“Bullshit.”
“He told the paramedics I slipped. They believed him.” She lifted a shoulder. “By the time I came home from the hospital, I had heard him tell the story so often, I almost believed him.”
“What were your injuries?”
“Cracked ribs, a sprained wrist, and a concussion.”
“I want those hospital records.” Anger exploded in me, and I smacked the table. “Why didn’t you say anything? I told you I needed honesty!”
She drew in a deep breath, not meeting my eyes. “Because it embarrassed me, Halton. I stayed with him. I let him get away with it. He never did it again. In fact, unless we were out, he never touched me again. But from that day onward, I was afraid of him in a way I had never thought I would be.”
Her words dissipated my anger. I scrubbed my face then leaned toward her, sliding my fingers under her chin and making her meet my eyes.
“I understand. But no more. You swear it was one time?”
“Yes. The rest of the time, he used words.” She swallowed, the action moving her throat against my fingers. “Those left marks no one can see, but I feel them every day.”
Her eyes were fathomless, the green so vivid and verdant. I could see her pain and again felt the odd pull to erase it.
“I’m sorry,” was all I could offer. “But don’t be scared, Fee. He’s shown poor judgment, but he isn’t a complete idiot. He’ll get his own counsel, and they’ll handle the case. You won’t have to put up with him or his words anymore. Just to be safe, I’ll pick you up and take you home for a while, okay?”
Her eyes widened. “You don’t have…”
I cut her off by tightening my fingers on her chin. “Yes, I do. Let me, please.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Okay.”
Realizing I was still holding her chin, I released it and sat back. I picked up the documents and slid them into the envelope.
“Ready?” I asked.
She raised her chin. “Yes.”
I winked. “Good, FeeNelly. Good girl.”
Her laughter made me grin.
I wasn’t smiling when I walked into the office on Saturday morning and found her there.
I hadn’t been able to settle Friday evening, and I’d tossed and turned even more than usual all night. Insomnia had me pacing the floor, so I gave up and came in to get some work done while the office was quiet. There had been no word from Scott, but I knew that would change soon. Monday was a holiday, and the following short week was going to be a busy one.
I was wary when I opened the door and found the alarm turned off. I saw Fee’s purse by the desk and wondered why she was here. My suspicious nature had me check to make sure my office door was locked, then I shook my head. She had already proven herself to me. She was probably feeling anxious and decided to do some work herself. I opened the library door and stopped.
She was asleep in the chair, silhouetted by the dim light coming in the window. Her coat was draped over her, and beside her on the floor was a suitcase.
What the hell was going on?
I sat across from her, taking in her appearance. Her hair was disheveled and unkempt, her face pale and wan. It was obvious she had been crying. My anxiety grew looking at her fingers that clutched her coat tightly, even in sleep. The nailbeds were bloody and raw. She had been fine when I left yesterday. She had plans for a quiet weekend, knowing she would no doubt have to face the start of Scott’s battle against her.
Something was terribly wrong.
I laid my hand on top of hers and spoke her name in a low voice. She jerked away with a gasp, her body jackknifing into an upright position.
“Shh, Fee,” I crooned. “It’s me.”
Before I could say anything else, she launched herself at me with such force, it pushed me back into the chair. Feeling the sobs ripping from her chest, I held her tight, talking to her, trying to calm her down.
“It’s okay. You’re safe.”
“I’ve got you.”
“Fee, love, please calm down. I’m here. I’m right here.”
I had no idea where those words came from, but they seemed to reach her. She shuddered, but her sobs diminished and she began to relax. I kept her close, running my hand up and down her back in a soothing motion.
Finally, she lifted her head, her eyes red, swollen, and exhausted. Her hands shook as she scrubbed at her cheeks, and I grabbed some tissues for her. She sighed, the sound long and deep, then spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. Whatever happened that did this to you, don’t be sorry.” When she didn’t reply, I cradled her face between my hands, making her look at me. “Go wash your face. I’m going to make us coffee, and you can tell me what happened.”
“Scott happened,” she whispered.
My hands tightened. “Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Threatened you?”
She didn’t respond, and I had my answer. The stupid bastard. Whatever he had done, he was going to regret it. I would see to that.
“Go,” I said as gently as I could. “It’s going to be fine, Fee. I promise.”
She slid from my lap, heading toward the door leading to the main office. I stood.
“No, Fee. Use my private one. Have a shower and give yourself a little time to calm down. I’ll wait for you here.”
“Your-your private one?”
We both knew what I was offering.
“Yes.” I pulled out my keys and unlocked the door between the two rooms. I carried her suitcase into the bathroom and left her.
“Take your time.”
I made coffee, then stared blindly at the wall. I didn’t understand my reaction to her tears. I’d had lots of clients weep in front of me, and I never felt helpless. I never felt the overwhelming need to fix whatever upset them. To find the person responsible and use my fists until they felt the same hurt. I’d certainly never called a client “love” before. It was a pet name my father used to call my mother back a long time ago when they were happy. When we were a family. Why it slipped from my lips when I was holding Fee, I had no idea.
What the hell was going on with me?
What the hell was Fiona doing to me? And why did the thought of those green eyes filled with tears make my chest ache so hard?
I had no idea, but I knew I had to figure it out.
She sat across from me, dressed in casual clothes, her hair piled on top of her head. She looked younger than thirty, although her exhaustion was evident.
I pushed the coffee toward her. “Drink.”
She sipped the coffee, holding the mug with trembling hands.
“When did you see Scott?”
“He showed up at Joanne’s last night. I was having a shower, and I heard yelling. I went to see what was going on, and he was there.”
“Did he touch you?”
She hesitated.
“I want the truth, Fee. All of it.”
“He grabbed my arms. He was livid, and he had been drinking. I could smell it on him. And his eyes—they frightened me. There was something weird about them. He was screaming at me that I was using you, of all lawyers.” Her gaze flickered to mine before dropping again. “He called you ‘that low-life do-gooder’ and said you liked to mess with him.”