Break, page 15
She shrugs like she isn’t interested, but I can see a flare of want on her face before she smothers it.
“Come with me,” I urge her.
Finally meeting my gaze, she looks up in confusion. “Come with you where?”
“To get a tattoo.” It’s not a terrible idea. I’ve witnessed many of the women we help do something drastic as a way to take control of their new realities. Some cut and dye their hair, others will get make-overs. I’ve seen new hobbies, enrollment in school, or lots of partying because they wanted to feel free. Why not get a tattoo?
“I can’t get a tattoo.” Mina is looking at me like I’ve lost my marbles, but I shrug. Clearly, I see no issue with them considering I’ve marked over a third of my body.
“Why not?”
“You’ll tell him.”
I’ll what? I frown at her, setting my cup on the counter to turn and face her fully. “Who? Danny?”
When she nods, I get frustrated. Not at her, but that she really thinks I’d run off and tell Danny something so trivial.
“I’m not friends with him anymore, Mina.” She looks at me skeptically, so I add, “I couldn’t tell him, anyway. This is what we do for a living. Our job is to keep you protected.”
I wait in silence while she stares at the cooling meat on the counter, debating with herself. She doesn’t look particularly happy about what I’ve said, but as I think over my words, there isn’t anything that seems wrong.
I try to push her, which was apparently the wrong move. “It’ll do you good. Just look around and see if there’s anything that sparks your interest. We’ll go after breakfast.”
She stiffens but nods sharply in agreement, and I realize she only said yes because I told what I wanted us to do instead of offering her a choice. Quickly, I add, “Only if you want to. You don’t have to, Mina. Not if you don’t want to”.
Eyeing me warily, she must read something in my face because she mumbles out, “I’d rather not then… if that’s okay?”
“It’s okay, but will you tell me why?” I’m disappointed, but also glad that she felt she could tell me no.
She hesitates. “…I’m not comfortable with you. Besides, it’s not part of your job to entertain me.”
Her words are a punch to the gut, leaving me at a loss for what to say. Words have never been my friend. I find it difficult to have that easy back and forth that Vincent and Max are so good at.
I know she didn’t intend to hurt me with her truth, but fuck me, she did. To know that I’ve screwed up enough to make this woman feel like she can’t even ride in a car with me to do something personal, rankles.
Rubbing the back of my head, I look away from her, feeling ashamed that this is how she sees me. “Well, if you ever change your mind, I’d be happy to take you.”
“Breakfast will be ready in about an hour.” Her dismissal is obvious, so I give her the space she wants. Sitting on the front porch, I sip my coffee while listening to the sporadic noises as Mina busies herself in the kitchen with chores.
Chores she’s not responsible for.
I don’t turn around when I hear Max and Walter slip through the door. Max seats himself next to me on the step, two fresh coffees in hand, offering me one.
“Morning,” he mumbles.
Walter bumps his way between the two of us, and his heavy body expels a gusty groan as his chest hits the wood.
Patting his head hello, I respond to Max. “Morning. Breakfast should be ready soon.”
“Smells good.” Max is a man of few words before he gets his coffee working through his system. Taking another sip, he adds, “Hungry.”
Snorting, I look over at him and smile when I see that he’s got his eyes closed, like he’s falling asleep where he sits.
“I talked with her a bit this morning,” I tell him.
His interest is piqued. He cracks an eye open to look at me. “And?”
“And… nothing. I tried to get up early enough to take over cooking duties, but she beat me to it. Caught her looking at my tattoos and offered to take her to get one.”
He waits, and when I don’t continue, he pushes for more information. “And?”
Shrugging off my disappointment, not in her, but in myself, I say, “She declined.”
“For any particular reason, or she just doesn’t want one?”
“Not sure if she doesn’t want one, but she doesn’t feel comfortable with me taking her there,” I admit. It’s embarrassing, but honestly, he’s pretty much in this same boat as me. Just haven’t figured out if we’re sinking or scooping out water to keep the damn thing afloat.
