Page 42 of Integrated (Mistress & Master of Restraint #11)

“I hope Ava will actually talk to me this time.” I hate how my voice breaks as Cortez and I let ourselves into Katya’s house. I’m no longer exiled, able to come and go as I will. I even have the codes to the security system. It seems that a few weeks of good behavior placed me in my wife’s good graces.

“It could have waited until tomorrow night when the kids were at Shadow Haven,” Cort reasonably offers. “That way we weren’t cutting into Katya’s time.”

Ever since we met the Ramirez family, I’ve been crazed about getting my family in order. Cort’s family is so warm and loving and naughty and snide to each other. Pa, Ma, and Julio are like more laidback versions of Cort, and it’s infectious.

I crave that simple kind of life for my children. In the past few weeks, I’ve had more family dinners with a huge extended family than I have in my lifetime. Cold and clinical after Celeste passed, Cort and I were raised very conservatively, where we didn’t voice anything, because dinnertime was gourmet food eaten in silence.

I love the chaos of the Ramirez family.

Something tells me that was how Katya was raised, and why she never felt comfortable at Shadow Haven. It’s most likely the reason Maximillian Atwater left behind a lifetime at Whittenhower Estates and an Ivy League education to become a contractor in rural Pennsylvania. As for Clara Walden, it depends on if she acts like her departed sister or her baby brother. Lara was worried about appearances, but that may have been a way to mask insecurities– I’ll never know, because my view of her was through Faith’s tainted lens. Roarke likes what he likes, simply because he likes it. Knowing Katya, it’s highly possible her mother is like Roarke.

The irony, Katya’s possible brother is a member of the Ramirez family. Cory is Julio’s husband, and I’ve spent many meals analyzing the fire chief to see if he shares anything in common with Katya or her parents I briefly met.

When I voiced this need for a simple life to Pa, he laughed as he gave me a hug. “Upper-class collides with the middleclass. Welcome to reality, Ez.”

“This house is a fourth of the size of Shadow Haven and has a small yard– fewer places to hide.” I explain my reasoning for invading Katya’s home on the last evening the kids will spend with her for the next three days.

“I’m not being an ass. Ava is impossible to catch at Shadow Haven.” Nothing but frustration rings in my tone. “Last week, I had to corner Ava in the stables, after I ran her to ground from the woods. Aubrianna was hiding Ava from me in the groundskeeper house yesterday– I’m sure there was a monetary incentive involved. My daughter is talking to me tonight, dammit!”

“You should’ve had Lucian help you find her.” Cort grins, entertained by how much the boy despises our daughter. “Luc tracked Ava to his hunting tree stand last week, then threatened her with his bow. Even gave her an arrow as a souvenir, should she attempt to interlope on his territory again.”

“Remind me to thank Lucian for the venison,” I mutter absentmindedly as I plot on how to approach my wayward daughter.

“I’m just having fun watching what Ava does to avoid you. I love how she’s willing to work just to skip a conversation.” Cort releases peals of hearty chuckles, face glowing with delight.

“Laugh now, twit.” I bite out, aggravated. “Ava’s been ignoring you too.”

“She’ll come around,” he tries to reassure me. “In about ten years when her hormones level out. I hope.”

Pulling away from the front door, Simpson Manor– or as everyone is now calling it, Katya’s House, because we in Dominion name locations for ease of direction –is a large manse by most standards. But after living in Shadow Haven since birth, with a brief sojourn at Misery Castle, it looks dinky by comparison.

All the micro-mansions lining Crestview Drive are the same on the inside. The rooms are large, but there are few of them on the first floor. The standard rooms: an eat-in kitchen, a formal dining room, a foyer with a half bath near the entrance to the kitchen, an impressive staircase that hides beneath it the smaller stairs leading down to the basement, a serviceable office space accessible only through the expansive living room. Upstairs are many bedrooms, most without attached baths. Ava has Faith’s old bedroom, so she’s lucky and spoiled rotten to have a bathroom, as the only other space with an en suite is the master. I know there’s a Jack-and-Jill bath, because super spoiled Fate had a bedroom, the shared bath, and the other bedroom used as her dressing room– this was something Faith endlessly bitched about to us. The servant’s quarters are fully plumbed in the attic, which I wonder if that’s Caleb’s domain.

