All the Broken Pieces: (Broken Series Book 3) (13 page)

“Lauren?” I called, getting more worried by the second. “Lauren? What’s the matter? Are you okay?”

She managed to rise to her feet, but was unsteady so she kept one hand on the dumpster as she shuffled around to the opposite side and away from the mess. Her eyes were downcast and her whole body shook. She still hadn’t spoken or acknowledged my presence.

“Lauren, please talk to me. Say something, Red,” I pleaded.

She just sat there, shivering so hard I could hear her teeth clicking together. It wasn’t from the cold, couldn’t have been. The temperature was warm that day; in the sixties.

“Sweetheart, are you sick? Do you need me to take you to the doctor?”

A quick shake of the head between tremors. Progress, I supposed.

“Okay, so you’re not ill. Did something happen in there?” I flicked a glance toward the restaurant, noticing that Clay was finally pulling out of the lot. “Did one of the customers say or do something to upset you?”

Another swift head shake.

I reached out to brush her hair from her face and she flinched back as if burned, pressing herself against the dumpster and out of my reach.

What the fuck?

I held my hands up in front of me. “Okay, it’s okay. I won’t touch you, but you have to tell me what’s going on.”

Another head shake.

Shit.

Silent tears streamed down her face, thus the reason her hair was sticking to it so badly. I fought the urge to reach out to her again, deciding instead to sit down. I moved as close as I dared, settling beside her with about two feet between us and pressed my back against the dumpster, clasping my hands between my bent knees so she could see that I wasn’t trying to touch her.

I sat there for a while, not talking, not moving. Mostly because I had no fucking idea what to do. I hadn’t felt this useless—this helpless—in a long damn time. She cried and trembled, I sat and watched. It was killing me.

Long minutes later, my phone vibrated in my pocket and, after a moment of debate, I pulled it out and frowned at the screen. Talia.

Why was Talia calling me?

I accepted the call and put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“How is she?” she asked without preamble.

“Shaking, crying, and not letting me touch her. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“It’s a panic attack.” She cut right to the chase. “Clay told me what you guys saw on the way out. She’s having a panic attack. Is she talking?”

My heart galloped in my chest, mostly in relief that I had an answer of sorts. “No, I can’t get her to speak and she flinched away when I tried to touch her.” I looked over at Lauren, waiting for her to react to being spoken about, but there was no noticeable change. “I need to help her Talia, but she won’t let me. What do I do?”

“If she won’t let you physically touch her yet, all you can do is talk to her. Use a steady, soft voice. Make sentences short because it’s hard to focus during an attack. Tell her she’s safe. Tell her you’re not going to let anything happen to her. Try to get her to breathe with you, taking slow deep breaths. If she responds to that, then see if you can get her to do something physical. Ask her to raise one hand over her head, wiggle her fingers, anything that will shift her attention. Most of all, make sure she can see everything you’re doing. After she’s calmed down a little, you can try to touch her again but move slow, stay in her line of sight, and back off if she flinches away.”

“How do you know all of this?” I asked Talia as I shifted from Lauren’s side to sit directly in front of her.

“Experience,” Talia sighed, her voice full of sympathy.

“From my point of view or hers?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Talia blew out a breath. “Hers, little brother. Hers. And I’m glad to come to the diner if you need me, but I really think she needs you right now. She’s closest with you.”

“Okay. I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all any of us can do, sweetie. Call me if you need me, okay?”

“Okay.”

I ended the call and watched Lauren’s distant expression as the tears just kept coming and the shakes racked her body. “Lauren, I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.” My voice shook with remembered pain, past failings rearing their ugly heads to remind me that I’d made that promise before. I bit down hard to fight off the onslaught of emotion and refocused on Lauren. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. I swear I do.”
I won’t fail again
.

I leaned down, trying to catch her eye. “Can you do something for me? Can you breathe with me? We’ll do it together, okay? Take a deep breath for me, baby.” I took in a deep breath, my chest expanding as I watched her. After a moment, she drew in a long, deep breath. We breathed out together and her eyes finally met mine. Her expression was so haunted, vacant, hollow. More so than I had ever seen. It scared the shit out of me. Instead of reaching for her like I wanted—and goddamn did I want to—I offered a soft smile and inhaled again, watching her follow along.

