The Billionaire Next Door(67)

Mr. O’Banyon was gone. Dead.



Though the past lived on, didn’t it?



As a nurse, she’d seen the tragedies of domestic abuse and she’d talked to some social workers about the wide-ranging effects it had on its victims. One corollary for survivors, which tended to persist through adulthood, was trust issues in relationships. Particularly intimate ones.



So she found it difficult to stay angry with Sean for the conclusions he’d drawn about her character. She didn’t appreciate his misconceptions, but at least now she could understand how he’d be predisposed to making them. Especially given the fact that someone had likely once used him for money.



Okay, enough with the thinking. Time to call him.



She started to dial just as she heard a car pull up in front of the house.#p#分页标题#e#



On some sixth sense, she leaned forward and looked out the window. Through the blinds, she saw Sean get out of a rental car.



Their eyes met. In the glow of a streetlight, she saw he was wearing another one of his suits and that this time his tie was a brilliant blue. He looked just as she remembered him: handsome, powerful, strong.



A car passed between them. Then with his typical masculine grace, he lifted a hand.



When she raised her palm in response, he started for the house. With long strides, he crossed the street and she heard his footsteps on the front porch.



She opened her door just as he came into the duplex. The cologne she remembered so clearly wafted in, going deep into her nose.



“Hi,” he said.



“Hi.” All she could think about as she stared at him was what she’d read in that report. She wanted to put her arms around him, hold him tight, ease him. “I was just about to call you.”



His brows shot up. “Really?”



“I, ah, found something that belonged to your father.” She motioned him in. When he walked into the living room, she shut the door. “It’s right here.”



She lifted up the tool box and his eyes latched onto the thing.



“God, I can remember him taking that to work all the time.” Sean reached out and took it from her. “Guess it’s one more donation to the church.”



“You need to look inside before you give it away.”



Sean’s eyes narrowed. Then he put the thing on her couch and opened the lid. As he peered in, his breath left his lips on a long exhale. He picked up the photograph of his mother with reverence.



“So he kept one picture after all,” Sean said softly. “I’d wondered. I didn’t find any while I was cleaning up.”



Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest and covered her mouth with her hand. She hated the strain in his voice, despised its cause.



He rifled through the contents, looking at the birth certificates and then…the Child Protective Services report.



After he scanned the document, he folded the papers back up. “You read this, didn’t you?”



“It was wrong of me, but yes, I did.” She sighed. “I’m so sorry, Sean. I had no idea. None. And from what I knew of your father, I wouldn’t have guessed him capable of it.” When he stayed silent, she said, “I’m very sorry I intruded on your privacy. I’ll say nothing, of course. To anyone.”



Sean went over to the windows. Against the backdrop of the blinds, his profile was rigid and so were his shoulders.



Lizzie wanted to jump out of her skin as he stood there for the longest time. Was he mad at her? Was he back in the past? What should she do?



His voice drifted over to her. “You know, in retrospect, I’m surprised they let us go back.” He tapped the papers against his palm. “Although I guess they really bought the ‘we’re just rough-and-tumble boys and that’s why we have bruises’ routine. I wish now that we hadn’t been so persuasive.”



“Was it the drinking?” she asked quietly. “Your father mentioned to me once he’d struggled with it.”



“Yeah, he did what he did only when he was drunk. And hell, even though he got into the sauce every night, it wasn’t all the time that he came after us. It was just…you didn’t know when it was going to happen so it felt like every day even if there were months of relative quiet.” His hazel eyes shifted over to her. “It’s okay, though. We’re fine now. Everything is fine.”



“It’s okay if you’re not.”



“No, it isn’t.”



Feeling as if she were intruding, but unable to stop because of her concern for him, she said, “Sean, have you ever talked to someone about what happened?”