hair, bent, and picked up his Stetson from the grass, setting it back on his head. “I thought you were dead.” He stared at her wide, shocked eyes.
“Why the hell would you think I’m dead?”
Anger laced her voice. Her eyes fixed on his gun and moved back to him with a cold glare. He wondered if she could hate him that much because he’d left without saying goodbye. He owed her an explanation, but he hadn’t expected her to be this angry. She really looked like she wanted to use his gun on him.
“Thinking about shooting me, honey?”
“The thought did cross my mind. It is tempting. Honey,” she said with venom. “You of all people knew I wasn’t dead.” She pressed her hand to her belly and the color drained from her face. “Why would you think I’m dead?” she asked, less hostile and more hesitant.
Dylan didn’t understand the stunned disbelief on her face, or why she’d ask that question when everyone thought she died. “You disappeared a few days after I left town. My parents said no one knew what happened to you. All kinds of rumors floated around. Your father and brother were questioned about your disappearance. Brian told me about the night you left. His story is pretty convincing your father killed you and took your body and dumped it somewhere.”
“Are you serious?” She planted her hands on her hips. “All this time you thought I was dead?”
“Yes. I did. I’m so damn happy to see you, Jess.”
“This can’t be. I mean, I can understand why Brian might think something happened that night, but not you. You knew I was alive. You had to have known.”
Dylan cocked his head, studying her. “I wasn’t even here. I didn’t contact my parents until two weeks after you disappeared.”
“I tried your cell phone, but you’d canceled the service, so I emailed you.” Jessie put her arms around her middle and held herself. Her eyes filled with so much hurt, he felt it in his gut.
“Jessie, someone stole my phone at the airport. I canceled the number and got a new one a few weeks later. I never got an email.”
“Don’t lie to me. You got it. You sent me an email saying you didn’t want anything to do with me, you had a new life, and you never wanted to hear from me again. I emailed you back. I tried to tell you, but you shut down your email address too.”
Dylan sucked in a shocked breath and took a step back. He couldn’t believe she’d think he’d do such a thing after everything they shared. Yes, he’d left without a word, but he’d had his reasons and none of them had to do with her and the friendship and more they’d shared.
Busy with the constant drilling those first eight weeks in basic training, he’d barely had enough time to eat and sleep, they kept him so busy. His parents were beyond angry he’d joined the army and didn’t go to their handpicked college to earn the degree they wanted him to have. He hadn’t questioned them about changing his email.
If his suspicions were right, his mother had done a hell of a lot more than change his email address. Anger flashed through his system.
“When your email didn’t work, I called your parents’ house and spoke to your mother. She told me you didn’t want anything to do with me. She said it was my fault you left and joined the military to get away from me.”
“Jess, I’m sorry. No. That’s not true. I’d never say anything like that about you. After I left home, my parents changed the email service.”
“Your mother’s way of keeping me from contacting you.”
His mother made it clear on numerous occasions she disapproved of, even hated, Jessie. Maybe that’s why he’d been so determined to be her friend. Maybe that’s why when he noticed her as more than a friend, and his mother figured it out, as mothers do, she’d been adamant he not see her ever again. He never told his parents he had a date to the prom, and even went so far as to ask Jessie to meet him there instead of picking her up. Sneaky and cowardly on his part. He’d wanted to be with her that night without instigating a fight with his parents in order to do it.
When he’d left town, a small voice inside him told him to take her with him. He’d hated leaving her behind, but what could he do? She was fifteen and still in high school. He couldn’t ask her to run away with him and get away with it. If he’d known about the abuse, taken her away with him, she wouldn’t have been hurt, almost killed.
“Shit. I think she sent you that email. I can’t believe she’d do something so callous.”
“I can.”
“I’d never tell you I didn’t want anything to do with you, Jess. That’s the furthest thing from the truth. You have to know that after everything we shared. I have grieved every day for you, Jess.” He wanted to wrap her in his arms. Whatever was between them now, this anger she had for him, he wanted to make it disappear.
Jessie ignored those poignant words. She’d hated Dylan all this time for turning his back on her when she needed him most. She had a hard time switching gears. She clung to her anger, but turned it in his mother’s direction now. His mother sent the email. She choked back the bile rising in her throat. Even now, she felt the terrifying realization she was pregnant and unable to contact Dylan. His mother telling her he didn’t want her in the email and on the phone, going through the pregnancy alone, delivering their beautiful daughter . . . and losing her. The bitch had done it all because she found Jessie lacking and unsuitable for her only son.
She turned to Dylan, her emotions a whirlwind in her gut. “If she’d just given me your phone number, let me tell you, everything could have been so different. I swear to God, I’ll make her pay for this.”
Overwhelmed with sadness for all he’d missed, the anger washed over her again, and then came the misery she’d felt all those years ago when his mother told her Dylan didn’t want anything to do with her. A whirlwind of feelings and emotions she couldn’t hide from her face.
Dylan responded to her, his gentle tone coaxing her to talk to him, spill her guts, and unburden herself. “Jess, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Is this about what Buddy did to you? I should have protected you. I’m sorry. You must have been so angry when I left.”
“Hell yes, I was angry.” She couldn’t face the fact his mother lied. She wanted to deny someone, anyone, could be that cruel.
“There was more. So much more,” she said, her voice quieting.
“Jess, I don’t understand. Tell me why you called.”
“I didn’t come here to . . . rehash the past with you. I came to see Brian and set things right with him. I can’t do this with you, standing in the front yard in front of all the neighbors.”
“Let’s go somewhere and talk.”
She couldn’t do this now, today, not when her emotions and the memories of what her father did to her, Dylan’s mother’s scathing words, and losing Hope swamped her every thought.
“As far as I’m concerned, all the anger and hurt over what happened has been directed at the wrong person. Am I angry you left? Hell yes.” She jabbed a finger into his chest, punctuating every word. “I blame you for not having the decency to say goodbye and tell me you were leaving. But what your mother did is unconscionable. She knew I was alive and didn’t tell you. She didn’t tell you I called because I needed you. No matter what she says, there is no excuse for what she’s done.”
“Jess, why did you need me? What happened with Buddy? There was blood. You must have been hurt pretty bad. Were you in a hospital? On the streets? What?”
“None of that matters compared to what I tried to tell you. If she’d simply given me your number, I could have told you.”
