HUCK:The Montana Brothers(17)

"So I started dating a man." Dobbs Braddock. I didn't mention his name  to Huck, because I never wanted to hear it again, or especially speak  it. "He's a few years older than me, he's old Kentucky money too, or he  was. His family has lost a lot of it over the years, but in the south an  old family name is something that can't be bought, so he's gotten by on  that. We dated almost a year when he asked me to marry him. Something  in my gut told me it was the wrong move. I didn't feel for him what I  knew I should feel for my future husband. But when my momma found out  about it, she was just so happy. She kept telling me how it would be in  the society section of the Lexington Herald, that I'd be set for life.  So, I said yes."

Huck was quiet now, as I knew he would be.

"So we were engaged. Had a big old to-do at the country club and momma  somehow got to be the center of attention at my engagement party. That  night, he got drunk and slapped me for the first time. Because I  accidentally spilled my whiskey sour on his pants. No one saw, we were  in the parlor by ourselves at the time. He immediately apologized, but  said I needed to be more careful."

I looked at Huck, embarrassed. He just looked angry, but he kept listening. His hand was still on the back of my neck.

"After that it kept happening. Usually when he'd been drinking. He'd  smack me or push me. Tell me I was clumsy, tell me I was too fat, tell  me I sure could dress nicer since I had so much money now. Nothing I did  was good enough for him. I think he resented me much more than he ever  loved me. Which, he didn't love me at all. That I learned one night.  About two weeks ago. Before I came here."

This was going to be the hard part. I hadn't told a soul about what had happened with me and Dobbs.

"One night, his phone kept buzzing on the night stand next to his bed. I  was staying over at his place so we could drive down to Louisville to  see the Derby with my momma and her husband. It wouldn't stop. He was in  the shower so I picked up his phone just to put it on mute and noticed a  text message from a friend of ours. Lila Hartley. Well, I was curious,  I'll admit. So I opened up the message and it was texts from her and to  her. Back and forth, almost all sex stuff, both of them talking about  how they wanted to fuck each other, how they'd been fucking each other  for the past two years, which was so weird because he could never get it  up with me, and how much he couldn't wait for me to get my trust so he  could eventually either take half of it when he divorced me, or just  spend it on her when I wasn't looking. He said I was too stupid to  notice anything going on around me anyway."

I could feel the fear and panic rising in my throat when I thought about what had happened next.

"Well, he came out of the shower as I put down the phone. He asked me  what I was doing and I told him what I'd read and that I wanted to break  up with him. That I didn't want to marry him anymore.

Well, he didn't take it well. At first, he tried to reason with me. Said  I must be mistaken, tried to convince me what I'd seen with my very own  eyes wasn't true. But when I wouldn't back down the fists started." I  was crying now. "It was the beating of a lifetime. He took all his anger  out on me that night. Didn't touch my face, but beat me back black and  blue. I couldn't lift my arms the next morning when I went to see my  mother and tell her what happened."

And that was the thing. The beating from Dobbs hadn't been the worst part of this whole mess.

"When I showed her what he'd done to me, she was upset at first. Told me  he was a bastard, that he would pay for what he'd done. But then she  said I should stay in a separate room from him until he'd shown he was  sorry. When I told her I was leaving him, she got more upset about that  than the fact that he'd hit me. She said I couldn't do that, it would be  so embarrassing for her and for me. That marriages aren't meant to be  love stories. I couldn't believe it. I wanted to throw up, it made me so  sick."

Huck still hadn't said anything. He wiped my tears away with his hands and waited for me to keep going.                       
       
           



       

"So I left. In the middle of the night while he was out, probably at  Lila's. I took everything I could pack fast and I got the hell out of  Kentucky. My mother started calling and texting me the next day and when  I told her I was leaving she begged me to tell her where I was. I  refused. He was texting me, too, threatening to cut my phone off since  it was under his account. Then Momma threatened to cut me off. Anything  to get me to go back. Luckily I made it to Whitmer before it happened."

