Page 44 of Every Broken Piece

Chapter forty-two

Tess

G abe locks the door behind my mother but remains facing the door.

He makes a fist, and I flinch, anticipating him putting it through the door.

“Fuck.” Instead, he lightly pounds it. One, two, three times, before spinning and pacing circles around the small dining area.

My legs are shaking so badly that it takes everything I have to make my way to the couch and fall into it.

I wrap my favorite blanket around me, but no amount of blankets can keep me safe.

Every emotion is fighting for control inside me.

Panic, horror, terror, helplessness, humiliation. They’re all there.

Gabe’s like a caged tiger, pacing, pacing, pacing.

Hands locked behind his neck as he takes deep breaths.

I guess there’s no need to tell him everything now.

Sandra did a bang-up job of showing him.

Normally she behaves herself around strangers.

That’s why it was so easy to con the cops, the court appointed child psychologists, and the foster system.

“She tried to sell you to me.” His chest heaves as he drags in a ragged breath. He’s standing in the middle of the dining area, a trembling finger pointing at the front door. “Sell you. To me.”

“It’s not the first time.” I squeeze my eyes shut. Shut up, Tess. You don’t need to word vomit more of your messed up childhood.

My own mother first tried to sell me to a john when I was thirteen. Luckily, she found the one john in the whole world with some scruples. After that, I learned to stay away from her when she was desperate for her next fix, which was most of the time.

But to admit it to Gabe? Yeah, let’s just pile more mortification onto the heap I already feel.

His hand lowers. “Tess—"

“No.” I shake my head. The blanket drops from my shoulders.

I scoot to the edge of the couch and tightly wrap my arms around my middle because If I don’t physically hold myself together, I’ll fly apart.

I keep my eyes glued on the metal leg of my vintage 1970’s coffee table.

“I need to talk. And I need you to listen without interrupting.”

He moves to sit in the round chair, resting his forearms on his legs but that doesn’t stop his heels from bouncing in nervous energy. “I’m listening.”

I close my eyes because it’s easier to say this when I don’t have to look at him.

“I don’t ever remember her not being a drug addict.

I thought it was normal that parents passed out for days at a time or disappeared and left their seven and two-year-old alone.

” I tighten my arms around my middle. My wrist is starting to ache.

My head has been pounding since my mother swept through in all her glory.

I ignore it all because it’s suddenly imperative that I tell my story.

“My older sister, Scarlett, mostly took care of me until the drugs became too much of a lure. She was maybe fifteen and I was ten when she started hanging around the wrong crowd.” I take a shaky breath.

“Scarlett’s in prison now. I haven’t spoken to her in years.

But Sandra, she keeps turning up like a bad penny. ”

I’m getting ahead of myself.

“Anyway, I was in and out of foster care a lot. Concerned neighbors would call CPS. They’d come to take me away, then she’d clean herself up and act all remorseful, and they’d bring me back and the cycle would start all over again.”

“Jesus, Tess.”

I refuse to look at him. Now that the words are coming, I can’t stop them, but if I look at him the words will dry up and I need to purge them from me.

“I left when I was sixteen. Lied about my age. Found a job waiting tables at a truck stop. Applied for scholarships and grants. Earned my associate degree in business and started working for a small, family-owned company. They were an older couple, incredibly nice.”

I pause. This is where the story gets rough.

“But Sandra, she always seems to find me, especially when she needs money. The older couple finally had to let me go because she wouldn’t stop harassing me at work, then she started asking them for money.

” I rub my suddenly cold arms. Revisiting everything brings back the fear and panic.

I thought I could outrun her, hide from her, but nothing I do shakes her from my life.

“I can’t work in an office because she’ll fine me and make a scene until I give her what she wants.

I can’t make friends because she harasses them. Once...”

I squeeze my eyes shut and fold in half, dragging in shallow breaths.

“Once I had a boyfriend and she would follow him when he walked to and from work and ask him for money. He broke up with me, told me he couldn’t handle dealing with Sandra. That’s when I realized that it’s best if I just keep to myself, you know? It wasn’t worth the hassle.”

I straighten and swipe the tears with the back of my good hand. Gabe’s head has dropped between his shoulders and he’s staring at the carpet, his hands so tightly folded between his knees that his knuckles are white.

