Never look back, p.7
Never Look Back, page 7
There was no question my actions were reckless.
Being here was in direct defiance of the promise I had made. A promise that had nearly killed me, but one I had no other choice but to make.
Barely keeping it together, I looked at the screen.
Seventeen missed calls.
Air wheezed from my lungs, and I did my best to steel myself, to find that internal fortitude, tapping into where my spirit shouted for freedom.
It was a conversation that couldn’t be avoided.
One that everything relied upon.
His blessing or his curse.
I guessed that had been the entire story of my life.
Resolved, I turned it off silent. Immediately, it began ringing again, as if it’d never stopped.
I accepted the call.
“Hi, Papa,” I whispered as I put the phone to my ear, knowing I’d likely incited a shitstorm with my text earlier this morning.
“Aster…where are you?” Fear burned through his hardened voice. “I’ve tried to call you a hundred times.”
“I’m safe.”
Silence pulsed for a short beat before I heard him swallow. “Tell me what is going on? I tried to call Jarek this morning to no avail, and now my daughter is missing.”
“I’m not missing, Papa. I am right here.”
“And where exactly is that?” His voice deepened with the question.
I paced, my heels snagging on the high pile of the thick carpet. My head dipped low as if my father could feel the weight of my plea. My heart clanged in fits of desperation when I let go of the words. “Papa, I need you to listen to me.”
More silence.
This time baited. Harsher than it’d been.
“Who do I need to kill?” he finally offered.
I would have laughed if it hadn’t been a horrible, terrible reality.
A reality that had destroyed the last seven years.
Could it be changed? Could it? I prayed and prayed that my father could be swayed.
“No one, Papa. No one, please.” I hated it. Hated this ruthless world. Hated that I still loved my father despite his barbarous ways.
“I need you to spare someone.” That, I begged, my pulse chugging as I croaked the anguished request. A request that would likely send him over the edge.
“Who?”
Gulping, I forced it out. “Logan Lawson.”
I heard his teeth snap.
The old disgust.
The violence that coated his carefully constructed response. “You promised, Aster Rose. You gave me the Oath of Life.”
“I know, Papa, I know, but I…”
Tears sprang free, and a sob ripped up my throat before I could contain it.
“Tell me where you are, and I will come for you.” Panic whipped from him.
“I’m safe, I’m safe. But I need you to do something for me. Allow one request.”
“And what is it I’m allowing you? For Logan Lawson to live when you went against the one thing required of you?” Rage thinned his words.
One thing.
My life.
Every last piece of me.
My pulse wavered and shook. “Yes. Yes, Papa. And I need you to allow me to stay here. Just for a little while.”
Until I figured out how to prove to my father that Jarek wasn’t loyal. That he was no good. That he would hurt the family in the end.
And if I could prove it?
Maybe…just maybe my father would see me as my own person. See me as someone who could stand for herself. See I didn’t need him to pick a husband for me.
I was his daughter. Not his possession.
“You know I cannot do that, mia vita. This is where you belong, and the last place I would allow you to stay is with that boy.”
That boy.
“I have never belonged with Jarek.” The blasphemy was out on a whoosh of air that I should have dammed. But I couldn’t stop it, the flashflood of hatred and hurt.
“He is your husband.” My father sounded offended in his defense.
“And why is that?” Hurt shot through the words. I gasped in a shocked breath.
How could I say it? Release it? Not when it meant breaking the promise I’d made that day.
When I’d given Logan a chance at life at the cost of my own.
Tears kept falling, racing in a torrent of grief. I looked to the ceiling and tried to suppress the sorrow that surged from the secret places. To hold it back.
I had to be strong. I had to convince him there was a reason I was doing this.
But I had to be smart about it. “I need a break, Papa.”
A permanent one, but I couldn’t tell him that.
“I need to breathe. I need to heal. I’ve never had that chance.”
“Aster Rose…your responsibilities are here.” I heard the undercurrent of it.
I was a treaty.
A covenant.
A bond.
“You call me your life, yet you treat me like a possession, Papa. Like I’m merchandise to be bartered with. What about what I need?”
“You agreed.” It was a warning.
“I know, but things have changed, and if you love me—”
“You know that I do.” He said it with such force it shook the walls.
“Then give me this time.”
“He is the very reason, Aster. Do you not remember the disgrace he brought this family? He killed my brother. He betrayed me. He stole my greatest treasure. And he touched you.”
Yes, he’d touched me. In the most beautiful of ways.
“And now you dare ask me to leave you in his care?” He hissed it, venom in his disbelief.
“Yes.”
For good or for bad.
Yes.
“I need closure, Papa. Do you not understand the pain I’ve endured? Please. Give me this time. And I’ll…I’ll find out what happened to the twin stones.” The faulty promise was out before I could stop it.
The twin stones that had been at the heart of it all.
An albatross.
A heavy sigh left him. A moment of silence followed. A chasm of dread.
