Mr. Broken More than Money

I barked out a laugh as I watched him stumble, putting on his clothes,

"We aren't waking up a four-year-old in the middle of the night. It's obvious you've never seen a cranky kid, and nothing makes them crankier than lack of sleep. We can ask her another day."

"Tomorrow morning." River nodded and started to take off his clothing again.

"Whoa, what are you doing?"

"Getting ready for bed," River said, his head cocked to the side and a sly smile forming on his full lips.

"Oh no, buddy. You're gonna put on your clothes and march your ass out of here."

"Why?"

"’Cause until we talk to Violet, I'm not having her confused, asking a million and one questions."

"I can be quiet," River protested.

I collected his clothes, which were now scattered beside the bed, and tossed them at him. "Go home, River.”

"Fine," he said, faking a pout, "but I'll be back in the morning. What kind of pastries does Violet like?"

"Just get something with sprinkles or pink. She'll love it."

I sat on my hands to avoid jumping River as I watched him get dressed. He'd filled out in the last four years. The large muscles were new, and I had to admit I liked it. When River turned from me to put on his shirt, I gasped, making him turn around to face me.

"You okay?" he asked.

"What happened?" My voice was low, as if I were trying to keep a wild animal from attacking. I walked up to him slowly, placing my hands on his back. I traced the knife marks slashed all over his back.

River shrugged, pushing away from me. "War wounds."

All along his back, there were knife marks, much deeper than the one on his face. I glided my hands across his sun-kissed skin, feeling the indentation on the skin. Some of the patterns were deep. They looked like someone had stabbed him repeatedly without any mercy or compassion of any kind. I felt the wetness on my cheeks before I even realized that I was sobbing.

River wiped away the wetness from my cheek while smiling weakly. "Don't cry, beautiful. They're just scars. Not very nice to look at, but I survived."

"What happened?"

"Ridge got shot, and I got captured."

"Captured," I yelled and then covered my mouth, remembering that Violet was asleep in the next room.

"It's not a big deal. I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"Bad guys caught a fish. They gutted the fish and then threw the fish back."

I flung my hands into the air and stepped back. I felt utterly frustrated. "This isn't a joke, River."

River took my hand and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss there before pulling me toward the bed. "When Ridge got shot, I didn't think straight. I ran straight to him, and the next thing I knew, I had a sack pulled over my head. When the sack was removed, I was in a warehouse type of place. They thought I had some vital information, so they tortured me. The scars are from a guy who liked knives. He liked to stab people. I think he got off on it. He would push the blade of the knife slowly in me, repeatedly until I almost bled out, and then he'd stop. They would give me time to recover, and then he would come in and do it again. I still don't understand why he liked to work on my back and not my chest. I just don't want to think about it anymore. I go to see a therapist three times a week. I used to be consumed by it, but not so much anymore. I mean, it could've been much worse, you know?"

I sat there and listened to River, my heart aching for the boy I knew, for the trauma he'd endured, but I was also proud of how strong he was. He was taking steps to be a better man, a stronger man. "I love you," I whispered before putting my head on his shoulder.

"I love you too, baby."

Chapter 9

RIVER

"I really didn't think you'd be here literally at seven in the morning," Zoey said, taking the bag of food from me and ushering me into her apartment. "What's in the bag?"

I opened the bag, pulled out the flowers I'd put in there, and handed them to her. "You said Violet was up around six thirty. These are for you, and these are for Violet." I waved the two dolls in my hand.

"River," Violet squealed as soon as she heard my voice; her eyes went wide and homed in on the dolls still in my hand. "Those for me? Mommy, that's the Eric doll I wanted."

I crouched down to the ground. "Yes, these are for you."

She ran towards me, launching herself into my arms. Then she grabbed the dolls from my hand, beaming, "This one is the exact one I wanted. How'd you know?"