Nobody's Perfect (10 page)

Squirming inside, Savi came toward them and reached for the boxes in Marc's hands. "Here, let me take some of those."

He turned to her and grew serious. "Just the top two. The bottom one's too heavy for you with that injured rib."

"Yes, sir." The man certainly had a protective streak in him. Not nearly as strong as Damián's was toward her and Mari, but more than enough to leave her feeling...uneasy, never having been under the protection of strong, yet caring men. She'd hate having a man tell her what to do, as if she were a powerless child.

The boxes she took from Marc were very light. Savi wondered what was inside, then a glance at the box in Damián's hands confirmed her suspicions. A tiny black-and-white paw poked out of the top through one of the holes.

Savi looked at Damián, hoping to get his attention to try and stop this train wreck before it happened. Mari didn't need to get attached to a real kitten. What if something happened to it and her heart was broken?

"You need to learn your lesson for kicking me last night, Savannah. Whiskers is going to the pound today."

The blonde-haired girl began to cry, begging her father not to take away her precious pet. Maman had given her Whiskers as a kitten one Easter when Savannah was only six. The two had been inseparable and she felt closer to Maman whenever Whiskers was in the bed beside her. But last night Savannah had kicked her father as hard as she could to keep him out of her bed. To keep him from hurting her…again.

Savi's hands began to shake. Her face grew warm, then cold, causing her to break out in a clammy sweat. Suddenly, she lost all feeling in her hands and feet. As if the sound reached her ears through a tunnel, she heard the boxes she'd been holding hit the floor, one at a time.

* * *

Damián's gaze zeroed in on Savi's pasty-white face. She stared at the box he held as if she expected all the evils of the world to spew forth when the lid was removed.

"Angelina, hold this." Damián shoved the box back into her hands and gripped Savi's upper arms. He stared into her glazed eyes. "What's wrong, Savi? Does something hurt?" He resisted the urge to shake her. "Look at me,
querida
." She blinked, then tried to push him away, but he refused to release her.

Her hand went to her throat. "I…can't…breathe."

"Come with me." Damián led her across the room with his arm around her back and eased her onto the center cushion of the couch. "Sit."

Marc sat on her other side and pressed his fingers against her wrist to feel for a pulse. "Inhale slowly,
cara
."

Savi shook her head, opening her mouth, but nothing came out.

"Maman? Are you sick?"

Marisol's presence seemed to jar her and she shook her head even harder, holding her other hand up to keep her daughter away.

"Come, sweetie," Angelina said. "Show me this awesome log house of yours. I always wanted one like this." Angelina shepherded Marisol toward the tree, but the little girl's eyes didn't leave Savi's face.

Damián went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the counter, twisted off the cap, and returned to Savi's side. Her color was still gone. "
Querida
, drink this." Damián held the bottle to her lips and she drank a few sips. He brushed the hair back from her dampened forehead. "Good girl."

She focused on him and spewed out with great vehemence, "Don't
ever
call me that again."

"It's just an expression, Savi. I didn't mean anything by it."

"I am nobody's
good girl
. Never again." Savi closed her eyes tight, as if in pain.

Clearly someone she didn't care for had called her a good girl in the past. Had she been with a Dom, maybe some client she'd had in the hotel?

Marc placed a hand on her arm. "Take a deep breath,
cara
. Let me make sure you haven't reinjured that rib."

"Maman, look! A real kitty!"

Damián looked over at the tree in time to see a ball of black and white fur scamper out of the box and up the tree.

"No, Daddy!" Savi whispered, a look of horror on her face. "Whiskers can't climb!"

Whiskers? She'd named the kitten already? How'd she known he'd gotten one of the kittens at Marc's store? Still, hearing her call him daddy for the first time in front of his friends did something to him, as if she'd acknowledged his role as Marisol's father publicly.

But when Damián turned toward Savi, he knew instantly she wasn't referring to him, even if they had agreed to let Marisol call him that. Savi had the same blank stare he'd seen on the faces of other veterans at the amputee rehab centers where he'd undergone rehab. Old timers called it the thousand-yard stare. She looked at the tree with unseeing eyes, as if in a trance.