I sighed. As painful as telling the story was, I felt better having told Huck the truth. But now it was his turn to speak.

And that was what I was most anxious about.

"I want to kill him," he said. "Actually, I will kill him. If he ever  comes near this town, he's dead, Belle. I'll kill him and bury him where  no one can find his evil ass."

"He would never come here," I said. "No one knows where I am. I didn't  tell a single soul where I was heading. I didn't trust them not to tell  my mother, who would certainly tell him."

"Piece of shit." Huck spat out the words. "He's not a man. No real man  does that to a woman. Belle, I'm so angry I don't even know what to do  with myself."

"Just still love me," I said. "Even though I'm clearly an idiot."

Huck looked at me, "Why the hell would you say that about yourself?  Don't you dare blame yourself for this shit, Belle. I won't listen to  it."

I shrugged. "I should have left sooner."

"The fact that you were able to leave at all is a testament to how strong you are," Huck replied. He looked shook up.

"Well," I said. "I wanted you to know. So there was no more mystery. So  you could know the truth about me and where I came from. And why."

I watched him as he started pacing the kitchen floor. He was thinking  about something; I wasn't sure what. I just hoped that he didn't think  less of me. That this wasn't all too much baggage for him to deal with.

"There's something I need to tell you," he said. "I think it's time you know about me too."

"Okay," I said, surprised. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not worried about me," he said. "I'm fine. I'll always be fine. But it's you, Belle. You're what I'm worried about."

Huck sat back down and looked at me.

And as soon as I saw the sadness in his eyes, I suddenly wasn't sure if the truth was worth telling or hearing.

But it had to be told.





11





He ran both fingers through his hair, weighing his next words heavily.

"I don't know how to say this. It's just …  our stories seem so connected,  just like everything else has seemed about us this week. But I know I  can't allow you to get hurt again. Not after what you've been through.  What I'm trying to say, now that I know your story, is that I'm the  worst possible kind of man for you."

I was puzzled. Tall, dark, handsome, painfully sexy, and empathetic seemed like exactly the kind of man I needed.

"Belle, did you ever stop to wonder where our daddy is? Me and my  brothers' father, I mean? I know I told you my momma passed away when I  was little, but I never said how."

"No, I mean from things Rick has said about the bar it belongs to the  three of you, but I know it's been around for a while. You had mentioned  your momma, of course, and I didn't want to push you for the hows and  whys. I know from personal experience that those questions can feel  intrusive if asked the wrong way," I replied.

"My momma, Helen Calloway, is undoubtedly in heaven. Sitting on a cloud,  playing a harp, the whole nine yards. She was Rick's sister. My father,  on the other hand, Tom Garvin, is in the hottest pit in the worst  neighborhood in Hell. I actually have less doubt about that than I do  about where my momma is."

Huck turned stony when he mentioned his dad. I stood up and walked over to him, putting my hands in his.

"Huck, we don't have to talk about this if you don't want to. Or we can.  I want to know everything about you, but I don't want to open old  wounds. I sure am sorry about your momma, though," I said. "The way you  talk about her …  I can only hope my own children revere me half as much  one day."

Huck looked down at me sternly, but his face softened and he let a small  smile through. He sat down and eased me down next to him, wrapping an  arm around my shoulders.

"There's people in Whitmer, the old-timers, who knew Tom Garvin when he  was the age I am now. And knew him when he was growing up. Sometimes  they'll see me out somewhere and I notice they'll turn white as a sheet.  That's how much they say I resemble him. Not just the way he looked,  but the mannerisms he had. My voice. They say it's eerie how much I  favor him. A few years back, when I was playing ball at Whitmer High,  before they closed it down, I broke a bunch of records. Most home runs  in baseball. Most points in basketball. Some football stuff. Every time I  broke a record, without fail, whose name do you think I erased from the  record books?"