It better be.

“I hear the television.” Cocking my head to the side as I stand in the foyer, I home in on the residents of Katya’s House. “They must be in the living room.”

As I enter a space that holds bad memories from the past, I stop dead in my tracks, causing Cortez to bump into my back. My heart aches yet explodes. Emotions warring, territorialism and possessiveness versus hope and joy.

From the outside looking in, a family is relaxing on the sofa while watching South Park. Thoroughly enjoying family time, they look warm and loving. The mother is laughing while her toddler daughter rests in her lap. The father is holding the son on his chest, fingertips feathering through the child’s hair, just as he adores. The little girl’s feet rest on the man’s thigh, begging for attention.

Absolutely gutted.

Caleb reaches over to trace the tattoo on the nape of Katya’s neck. So familiar, he perfectly outlines the letters of Chrysalis without looking at the tattoo. Katya doesn’t swat his hand away as she would’ve done to me. I don’t even know the exact placement of the tattoo, and I’ve stared at it for four years while Katya slept, spooned behind her as I suffered through insomnia.

Lips pressed tightly to the shell of my ear, Cortez makes sure no one else can overhear. “That’s even killing me. God, is this horrific sensation how Katya felt when she looked at you and me with the twins? It’s like someone punched me in the nuts, pissed on me with gasoline, then lit me on fire. I owe Kitten a billion apologies.”

My body instantly relaxes, anger and possessiveness vanishing in an instant. This is why Cortez and I are perfect for each other, because of the way we complement one another. Cort felt gutted, just as I did, yet he saw it through a different lens. Another perspective than my own.

Forcing a smile, I force the words through gritted teeth. “Kat looks content and relaxed. I’m trying to be happy for her.”

“Good,” Cort mouths back. “Because right now, I want to castrate Caleb Green.”

I snort so loudly it draws Caleb’s attention. Smiling, he tugs on Azrael’s hand until she’s standing on the sofa. He whispers something in her ear, causing her eyes to flick in our direction.

“Daddy!” Azrael’s shrieks as she jumps off the sofa, then runs headlong in our direction.

“Oomph!” A heavy grunt is forced from my lungs as Azrael tackles my thigh. With one arm wrapped around my leg, and the other around Cort’s, our daughter hugs both of us at the same time. “Hey, Demon,” is murmured with affection as I ruffle her fiery red hair. “How are you doing?”

“Exhausted,” she mutters dramatically, just as Cort does. But then she takes on a heavy sigh, much like myself. “We made snow forts all day. Two of them. Unicorn is passed out.”

“Unicorn?” My brows dip in the middle as I look down at our daughter. Cort is laughing at me, as is Katya.

“Unicorn–” Kat points at a dead to the world Marcus Zane who’s cuddled against Caleb’s broad chest. Giggling, Kat makes my knees go weak– that is a sound I haven’t heard in ages. “I have no idea why Az calls him that.”

Azrael runs back over to her mother, then climbs the woman like a tree. Our daughter then leans over the back of the sofa, propping her chin in her hands, avidly watching Cortez and me. Azrael looks at us like she hasn’t seen us in ages, versus the twelve hours it’s been.

“Are you going to be on my team tomorrow?” Cort asks Azrael, and I have no idea what he’s talking about. He pats her head, and the little demon makes a growling sound and nips at his palm.

Cort laughs outright while playing with her. “That’s a new phase you’re going through.” Turning to Kat, he asks for an explanation, and I fear she will think he’s judging her parenting style. “Why is Azrael biting?”

“Puppy!” Az shouts, then barks and yips for good measure.

“That’s my fault,” Caleb answers without a lick of remorse. “When we exercise in the morning, Dalton brings Wicked and Vixen to visit. Azrael likes to pretend she’s a puppy, wicked pissed we don’t get her a real one. Beware, those baby teeth are sharp.”

“I can’t wait until tomorrow.” Cort sounds ecstatic as he plucks Azrael off the sofa, nestling her to his chest, then sits between Caleb and Katya, as if he’s welcome to invade their personal space.

Feeling like an interloper, I begin backing out of the living room. “What’s tomorrow?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I pretend I’m not hugging myself. I frown just to make sure I don’t look like I’m pouting.

“Snowball fight with the forts. Two teams, and I promised to be on Julio’s.” Cort shrugs like it’s no big deal.

