Almost Innocent (18 page)

“Not for him,” Gabby responded before I could, shyly glancing at me before angling her body toward the adult-filled end of the table. “Declan is brilliant. The smartest person I know.”

Dustin tensed, the hand next to his plate balling into a fist. Gabby didn’t stop though. Instead, she spent a few minutes relaying all of my academic achievements.

“There isn’t a single Ivy League school that would deny his application,” she finished, grinning at me.

“We’re very proud of him,” my father interjected.

“We all are. I’m positive there isn’t anything he can’t do,” Gabby added in a rush. “We expect big things from him.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” Bree spoke up, dragging the attention her way.

“How so?” Gabby demanded.

“There are more important things than what college you go to.” Bree made a disgusted sound, dropping her fork onto her plate and covering my hand with hers. “Declan may find something he loves more than learning.”

Gabby snorted, a loud, obnoxious sound that seemed completely out of place from the image she’d been trying to present. “And what would that be? You?”

“Love,” Bree snapped back.

Gabby’s eyebrows shot up as she ignored my father clearing his throat. “You’re saying that he could figure out that he loves love more than he loves learning?”

“No.” Bree shook her head. “I’m saying that Declan might not want to go away to school because what he has here is more important.”

“That’s insane!” Gabby argued.

“Is it?” Bree asked. “Or is it just too difficult for someone like you to understand?”

“Oh, just spit it out!” Gabby snapped, slapping her hand on the table. “We all know what you’re implying.”

“I’m not implying anything. I’m stating fact. You’re simply not listening to what I’m saying,” Bree argued.

“Oh, I heard you. I don’t think you realize how delusional you sound. No one would want someone they cared about to give up a future for them.”

“That just it! He wouldn’t be giving anything up. He would be part of a team, working on a new future.”

“Girls,” my mother spoke over them, trying to snag their attention, but neither listened.

“How is that love? Smothering them and forcing them to change their dreams for you isn’t love.” Gabby’s eyes sparked in anger. “And that sure as shit isn’t Dec finding something he loves more than learning. It’s him having a controlling girlfriend. Haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘If you love someone, set them free’?”

“How cute,” Bree cooed. “Gabby Forte wants to give me dating advice. The girl who can’t even figure out how to keep her own man faithful. You set him free—he didn’t come back.” She laughed humorlessly, and the smile that curved her lips was not kind. “Jealous ‘cause Dustin doesn’t want you anymore, huh? Get over it. Just because you were never more important than his dreams doesn’t mean I’m not.”

My father and mother were talking, and Fi was yelling something over them, but I didn’t hear a word they said.

Bree shoved her chair away from the table. “No one would give up anything for you,” she sneered before stomping away.

Fi was talking wildly, probably trying to convince Ezra’s family that this was not a normal family dinner. Part of me would feel bad later. I knew I needed to get up and check on Bree, and I would, once I knew Gabby was okay.

Dustin’s jaw was ticking and he sat rod-straight, every muscle on alert, glaring at his girlfriend. We all knew he hated to be embarrassed, and he probably felt as though Gabby had humiliated us all. I didn’t. It was my date who had made this mess.

Gabby, on the other hand, had slumped her shoulders, sinking under the weight of Dusty’s anger, and there was a touch of red on her cheeks. Her fingers tapped against the bottom of her water-filled wine glass, as if she was trying to distract herself. I knew that she was mortified and didn’t want to look up.

“Gabs?” I tried to keep my tone soft but hoped she could hear me above the rest of the chaos erupting around us.

Dusty leaned forward, eyes narrowed at me. “Worry about your own fuckin’ girlfriend.”

“Fuck off.” I matched his threatening tone, ignoring the hatred sparking in his eyes. “Gabby, look at me.” Warm eyes sought mine across the table. “Are you okay?”

“She’s right.” Gabby swallowed roughly, tears filling her eyes. “Bree’s right, Dec.”

What? My mind went in a thousand different directions, trying to figure out what in the hell she was talking about. I didn’t care where we were or who heard it, as long as Gabby did. “No, she’s not.”

Dustin stood, dragging her roughly to her feet before I could ask what Gabby felt Bree was right about. I shot up, hands fisting at my side. When Dusty’s hand wrapped around her upper arm, making her flinch, I thought about lunging over the table to get to them. I’d break his fucking hand in front of everyone.