“Ahh…” I’m not surprised at his lack of response. Nothing to be done about it now except continue to be here and show her that she can trust us to do what we say. Max flips his wrist over to check the time on his watch. “We can probably go in there now. Been a bit since I saw you sitting out here.”
Standing up, I pick up the extra mug I sat next to me and carry them into the kitchen. I rinse one and set it in the empty dishwasher, and refill the other. It’s definitely a three-cup kind of morning. Looking around, I see what looks like a quiche on top of the stove, steam billowing. There’s also a couple of plates piled next to it with silverware.
I hear the slam come from the laundry room on the other side of the kitchen wall and meet Max’s eyes. He mouths the question “laundry?” and I just shake my head. This woman doesn’t slow the fuck down. She needs to before she runs herself ragged.
Mina comes out of the laundry room carrying a basket on her hip, trying to balance it with one hand since her other arm is still wrapped in the sling. Hurrying over to her, Max grabs the basket from her, scowling down at the perfectly folded clothes piled inside. “What are you doing, Mina? You’ve got a banged-up shoulder. You shouldn’t be doing this kind of stuff, let alone our clothes!”
I close my eyes and hold back a groan at Max’s temper. I know he’s not mad at her, but she’s not going to know. He doesn’t stop either. “This isn’t your job. You’re already doing way too much around here, even though we’ve both told you that you don’t need to.”
“Max,” I say softly to encourage him to stop. Checking in on Mina, she looks tortured. Eyes wide, lips tucked between her lips, and scrunched-up face flushing a bright red like she’s preparing for more to come. Seeing her distress has me stepping in more firmly when he opens his mouth to continue. “Max. Enough.”
When he looks at me, I nod my head in her direction and watch as he deflates, noticing her reaction to his anger. She’s speaking before he has a chance to correct himself.
“I’m so sorry. I just… I saw the laundry piled in there and I was just in here, waiting for the quiche to finish, and thought I could throw it into the machine. Then when I opened the machine, there were already wet clothes in there. I went to move those into the dryer, but there were clothes in there and I didn’t want them to wrinkle, so I folded them and just transferred it all over. I was just bringing it out here so you guys could go through it and take what was yours.”
Max holds his hands up to show him he’s backing off, but she doesn’t see it as she continues her explanation. “It’s not folded perfectly, but I did the best I could. I’m really not trying to be rude or an inconvenience. It’s just, I’m so thankful for your help and a little work to show you that is what I know how to do.” She hiccups back a sob, and then says, “It’s all I know how to do.”
Stepping toward her, he holds his hands out to her. “Mina, honey, please don’t apologize. I mishandled this. We appreciate everything you’ve been doing around here. It’s been amazing. I just don’t want you hurting yourself. I want you to recover and focus on yourself, that’s all.”
Stepping up to Max’s side, I give her a gentle smile to let her know that I’m not upset either. “He can be an ogre, but it comes from a good place,” I assure her.
Mina looks between the two of us, eyes wet, holding back tears, and breathing heavily. Thankfully, she can see the truth in our faces, and she sags in relief, nodding her head that she understands.
Max lets out an audible breath of relief. “Thank you. Seriously, for this.” He holds up the basket to show her. “And for making us another meal that smells incredible.”
She looks over at the dish sitting on the stovetop, then points at it. “It’s ready. You should probably eat before it gets cold.”
The sound of crunching gravel has us turning our heads to look toward the front of the house. “The hell? I thought Vincent had to work this morning,” Max says.
Stepping to the window, I lean to look out front and see Danny coming to a stop in his Mustang. “Fuck,” I say loudly, then look back to where Mina and Max are looking at me. Mina’s eyes are wide as saucers and Max looks concerned.
“Who’s here?” he asks, taking a step to come look for himself.
“Danny,” I say through my clenched jaw.
