Hell And Back(30)

“Bella, I gotta take off. I’m really sorry. I didn’t know I would—”

“You don’t owe me anything,” I say to him while I turn around and grab the bag of chili and corn bread I wrapped up. “Here, I know you didn’t finish your dinner and you might be hungry later or maybe not. I don’t really know.” I have no idea what to say to him. I don’t even want to look at him. To know he is probably judging me for putting my daughter through that. I can’t see that, not from him.

“Bella, look at me,” he asks, but I shake my head no.

I will not fall apart in front of him. He doesn’t get to witness it.

“Lilah, come on, let’s get you in the bath.” I grab her and walk to the stairs. “Can you close the door when you leave? I’ll come down and lock it.”

“Bella, this isn’t finished,” he says with his teeth clenched.

“There isn’t anything to finish since there isn’t anything started. Please shut the door.” I don’t give him a chance to answer, instead jogging up the stairs.

The minute I set Lilah down on the toilet so I can start the bath, I hear the click of the front door closing. Turning off the water, I run back downstairs to lock the door.

Leaning my head on the door, I allow the tears to fall. I allow them because I’m allowing myself to feel hurt. Not because I’m hurt or I feel sorry for myself, but because my heart hurts for my baby, who is scared of dark closets. For not having enough faith in myself. For not getting away sooner.

“Momma, I naked.” I hear Lilah yell and know if I don’t go back up there, she’ll empty the whole bottle of those damn pink bubbles.

“I’m coming, baby girl. I’m just getting some water.” Drying the tears with the back of my hands, I walk back upstairs and give my girl and myself a pink bubble bath.

We sing songs, and I tell her stories about when I was little. We sit outside, watching the stars. I have one eye on the house across the street that remains pitch-black.

When she finally nods off to sleep, I take her inside and tuck her in. Grabbing a blanket and some throw pillows, I turn on the baby monitor and head downstairs to sit in the swing.

I sit in the swing, watching the stars, daydreaming and wishing things were different.





Chapter Seventeen


Jackson





When the phone rang and I saw Marissa’s number, I knew I would have to leave. I wasn’t wrong. She said Lori called her whispering, crying, and asking for help.

Fuck, I can’t deal with this right now. Not after sitting at the table while the little girl who has woven herself into my heart tells me she hates dark closets. I’m supposed to enforce the law, but in that moment, I knew I would kill the person who forced her into a dark closet without thinking twice. I’d end his life, just like that, no hesitation.

I don’t even feel bad about it. What I did feel bad about was running out on Bella before we had a conversation that was a long time coming.

Rubbing my face, I turn around and I’m shocked to see her on the porch waiting for me. I wish I could say things went smoothly after that, but it was like a tornado brewing picking up speed.

When I left there, I waited to see if she would come downstairs to lock the door and not two seconds later, I heard it click. It was her locking me out of her world. Little did she know I’d be busting down that fucking door tomorrow.

I called Mick as I put my car in drive. He made plans to meet me at Marissa’s, but not before mentioning we are wasting our time.

I make it to Marissa’s club before Mick does. When I ask him for his ETA, he says he’s ten minutes out.

I know I should wait for him. Rule number one, never go in alone, always wait for backup, but before I get a chance, I see Marissa running toward me.

I barely make it out of the car before she throws herself into my arms. I almost don’t catch her.

“She’s hurt, my baby is hurt. I can tell, I heard it in her voice,” Marissa says before she starts sobbing.

“You need to calm down, Marissa, and tell me everything,” I say as I try to pull her off my neck.

She finally releases me as Mick is walking up. He takes in Marissa in her work outfit. I didn’t even get a chance to see it, but she’s wearing a miniskirt. I mean, if that is what they are called since her ass cheeks are out. Her tube top is white and almost see-through. The outfit is completed by her sparkly, six-inch platform, clear acrylic heels.

Mick takes off his jacket and almost throws it at her. “Jesus, cover yourself up. You’re almost naked.”

I glare at him, sick of his attitude toward her. He doesn’t even look at me. “So what happened now, Marissa, that you couldn’t wait till tomorrow before calling us?”