“I do not trust this. Not any of it,” he finally mumbled, though some of the anger had drained.
I nearly dropped to my knees.
“I’m not asking you to trust him. I’m asking you to trust me,” I rushed.
“Aster…you do not know what you’re asking of me.” His tone was underscored with his own contrition. His own obligations.
“I do.”
“Jarek will be more than displeased.”
“He wagered me in a game last night, Papa. He lost. He should at least suffer for that.”
“Disgraziato,” he spat.
It was my only chance. The mistake that Jarek had made and the idea that I might be able to uncover what had happened to the stones.
Except that idea was moot.
Logan had sold them.
Had told me himself.
God, I was playing a fool’s game.
But I had to try.
“Please, Papa, give me this chance. One month. Until the new year. I’ll find out where the stones are in that time. I promise.”
Hesitation poured through the line, and I whispered, “Please, Papa.”
I could feel the sag of his shoulders. The giving in. “One month, mia vita. One month is all I can give.”
“And Logan will be protected? His family?”
He sighed. “You ask more of me than I should grant, but I give it because I do love you. Jarek will be ordered to stand down.”
“And what will you do about Jarek?”
“I will speak with him.”
“Papa, I fear he needs more than speaking to.”
And I feared more I’d just told my father the greatest lie. I wasn’t asking for one month.
I was asking for my life.
Slipping off my heels, I wiggled my toes into the plush carpet and exhaled a long breath of the fear I’d been holding.
I couldn’t believe my father had agreed.
Couldn’t believe it.
More tears fell.
These ones were of relief. For once, I felt like some of the chains I’d carried had been lifted.
I allowed myself to relish in it.
Freedom.
For the first time in my life, I was standing up for what I wanted.
Fighting for myself.
I didn’t think I’d ever felt a more overwhelming relief than knowing I could breathe.
That I could sleep.
Logan and his family were safe, and Jarek wasn’t there to control me.
To watch me.
To touch me.
Revulsion curdled in my stomach, the same sickness I’d lived in for years.
The vile man had demolished me in a single strike, yet day after day, desolation had built upon that tragedy.
They say time heals wounds, but every time I looked at Jarek, it felt like I was being ripped open anew.
At the nightstand on the right side of the bed, I plugged in my phone, then I moved to the dresser opposite the bed that had a large television sitting on top of it, and I pulled open the top left drawer.
Photo albums.
My heart palpitated in my chest. Part of me wanted to pry. To dig deeper into the ambiguous, confusing man that Logan Lawson had become.
The other part of me knew I couldn’t stomach it.
It still stung too badly. Prying would only be asking for more pain.
Staying here, in his space? It was going to hurt enough.
I shoved it closed and opened the middle drawer.
Inside was a stash of journals, stationary paper, and pens. But next to them was a clear bin filled with the little paper stars.
Memories of us.
Why had he kept them?
God, this was brutal.
I slammed it closed before I looked too closely at his intentions.
I opened the drawer on the right. A soft smile tugged at my mouth when I found it was stuffed with toys. My mind traveled to the face of the little boy.
Gage.
To the adoration that had shown in Logan’s eyes. The sweetness. The care. The mischief.
All the things I remembered.
And I wondered—wondered if pieces of that man existed.
My reckless, beautiful boy.
Heaving out a sigh, I moved to the row of lower drawers and opened the first.
Old tees.
Success.
I didn’t know how much longer I could stay in this dress.
I grabbed the first black tee and held up the massive thing that would swallow me whole. The print on the front softened the blow of all the words he’d cast at me since he’d crashed back into my life.
It was from Star Wars. His old obsession.
It had Yoda on the front, and it said, Yoda best uncle.
Affection left me on a soft laugh.
I could only picture that little boy giving it to him. Could only picture Logan peeling off his fitted suit to put it on.
I pressed it to my face like it held the pieces of this mystery of a man.
Like the fibers might be woven in his complexity.
The dark and the light.
The wicked and the kind.
I just hoped they both existed when it came to me.
I moved into the bathroom and slid out of the dress and let it drop to a heap on the floor.
Tingles spread.
Comfort taking hold.
I washed my face, then found an extra toothbrush in the cupboard so I could brush my teeth.
By the time I pulled the shirt over my head and looked at my mussed reflection in the mirror, I felt like a new woman.
A free woman.
And to my reflection, I made a brand-new promise.
I will never go back.
Half an hour later, I eased out the bedroom door and down the hall. My footsteps were quieted, filled with the instinct to remain concealed when I was the only one there. Silence hovered thick, like when Logan had gone, he’d left the weight of his presence there, ominous and tranquil.
As if you could be lured into the comfort of it all when you were stumbling into a trap.
I padded barefoot through the living room. The smooth floor was surprisingly warm as the fireplace continued to cast its luxury across the rambling space.
I walked into the posh kitchen and searched for a glass in the cupboards above the countertop. I found one and moved to the sink where I filled it with tap water and brought it to my lips.