We sat like that for several minutes, just breathing. I even managed to get her moving a little. Her hands raised, her fingers wiggled, and eventually, she even brushed the errant strands of hair from her face. I was grateful as hell for that because in my panicked mind they were once again starting to look like streaks of blood against her pale skin.

When her hand returned to her lap, I held my own hand up and slowly reached for her. She tracked my movements with wary tension in her face but didn’t stop me. Rather than touching her, I turned my palm up and waited for her to give her hand to me. She looked at my upturned hand for a moment before haltingly threading her fingers through mine.

Once contact was made, I could breathe again. I was getting her back; I was helping even if only a little.

She squeezed my hand and held my gaze, tears still falling but shaking far less than she was. “He found me.” Her voice was raspy when she spoke, her eyes suddenly widening as she turned to glance at her surroundings, looking on the verge of bolting. “He was here.” There was no mistaking the terror on her face or in her words.

“Who was here, Lauren?” I was looking around too, wondering what the hell she was talking about.

“He thinks Teach left me money. Said I had to pay him. That I owed him for all those years in prison. That it was my fault he was scarred and I better pay or else.” The shaking returned now, worse than ever. I expected her to draw away but, instead, she practically jumped into my lap.

Scarred?

My mind immediately flashed to the guy who had been entering the diner as Clay and I left.

“I saw him.” I told her as she tucked her head under my chin, curling herself into a ball. “Who is he?”

“My stepfather.” She said, sounding small, fragile. “He used to hurt me. A lot. But Teach saved me. He found him doing that to me and Teach nearly beat him to death before the police got there.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “He hurt you?”

I felt her nod against my chest, moisture from her tears soaking through my thin t-shirt. “He’s the reason I can’t ever have babies. They had to take my uterus when I was eleven. I was hemorrhaging.”

Bile rose in my throat at the implications, my fucking analytical mind trying to fathom the trauma that had caused a thing like that. I couldn’t get it out of my head, couldn’t breathe for the pain of knowing what she must have suffered. Couldn’t swallow back the tears of rage at knowing I had walked right by the son of a bitch who did that to her, smiled at him and thanked him for holding the door.

I’d walked out and left her unprotected against him.

“I’ll fucking kill him.” My voice was unrecognizable even to my own ears. Deadly serious. Vicious. Determined.

She shook her head, looking up at me with tear-reddened eyes. “No. Don’t do anything. I don’t want to lose you. You’re my only real friend. I need you with me, not in prison.” She glanced over at the diner. “Maybe he won’t come back. I told him I didn’t inherit anything, and that I didn’t have any money and I was calling the cops. He was going out the door when I ran out through the kitchen.”

She paused and chewed her lip, thinking. “He probably won’t come back, right? All he wanted was money and now he knows I don’t have any. Maybe that’s the end of it. Right?” She looked up at me, hope and fear shining in her crystal blue eyes.

“Maybe.” I didn’t believe it for even a second but right then all I cared about was making her feel better.

Once I knew she was okay, the hunt was on.

Lauren

My head was still pounding when I got home. Brant had loaded me into my Mustang, gone back into the diner to get my things, and driven me around for hours, just letting me stare off into space. I barely noticed when he hit one of the drive-thrus and got us both something to drink. Oddly enough, he picked a strawberry shake for me. It was my favorite drink from that particular restaurant.

There was a time that I’d have been suspicious of anyone who knew my habits that well, but the last several weeks with Brant had changed that, at least as far as he was concerned. I trusted him. I’d grown accustomed to the thoughtful gestures and started seeing them for what they were, his way of showing his friendship. There were no ulterior motives, just kindness.

In the past, guys had done sweet things to ingratiate themselves to me so that they’d have a better chance of getting into my panties. They thought I was stupid, gullible; weak-minded enough to think that some token gesture meant they were good men, worthy of my trust. I was no fool, though. I knew better. I knew what they cared about, what value I held for them. And they didn’t win. Ever.

