Like you don’t want to, my mind taunts me. I want to own her to care for her. He fucking hurt her, I try and reason with myself.
Next, I see an article about her parents dying in a car accident when Lucy was only three. He pretty much raised her. I read that Kurt was estranged from his son and his wife. Lucy’s parents. I’m guessing they wouldn’t have been too happy their daughter had fallen into his hands. Seems Kurt’s son was on to the prick.
I make a mental note to call my own lawyer. That shit will not happen to her again. If something happens to me, she will be taken care of.
I freeze when I see what Mic says in this email.
Seems your girl is prone to accidents.
I open the file and start going through the medical records. My stomach rolls when I see hospital visit after hospital visit. Then they stopped a few years ago when she got sent upstate to some fucking recovery center. Said she had a mental break. Doubtful, but if she did I can see the reason why. I have a feeling after this he went with a private doctor who made house visits.
I’m going to kill him. I close the files, needing to get myself together, but the rage pounds down on me. I pick up the paperweight on my desk and throw it hard. It hits the wall, lodging itself in the drywall for a moment before dropping to the floor.
The sound of a gasp has me jerking my head to the door. Lucy is standing there, eyes wide, her hand over her mouth.
“Lucy?” I take a step towards her and she takes off running. “Fuck.” I follow her. I hate that she saw my rage and anger. She’s the last person in the world that needs to see that shit. Not with her life.
I follow her into our room. “Little one, please. I’m sorry. I read something that angered me. My anger wasn’t at you.” I make my voice low and soft. She turns to look at me. Her bottom lip wobbles and it’s almost my undoing.
“The bruise on my side.” She lifts her—my—shirt, revealing the bruise. I was wondering if she was going to notice.
“Little one. I didn’t do that to you.” I take a step towards her. She doesn’t back away. She lets the shirt drop back down and it almost goes to her knees. “I’d never hurt you.” I know she doesn’t know me, but it still hurts that she might think I did that to her. I push my own feelings aside. This isn’t about me.
She catches me off-guard when she throws herself at me. I catch her easily. She winces. “Careful,” I tell her as I hold her close to me.
“I knew it wasn’t you. I was so sure of it, but then I can’t remember anything. I just got so scared.” Her voice wobbles when she talks and it breaks my heart. I walk over to the bed and sit down with her in my arms.
“It’s all right. I promise no one will ever hurt you again.” I try to keep the anger out of my voice the best I can.
“Do you know who did it?” she finally asks, leaning back to look at me, her eyes filled with unshed tears.
“I think…” I reluctantly admit, scared to give her too much.
“Tell me,” she pushes, and I do because I want to give her anything she asks for.
“I think it was your grandfather.”
“Was I running to you? Is that why I got in the accident? I was coming home from just seeing him?” Her eyebrows furrow together and I see her trying to piece this all together. I don’t think she was coming to me, but fate brought her here.
“Yes.” I let the half-lie roll off my tongue.
“But we can’t be sure it was him, right?” I can see sadness in her eyes as she thinks about someone willingly hurting her.
“I’m pretty sure. That’s what you saw downstairs. I was putting it together. I lost it.” Her face softens at that. She leans forward and brushes her lips across mine. I kiss her back, laying her down on the bed. I roll so that she is on top of me.
When she pulls back, she rests her head on my chest as I rub my hands up and down her back. “It’s weird wanting to remember and not wanting to. I remember some things. Someone kicking me and all I felt was fear. It consumed me, and if remembering is that feeling, I’m not sure I want it.”
“Little one.” I put my finger under her chin, making her look up at me. “Whatever happens, I can promise you fear is something you’ll never feel again.”