BOOK TWO |

RELIEF

ONE YEAR LATER...

I stare at him through the glass.

His face looks worn. He looks tired. The bags under his eyes are beyond huge, and something inside me wants to feel sorry for this man. I want to feel sympathy.

But I don't. I can't. There is too much hatred inside me.

I wasn't sure why Mom convinced me to go, but she had practically begged this time. She knew he hadn't been a good man, but since she couldn't go because of the PTSD, she asked if I could.

For the past year, she's asked. And I had always come up with an excuse.

I was too tired to think of one this time.

"Aren't you going to say something?" he asks me, propping his elbows upon the table, leaning forward. The way his face looks, the way he is looking at me, brought back a moment in my life I never want to relive.

I envision his fist going for my face, and I stand quickly, holding my hands out in front of me. I try to calm my beating heart, but I can't get past all the blood, the broken bones, the screams. My screams.

My blood. My broken bones. That he inflicted on me. My own father.

"Lucy, sit down. Please. I'm glad you're here."

I sit. But I scoot my chair far away from the glass, crossing my arms. I pick up the phone.

"I'm not," I speak for the first time since arriving. I am surprised I actually could speak to him, considering last time I saw him he practically killed my voice box.

He looks down. When he lifts his head, I see the tears in his eyes.

"Why didn't you come before?" he asks, and I see a guard move behind him. As if he was coming to get him, end this conversation.

Please...

I scoff. "You know why. You know every reason why I haven't come. Mom made me come. I would not be here if it wasn't for her."

He sighs. "I never meant to hurt her."

I laugh. "No, just me."

He looked hurt.

Good.

"I'm sorry, Lu. You know I am."

I cringe, closing my eyes. "Don't call me that. My name is Lucy."

"Sorry," he immediately apologizes. "I'm sorry."

I thought back to all his apologies. He apologized to the policeman when they came knocking after a few screams could be heard from my bedroom. Someone called the police two times after that and he apologized to them both times.

And then when he finally got caught. When the lawyer came knocking, I had never heard more sorrys come from my father's mouth. But after every apology, he kept hitting me.

He isn't sorry. He was only sorry someone caught him. He wasn't sorry for his actions.

"I've been doing good," he comments when I don't say anything. "They're thinking about giving me an early release. It's only a few months less, but if I keep it up, I can maybe get out in a year."

I feel my heart stop. I forgot it has already been three years since he went to prison. It seems like only yesterday.

But the thought of him free, walking among us, trying to scoot his way back into our lives... I can't even wrap my head around it.

I scoot my chair as close as I possibly could and stare into his eyes. "If and when you get out, you stay away from us. Stay away."

His eyes lit with rage.

I scoff. "I knew it."

He looks confused. As if he doesn't know what he did. But he knows. He just didn't want to get caught.

I could almost see his lips reaching the alcohol bottle. I could see the whole scene in my head, him drinking it in one gulp, then coming near me, his fist tightened.

I stand again. I tip the chair I was sitting on backward, letting it fall to the ground. I ignore the sound it makes.

"I'm done here."

My jacket lay on the counter, and I grabb it. I shrug the thing over my shoulders and don't look back. I don't want to see his face ever again.

"You're back."

I nod. "Yes. It was a short visit."

Mom came up beside me as I took my jacket off, hanging it up in our closet. I turn to her and see her expectant looking expression.

"Well? How is he?"

I walk past her. "He's fine, I guess. Tired."

She sighs. "And... how are you?"

I sit down at our bar, leaning over the counter. "I'm fine mom," I answer, not really in the mood to answer her stupid questions. It has been almost a full year since Travis. I knew he had left, hearing from Fran, who gave me regular updates when I asked. I know she hates me, but I had only asked about him.

Jeanie still hasn't talked to me. I apologized through many calls, but I think she blocked me. I don't blame her.

"I meant... after Travis," Mom says, rubbing my arms. "I don't know the whole story, but I do know it hurt you. And I'm sorry."

I shrug off her arm. "You shouldn't be. It's my fault I was hurt. Not anyone else's. I'm going to hang in my room, Mom. Call me when dinner is ready."

My room. My sanctuary. It has been my home since I moved back in with Mom. After Travis, I quit my job, tried to move on from everything that had been acquainted with him. Lucky for me, my Mom never knew, so this was okay, being here with her.

