Olivia folds to her knees, her heart breaking for her mom, and takes Charlotte in her arms. “Shush.” She cradles Charlotte’s face, caresses her cheek. Rage burns inside Olivia’s veins just thinking about her mom’s suffering. How could she have stayed married knowing about the monster inside Dwight? Did she just not know how to leave him?
“He manipulated you.” Olivia is sure of it. “Is this what you wanted to tell me? Why would you think I wouldn’t have forgiven you?”
Charlotte looks at the floor. She plays with the hem of her blue cardigan. “I’m the one who told your father Ethan is Josh’s father,” she whispers.
Olivia falls back on her heels, reeling. Her hands drop in her lap. “Why would you do that?”
“You’ll hate me.”
“Try me,” she says through her teeth.
Charlotte’s lungs shudder. Her shoulders drop. “If you believed Lily betrayed you, you wouldn’t go after her.”
“You didn’t want me to find her?” she asks, beyond shocked.
Charlotte shakes her head. “I had to keep her safe.”
“From Dad. My dad.” And at Olivia’s expense. She broke up with Ethan because of that lie.
Charlotte nods.
“What about the photos Dad took of Lily and Ethan? It wasn’t Ethan in the pictures. Dad thought it was. It wasn’t the pictures that convinced him?”
Charlotte frowns. “What photos?”
“He didn’t tell you? Do you know who Josh’s father is?” Olivia still hasn’t heard from Ethan about the photos she texted him.
Charlotte shakes her head and Olivia’s eyes narrow. “I swear, darling,” Charlotte says. “I don’t. Lily wouldn’t tell us.” She covers her face and quietly sobs.
Olivia rises to her feet. She and Charlotte have plenty more to discuss, like where Lily might be and what they should do about Dwight. But Olivia isn’t going to get anywhere while Charlotte’s emotional.
Olivia helps her mom to her feet. Charlotte weaves.
“Go rest for a bit,” Olivia says. “I’ll make some tea and meet you in your room.”
A shadow falls over the cellar. Olivia looks up, startled. Broad shoulders fill the doorway, and for a split second Olivia thinks it’s Dwight and that he overheard their conversation. He could lock them in the cellar. They’d be stuck in here until Lucas came home or Blaze came looking for her.
Or worse. He’d come after her.
“What’s going on?” A voice booms.
“Lucas!” Charlotte gasps, and Olivia wants to shout her relief. But Charlotte slips from her grasp and nimbly melts to the floor.
CHAPTER 33
LUCAS
While Olivia settles Charlotte in her room, Lucas sits in the hallway, his back to the wall, legs sprawled, an uncorked bottle of wine between his thighs. He found the bottle on the floor of the cellar. He glanced at the label once before opening, a Syrah from some winery south of here. He doubts he can pronounce the name right, but it reads like a foreign sports car.
Tipping back the bottle, he tries to remember what happened the other night when he last saw Dwight. He recalls sitting behind the wheel of his truck. Gang of Youths were singing about trying to love someone. The volume was dialed up enough that the windows vibrated. His jaw ached and back hurt. They still do. There was also a metallic taste in his mouth. He stared out the windshield wondering how the fuck he’d arrived there. Parked on the side of a narrow two-lane road that hugged a rock wall on one side and a wide, black abyss on the other.
The truck’s motor was still running. He cut the engine and the music died. The night was silent. The sky blacker than sin. A car swerved around a bend and a band of light sliced through the cab of his truck like a searchlight outside an all-night club. Something shimmered on his hands.
“The fuck?” He turned on the interior light and held up his hands. Cut and bruised, knuckles swollen, they were sticky with dried blood. His stomach bottomed out.
Whose blood?
His legs tightened with the urge to run. The back seat and truck bed were empty. That was a relief. His vehicle was the only one in sight.
He rummaged through the junk in the center console and found his anxiety meds. Three pills were still left. He hadn’t popped more than the prescribed dosage, which meant the pills hadn’t caused his blackout.
How long had he been out?
Same amount of time he’d blacked out after Lily ran away? He’d been under for almost twelve hours, and he’s hated himself since.
Lucas forced a deep breath and his hands blurred and vision went foggy. He slapped his cheeks. Stay awake.
What had happened? His mind raced.
He remembers his old man working the bar, schmoozing and canoodling, downing one finger of Blue Label after another. The guy had been wasted, and as Lucas watched him, years of pent-up rage brewed inside until he felt like he’d been burned alive.
He remembers Dwight finally picked a bed buddy and escorted the lithe creature half his age up to his room. Lucas hadn’t blamed the blonde. Dwight was a catch. Wealthy, by all appearances, charismatic, and fitter than the average man in his early sixties. Dwight was skilled at letting others see what he wanted them to see rather than what lurked underneath the surface: a narcissistic asshole on the brink of bankruptcy who didn’t give two shits about anyone but himself.
Lucas had waited outside Dwight’s hotel room for the woman to leave. Dwight never let them stay the night. He didn’t like his indiscretions staring him in the face the following morning. He preferred to start his days with a clean slate. A blank scorecard.
Blondie had finally left, and as soon as the elevator doors closed on her, Lucas had knocked on Dwight’s door.
He clearly remembers his old man’s look of surprise to find him standing there and not the midnight snack that had just left. He recalls forcing his way inside and closing the door behind him, flipping the bolt. The first punch had surprised them both. His fist connected with Dwight’s jaw before he’d realized he swung.
One for Lily.
Dwight never should have scared her away. Lucas should have gone after her. Would he have if he hadn’t blacked out?
Dwight’s head had lurched back with the impact of Lucas’s fist. He stumbled backward.
Lucas advanced, throwing the second punch.
“That’s for cheating on Mom.”
Dwight had dropped onto the chair, his momentum tipping it over. He crashed to the floor and his old man’s legs flipped over his head until he lay sprawled on the ground. He started laughing maniacally.
“Shut up,” Lucas growled.
Dwight lifted his head. “I’m the cheater? That what she told you? She’s been cheating on me since we married.” He laughed again, his forehead dropping back to the floor.
“Stop lying.” Lucas flipped Dwight onto his back. He squeezed Dwight’s throat, out of control. “You’re a sick motherfucker.” Charlotte would never cheat. Dwight’s affairs tore her up.
“What are you doing?” Dwight gargled. He inhaled a ragged breath, struggling for air. He clawed at Lucas’s hand.
“Remember when I was attacked in juvie? Remember when you wouldn’t press charges? You wanted everything to go away? Well, it’s your turn to go away.”