Saving a Legend: A Kavanagh Legends Novel (33 page)

In the split second it took for Fiona to understand what she was seeing, Shea started screaming at the top of her lungs. She wasn’t forming words, but she was rocking back and forth on the floor and wailing.

“Get off her!” Fiona yelled, rushing at her stepfather. She grabbed his arm and pulled, actually causing him to stumble off the bed for a moment before he regained his footing and turned on her. The stench of booze clung to her nostrils, and she tried not to gag at its strength.

“What the fuck is your problem? You’re a fucking whore just like your goddamn mother! Thinking she can leave me? She wishes! She’s lucky to have me, you’re all damn lucky, but you’re so fucking ungrateful! I’ll teach you how to appreciate a good man in your life.” He came at her fast, his fist meeting her jaw with such force that everything went black for a few seconds as she fell to the ground. Her vision quickly returned, and a flash of light above her snagged her attention. He was holding a knife in his hand, and his attention was on Shea.

“Will you shut the fuck up, you little shit?” he screamed as he rushed toward the little girl.

Fiona immediately pushed up off the floor, trying to shake the dizziness from her head as she rushed at him once again. “Leave her alone! Shea, run!”

Her sister’s continued screams grew more frantic, but she wasn’t running away. Shea was frozen to the spot. Jumping onto her stepfather’s back, Fiona wrapped her arms around his head, covering his face and clutching his sides with her knees, trying her best to be heavy enough to pull him backward and away from Shea.

He screamed and tossed her off like a rag doll, but the maneuver had worked. He’d forgotten all about Shea and was coming back for her instead. He jabbed at her with his knife, but his drunken reflexes were slow, and she jumped out of his path in time. His failure only increased his rage, causing him to fly at her, slashing in every direction.

“Stop!” A hoarse voice coughed from next to her as her mother intervened, shoving herself between them. With a haphazard lunge forward, her mother knocked the knife out of her stepfather’s hands, and it clattered to the floor loudly.

“You fucking bitch!” His hands were instantly around her mother’s throat, slamming her head backward into the wall. Her mother’s fingers scratched at him, but he never let go. Everything was happening all at once, yet achingly slowly. With each slam backward, her mother’s struggles were less and less.

Fiona saw her chance. Shea was still by the door but out of their way. His back was turned to her, the knife forgotten on the floor at their feet; she moved quickly to retrieve it before he noticed.

“Let her go! Now!” Fiona threatened, brandishing the knife as if she actually knew what she was doing with it. In truth, it felt absolutely foreign in her hand, and she was terrified he’d recognize her cowardice.

His fingers tightened around her mother’s throat instead, and the older woman let out a garbled gasp. Her wild eyes stared at Fiona, pleading. Fiona stilled the knife in her hand. “I said, Let her go!”

“Or what?” He sneered. “You’re gonna cut me?”

She ground her teeth together angrily. “If I have to. I’m not afraid of you. Let. Her. Go.”

Shea suddenly let out a loud scream, causing Fiona to startle and turn toward her. Taking the opportunity the distraction provided, her stepfather slammed her mother’s head back one final time into the wall. A cracking sound that consisted entirely of bone—and not of plaster—filled the room.

Not finished, his fist pulled back, aimed directly at her mother’s face. Fiona screamed and rushed at him, bringing the knife down fast and hard, having one last moment of eye contact with her mother before her pupils slipped upward and her head lulled to the side.

She hadn’t been aiming, but the blade plunged directly into his neck.

He sputtered and staggered backward, his hand on the flowing wound, from which the knife still protruded. His eyes flared with anger as he looked at her, but no words came out. He changed directions and began stepping toward her, trying to pull the knife out of his neck.

Fiona screamed and ran, grabbing Shea and scooping her into her arms. Not breaking stride, she ran to the front of the house and fumbled to open the front door. The girls landed in a pile of limbs on the front lawn, both screaming as neighbors poured out of their homes to see what was happening.

She clutched her arms tight around Shea and draped her body over hers, refusing to move. If he was right behind them, he’d have to take her first. Shea wasn’t going anywhere. She had to be safe. She had to.