I still hadn't told her what happened. As far as she knew, I was happy, in a relationship with him, moving on from my traumatic childhood.

And it was true. I was happy. For a time. Even though I knew what we had wasn't going to last, I held onto it with every fiber of my being.

I still love him. I have never really been good with letting go, and I know this isn't going to be any different. I had been pinning over this man since high school. I never thought I'd see him again after his wedding, but...

It was wrong, what happened. I knew when Jeanie's dad approached me about this, I jumped at the chance. I didn't even take the money he offered, I just wanted Travis. Like a stupid idiot, I wanted him. I laughed at the fact that he was leaving Jeanie.

I never knew. I never knew why he wanted me to hypnotize Travis. I didn't ask questions, afraid the chance would be taken from me. But once I found out...

Let's just say I didn't leave my house for a week, I was so ashamed.

I finally understood why Jeanie swore off love. It was easier. There was no chance of heartbreak if you never gave your heart to someone.

I stole something from Travis. His freedom. But I loved it. I loved it so much. I was so angry when Jeanie wanted him back, but I knew she loved him. Heck, we were best friends when I was 'dating' Travis. I saw how much she grew to love him. I couldn't hate her because she did the same thing I did.

We both fell in love with him.

There's a knock on my door, bringing me out of my thoughts. "Honey? Dinner's ready."

I frown. That was fast.

I hop off my bed, opening the door. I see Chinese takeout on the table and smile. My favorite.

"Thanks, Mom," I say, taking a seat at the table. I open my container and pour the rice onto my plate, then move onto my meat and veggies.

"You're welcome." She takes her seat as well.

We eat in silence for a few moments.

"Are you excited for your first day at work? Tomorrow? You have everything ready?"

I nod. "Yeah. I am. I'm sure you're excited to have me out of your hair. I promise once I start working more, I can move out. I'll get an apartment soon, don't worry." I take another bite of my chicken.

Mom puts down her fork. "Is that what you think of me? Lucy, I love that you're home. I missed it. I don't ever wish to kick you out. You know that, right?"

I see her expression, seeing the hurt I inflicted. "Yeah. I know. Sorry. I don't know why I said that. I'm just not used to being here with you again." I glance around the house, resting on the living room. I could still see the blood staining the carpet in multiple places. We did our best to get the stains out.

"I know you don't like this house very much anymore, and I can see that you want to leave. But just know I'm glad you're here."

I smile at her and give her hand a squeeze. She gives a squeeze back.

That was our thing when I was younger. When I was scared or unsure, she gave my hand a squeeze, letting me know she loved me. It was especially helpful when my dad was drunk and we were hiding, trying to be quiet.

"Where is your work again?"

"Downtown. Remember? It's only about fifteen minutes to get there?"

"What are you doing again?"

"Secretary, Mom. For the technology company. I start training tomorrow, although they told me I was overqualified for this job."

She sets down her fork. "You still want it?"

I nod. "I didn't really feel like job searching a whole lot. Besides, I like working as a secretary. I'm organized, and I guess I deal with people pretty well. It's kind of like my other job anyway."

"Honey, you were part CEO. This is a big step backward."

I search her face. So many times I wondered how I deserved her. When my Mom died when I was a baby, I grew up without any female guidance in my life. But when I started my teen years, she came into the picture. She helped me. Helped my Dad. Tried to give him a new life. But there were still so many moments where he lashed out at her. Even though she tried so hard to help fix him.

I told her it wasn't worth it. He was too broken.

She fought against it. She fought against my words and still tried. Somehow I don't know how I could ever be as strong as she is.

I needed her in my life. I was so happy to get a Mom, I knew she could never be a stepmom to me because I never had an original I knew. She was my first Mom as far as I knew.

She pushes me. A lot. To strive for better.

If only she knew what I had been up to for the past two years. She would hate me.

Which is why I can never tell her. She's already been through so much with Dad, I can't tell her what I did.

All she knows is that I was dating Travis and it ended badly.

She was the push I needed when I was a teen. A young, stupid, teenager, who was so in love with Travis Stone. She liked him. I loved him. She encouraged a healthy relationship with him and was as devastated as I was when it didn't work out.

