“Yep. Just like that.”
“Huh.”
“Huh, what?”
Lauren was silent for a second and her gaze slid away.
“I don’t like talking about him to you,” she said.
Her ex wasn’t my favorite topic either, but I wasn’t fond of the expression on her face so the conversation needed to be had.
“He’s not my favorite subject either, baby.”
“I want to preface this by saying, I’m happy he got the message and he won’t be contacting me again. But it’s just strange that after calling me and texting me nonstop he’d just agree to not contact me. Again, I’m grateful but Guy likes to get his way and when he doesn’t he lets you know he’s not happy.”
I felt it start, the sick in my gut, the stirring of the poison, childhood memories of my dad not getting his way and raging until I was beaten and bloodied—or worse, my mom was.
“Did he…” Fucking shit, I couldn’t even say it.
“Oh, God, no. He never abused me or anything. He would just get pissy. It was totally passive-aggressive. Like he’d never come straight out and tell me why he was being an ass. He’d simply make snide jokes.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why the fuck she’d put up with Guy’s shit but I didn’t want to know. And not because I didn’t care about her answer but I knew it would in some way enrage me that my stupidity had driven her to him. If I’d manned up sooner, she never would’ve met the douchebag.
“I think Guy understands he’s not getting you back and it’s in his best interest to forget you exist. Besides, in a few days, he’ll have more to worry about than trying to call you.”
Dylan was finding all sorts of interesting threads, placing Guy in multiple cities where Lucky’s drugs had been distributed.
“So you really think that Guy’s involved with Lucky somehow?”
Seeing as Lauren was a trusted member of TC she wasn’t kept in the dark about who and what the team was investigating. She’d made the travel arrangements for the team and when we got behind she’d type up our SITREPS. So Lauren knew about Lucky and the drugs.
“Yes, I think he’s involved. The question is, how deep.”
“Damn. I’m not gonna lie; that creeps me out.”
There was a lot I’d do for Lauren, but helping her process her feelings about Guy was not one of them. I was getting ready to move the conversation along when her finger traced the scar on my stomach.
“How’d you get this one?”
I grew cold and I could feel, muscle by muscle, the stiffness as it crept up my body. Each labored breath felt like I was being suffocated. Lauren’s hand stilled and anger clawed at my throat.
“I’m…I’m sorry, Logan. I shouldn’t’ve asked.”
No one had ever asked about my scar. The guys knew because I’d told them. They never asked. No one ever fucking asked. I wasn’t sure which was worse, her asking or her tracing all the ugly with her beautiful, clean touch.
“Up, Ren.”
I couldn’t take it. Not another second of her looking at me with wide, scared eyes. Not her head on my lap. Not her skin touching mine.
She never should’ve asked.
Lauren scrambled as quickly as she could, coming up on her knees on the other side of the bed.
Fight or flight.
I’d seen that reaction in my mother so many times I’d lost count. Seeing Lauren look at me in fear made my stomach revolt.
“What’s going on?”
Weak and small.
Fucking Christ.
I’d heard that, too. Every time my dad was getting ready to blow, my mom’s voice would wobble.
“Logan?”
I needed to get up and get the fuck away from her. Away from all the venom clogging my mind. But with the oxygen stuck in my lungs, I couldn’t move.
“Hey,” Lauren called and lifted her hand.
“Do not fucking touch me.”
“Explain to me what’s going on,” she demanded.
“I’m leaving.”
I rolled out of bed and had my pants pulled up when Lauren rounded the bed and grabbed my hand. With a flick of my wrist, I yanked my hand free and stepped back.
“Do not fucking touch me,” I raged.
Jesus fuck, I even sound like him.
“Okay, I won’t touch you. Now tell me what’s happening. I touched your—”
“Don’t fucking say it,” I growled.
Lauren’s back shot straight. Her eyes did the squinty thing they did when she was seriously pissed and she stared at me. No, not at me, through my tissue, bone, organs, straight to my soul.
“Talk. To. Me.”
I didn’t talk, I also didn’t move.
“How’d you get that scar?”
My teeth clenched so hard I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d chipped a tooth.
“Was it in the Navy?” she pushed. “An accident. A childhood—”
That was when I broke.
“My dad gave it to me.”
“Your dad?” She sucked in a breath. “Were you in a—”
“No, babe, it was no accident. The motherfucker stabbed me. That was after I stopped him from kicking the shit out of my mother. But before he could turn to one of my sisters.”
“What?”
“Oh, yeah, he just sunk that blade in, no hesitation. He wasn’t ready to let up. Came home early and pissed, wasn’t even in the door five minutes before he started in. I heard it, came downstairs, and he was dragging my mom into the kitchen by her hair shouting about why his dinner wasn’t ready. Not the first time he beat the fuck out of her, but it sure as fuck was the last.”
Lauren’s gaze was steady but her chest was heaving.
“Did you kill him?”
“If you’re worried you’re fucking a killer, hate to tell you this, but I figured you knew with my prior occupation and all, that I’ve killed—”
“Shut up!”
“No, Lauren, you should know who’ve you got in your bed.”
“I would’ve killed the bastard if he’d beaten my mother and stabbed me.”
I couldn’t stop it. Sweet little Lauren talking about killing a man—the absurdity of it had me rolling with laughter. And once it started it just kept coming.
“Are you done laughing at me?” she snapped.
“No.”
“No? You’re not—”
“No, I didn’t kill the asshole. But that’s only because I was lying on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood.”
The hollow, raw, darkness scratched its way to the surface. My mom’s shrill screams. The burning pain in my gut. The helplessness. The impotence of youth. The anger at a dead man. All of it tore through me, ripping me to shreds.
Still weak. Still helpless. Still in pain.
“It was beaten out of you,” she oddly whispered. “That’s why you don’t believe in love. That’s why you hold yourself apart. I get it now.”
“Do you?” I spat. “Do you understand that he’s part of me? That I have that in me, too.”
“Yeah, I can understand why you think you do. The man who was supposed to teach you how to love your wife, love your children, love your family, failed you. The betrayal is so deep, the depth of it is unfathomable. All he taught you was pain. All he showed you was hatred. And you gathered all those lessons and you hold on to them so tightly you can’t see what he actually left you with.”