Dirty Daddies(84)

I wanted to believe he really was looking for me, and I wanted to believe he really loved me.

I slip to the floor, not caring if there’s broken glass there, not caring about anything.

And then I tell them everything.

Finally, for once in my life, I tell someone everything.





Chapter Twenty-Eight





Michael



And suddenly all the pieces fit into place.

She’s in a daze as she heads through to the living room and sits herself down on the slashed sofa. She pulls her knees up to her chest and hugs them tight as Jack sits alongside her and I drop to my knees on the floor.

“It’s alright, Carrie,” I say, “you can tell us.”

And she does. She tells us everything.

She tells us how happy she was to find her brother. She tells us the story of what happened all those years ago in Eli’s family home. She tells us how they thought it was her assaulting their younger daughter and leaving bruises on her arms, but it wasn’t. It was Eli, and that makes sense too. The kid was troubled when I met him, narcissistic to the point it gave me shivers. Thoroughly dissociated from those around him.

And now he’s studying law, blending into the student populous no doubt oblivious to the pain he caused the broken girl sitting before me.

He didn’t mention Carrie once in all our sessions. I only saw her name in the family history section of his case file.

Kevin Baker told Carrie everything she wanted to hear, and I don’t blame her for believing him. A girl who had nothing and no one. The promise of a family she loved and lost coming back to find her.

I know he was the one who took her before us before she says anything. I can imagine the details before she speaks them, but they break my heart all the same.

“I thought he loved me,” she breathes, and she’s ashen. A paper doll where there’s usually so much life.

I look across at Jack and his jaw is gritted. I find myself glad Kevin’s surely heading back into Gloucester by now, because I wouldn’t fancy his chances if Jack caught up with the sack of shit anytime soon.

It surprises me how willing I’d be to teach the kid a lesson myself.

“Nobody ever called him Eli,” she whispers. “He said he was using a fake identity, for the drugs.” She shakes her head. “I feel so stupid.”

“You aren’t stupid,” Jack says. “He’s a cunt and you were vulnerable.”

He’s hit the nail right on the head there, although I’d probably have phrased it slightly differently.

“What do I do now?” she asks and her eyes are wide and scared. “He took your money…”

“Fuck the money,” Jack says. “He hurt you. All that matters now is that he’s never going to do it again. Not ever, Carrie.”

She nods so slowly. “You thought it was me.”

“No,” Jack says. “You wanted me to think it was you. If I really thought it was you, I’d have had you over my fucking knee already and given you the fucking belt for it.”

He smiles, and my heart races and as she smiles too.

“You wouldn’t have thrown me out?”

“For the sake of a few bits of furniture and a couple of hundred quid? You’d have to try a bit harder than that, sweetheart.” He sighs. “I caught you on the doorstep, remember? I was pulling you back, not chasing you off.”

“I thought he loved me,” she says again and brushes a tear away as soon as it falls.

I place my hand on her knee and squeeze as tight as I dare. “He didn’t,” I tell her. “But we do.”

I can hardly believe the words that come out of Jack’s mouth next. They don’t sound like him at all. He pulls her into his arms, even though she’s rigid and trembling, and whispers them right into her ear. “You have us now, Carrie, and we’ll always hug you so tight that all your broken pieces will fit back together again. You’ll see.”

With a lump in my throat, I take the space on the sofa he pulled Carrie from, and I wrap my arms around her from behind, until her trembling stops and her breath is even and her arms wrap around us right back.

I don’t know if a hug really can fit someone’s broken pieces all back together, but we can try.

We’ll never, ever stop trying.





Carrie



I don’t know how long they hold me there, but I never want to move.

I’m scared I’ll fall apart without their arms around me. I’m scared I’ll shatter into pieces and never pick them all up again.

I remember all the times the guy who called himself Eli touched me. I remember all the times he told me that that was what love felt like.

But love feels nothing like that, and I know it now.