Suddenly I feel like the kid who got picked last in gym class. Worse, the kid they hoped would sit out on the bench with a doctor’s excuse and not participate, even better if they went to the library during class.

“It’s at four o’clock tomorrow, just after school. I assumed you had patients. If you can reschedule, join us. You can be on my team.” Caleb suggests, looking so friendly and open I want to punch him.

It takes everything in me not to tell Caleb to shove his invite. I want to play but I want to be on the opposing team, just so I can kick his ass. Then I feel like an asshole, because I was just thinking how I wanted my family to be happy and content, but here I am jealous because they are.

I’m an asshole.

“I’ll have Aaron switch my schedule around. It sounds fun. Is Ava playing?” I use as a segue into why I came.

“Ava’s looking forward to it.” Katya is secretly smirking for some reason. “Ava and I are co-captains, with Caleb and Levi leading the other team. She wanted it as close to girls versus boys as possible.”

“Oh, I can totally see that,” Cort murmurs wryly.

“I believe Ava can’t wait to annihilate the competition.” Katya looks at me over her shoulder, sensing the direction of my thoughts. “No, Ez, because I can see the wheels spinning in your head. You can’t be on our team– Ava needs to take out some of her frustrations on you, and the safest way to do that is by pelting you with snowballs.”

Warmly smiling at me, which makes me feel like shit warmed over, Katya proves she still knows me better than most. “Your daughter is in her room, doing her homework. If she won’t talk, don’t force her.”

“I need Ava to talk to me,” I plead, sounding pitiful.

“But it’s not what Ava needs right now, Ez. Give her time,” Katya softly murmurs. “You talk, and no bullshit, and I promise she will listen.”

After taking the steps two at a time, feet light, I’m able to ghost down the hallways with Ava none the wiser. She’s been known to escape into the nearest lockable room, with mere seconds to spare. I lean into her open bedroom door and observe my daughter in the wild.

With her back against the headboard and a book resting on her knees, Ava is engrossed. Ava may be my child, but she inherited both Cort and Kat’s love of reading. Now that she’s banned from digital devices that have access to the internet, she has resorted to reading paperbacks.

I assumed Ava would’ve been more upset about her cellphone never being replaced. Oh, she threw an Academy Award worthy shit-fit. What surprised me the most was when Ava cried as I pried her Kindle from her clutches. It wasn’t that fake, manipulative cry where she quivers her bottom lip and releases big, fat tears. It was an ugly cry– snot blowing, hitches in her breath, hiccupping, sobbing about humanity, injustice, and civil rights.

Ava didn’t utter a single word to me, until three days later, when I gave her a bag of paperbacks that matched the unread books on her Kindle. All she did was mutter thanks. But I sensed she was warming up to me when she read all of the books, then asked for another batch. We gave her a few shelves in Shadow Haven’s library to store the finished books, otherwise known as Cort’s haven.

The books are the only way I can get Ava to come to me. She has to verbally ask for more reading material, which she figured out when I ignored the sticky notes she left on my bathroom mirror, the coffee pot, and my steering wheel.

“Any good?” Leaning against Ava’s doorframe, I wait to see if she’ll acknowledge my existence.

I’ve been standing here for at least ten minutes, looking at my oldest daughter, wondering how to fix the mess I’ve created. Ava knows I’m here, but she’s as stubborn as her mother and cousin– it’s a good thing I love Katya and Cort, or else I couldn’t handle my daughter’s silent treatments.

“Are you still on the dystopian reading kick, or did you go to another genre? Cort does that– randomly goes from genre to genre so he doesn’t burn out and find the books redundant.”

Ignoring me as usual, Ava pretends to read. She flicks her head until a cascade of white-blonde hair hides her expression from my gaze. My daughter looks just like my mother, and acts like her too. But Ava gets her stubbornness from Katya, but I believe Cortez would argue that point and say Ava takes after me in that regard.

In a word, my daughter is elegant. Classic. Timeless. Angelic. How easily people will see her as cold.

“Why, yes, Daddy, this is a dystopian fiction book. Can’t you tell by the cover and title?” I mock in a girly voice, pretending to be Ava. “It’s one of my favorite series, that’s why I’ve asked you for every book by this author. Thank you for being such a considerate daddy.”

