“That’s the last thing you are.”
I lifted my head to meet his eyes, needing him to have a true picture of the darkness that lived in my heart. I knew it was the piece of my father I carried with me. It was impossible to come from a man, to live with him for twenty-four years, and not have some of his darkness seep into me. “There is a piece of me that doesn’t want her to be happy. That hopes she’s miserable because she left me.”
Beckett’s face softened. “That’s human. She hurt you. Probably worse than any other person has—even your dad. There’s bound to be wounds there. Anger. It says a lot about you that you’re willing to look straight at it. Most people ignore the rage. They look away as it festers. You want to let it out. That’s the first step to forgiveness in my mind.”
How did he see me so clearly after knowing me for such a short period of time? No beating from my father had ever hurt as much as my mother walking away, knowing what her husband was capable of. “I want to let it go. I know it’s eating me up inside. I don’t want to turn bitter. I don’t want to be him.”
Beckett did move then, his hands coming up to cup my face as he ducked his head to meet my gaze. “You could never be like him.”
Beckett’s hands carried a warmth I’d never experienced before. As if they had a light in them that poured into me. I could feel the calluses on his palms and fingers that I knew carried stories. I wanted to know each tale. “I could be. But I won’t let myself.”
His thumbs traced my cheeks once, twice, and then he released me. “We’ll agree to disagree on that point. But I know what it’s like to fear what you’re capable of. It’s no way to live.”
I froze. There was anguish in those words that he’d so carelessly thrown out. “What are you capable of?”
“Anything.”
Beckett’s words echoed in my head as I walked to work. I should’ve been afraid of the darkness that had slipped into his tone, his eyes, his aura. But I found I couldn’t muster the fear when it came to Beckett Easton. I’d seen too much of his light. I’d felt it. There might be a gruffness to his exterior at times, but the inside held nothing but gentle kindness.
I rounded the corner onto Aspen Street and The Gallery. A man walked my way from the opposite direction, a ballcap pulled low. He was big in every way, with broad shoulders, a bulging belly, and wide hips. He lumbered as he walked. Something about the way he moved scratched at the back of my brain.
His steps slowed as he approached me. “Adaline.”
The use of my full name had a chill skittering over my skin. “Do I know you?”
He sent me a grin, but it was all teeth and lacked any sort of warmth. “Your father said I’d get to marry you one day.”
I froze, my muscles locking and all air leaving my lungs. Memories of seeing this man when I was a teenager surfaced. My father telling me that it was one of the men he considered promising me to. I struggled to swallow, breathe, to move. Anything.
The man came closer, almost within touching distance. “Your old man is a real prick. Lies as often as he breathes.” He
reached out, tugging on a strand of my hair. “I’ve seen that you’re on your own now, though.”
I jerked away from his hold, my back slamming into the building’s rough siding. “D-don’t touch me.”
His grin only widened. “Adaline. I can always touch what belongs to me.” His smile slipped as a couple started walking towards us. “I can see now isn’t a good time to get reacquainted, but I’ll be back. Soon.”
His eyes narrowed on me as a muscle in his cheek ticked. “Don’t let anybody be touching what’s mine. I have no patience for whores.”
He started walking away before I could get a word out. My body shook, adrenaline fleeing my system. Pain bloomed in my back, but that wasn’t what had tears tracking down my face. I was used to pain. I could live with that. It was the knowledge that I would never be free of my family’s world that killed me.
12
BECKETT
A soft knock sounded on my open door, and I looked up from my turkey sandwich. “Come in.”
Dolores pursed her lips. “Cora Maxwell is here. She says she doesn’t have long but wanted you to look at Jack.”
I was already rising from my chair. “Let’s get them into exam room two.”
“She should make an appointment,” Dolores grumbled.
I touched her elbow. “I think she’s doing the best she can with where she’s at.”
My receptionist’s shoulders lowered a fraction. “I know you’re right. I’m not mad at her. I’m mad at the situation. And I hate that a sweet child is mixed up in it.”
“Me, too.” I grabbed my lab coat and stethoscope while Dolores brought Cora and Jack back to the exam room.