Max stops walking and drops the basket. “What the fuck is he doing here? Shit! Mina, I need you to-”
He doesn’t need to continue. She’s already out of the kitchen and flying up the stairs like she’s being chased by the Devil himself. Two seconds later, we both hear her bedroom door slam.
“Christ,” I mutter at the same time we hear Danny yelling from the porch, and Walter barking like a madman, sensing that our visitor isn’t welcome.
“Boys! Wake the fuck up and open the door!”
Chapter 20
Jesus Christ
Max
“Come on, guys! I need to talk to you!” Danny is pounding on the door, making Walt bark like a crazy.
“He can’t come in here,” Ethan tells me. He’s staring up the stairs where Mina just made her escape.
I’m at a loss. What the hell am I supposed to do with him? We’re fucking hiding his goddamn wife here, and he just showed up, unannounced? He’s never done that before; at least not in the last few years. “What am I supposed to do with him? He can’t know that we’re not on his side right now. I won’t risk it.”
“I don’t know. Fake it. But he can’t come in here. This is Mina’s only comfortable place, so letting him through that door is going to destroy her sense of safety.”
Jesus Christ.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll take him out to the shop. Pretend I need to work on something.” That’ll work for now and get him as far away from the house as possible until he gets back in his car and leaves.
The pounding rattles the door frame as I silence Walter, before opening it to the exhausted and angry face of Danny Reed. “About fucking time!” he growls at me and then moves forward to come inside.
Putting my arm out, his chest bumps into it when we make contact. He stops, staring up at me with a scowl like I’ve wronged him somehow. I’m chewing my tongue to not lash out at him when he asks, “What? I’m not welcome in your home anymore?”
“It’s not like that. I’m just heading out to the shop. You can come with me if you’d like.” Okay, made it through that without sounding too hateful.
He relaxes and flashes me a grin. It’s like looking into the face of my sperm donor. They’re quick to anger and then smoothing it away behind fake smiles once they get what they want. Danny carries the face of an abuser, and I feel sick that I need to carry on like I know nothing of what he’s done.
But for Mina? I’ll fucking do it.
Danny spies Ethan over my shoulder, darts a look at me, then back. “You coming to hang out too? Been awhile since we caught up.”
“Can’t. Paperwork.” When Ethan resorts to one-worded answers, I know he’s struggling. Whether it’s because Mina left in a hurry, most likely freaked over the fact that Danny just showed up, or because Danny is standing in front of us, I don’t know. I can’t ask him. What I am is grateful that he’s staying here to check in on her. It’s got to be a mind-fuck to know that he’s only feet away and you’re cornered in a room.
“Too bad. We’ll go fishing or something. Meet up soon?” It’s almost like Danny is relieved that Ethan isn’t tagging along. I’ll take my win where I can get it, though.
Grunting, he says, “Sure.” Then he turns and marches into the office off my living room and shuts the door.
“Come on,” I say to Danny, shoving his shoulder back a little harder than I need to. “Shop.”
After crossing through my yard, Danny walks inside the shop once I unlock it, only to haul himself up onto the counter near the door.
“What are you doing here, Danny? Haven’t had you show up in a long time.” I know I need to put up a front, but luckily, I’ve always been an asshole, so this should be expected.
Sighing, he leans back and completely relaxes. He doesn’t see me as a threat, and I wish he would. “I know I’ve been bad about coming by. Things with Mina have been tough, and I’ve been trying to focus more on ‘us’, you know?”
No, I don’t know, and it’s a bunch of bullshit. He’s sitting here trying to play the good husband and there’s no way I’m going to buy it. But instead, I nod my head like I understand. “I get that. So, what brings you by today?”
He blows out a breath like he’s gearing up for a long-winded story. I pull out pieces of my latest project and start hand-sanding them down since I destroyed my power-sander while I wait him out. I’ll have to replace that sooner rather than later.
