“I think you two should go,” the guy says, darting his attention back and forth between us. “Haven’t seen you around the building before. If you don’t leave, I’m calling security.”
“We’re leaving,” Sully snaps at the guy. Then, to me, he hisses, “Stay away from her. Deal with your job and we’ll deal with ours.”
I shoot him the bird. “Okay, little brother. Whatever you say.”
He storms off, cursing under his breath. Sully knows better than anyone he can’t tell me what to do.
I do what I want.
I always do what I want.
And right now…I want her.
Landry Croft.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Landry
I screwed up.
Calling Ford and involving him more was a mistake. He’d seen right through my lies. Deduced that my father was the cause of my pain. Again.
But, in my desperate need for comfort and escape, I left Della alone with him. Bile creeps up my throat as I sneak back into our condo. It’s nearly silent, which means he’s no longer on his phone call. Sometimes his calls last for hours, but not this one.
Oh, God.
Rushing to Della’s room, I pray that she’s okay. That he hasn’t hurt her in any way. When I peek in, she’s watching cartoons. She can read some, having picked up on it earlier than most because of her knowledge of ASL, but mostly, she watches her shows when she wants to zone out.
I start to go inside, but Dad’s voice calls to me.
From my room.
Slowly, I turn and walk toward the sound. He’s sitting on my bed when I enter my room. His face doesn’t look any better, and probably won’t for weeks, but he’s showered and shaved what he could.
Shame makes his blue eyes shimmer with pain.
I don’t understand his hurt since he’s the one always inflicting it.
“Sweetheart,” he starts, frowning at me. “I’m…”
Sorry?
You’re always sorry, Dad. Always.
The sorriest dad on the planet.
I want to scream at him. To accuse him of being a disgusting monster, but I don’t. I can’t make the words leave the prison of my mouth. They’re trapped, just like me and Della are in this condo.
“You know I’m sorry,” he rushes out. “You know this isn’t me. That isn’t me.”
Elaborate on that, Dad. What exactly is that?
I may not be able to say the words, but I know my pain and hatred for him can’t be masked. Not right now when my nerves are so raw and I can still feel his mouth on my neck. No amount of kissing Sully could erase it.
“I know you’re disappointed in me.” He swallows hard, lowering his stare. “Let me make it right. You can have anything you want. Just name it.”
Freedom.
It’s on the tip of my tongue.
“I don’t want anything,” I grit out.
I’m not a transaction. He thinks he can erase his wrongdoings with gifts. That the bruises and cuts on my flesh will magically disappear during the exchange. That the emotional torment and abuse I’ve endured will fade with the appearance of a shiny new bracelet.
“Money? A trip? Spa day with your sister?”
He’s reaching now if he’s trying to use Della to get into my good graces.
He stands up, wincing only slightly at the pain in his ribs. Slowly, he prowls toward me. My entire body thrums with the urge to flee. Bravely, or stupidly, I keep my feet rooted and stare up at him with a rare flash of defiance.
“You have exactly thirty seconds to figure it out while I’m in a generous mood,” he bites out, nostrils flaring. “If you can’t come up with something, I’ll have to take Della shopping with me. Maybe I can get it out of her what you want.”
I gasp, like he’s punched me in the stomach, and gape at him. He’s not going anywhere alone with my sister. I don’t trust him not to irrevocably ruin her. At least I’m older and stronger. I can bounce back better than she can. She’s little and fragile and mine to protect.
An idea forms in my head so suddenly, and absolutely perfect, I almost cry in relief.
“A car,” I say, meeting his stare. “A really, really expensive car.”
His brow lifts, clearly amused at my show of bitchiness. I guess it’s better than being angry. “A car, huh?”
“A classic car. Something restored to original perfection,” I continue, letting the idea really transform in my mind. “I don’t know much about cars, but I know the sixties were a good era. I want it black, too.”
Old. Untraceable. An unassuming color. And fast.
In a vehicle like that, I wouldn’t need much of a plan. Just a head start. He wouldn’t be able to track me like he could a new Tesla or Range Rover. We could get out of his crosshairs. Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by excitement.
“Of course, sweetheart,” Dad says, dipping down to kiss my forehead. “Anything to make you happy.” He steps back, studying me with narrowed eyes. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to call Gareth back. I love you.”
I can’t say the words back. The smile I give him is wobbly and forced but he accepts it. As soon as he’s gone, I lock the door behind him and go into my closet to look for my phone. It’s still shoved under a heap of clothes where I’d left it.
Ford left a few texts, but I need to hear his voice again. To apologize for running out on him when he was only trying to help. He answers immediately. There are voices in the background—people talking and laughing—and it makes me wonder if he’s in our building lobby, though it usually isn’t so busy.
“Laundry.”
My heart does a twist inside my chest. I close my eyes, imagining his dark, maple syrup eyes and his scent that reminds me of spices and the salty sea.
“Hey, Chevy.”
“Everything okay?” He must go someplace a little quieter because the background noise is muted. Maybe he’s in his car now.
“I’m sorry for doing that to you,” I blurt out. “You were only trying to help. It felt good, but…”
“It felt good,” he parrots, his voice carrying a slight, angry edge.
“Great. It felt great,” I assure him so his precious ego won’t take a beating. “I wish I could have made you feel good too. Like that. It’s just…my life is a mess. You’ve come into my life at exactly the wrong time.”
“What every guy wants to hear,” he deadpans.
I smile, imagining him pout. “It was nice to have someone to turn to, though. Even when you’re being all crazy or confusing me, you bring me comfort and make me feel safe.”
“Are you friend-zoning me, Laundry?”
“Ha. Like you’d allow that.”
“You’re beginning to learn what sort of man you’re dealing with.”
Am I though? He’s still such a mystery.
He lets out a deep sigh. “I miss you, babe.”
“You literally just had your hand in my pants.”
“You know what I mean,” he growls, sounding pissed. “I didn’t get enough time with you.”
“I think you’re toxic for me,” I admit in a whisper. “See you Monday.”