Gabby shook her head at me frantically, as if she knew what I wanted to do. My brother moved, pulling her backward, putting more distance between her and me. No way in hell was I letting that asshole leave with her. I jerked to the side, intending to cut them off by the door.

Until my father stepped in front of me. “Kitchen. Now.”

My teeth ground—from frustration or anger, I wasn’t sure. “Not without Gabby.”

Dad leaned in close so only I could hear. “What’s he going to do to her here? In front of everyone? I’ll take care of him next.”

My father shoved me into the kitchen and reamed me a new asshole, spewing shit about how I owed my sister and Ezra apologies. I felt like a shit-bag for helping ruin Fi’s night, but I vowed to make it up to her before the wedding.

I hurried back into the dining room and found Fi sobbing in the corner. Not seeing Ezra or his family, I assumed they’d left, and guilt hit me hard.

Until she saw Dad and me coming and shook her head. “He took her, Daddy!” Fi swiped at her cheeks. “He’s really angry. You need to find them.”

I’d seen my father angry, I’d seen him happy, and everything in between to the extreme. The look of panic and dread that crossed his face was not one I could recall seeing before. My dad didn’t usually worry because he was the one everyone feared. But right then, he was scared. I shrank backward when he turned murderous eyes on me.

“I’ll find her.” It felt as if he was speaking to just me, promising me, before he slammed out the door.

My father always kept his word. This time, I didn’t believe him.

I
stood in the dark
, staring out the window into my front yard, long after Zahira had tired and wandered off. I couldn’t move. Fear had paralyzed me. So I stood there, sliding the mother pendant I wore around my neck back and forth on its chain.

There was a time, not so long ago, when I would have been a shaking bundle of nerves after a scare like this.

Now, I stood here, strategizing.

I didn’t have many weapons in the house, but I was prepared. Declan had gotten me a gun after the police seized his. I kept it carefully hidden, taped to the underside of the drawer in my nightstand. I’d never had to pull it out, and I hoped I never would.

It was the other things, hiding in plain sight, that I wouldn’t hesitate to use. To a normal person, they were just things I had left lying around. To me, they were my lifeline. And right then, doing a mental walkthrough was all that was keeping me sane.

Hanging on the wall next to the back door was an old-fashioned baseball holder that had been my father’s. It had a cute saying on it, and a place for a ball and bat. Everyone complimented me on it. However, it wasn’t there for decoration. It held an antique wooden bat that when used to strike someone would cause serious damage.

On the other side of the kitchen, in the small space between the door and the counter, sat a fire extinguisher. Sure, it was there in case we needed it, but it had been left there with intruders in mind. Easy to grab, it could be used to hit someone or, better yet, spray in their eyes. Or spray in the face then hit them. Either way, it would give Grady and me a few extra minutes.

In the living room was the iron fire poker. We didn’t have wood fires that often, but intruders wouldn’t know that. That thing was the trifecta: long, heavy, and sharp. It could do some real damage.

I also kept the propane-powered torch on the mantel. How else was this city girl supposed to start fires? Of course, the real purpose was something much more gruesome. Everyone was afraid of fire, and that thing would light anything up.

In the bathroom was a spray bottle of bleach on the sink. Grady thought I used it simply to clean, yet I made sure it was full all the time. There was also a container of ammonia under the sink. If I had to, I could drop the two of them into the mop bucket faster than you could say toxic chemicals.

Next to the front door was a little table where I dropped my keys into a bowl. The only other thing ever left on the table was a can of wasp spray. It had a spray range of ten to twenty feet and could be fatal if ingested. I’d aim for the eyes because it’s hard to run after your victim when you’re blind.

On the front porch, between the wicker chairs, sat a basket full of gardening tools. They weren’t the ones that I used in the backyard. No, these were the ones that looked as though they’d been carelessly forgotten and would be overlooked. The cultivator could cause some damage, as could the pruners.

I sighed, thinking about how crazy I sounded. Maybe not crazy, but definitely paranoid. But I’d lived through hell once, and I’d put up one hell of a fight against anyone who tried to drag me back.

There was a time I hadn’t known how to fight back.

The wooden chair flew across the room and into the wall, making my head snap up. Dustin gave no further warning as he barreled across the room, grabbed me by the neck, and shoved me into the wall. My hands flew to his, trying to claw my way to freedom, as my feet scrambled to touch the floor and give myself some leverage.