“So, I’m sure you know the shit I’ve got going on right now, which I don’t really want to talk about. It’s just all so ridiculous, and pretty embarrassing if I’m being honest. I can’t believe how society today is so quick to judge someone before they know the whole story, you know? Like now that we’re in this ‘me-too’ movement, the guys are automatically pegged as guilty before they even have time to tell their side.”
He pauses like he’s waiting for me to agree. I can’t. My first reaction is to snap at him and slam him with the fact that he knows about my mother and what that bastard did to her, but I keep it in. And frankly, that movement has been a godsend for so many women who felt like they were voiceless. But Danny would never understand.
Instead, I ask, “What was it you needed then?”
I catch a flash of irritation cross his face, but he schools it. “I’ve been telling these cops that this is all just a misunderstanding and things didn’t go down the way they think it did. My wife was having a bad day. She can sometimes get worked up and become over dramatic about things to get back at me if I piss her off. I checked her phone to see where she was at, but the damn thing is turned off and her last location was the station. I know you got this side business where you do protective work and shit, and sometimes help people that run to the cops. You think you could talk to someone down there and let me know where she’s run off to?”
I pause my sanding to stare at him. It’s mind-blowing that he has the nerve to come in here and ask me something like that. “Dude. They don’t just tell me that kind of stuff. It’s always been on a need-to-know basis. You’re going to get yourself in trouble if you go looking for her.”
A flash of anger lights his eyes, and he bares his teeth at nothing in particular. “I don’t give a shit. If they’d just let me talk to her, this could all go away. It’s ridiculous that she’s acting like this after I saved her sorry ass!”
“What do you mean, ‘saved her’?”
He relaxes when I don’t continue telling him what he’s doing is wrong. Jerking his shoulder up like he couldn’t care less, he says, “You know, from her shit at home.”
“What are you talking about?” And I’m serious. I have no clue what he’s getting on about and wonder if he’s just making shit up right now to keep the narrative in his court.
“Come on, you know her dad was beating the shit out of her.”
“I didn’t know that!” I exclaim. Is he serious right now?
He keeps going like I said nothing. “And I gotta be honest, after living with her for five years, and I’m not saying she deserved it, but I get it. She’s a pain in the ass to deal with. I saw it a few times from my house and heard it. You heard it too, so don’t play dumb. I caught her trying to make plans to leave, so I offered her an out.”
Offered her an out, my ass. She’s already told us how their whole marriage came into fruition, so I know this savior story is a load of bullshit. What I don’t know is what she went through prior to moving in with Danny. “What did he do to her?”
“I dunno, hit her a lot. It was more that he and her mom were really strict. Some benefits, though.”
“Benefits how?” I scowl at him, but he doesn’t notice, picking at the grime under his fingernails. He’s not looking at me, just nonchalantly playing with his fingers like he has all the time in the world. I’d give anything to grab him by the neck and throw him down so he understands how much of a piece of shit I think he is.
“Well, she was raised on how to be a housewife. I told her I’d marry her to get her out if she did that shit at my home. Make dinner, keep it clean, that sort of stuff. Saw it as an even trade.”
“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?”
Finally, he looks up at me and narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean? Fat Mina wasn’t going to have any better options and I’m a good guy! I fucking saved her! And that bitch owes me for it!”
Shaking my head, I hold up my hands to stop him. “Look, I’m not saying I think you’re a bad guy. What I am saying is that’s a really fucked up reason to marry someone. I don’t want any part in all of this if for no other reason than it could fuck up my business.”
“How is being my friend going to fuck up your business?” He snarls, jumping down and planting his hands on my worktable to stare me down.
“Are you kidding me? I work with them. If I fish around for information on one of their victims and give it to you, I’ll be done. They’ll never trust me again and I can’t risk that. This is my career.”
I think that was a fair enough explanation for why I won’t help him, whether or not it was the truth. Turns out, it’s not a good enough reason for him.