The main door suddenly burst open behind me. Surprise had me whirling around and the glass slipped from my hold as I went.
It shattered on the floor.
Shards scattered while my arms drew up in front of me like I could protect myself from any attack.
Which just so happened to be an attack by a woman who had to be in her late sixties. She skidded to a stop just inside the apartment looking just as shocked as I felt.
Humiliation crept to my cheeks at my overreaction.
But it was basic instinct. The fear that Jarek would come for me.
I frantically tried to regain my composure. “I’m so sorry, you scared me.”
The woman’s smile was sly. She was stocky and short, though clearly her strength hadn’t lessened with age as she carried the bags inside.
“Don’t you worry your pretty face about it. My husband used to tell me I garnered quite the reaction when I came into a room. I was a looker, too, you know, when I was your age. The man always did have to be right.”
Her smile widened. “You stay right there, now, and I’ll come rescue you. I heard we were going to have a pop of company for the next little bit, so I figured I’d better get to the market and get the refrigerator stocked.”
“That’s very nice of you,” I mumbled.
She waddled the rest of the way in and piled the bags on the island. “Gretchen is my name, cooking is my game. Well, and cleaning and shopping and keeping that boy out of the messes he makes. He might look put together, but that’s all me.”
She tsked like Logan was nothing but an unruly little boy.
“Is that so?”
“Mmhmm…he’s lucky he has me, that one.” She eyed me up and down.
I tried not to flush, considering I was standing there in nothing but that tee that hit me mid-thigh.
“Looks like he’s lucky to have you, too.” She winked at that before she moved to a hidden pantry at the right end of the kitchen and came out with a broom and dustpan.
“I’m thinking lucky is not the way he would describe it.”
She chuckled low. “That boy wouldn’t know what’s good for him if it knocked him upside the head, which I have half a mind to do most of the time.”
“I guess he’s not the only one you have to pick up messes after around here. If you can just hand me the broom, I can do it.”
“Nonsense. What’s your name, sweetheart? I think you and I are gonna be friends.”
“Aster.”
She froze at that, a wash of curiosity coming from her as she stopped to peer closer at my face.
A bout of nerves had me shifting on my feet, and I dropped my chin in a rush of insecurity.
Why was she looking at me like that?
“What the hell is going on in here?”
I jumped again when a deep voice hit the air, and I landed just to the left. A piece of broken glass pierced me on the bottom of my right heel.
A shriek tore from my mouth. Forcing myself not to move, I squeezed my eyes closed and gripped the counter behind me as if it could ground me.
I hated that Jarek wasn’t here, and he still had me on edge.
The problem was, I knew firsthand the types of atrocities he inflicted, and as much as I wanted to cling to my father’s promise, I would never forget the nineteen-year-old girl who’d lain bloody and weeping at his feet.
When I felt the movement, my lids peeled open, Logan a tether that widened my sight as he strode deeper into the apartment, dropping the bags he held on his way.
“Are you injured?” he grated through clenched teeth as he rounded the island. Some kind of venomous worry twisted his expression into hardened anxiety.
“I’m fine,” I forced out. That gaze dragged over me like hot stones, narrowing on the shirt I wore before it went traipsing the rest of the way down my legs.
“You don’t look so fine to me. I thought I told you not to get into any trouble while I was away?” There was the tweak of that tease at the end of his words.
Exasperation huffed from my chest. “I didn’t realize water counted.”
Gretchen tsked and waved the broom at him. “Are you just going to stand there staring? Where are your manners, young man?”
He pasted on the brightest smile I’d ever seen. All teeth. “What manners are you speaking of?”
She grunted at him in playful disappointment. “The ones your momma would have wanted you to have.”
“Well, excuse me,” he mumbled.
“Don’t give me that excuse me bit until you get over there and help this poor little thing who is bleeding to death in your kitchen.”
She waved an exaggerated hand my direction.
Logan rolled his eyes. “Bleeding to death? Hardly.”
Still, he took a step my way and murmured, “Don’t move.”
It stole air. Stole reason.
I pressed myself deeper into the counter like it might protect me from the power of it.
Gretchen clucked her tongue as she started sweeping up my mess. “My, my, some gentleman you are.”
Low laughter tumbled from his chest, and he didn’t even glance at her when the words filled the air, his gaze locked on me. “Gentleman? I thought you knew me better than that?”
She pushed by, whisking the broom over the broken fragments on the floor. “I do…which makes me wonder why this beautiful, nice girl would bother herself with the likes of you.”
“Nice?” He said it like insinuating it was obscene. “I’m not so sure about that.”
Dark amusement played through his features, and his gaze was taking me in again, slower this time, so painfully intense I felt it like an undulating wave.
He edged forward. “Hmm…we wouldn’t want a beautiful girl to bleed to death in my kitchen, now, would we? It might make me look bad.”