When I told her about Travis and Jeanie's divorce and about us dating, she was ecstatic. She loved Jeanie but really hadn't known her at all because she had already left for boarding school when Mom came into the picture.

It was still nice. Her encouragement.

But what she didn't know was that she was pushing a lie. A big one.

"I'm excited, still. I know you want better for me, but somehow I think this is all the better I'm going to get." I take another bite of my chicken, chewing for a while before swallowing.

Mom takes hold of my hand. "There's always something better." She smiles at me. I returned it, but I knew what she meant. She was talking about Travis.

"I don't think so," is all I reply.

"I know you don't like to talk about it, but how did it end? What happened, baby?"

I meet her eyes. I shrug. "Just didn't work out. We're too different, I guess."

"He ended it."

I nod. "Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

I shake my head. "No. I'm not. But it's my own fault. I can't tell you why, it's too personal, but I'm the reason we're ended. That's all."

Mom nods and stays quiet.

I chew my food silently.

The front door opens and in walks Joe. He takes a seat at the table and begins to eat my food. I swat his hand away.

"Go away!"

He laughs. "I'm hungry."

Mom smiles. "Hi Joe. Whatcha doing? What's going on?"

The 12-year-old Joe sighs. "Mom's yelling again. I decided to take a walk."

I stand. "Do you want me to help? I can help her with the kids while Mom talks to her."

He shakes his head. "She calms down after a little bit. I just try to stay out of her hair until then so I don't get set on fire. Can I have some of this?" He points to my food.

I smile sadly, nodding. I glance at mom and we share a look.

Joe's family is a lot like ours. Except it's his mom who screams and hits them. I notice it has gotten worse ever since I've moved back here. It wasn't this bad before. We've had to go over and calm down the mom before a few times, but lately we've stayed away.

He's got two younger sisters. I always feel so bad for them.

Joe eats my food.

Mom stands and goes into the fridge and pulls out the leftovers from yesterday. She nods at me, and I tell Joe to get up. He takes the food and follows us out the door, still downing his food.

They never get to eat. Or at least, if they do, not enough of it.

It's only seven-thirty and it's like Joe hasn't eaten all day.

We head across the street to the house with the door wide open. You could still hear screaming coming from the kitchen, where I see the two girls hiding under their chairs while their mom tears around the kitchen, throwing things everywhere.

I imagine my dad walking around the kitchen, searching for me, finding my leg sticking out, and pulling on it-

"Lucy, can you grab the door?" Mom asks as she walks into the house. I nod, grabbing the door and pulling it shut while Joe stays out on the porch, eating his food.

We walk into the kitchen, and their mom stops. She glances at us.

"Hi, Barbie," Mom greets. "Can we come in?"

She glances at us, nodding. "Hello, Mary. Lucy. What can I do for you?"

I notice the food spread all over the table. I cringe as I look at the mess all over the floor. Then I see the girls, Fiona and Sophie, under the chairs. I smile at them and they move quickly and hugs my legs tight. I look up to Barbie.

"We brought food. How about you go take a shower real quick, we'll watch the kids and get everything cleaned up?" I suggest.

You can physically see the weight come off her shoulders. She nods, and leaves the room, barely giving a reaction. I go straight to the sink, tossing mom a bunch of rags. She catches them and begins to clean the floor and table. I get the girls cleaned up, getting all the mashed potatoes out of their hair. I take them to their room and get some new clothes on. I also straighten up their room a little, trying not to leave it looking like a pigsty.

When I come back into the kitchen, everything is basically cleaned. Mom is finishing the table while I heat up the leftover spaghetti and meatballs, getting out the bowls.

Everything is set out and cleaned when Barbie comes out of the showers, some fresh clothes on with her wet hair dripping onto her shirt. I hand her a towel and she dries it up.

"The girls are all ready," I say as Joe comes inside and hands me an empty bowl. I take it, shoving it under my arm. "And the food's warm."

Barbie smiles, and I see the tears in her eyes. "I don't deserve you, ladies. Thank you so much. I'm sorry for the yelling."

Mom smiles. "It's not us you should be apologizing to."

She nods and turns to her kids. But we leave before we can hear her talking to them. I shut the front door and follow mom back across the street.

We go back to the table and share the rest of her Chinese food.