“And now you know why I can’t go to Colorado with you.”

I really would love to see the Rocky Mountains and maybe a buffalo. But that’s not in the cards for me.

“The attack.” Tormented eyes pin me in place. “The attack wasn’t random.”

“I received a phone call a week or so before. My lovely mother told him I’d pay the twenty grand she owes. I told him I wouldn’t. He didn’t like that.”

“Why didn’t you tell Hardwick when she questioned you?”

“When you’re five, six, seven years old and the police come into your house and take you away, you tend to fear them.

When your mother tells you the police are the enemy, that they’ll take her away from me forever and I'll have to learn to be on my own at the age of ten, you tend not to trust them.”

"But you’re not a child anymore. Surely you know they can help.”

“Can they? Have they helped me so far? Have they stopped her from harassing me? Running me out of my homes?”

“Have you asked them to?”

“You’ve never had the police pounding on your door in the middle of the night.

Your parents never told you that the cops are evil people who take little children away from them.

Yes, as an adult I know that’s not true, but a lifetime of fear can’t be erased so easily. Broken trust can’t magically heal.”

My bravado fading, I lower my chin to stare at the brightly colored blanket pooled in my lap.

The couch dips beside me. Gabe’s hands gently unwind my arms from my stomach.

With a touch of his fingers, he lifts my chin to press his forehead to mine, large hands cupping my cheeks.

I want to sink into his solid strength. Lay my head on his chest and feel the steady beat of his heart.

I want him to hug me. But those things aren’t for me and never will be.

He pulls his head back but doesn’t let go of my cheeks. “Look at me, Tess.”

I slowly open my eyes to find his swimming in tears. Is he crying? For me?

Has anyone ever cried for me?

He tilts his head to the side to slowly lower his lips until they gently touch mine. Shocked, I go rigid. He moves back. Immediately I want to feel his lips again, but he’s out of reach now, like he’s always been.

“Do you know why I call you Spitfire?” He releases my cheeks that are burning from his touch.

“Because I have a temper?”

He smiles. It’s a weak smile and his eyes are still filled with tears but it’s a smile.

“No. Well, maybe that too. The Spitfire was an airplane the British used during World War II. It flew into battle again and again never giving up, fighting its enemies, protecting its people. It played a big role in Britain’s victory.

You're just like that little airplane. You’ve fought so many battles, and you .

” His palm slides around my neck, fingers tangling in my hair.

“You’ve won one hundred percent of those battles.

You don’t give up even when the odds are stacked against you.

You’re my Spitfire. You’re the strongest, bravest, person I’ve ever met and you’re going to win this war. I just know it.”

My throat is closing. My lungs are struggling with shallow breaths. Tears blur his face.

“I’m not really a fighter,” I whisper. “I hide from relationships. I run the first chance I get when I feel threatened. I don’t feel like a winner.”

A tear slowly rolls down his cheek, but eyes crinkle in a sad smile. “No more. No more running. No more hiding. You have me now and I’m going to help you win. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe and teach you to fight for yourself.”

“Did you not listen to my story? She’s not going away. Her dealer isn’t going away.”

“We’ll handle your mother and the dealer together. You have me. And I have resources.”

I shake my head as best I can with his hand still curled around my neck. “She won’t stop. He won’t stop and now they know about you.”

“They know I have money, but they don’t know me . They don’t know that I’ll protect you with every penny of my wealth. That I’ll go to the ends of the Earth to make sure you’re safe.”

“Can you do that?” Don’t believe him. Don’t trust him. He doesn’t know what she’s like.

“I can. I will.”

“Why?”

His gaze circles my face as if he’s memorizing it. “I don’t think you’re ready for that answer yet.”

What does that mean? What answer?

He kisses my forehead. “I see the panic on your face. I know you’re ready to run, but we’re going to work on that flight or fight response.”

“All I’ve ever known is flight.”

“And how has that worked for you?”

I press my lips together because it hasn’t worked for me.

“We’re going to stand together and fight. Sandra fired her warning shot and we’re going to fire ours by calling Detective Hardwick and you’re going to tell her everything.”

I jerk back, forcing his hands to release me. “No.”

“No more running, Tess. No more lies. The police can help you and I’ll be with you every step of the way. They won’t take you away. I won’t let them.”