“What did you just say?” He leaned in close, spitting the words in my face.

I shook my head, not understanding. What had I just said? I couldn’t remember. The edges of my vision got cloudy as he squeezed tighter.

Then he dropped me.

I couldn’t even catch myself. Instead of landing on my feet, I fell into a pile on the floor. I could smell the dinner I’d been cooking, now boiling over, and the idea of a ruined meal made me sad. I’d spent hours preparing one of his favorite dishes.

One more thing he’d be angry about.

Dustin reached down, screaming something I didn’t hear, and yanked me to my feet so hard my shoulder burned. He grabbed my hair hard enough to bring tears to my eyes, pulling my head back so I had to look at him. I blinked, trying to focus.

His eyes were narrowed at me, hate clear. Just this morning, those beautiful browns had been full of laughter and warmth. What had happened in a few short hours? What had I done?

His mouth was moving, spewing angry insults that I didn’t try to follow. I’d stopped months ago, not long after I moved in. It was the same every time, so why listen?

I hadn’t wanted to stay in Watertown. I’d wanted to follow Declan to Boston, to get away. But I’d believed Dustin when he told me he couldn’t live without me, and he wouldn’t let me live without him.

The day I got my acceptance to Boston University, he held a gun to my head, telling me that if I planned to leave, he’d pull the trigger then kill himself, because he loved me that much. I swore to him I would never leave him, and things had been good for a while. Then in a blink of an eye, it all went to shit.

This was my norm now.

He punched me then. The sharp stabbing pain stole all my breath, and I would have bent over if he hadn’t held me upright.

“Why do you make me hurt you?”

It was a question he asked me often, one I didn’t have an answer to. He didn’t give me time to answer this time, and rained down hit after hit. Never on the face, because then someone would see it. Everywhere else was fair game though. Because the bastard knew I’d cover up my shame.

I’d left a knife on the counter. A large chef’s knife that I had been using to chop veggies. My eyes zeroed in on it as Dustin showered me with angry words and painful blows. It would be so easy to wrap my fingers around the handle and bury the blade in him.

They’d take me to jail, if he didn’t kill me, and this nightmare would be over.

I could almost see myself doing it, the play-by-play running through my mind. Before I could act out my demented fantasy, Dustin followed my eyes. He grabbed the knife and held it between us.

“What are you planning on doing with this?” he said, almost laughing as he twisted it and turned it, watching the glint of the light on the blade as if it had hypnotized him.

He dropped it back on the counter just as quickly as he had snatched it and reached behind him, yanking out a gun. I flinched, expecting the worst. Instead, he shoved it into my hands.

“You wanna hurt me?” he asked in a tone I’d never heard. “Go on, do it!” He lifted my shaking hands, pushing the barrel into his chest. “Pull the fucking trigger, Gabby. Do us both a goddamned favor!”

I shook my head, trying to pull my hands away, but he held them tight. I could never hurt him. As much as he hurt me, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t fight back—I didn’t have it in me.

“You’re so fucking weak,” he hissed as he dropped my hands. “You disgust me.” He turned away and glanced over his shoulder. “Get cleaned up and finish dinner.”

I shook my head, saddened by the girl I used to be. If you had asked her, Dustin could have been saved. He was worth saving. That was before though. Before the drugs, before he double-crossed his family, before he let Mark in.

That time was gone. I had spent hours at self-defense classes, studied one-on-one with trainers, learned how to hold and fire a gun properly, and I wasn’t going down without a fight. I wouldn’t let anyone get to Grady as long as I was alive. If Mark came here, this time, I would fight back.

Mentally walking through my hidden safety nets one more time, I nodded. Satisfied that I was prepared in case trouble came knocking, I went in search of my cell phone. Finally finding it hidden in the bottom of my purse, I wandered into the living room, plugged it in, and dialed Fi.

When the call went straight to voicemail, I hung up and dialed again. The second time, I tried to push down my disappointment and left a message. Fear threatened to creep into my mind; a million different scenarios, none of them good, started to play out. I resisted the urge to run out to my car and drive straight to Fiona’s.

Convincing myself that the reason she wasn’t answering was probably something very simple, I forced myself to stay put. This was Grady’s last night with his aunt. I couldn’t ruin it. Instead, I sat in the silence in the dark, waiting.