He needed to bring her back. "You're okay, Savi." He reached out and stroked her arm.

Savi blinked, looking from Damián to the tree she tried to regain her bearings. She whispered, "Whiskers was declawed. He couldn't survive out there. He knew that."

"Who knew?"

Savi looked at him with a look of anguish on her face. She brushed Marc's and Damián's hands aside and pushed herself up from the couch with a grimace and a groan. Damn it, if she wasn't careful, she
was
going to injure herself.

"I need to be alone."

"Savi, stop! Don't run from it."

She shook her head and nearly careened into the wall before she veered through the opening to the bedroom, closing the door behind her with a thud. He glanced at Marc and said in a voice only for his friend's ears, "Keep an eye on Marisol—don't let her go in there."

"Sure thing."

Damián followed Savi, giving a cursory knock before he opened the door. He glanced around the room. No Savi. She must have gone straight into the bathroom. He heard the water from the faucet.

Damián knocked on that door. "You okay in there?"

"I'm fine. Just leave me alone."

Fuck that shit
. Savi wasn't fine and he was tired of hearing her say she was while she masked—or blocked—her real feelings. He opened the door to find her curvy ass facing him as she was bent over the sink. She straightened up and turned toward him, holding a washcloth against her cheek and blinked. Her hand still shook.

"Go away! I said I'm fine."

"Savi, you're not going to shut me out anymore. Tell me what's going on."

Savi closed her eyes and winced when she tried to swallow. She turned back to the sink and cupped her hands, letting water from the faucet fill them, then bent over and slurped the water into her mouth.

He reached around her and held the bottled water in front of her. "Here. Drink this."

She grabbed it like a lifeline, stood, and tilted it back against her lips, gulping down half the bottle as if she'd spent a week in Iraq without a drop. Damián's hand stroked her back in what he intended as a comforting gesture, but she shrank away from his reach as far as she could with the sink in front of her.

"Savi, what happened in there?"

"I don't want to talk about it. I just need a few minutes alone to regroup."

Damián leaned his pelvis against her backside, pressing her into the sink. He'd given her personal space for two weeks, but he recognized the signs of PTSD when he saw them. Clearly, she needed to face whatever demons pursued her before they'd let go of even a fraction of their hold on her.

The bottle shook in her hand.

"I can help, Savi. I have been through some of my own living nightmares. It helps to talk about them. Takes away their power."

He allowed her enough room to turn and face him, but she stared up into his eyes for so long he didn't know if she was trying to formulate words to respond or was planning to wait him out in silence. Then she shook her head.

"He still has all the power," she whispered.

He brushed a wet strand of hair off her soft cheek and behind her ear. "Who,
bebé
?"

She shook her head again. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to remember." She held a shaking hand to her head and pressed her fingers against her temple. "Why do these memories keep bubbling up? I dealt with all this stuff in therapy years ago."

"They don't come up until your mind feels safe; until your mind knows you can deal with them" At least, that's what his shrink had told him. Maybe it would give her more comfort than it had him. If Adam hadn't been there for him…

"Of course. I know that." She was still shaking and clearly rattled by whatever memory she'd relived. "But I don't want to handle them. I don't want to feel anything!" Her voice grew louder. "Why can't they just leave me alone?" She tried to push him away, but he kept her body trapped between his and the vanity.

"I care, Savi. I understand. Let me help."

She shook her head, keeping her gaze cast toward the toilet. "No one can help me."

"Bullshit. I'm living proof everyone can be helped. Dad…
Adam
and Marc pulled me back from the brink more times than I can count." He ran his hand through his hair, realizing he hadn't tied it back yet this morning. "Savi, just talk to me. Tell me what he did to you."

She pushed against him, but he still didn't back down.

"I need to get back to Mari."