But he wasn’t behind them. No one was.

Fiona didn’t move, not until the red and blue lights surrounded them and a kindly young officer told her she was safe now. Fiona had loved Shea utterly since she’d been born, and she would give her life to protect her if she had to.

—

Sobs wracked through her violently as she stared into the mirror in front of her. She’d escaped to the nearest bathroom in an attempt to calm herself down in private after running out of the locker room. Her hands clutched the sink’s edge as her shoulders were around her ears, doing their best to keep her from crumbling to the ground entirely.

She’d spent so much of the last three years trying to forget all about it, as if she could erase it from the past if she erased it from her memory. If she’d just been there a few minutes earlier…if she’d just been there on time…if she hadn’t been so selfish.

So many ifs.

What had happened that night was so horrible, she didn’t plan to revisit it again for anyone. Not even for Kieran. Maybe especially not for Kieran. She’d spent over a year in therapy trying to deal with what she’d done, but it was still painful to think about. Even more, it hurt to think about how Shea was still affected by it. Fiona had made sure Shea did all the therapies and treatments suggested by the social worker at the time, and it had been a lot. For at least two years, Shea had seen regular counselors and had been visited by a social worker until the state stopped providing free services.

Fiona had tried to bury it along with the pieces of herself she hated the most. Never again would she pick anything before Shea. She was going to be the best guardian possible and love Shea with everything she had. She’d be there every time the little girl woke up afraid, remembering. She was going to do her best to make her sister feel as loved and cared for as she had been when their mother was still alive. At least she was going to try.

“Fiona?”

Fiona turned her tear-streaked face to find Clare poking her head around the corner. Turning back to the sink and splashing water over her face, Fiona didn’t say anything. Her breaths came harsh and ragged as she tried to calm down.

“Nora’s been scouring the whole place looking for you,” Clare told her, gently rubbing her back in a comforting gesture.

“I know.” Fiona sniffed, patting the rest of her face dry with a paper towel Clare offered her.

She’d ditched her on purpose, not wanting to talk to anyone. Nora had begged her to tell Kieran about her past, and she hadn’t. She didn’t want to see the disappointment on her best friend’s face.

She couldn’t lose her, too.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Clare asked, hoisting herself up onto the counter.

Fiona sighed. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Clare was quiet for a moment, fidgeting with her nails before looking back over at her. “I’ve done things in my past, too, Fiona. I can’t even call what I’ve done self-defense or protecting my little sister. I was involved with a really bad guy before I moved here and met Rory.”

Fiona’s brows lifted. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah.” Clare nodded. “I did the same thing you did, tried to run. This family, though—they don’t let you just bail because things get tough. They’re there for you, no matter what.”

“This is different, Clare. They’re wonderful people, there’s no argument there—but people can only tolerate so much.” Fiona shook her head adamantly. “Knowing what I’ve done, that’s too much for most people to take.”

“I don’t think so. My past was always coming back to haunt me, and they never cast me out for it. My ex even tried to come get me once, tried to take me with him, but Rory saved me. His whole family saved me. Not once did they judge me for my past or my mistakes, and they’ve only wholeheartedly loved me since, just like they love you now.”

Fiona thought about what she’d heard, reminded now of the way both parents hadn’t seemed surprised by Jimmy’s admission. “Did they know?”

“Yeah, Seamus knows everything. Don’t bother ever trying to hide something from this family—they will find out.” Clare chuckled, but Fiona just blinked in surprise.

She’d never thought about telling the family what she’d done, and if she had, she certainly had never expected them to take it so well. “What did Kieran say?” Fiona finally asked, after another moment of silence.

Clare shrugged. “He defended you. Even after he found out, he never stopped defending you. Says you had a good reason to do what you did.”

“I did,” Fiona said quickly, because that really was the truth. It felt good to talk about it again finally, to be honest. It felt even better knowing he’d never doubted her. She’d hidden her past, just like he’d hidden his, and yet she’d punished him for his. She bit the inside of her cheek as she realized yet again how much she didn’t deserve him.