Scowling, Ava rolls to the side on her bed, turning away from me. Apparently, her hair wasn’t a good enough barrier, since she could still see me.

Wearing a thermal long-sleeved shirt with cartoon owls printed on it, and a pair of fuzzy pajama pants, Ava looks like a pissed off grown woman wearing a little girl costume.

“I still won’t talk to my daddy after he used his publishing connections to get me the ARC I’m reading right now. Only the best daddy in the whole wide world would do such a thing– he must love me lots. I’m a bad, bad daughter for ignoring my daddy when he got me a book three months in advance before its release, without the author’s consent. My mommy would shit a brick if she knew my greedy little eyes were devouring it right now. She’d take my books away.”

Still ignoring me, I use my trump card. “Just like Daddy is going to do in about two seconds.” Walking over to Ava, I pluck the book out of her stunned hands. Then I show her the plain cover, featuring a fake title and author Edge uses, so our highly anticipated books don’t get into the wrong hands.

“Mommy would have Daddy’s nuts for breakfast if she knew he stole this from her office.” Pitchy, girly voice starting to dry out my throat, I tuck the proof copy inside my jacket. Then I stare down into a pair of stunned yet determined gray eyes.

“That’s okay.” I speak in my real voice. Knowing how standing above someone is intimidating, I settle on the edge of the bed to make us more equal in height.

“You don’t have to talk to me– I’ll talk to you instead.” Resisting the urge to get into Ava’s personal space, I offer my hand by resting it on the duvet between us, just in case she’s willing to touch me.

“I’m not going to apologize anymore, especially to you. I think you understand how it is when you fuck up and feel horrible about it afterward– it interrupts your sleep and happy times, like a bitch-slap to the face. Guilt. Grief. Shame. How you feel like no one loves you anymore, because you don’t deserve it, and there’s nothing you can do to make it up to the people you’ve hurt. If only you could erase the past, but you know that’s not possible. Living with regret is difficult.”

Flinching away, Ava tries to avoid me. “Ava,” I breathe softly as I reach to cup her cheek, making sure she looks me in the eyes. “There is no one on this planet who gets it more than I do.”

“I’m not ignoring you because of my punishment.” Ava whispers as if it’s a secret she has to keep. “This isn’t about Niel.”

Shocked, because I truly thought that was what was bothering Ava. I assumed she was upset over everyone vilifying her for both the video and the article, to where she blamed me for it all.

“Is it about the divorce? Are you mad that Cortez and I are moving on from your mother?”

“No,” she breathes the admission. Closing her eyes, she closes herself off from me– so very much like her mother.

Katya and Ava spend the majority of their time avoiding me, distancing themselves, much to my frustration.

Eyes tightly shut, my daughter finally speaks her mind. “Everyone wants to make me feel like a monster, but it’s not remorse that has me hiding from them. I’m not necessarily right, but they are most definitely dead wrong. Why would I trust anyone anymore, Dad?

“You don’t trust me?” Realization dawns, my heart shattering.

“No, I don’t– I can’t.” Ava admits in a guttural voice, sounding just as shattered as I feel. She lives a black and white world, but I can sense how badly it hurts her to hurt me with the harsh truth. “I talk to Mom, because she’s the only one I trust right now.”

My heart sputters, breath seizing in my lungs, tears sting my eyes like acid. Have I ruined my relationship with my daughter before it truly began? I bite my lip to stop the sob from erupting.

“Dad, don’t!” Ava warns in a harsh tone brooking no room for argument. “If you cry, I’ll cry, and then nothing will get solved.”

“You’re right,” I emphatically agree. “I just miss you, Monster.” Try as I might, I cannot hide my sniffle. So much for being the strong dad. “I understand not trusting me. But why won’t you talk to me about things of little consequence? The silence is killing me.”

“I just don’t want to talk to anyone. Okay?” Ava looks me square in the eyes, projecting her need to control something in her life. I’d worry about my daughter spiraling deep into a depression, but there is silent rage reflected from the mirror of her eyes.

“People don’t like me. Why talk to them when it could be twisted and used against me? Frigid bitch and Ice Queen are what everyone at Hillbrook calls me. They don’t want to get to know me, either. They just assume who I am by the name I carry and the gossip they’ve heard. Jesse and Luc do the same to me at Shadow Haven. They don’t trust me. I think you understand how that feels.”

