heart fucking
squeezed in my chest. I was not good with criers. Especially the
female kind with their crazy hormones. The only woman in my life
whose tears I could handle was my daughter. Those tears I could fix
with a cuddle, a bottle or a clean diaper. When Lee cried I morphed
into a wild animal. Her tears brought out the beast in me and I
wanted to tear whoever had upset her apart. Unfortunately, that
person was usually me…
Lee waited until Theresa, our waitress, left
after placing two mugs and a pot of coffee on our table before she
spoke. "I love you, Kyle," she said in tight voice. "But if you
keep pushing me on this you're not going to like what I have to
say." She picked up the pot of coffee and filled both mugs. "You
promised you would let this go." Actually, I'd promised no such
thing…
I leaned my elbows on the table and watched
as he prepared our coffee. She was wearing one of my black t-shirts
over her jeans and it swamped her tiny body. It was loose enough to
camouflage every amazing curve I knew was hidden underneath it. She
tucked then re-tucked her hair behind her ears–a sure sign she was
anxious.
"You haven't given her a chance to explain,"
I said as I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and pried her hand
away from her hair. Her hands were shaking, but I didn't comment on
that fact. Lee had a continuous tremor since she woke up from her
surgery. And those tremors worsened every day that grew closer to
the trial.
"Don't lecture me on parents," Lee warned as
she swung her face up to glare at me. Her gray eyes narrowed
challengingly. I narrowed mine accepting her challenge. "If you
want to go around fixing families like Jerry freaking Springer then
maybe you should start with your own. You're hardly an expert on
the matter." She was lashing out, trying to hurt me so I would back
off. Well, if she wanted a fight she'd get one.
Lee had been as alive as a house plant for
too long. She needed to get her claws back and if fighting with me
brought her back to life then I'd fight all fucking day. I had no
pressing engagements and my skin was tough.
"No, I'm not an expert," I said deadpan. "My
mother's dead and my father denied me. I was dumped into a home
when I was three. So you're right, princess, I don't have a clue
what it feels like to have a living relative who would risk their
life to save mine." Regret flickered in Lee's eyes and I felt like
an asshole for making her feel guilty, but she needed to hear this.
"You have a chance at having a mom. A real, honest to god decent
parent, but you're judging her when you don't know the whole
story."
"She had a choice, Kyle." Lee snapped,
pulling her hand away from mine. "I didn't."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I
asked as I tore the lid off a yoghurt and started to feed Hope.
"What the fuck kind of choice did she have when her husband put his
hands on her? What choice did you have when your father beat you?
Baby, that man is a tyrant. You think she chose to be beaten?"
"I meant that she chose my father. She
chose to date him, to marry him, to have a child with him." She
balled her hands into fists and I knew she was forcing herself not
to cry. "Where were my choices, Kyle?"
"It's not that simple, Lee," I sighed as I
plopped another spoon of yoghurt into Hope's waiting mouth. "You
haven't heard her side of things. If you talked to her you'd see
things clearer. Baby, I know you're hurt, but right now you're
being very judgmental."
"No, you don't understand me, Kyle," Lee
croaked out. "Of course I don't think she chose to be beaten. No
one would choose that. I know what it feels like, so don't put that
guilt trip on me. And I don't blame her for leaving him," she
paused and inhaled deeply through her nose before continuing. "I
blame her for leaving me behind. She ran away and left me to take
her place. She left me in that house. With him ." She yanked
on the end of her ponytail, clearly distraught. "Eighteen years,
Kyle. I spent eighteen years
squeezed in my chest. I was not good with criers. Especially the
female kind with their crazy hormones. The only woman in my life
whose tears I could handle was my daughter. Those tears I could fix
with a cuddle, a bottle or a clean diaper. When Lee cried I morphed
into a wild animal. Her tears brought out the beast in me and I
wanted to tear whoever had upset her apart. Unfortunately, that
person was usually me…
Lee waited until Theresa, our waitress, left
after placing two mugs and a pot of coffee on our table before she
spoke. "I love you, Kyle," she said in tight voice. "But if you
keep pushing me on this you're not going to like what I have to
say." She picked up the pot of coffee and filled both mugs. "You
promised you would let this go." Actually, I'd promised no such
thing…
I leaned my elbows on the table and watched
as he prepared our coffee. She was wearing one of my black t-shirts
over her jeans and it swamped her tiny body. It was loose enough to
camouflage every amazing curve I knew was hidden underneath it. She
tucked then re-tucked her hair behind her ears–a sure sign she was
anxious.
"You haven't given her a chance to explain,"
I said as I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and pried her hand
away from her hair. Her hands were shaking, but I didn't comment on
that fact. Lee had a continuous tremor since she woke up from her
surgery. And those tremors worsened every day that grew closer to
the trial.
"Don't lecture me on parents," Lee warned as
she swung her face up to glare at me. Her gray eyes narrowed
challengingly. I narrowed mine accepting her challenge. "If you
want to go around fixing families like Jerry freaking Springer then
maybe you should start with your own. You're hardly an expert on
the matter." She was lashing out, trying to hurt me so I would back
off. Well, if she wanted a fight she'd get one.
Lee had been as alive as a house plant for
too long. She needed to get her claws back and if fighting with me
brought her back to life then I'd fight all fucking day. I had no
pressing engagements and my skin was tough.
"No, I'm not an expert," I said deadpan. "My
mother's dead and my father denied me. I was dumped into a home
when I was three. So you're right, princess, I don't have a clue
what it feels like to have a living relative who would risk their
life to save mine." Regret flickered in Lee's eyes and I felt like
an asshole for making her feel guilty, but she needed to hear this.
"You have a chance at having a mom. A real, honest to god decent
parent, but you're judging her when you don't know the whole
story."
"She had a choice, Kyle." Lee snapped,
pulling her hand away from mine. "I didn't."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I
asked as I tore the lid off a yoghurt and started to feed Hope.
"What the fuck kind of choice did she have when her husband put his
hands on her? What choice did you have when your father beat you?
Baby, that man is a tyrant. You think she chose to be beaten?"
"I meant that she chose my father. She
chose to date him, to marry him, to have a child with him." She
balled her hands into fists and I knew she was forcing herself not
to cry. "Where were my choices, Kyle?"
"It's not that simple, Lee," I sighed as I
plopped another spoon of yoghurt into Hope's waiting mouth. "You
haven't heard her side of things. If you talked to her you'd see
things clearer. Baby, I know you're hurt, but right now you're
being very judgmental."
"No, you don't understand me, Kyle," Lee
croaked out. "Of course I don't think she chose to be beaten. No
one would choose that. I know what it feels like, so don't put that
guilt trip on me. And I don't blame her for leaving him," she
paused and inhaled deeply through her nose before continuing. "I
blame her for leaving me behind. She ran away and left me to take
her place. She left me in that house. With him ." She yanked
on the end of her ponytail, clearly distraught. "Eighteen years,
Kyle. I spent eighteen years
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