“Have you thought about seeing a therapist? I sometimes see a really good woman Dee introduced me to, and she’s free. It still really helps me to talk things over with someone sometimes,” Clare offered.

“I did for a while, but with so much going on, I just stopped going. I was focused more on making sure Shea went to hers. She needed so much help back then, and she’s adjusted pretty well since, but it took over a year of working with the therapist to make even the slightest bit of progress with her, and then another year to get to where we are now. I should go back, though, I think I need it,” Fiona replied.

“I think that’s a great idea. That kind of trauma…” Clare started. “It’s overwhelming if it’s not dealt with.”

Fiona shook her head. “I’m not sorry for what I did.”

“I wouldn’t be, either. Sounds like you didn’t have a choice,” Clare agreed. “I know you did a lot of counseling back then, and I’m sure that helped, but it’s okay if it’s still painful. I still think about things I’ve been through, and sometimes I just need to be sad.”

Fiona studied Clare’s face—the truth in her words, and the concern in her eyes. “You’re right, but the truth is that ever since I met Kieran, those times come less and less.”

Clare smiled. “I felt the same way when I met Rory. Love does funny things to us.”

A knock sounded on the bathroom door, and both women turned toward it.

“That’s him now. He asked me to come in first; you know how men are when they see a ladies’ room sign.” Clare hopped off the counter and walked to the door. “Come talk to him, Fiona.”

Fiona followed her slowly. When she stepped out of the bathroom, she found Kieran with his back to the wall, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. He looked like he was doubled over in pain, but the moment he saw her, relief washed over his face.

“Thanks, Clare.” He exhaled, then stood straight.

“No problem, I’m going back to the locker room. We’re heading to O’Leary’s after this, if you guys want to join to celebrate.”

Fiona remembered that poor Clare had just gotten engaged tonight, and then had to deal with someone else’s drama. Kane was also celebrating, and she’d pretty much dampened everyone’s night. Clare gave her a hug and Fiona squeezed tight, hoping in some way Clare could tell she was sorry for stealing her spotlight.

“Don’t worry about it, hon.” Clare seemed to get it and just gave her a happy smile. Apparently, nothing could bring her down from her high. As Clare left, Fiona and Kieran were on opposite sides of the hall, staring at each other.

“Thanks, um, for defending me. You didn’t have to do that,” Fiona finally admitted, staring down at her feet as her fingers fidgeted together.

“Tell me what happened, Fi.”

She looked up to see his face stern and serious. Gulping heavily, she squared her shoulders. She knew he deserved the truth, and she didn’t blame him for demanding it now. It was just painful to think about, painful to relive.

“You know I have custody of Shea because our mother is dead,” she started, trying to find the courage to finish this conversation.

Kieran nodded.

“Well, she’d always been a loving mom, but maybe not the best when it came to her judgment about men. I knew taking care of Shea was on me. She was always my number-one priority, and our mom wanted it that way. Everything I did was to protect my sister, Kieran.”

“What happened that night, Fiona?” he asked again, taking a few steps toward her.

Clasping her hands together, she exhaled slowly and told him everything. She recounted every fear, every graphic image—everything. For the first time in her life, she bared every part of herself to someone else. When she was done, a loud, lone sob ripped through her, and she buried her face in his shirt.

“Fi, shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you, flower girl. No one’s ever going to hurt you or Shea again. If I’d only known you then, I would’ve taken care of you.” Kieran tried to calm her, kissing her forehead, then both cheeks, and the tip of her nose as he cupped her face in his hand.

“There would have been nothing you could have done—it all happened so fast. There was so much blood, Kieran. I didn’t even know I’d killed him until the cops arrived.” She sniffed, not holding back as the tears slid down her cheeks in torrents. “How can you stand to look at me knowing what I’ve done?”

“Fi, you saved your sister’s life as well as your own, and you tried to save your mom. Only a strong woman could do what you had to do, and that’s what I see in you. You’re the strongest woman I know, and I just want to be man enough to deserve you.”