“I do.” Mind drifting back a few minutes ago, when I found out about a snowball fight, sensing I was only invited to as an afterthought. Ezra Zeitler isn’t who you invite to anything fun. I get invited to ruthless game plays and conspiracies.

I’m the man who gets shit done, not the one who has fun.

“I don’t want that life for you, Ava. You need to be a kid. Find some friends who like you for who you truly are.”

“I’m mad at you, Dad,” more than takes me by surprise. Ava switches up the conversation, much as I always do myself. “So mad. I get so frustrated, I don’t know what to do with myself. I just want to lash out and hurt people to make them feel as badly as I do on the inside.”

Tears of silent, suppressed rage glisten in my daughter’s beautiful eyes, tears I placed there. Ava’s lips are drawn in a taut line, just waiting for me to interrupt her.

Sucking in a deep breath, I hold it, forcing myself not to reply. I’m learning how to manage the women in my life, by allowing them to vent, because they need to get it out. I have to sit and listen, while they tell me to my face how they think I’m an asshole and why.

I used to speak over them, try to persuade them that their perspective was wrong, but then I realized it was about hearing their emotions. If they think I harmed them, then I did. It doesn’t matter if I’d meant to harm them or not.

“I’m not going to have a relationship with anyone who will treat my mother like shit.” Ava snarls at me, going as far as to bare her teeth. “This isn’t about the divorce, because we all need you and Mom to get a divorce. It’s not about you finally marrying Cort, because we all need you to marry him.”

Glaring at me, Ava challenges me to interrupt. I bite my tongue, waiting for her to give it to me with both barrels. I deserve anything and everything she has to say. All of it.

“I’m a part of my mother!” Ava cries out, fist landing between her small breasts. “I am a part of you. When someone says something bad about you, I defend you. I defend my mother. I defend my siblings because they are me.”

Nodding, I just nod as I listen to my daughter. Feeling powerless, I watch the tears of injustice stream down her pink cheeks.

“I will never say a bad word about Faith. Never! ” Ava snarls. “I may want to, but I won’t, because she is my brother’s mother. Any insult to Faith would be to insult Zane, which is why I’ll defend her if I catch anyone saying shit about her.”

“I agree,” is whispered, fearing where Ava is leading with this conversation.

“You’ve never spoken ill of Faith either. You defend Faith, even when she acts awful. You respect Faith. Why?” Ava demands in a childlike voice.

Unable to help myself, I instantly respond. “Because Faith is the mother of my son. I can love her, sometimes not like her, but it doesn’t take away my love for you or anyone else. I can still respect Faith without disrespecting you. Ava, I don’t want this conversation to turn into a who’s better than whom bash session.”

“Dad, that’s my point. I wouldn’t respect you if you treated Faith like shit. That is my point,” she strongly stresses. “I’m defending these undeserving people because they’re connected to someone who is a part of me. Zane’s a part of me, so shouldn’t Faith defend Mom too?”

“Faith is a grown woman.” I go on the defensive. “I cannot control her, nor can I dictate her emotions or behaviors. She’s acting better lately.”

“How about you, then?” The words are dripping with both sarcasm and rage. “You don’t defend my mother. You don’t respect my mother. You’ve allowed people who harmed her and bullied her to go unpunished– same as you do with me . ”

At a loss, a string of nonsense words spill from my numb lips.

“I am my mother!” Ava bellows, voice breaking. “So when you don’t defend Mom, when you don’t respect Mom, you’re disrespecting me and hurting me. So therefore, I cannot respect you.”

Sitting in stunned silence, I watch my daughter cry out of sheer frustration, sobs filled with a plethora of injustice. Unable to stop myself, I reach out to comfort her, but she swats my hand away. Ava slowly calms down by blowing her nose into a tissue, then schooling her breathing.

“I don’t care about the past anymore. It’s over, and I want to start fresh. But it’s hard to ignore how you treat Mom and me differently than you do Faith and Zane or Cort and the twins. You treat us as less. As possessions. You want to control us. You don’t respect us like Faith and Zane or love us like Cort and the twins. I try so hard not to be jealous–”

“Ava–”

“No!” Ava shouts, practically seething. Fisting the duvet, my daughter glares in my direction. “You wanted me to talk, so you’re going to listen.”