I never fell for the bullshit lines, never drank anything handed to me by anyone I didn’t trust, and I never let my guard down. I’d never be a fucking victim again. Not for anyone or anything. That meant spending a lot of time alone. And when I had to be in a crowd, I spent a lot of time in my own head analyzing people’s motives.

With Brant, though, I felt safe enough to be myself for the first time in my life. I felt accepted, appreciated. Understood. Safe. I was happier than I’d been in a long time.

I should have known it wouldn’t last.

Happiness never does.

Just when I thought I might make it, might have found a way to be okay… bam! Isaac strolls into the diner with loathing and violence in his eyes and I was suddenly back there again, a scared little girl who lived in perpetual pain and fear. A few words from him and I was ruined all over again.

Brant cut the car’s engine and got out, circling to open my door. He reached out his hand to help me from the car and I took it gratefully. I was still shaky from my episode in the parking lot and it took a minute to get my wobbly legs under control. Once I’d righted myself and given him a nod, he let go of my hand but kept close as we made our way inside.

Spencer and Talia said they’d bring Brant’s truck by after work, which seemed to suit Brant fine since he’d given no indication of wanting to leave my side any time soon.

We neared the door and I fumbled with my handbag, looking for my keys as the front door swung open.

Bonnie.

Just what I needed.

“Well, aren’t you popular? Second fella of the day…” she cut her eyes at Brant.

“Second?” I looked at her, confusion taking priority over my annoyance. “What are you talking about?”

She pursed her mouth distastefully. “Don’t feign ignorance just because suitor number two is here. I won’t lie for you, you hussy. I answered the door earlier when your other gentleman caller showed up, though gentleman is a bit of an exaggeration.”

Shit.

“Did he give his name?” Brant asked, concern in his voice.

Bonnie obviously thought he was jealous, her scowl turned into a snarky smile, as if she was glad to have started trouble. “No, but he demanded to know where Lauren was, made it sound like it was urgent that he see her.” She snorted derisively. “His wife probably got wind of their association.” She emphasized that last word, leaving no doubt what she thought the association was.

Despicable old bitch.

“And you told him where to find her, didn’t you?” Brant practically spat, his eyes narrowed on Bonnie’s ancient form.

She shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s not up to me to vet her visitors or I would have banished you weeks ago.” Her gaze fell on a spot just inside the foyer. “I nearly didn’t give him the location of the diner, though. He had a lot of nerve just waltzing in here like he owned the place. I asked him to wait outside while I wrote down the address but next thing I knew he was right there behind me, looking around like he was taking inventory.” She wagged a finger at me. “Nothing better disappear around here while we’re gone, either, missy.”

Oh, God. He was in the house.

I felt sick all over again.

Brant’s hand was suddenly on my elbow, steadying me as he spoke. “What do you mean gone? Where are you going?”

I hadn’t even caught that part, too distracted by the feeling of dread that came with knowing Isaac had sullied the house with his presence.

“Marilee is coming to stay with me for a while until she can decide what she wants to do.” Bonnie’s voice was triumphant.

“What?” I looked at her then down the hall toward Marilee’s room, confused. “What is there to decide?”

“That’s none of your business. Now is the time for family and you aren’t family, no matter what Parker said.”

“Careful, old woman. I’m losing patience with your shit.” Brant’s hand tightened on my elbow, guiding me past Bonnie and down the hall, muttering obscenities as we went.

Marilee was in her room, open suitcase nearly overflowing on the bed as she tried to stuff her huge, terry-cloth robe into the remaining space. Brant waited by the door, arms crossed as he scowled down the hall in Bonnie’s direction. She’d wisely let us pass without comment and seemed to be keeping her distance for now.

“Mar?”

She looked over and smiled softly. “Hi, sweetie. Come on in.” Spying Brant in the doorway, she motioned for him to join us but he just gave her a smile and a wink, keeping his post to be sure Bonnie stayed out.