"She's fine with Marc and Angelina. Talk to me. What did he do to you?" He was pretty sure it had something to do with a pet cat, from what she'd said in the other room. Had her father abused her pet in front of her? Whatever had been done, it clearly had been to torture his daughter, maybe to buy her silence.

Savi needed to remember, to say the words. He brushed his hands up and down her arms trying to infuse warmth into her chilled limbs.

"I take it the flashback was of your father."

She closed her eyes and lowered her head, but she didn't deny it. "What did he do to you, Savi?"

In barely a whisper, she answered, "It's not what he did to me."

He leaned down so he could hear better, but she didn't continue. The beast stirred within. Had the bastard hurt Marisol, too?

"You're hurting me."

Damián was gripping her arms too hard and released her.
Get ahold of yourself, man
. He ground out the words, "What. Did. He. Do?"

She looked up at him, her forehead wrinkled more in confusion at his emotional response than a reaction to her own anguish. She gave the response he had demanded, but without any emotion, her voice matter-of-fact. "He killed Whiskers. He didn't take him to the pound. He told the little girl he would dump her out in the desert, too, if she ever told anyone about what he did to her when they were alone." He could feel her body quaking, could see the cold, blank stare, as she continued in a whisper, "She never told. She kept his secrets. All of them."

He couldn't let her stop now, even though he knew he wasn't prepared to hear her say the words. He reached up and stroked her cheek. "What little girl? What kinds of secrets?"

"Savannah's. He hurt her so badly. She shriveled up and died."

What the fuck?
"You're Savannah. You didn't die."

Savi struggled to get out of his arms. "But she had to die. She couldn't live with her shame."

"The shame wasn't yours. You weren't to blame for what he did."

"No! You don't understand!" She dug her nails into his chest and pushed against him, but he didn't budge. She needed to release this misplaced guilt and shame.

"Then help me understand, Savannah."

The vehemence in her eyes was at least an emotion, not the dead look he'd seen since this flashback had started. She was feeling something—finally.

"Don't
ever
call me that again."

With a force that nearly knocked him on his ass, she shoved at him, but he quickly reset his feet and regained control. Still, he was glad to see her fighting back.

"It's your name, Savannah."

"No! She's dead!"

"You're not dead."

"No." She shook her head again. "I'm Savi Baker. He didn't hurt me. He hurt Savannah." She gasped on a sob. "Oh, God. I had to do it."

"Do what, Savannah?" She hung on the precipice of really letting go of the tight rein she held on her emotions and memories. Her mouth moved to speak, but no words came out. "What did you have to do?"

After a moment of struggling to form the words, she leaned back and looked up at him. "Oh dear lord. I had to leave her with the monster."

What the…?
"Leave who?"

She whispered, "Savannah."

Madre de Dios
. What did that bastard do to her? How could he get through? "Savannah isn't dead. She escaped.
You
escaped. I'm holding her right now. Holding
you
." God, this conversation was fucked up. "Savannah grew up to be a wonderful mommy and to help other kids who were hurting like she'd been hurt."

She shook her head, a wild look in her eyes, but she didn't say anything.

"
Bebé
, you just had to put Savannah into hiding for a little while. To let your body and mind heal. To make a new life for yourself and take care of Marisol."

She splayed her hands against his chest and grabbed his shirt. "Don't let him near her. You have to promise you'll protect her if something happens to me."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. She didn't fight, but stood rigid. "He's never going to hurt either of you again,
mi sueño
." Encouraged that she wasn't pushing him away this time, he held her tighter, trying to enfold her into his body where she could absorb some of his strength, his heat.

Her body shook with sobs for what seemed like forever, then she stilled to an occasional sniffle. When she spoke, it was in a ragged whisper. "I got away."

Damián doubted she'd ever escaped emotionally, but she had gotten away physically.

"Yes, you did."

"All thanks to you, Damián."

Bullshit
. She'd had no help from Damián's sorry ass. Hell, he wasn't even around for her when she'd needed him the most. Instead, he'd dumped her on the rat bastard's front steps and ridden away. He hadn't even been there for her when Marisol had been born.