I can’t help the smile that quickly twists my lips, because Katya screamed those same words at me about two months ago, for the exact same reason. Here I thought I learned my lesson, but I guess I hadn’t.

Clearly, I hadn’t.

“I just feel like shit!” Ava snarls. “Half the people I know are scared of my dad, or they all hate my mom because of my dad. They hate me too. Inside I feel ruined. I think to myself, is it because I’m a girl? Is that why Dad doesn’t respect me? But he respects Faith, and she’s a woman. Is it because I’m my mother’s daughter? But none of that is fair. I love Mom– she’s my world. To judge me because I’m female, or because I’m Mom’s daughter, that’s beyond unfair. I just want to be judged on who I am on the inside . I don’t want to feel like my father hates me because he hates my mother.”

Leaning forward, I grip my daughter’s chin between my fingers, not allowing Ava to look away. “I love Katya with my entire being. I love you just as much, if not more. Don’t ever talk like that again.” I snarl directly into Ava’s face, anger spilling from my lips as tears stream from my eyes.

“Dad, that’s what it feels like,” Ava whispers, sounding defeated. “It’s what people say to me about you and Mom.”

“That has nothing to do with you,” I fiercely bite out, hating how I didn’t get a handle on this shit when it first started. “Don’t let them get to you, don’t let them win. They’re bullies.”

“It was your fault!” Ava shouts at me, pointing her finger at the center of my chest. “It was your responsibility to make them respect Mom because she’s your wife. Mom is the mother of THREE of your children. Not just the one, yet how respectfully you treat Faith because of Zane. THREE!!! It wasn’t Mom’s place to run around defending herself every single minute to the people you call family and friend. Mom shouldn’t have to defend your children and your wife to the mother of your son. Your people are my mother’s bullies, making you at fault!”

“I agree,” is a defeated whisper. “I see where it went wrong. I acknowledge that I allowed this to happen, and that it affects our entire family. For six weeks or more, I’ve been trying to right the wrongs, but it can’t happen immediately. It took four years to destroy us– it’s going to take a while to fix us.”

Not in a place to comprehend what I’m saying, Ava is in vent mode. She’s the one who is feeling nothing but a sense of injustice. The only thing I can do is listen and absorb what she has to say, making sure she knows her voice is important.

“Cort isn’t even my father, yet he respects, loves, and defends us. He wasn’t even Mom’s real husband, yet Cort told Faith where to shove it when she wouldn’t stop insulting Mom to our faces. Caleb is downstairs with Mom for a reason. He respects Mom, so she trusts him.”

Nice.

My daughter just managed to twist the knife lodged deep in my back. Well played, daughter.

Well. Played.

“Cort, Caleb, Zane, me, and the twins– we’re all cleaning up the mess you’ve made with Mom, and it’s–” Ava makes a horrific noise in the back of her throat. “Wrong isn’t a strong enough word.”

“I believe you’re looking for evil or monstrous, Ava,” is breathed out in a rush, shame quivering my voice.

Fearing I won’t be able to keep it together much longer, I don’t want my daughter to see how badly her words resonate with me. A young woman should never see her father bawl in agony over the atrocities he’s committed and the losses he’s suffered as consequence.

I’ve played pretend since Christmas day, not wanting to dampen Cort’s joy over our engagement. To say I’m grieving Katya is an understatement. I fear Cort will believe the love I feel for him is lessened because of how agonized I am by Katya’s and my divorce.

I’ve suffered in silence and in private, unable to share the burden I so rightfully deserve with anyone.

“If you love us, you won’t stop the divorce before it’s finalized. We all need the divorce to heal and move forward from this shit. I love you, Dad. I see you trying so very hard. I see the change in you, and how happy you and Cortez are. But I can’t trust it until you pass the test of time. I’ve had four years of living a life one way– a month and a half doesn’t change that.”

“I will prove it to you, daughter,” is a solemn vow taken.

“I’ll hold you to it.” A genuine smile breaches Ava’s angelic face for the first time in weeks. Maybe months. Perhaps years. “I’ll make you prove it. But until then, you’re just gonna suffer in silence. Now give me my book back.”

…I give Ava her book back, earning me a kiss and an ‘ I love you, Daddy ’ as reward.