Page 44 of Free to Judge (Amaryllis Heritage #2)
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Once I regain my wits, I head upstairs to my office.
The first thing I do is request two weeks off.
I abhor the feeling I’m abandoning my mother and the rest of my family at the start of our wedding season rush, but I can’t stay here.
I can’t barricade myself in my home if Declan is going to be pounding at my door every single moment when he thinks he can break through my shell, nor can I leave if he’s going to try to ambush me.
I keep it short and sweet, requesting leave for “an unexpected personal reason to begin immediately. I plan to have my laptop with me for any emergencies.”
Within moments, my time off has been approved by Aunt Cassidy who writes, Leave the laptop at home. Just take care of whatever you need to. Since she CCs every member of the executive team, this opens the floodgate on a new wave of texts asking if I’m okay.
I’m obviously not.
I’m trying to figure out what to say when my mother replies with the news link to Sexy & Social in the family chat.
Enough said.
If I thought my phone blew up because of Declan before, it’s nothing in comparison to the way texts are coming in fast and furious in our chat.
Laura:
What the actual hell?
Aunt Ali, tell me this is BS.
Mama:
Wish I could, sweetie.
Laura:
I’m not reading this.
Kalie:
Do you want me to share how I reacted?
Mama:
Your father and I are on our way.
Kalie:
Laura:
Liam is furious.
Aunt Cass:
So’s Caleb.
Kalie:
Tell them to get in line.
I feel so cheap.
At that, a bunch of protests, “NOs,” and threats from my family erupt. I read them through a film of tears.
Kalie:
He took what he wanted and played me.
Grace:
I swear if he comes to the house, I’m going to take off an actual body part.
Aunt Em:
Choice. Pinking shears or scissors?
Aunt Cass:
Like our book club, I’m going to ask, why choose?
Val:
Own your smut, Aunt Cass.
Reggie:
Have any other weapons of choice, Aunt Em?
Aunt Em:
Mama:
For the love.
Mama:
Look at your elders.
Aunt Cori:
Who are you calling elder?
Aunt Holly:
Exactly.
Mama:
#lesigh
Can you keep threats vague enough I don’t need to bleed bail money?
Uncle Phil:
Hell no. Let me have a go at him.
Uncle Jason:
For once, I’m letting Phil off the leash.
Aunt Cori:
Say WHAT?!?!?!
Aunt Holly:
Whoa. Jason spoke in the chat.
Laura:
This is epic.
Grace:
Mark the date and time.
Val:
This might require theme music.
Reggie:
Angry girl playlist?
Aunt Cori:
Is there any other kind?
Mama:
I give up. Fine. I want to tear his limbs off.
Kalie:
I love you all.
A flood of “I love you’s” hit my phone within milliseconds of each other.
I can’t reply. I’m too emotional. I carry my phone to my bedroom, tossing it on my mattress.
It’s time to get ready to leave. Declan can judge me all he wants—I know how to win, I know how to lose.
But without respect or love to build off of, there’s nothing worth fighting for.
Nothing worth sticking around for. The pain isn’t worth the agony.
I’m going to be gone for at least a few weeks to lick my wounds and recalibrate my world without the presence of a man who stormed into my life and left me standing here devastated. We were friends—at least I thought so. We had a solid foundation before he touched me with intent.
Clutching a running shirt to my breast, I bow my head. “How did we go from making love to him giving away parts of himself to random strangers?” I would have sworn he was like the other men at Hudson. A man like my father—a man of honor and integrity despite spending his life in the shadows.
A bitter laugh escapes. That was my first mistake. Thinking he was like any of them.
My second mistake was believing he gave me the parts of himself he’d never shared with anyone else.
I head into my closet and yank down one of my larger suitcases. Throwing clothes onto my bed, my mind is set on one goal—distance. I need to figure out how to get space and time to process the ruin Declan left in his wake without him knowing where I am or, worse, following me.
Considering he might have more burner phones than I do pairs of running sneakers, I want to make one thing explicitly clear. I text him one final time.
Kalie:
Don’t contact me again. I’m done. We’re done.
As I stuff my suitcase to the brim with clothes, my phone rings from where it lays. The sight of his name flashing on the screen causes a pulse of anxiety to shoot through me. There’s no way I’m picking up. After his little speech this morning and our FaceTime, what more is there to say?
How’s he going to explain to my heart what happened?
No, I can’t hear his excuses. Not right now. If it’s something important about my protection, he’ll contact one of the agents or my father. If I have to hear his voice, it will crack open my chest and set all of my emotions loose.
I ignore the persistent ringing until it finally stops. My heart pounds in my chest, a mix of anger and hurt that I’m not sure I’ll ever escape. Then, all at once, everything explodes. My phone, my door, and my heart.
I pray to God it isn’t him. I’m not ready to face him. Not now, not yet. I inch my way to the door just as it swings open.
“Sweetheart,” my mother greets me. Her eyes flick from the bag to my face, and she comes to a resolve in a single second. She beckons to someone in the hallway. “She’s in here, Keene.” Before I can so much as draw breath, my father is in the room, wrapping me in his arms.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothes.
I shake my head against his chest. “No. No, it’s not.”
“It will be,” he reassures.
“Why would he hurt me like this, Dad?”
His arms tighten around me. “Because he’s the same as I was. He’s trying to keep you out of the line of fire to protect you.”
“No, he’s not. He’s not you, Dad. He doesn’t love me. He walked out of here this morning and said we needed to cool off until his case was through. Then, he went there.” I spit the last word.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching my face. “He went where?”
“To a stripper, Dad. In public. Caught on camera.” I scrub my face to wipe away wasted tears. “I guess I should be grateful it was caught, so I know what he’s really like, huh?”
“Let me see.”
My bitterness is tinged with the wetness of my tears. “It’s not hard to find. Just go to Sexy & Social’s site. Hope they haven’t crashed with the number of hits.”
Carefully, he probes, “What did he tell you before he went there?”
“That he had to go to a meeting. That he’d come back to me after this job is over.”
His face is a stony mask before he finally says, “That’s it?”
“Yes!”
“Nothing else?”
“Nothing! He didn’t have to. I mean, obviously, he has other entertainment to keep him busy. He doesn’t need me.” I feel a fresh wave of tears threaten to overwhelm me.
My mother’s hand falls to my shoulder. “Sweetheart, I didn’t want to say this in the chat, but you know better than to trust what you see on those sites. You should talk to him.”
Meeting her eyes, I tell her flatly, “I did.”
Her lips part. No words escape. Her head swings in my father’s direction. An uncomfortable silence descends on the room.
My father runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “You don’t know the entire story.”
“Then tell me!” I shout.
“I can’t.” My father’s jaw clenches.
“Keene,” my mother warns.
I’m too emotionally wrung out to care about the threat in her tone.
He sighs. “Where are you planning to go?”
“Away.” The word is choked out. “I need to get away until I can face everyone and not break down.”
My mother crouches down. “Why don’t you come home tonight? Spend the night with us?”
Needing her more than I ever thought possible, I bury my head in my mother’s shoulder and nod. Heartbreak isn’t something you should go through without your people at your back.
My father gestures to the door. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Soon, I’m in the back of their car while my father secures my home. My mother sits beside me, cradling me next to her heart. It isn’t long before my father has a quick word with my guards before he slides into the driver’s seat.
I take note when they don’t follow, but I don’t have the energy to care. Not when my heart hurts as badly as it does.
I just wish I’d told them to keep Declan out to begin with.