Fearless (Broken Love, #5)(24)

Lake flung open the door and found Ken standing on the other side clutching a one-armed doll.

“Ken, baby, what’s wrong?”

“I broke my doll.” She lifted the doll up for Lake to inspect with fat tears in her eyes. Lake took the doll while I scooped her up. I met Lake’s eyes over her head, and we silently called a truce.

“Where’s the arm, sweetie?” Ken dug the arm from the pocket of what Sheldon called her day pajamas. I traded Ken for the doll, and she immediately hid her face on my baby’s shoulder while I inspected the doll. It looked like a simple fix. I popped the arm back in the doll and tested it out. Chances were it would break again, but to a four-year-old, it would be a miracle.

“What’s her name, Ken?”

“Lulu,” she answered without lifting her head.

“Well, I think Lulu is all better and ready for you to play with her.” Her head lifted then, and when she noticed her doll looking good as new, her eyes grew as wide as saucers. Her girlish squeal threatened to blow my eardrums as she scrambled from Lake’s arms and snatched the doll from my lap.

“Thank you, Uncle Keke. She scrambled up my lap and choked me with a hug for which she made up for with the sweetest kiss to my cheek. Lake watched with tears in her eyes, and I restrained from rolling my eyes.

Women.

I pulled her to my lap when Ken jumped down to run screaming for her dad.

“That was real sweet of you, Uncle Keke.” She smiled, but I could only stare back at her. Her smile fell, and worry replaced the temporary escape Kennedy had brought with her broken doll. “What is it?” Her voice shook, and I felt it in my chest.

“I don’t think I can forgive you.”



*



I shouldn’t have said it. For the rest of the night, I had to pretend not to notice her fight not to cry and then to finally give in and cry all night. Like a bastard, I ignored her turmoil and offered her no comfort. I knew what went through her head as she cried.

Did I still love her?

Would I leave her?

I knew, and I didn’t do shit about it.

Every night she spent in my bed, I always held her in my arms, safe from the monsters that threatened to break us apart. She counted on that connection just as I did, but we were both denied it tonight because of her lies and my pride.

When I couldn’t trust myself anymore not to give in, I left her alone for the solitude the couch provided.

In five years, Lake had taught me how to love, but she hadn’t taught me how to forgive. Until now, I had no idea it was something that still eluded me. Effortlessly, she had become my reason, so while I knew I could never let her go, a part of me feared we would never be the same. I couldn’t bring myself to trust her. I only felt the need to control her for purely selfish reasons. I couldn’t be without her. I refused.

“Hey, man.” Q’s greeting broke the silence I had settled into and already, I could feel my jaw harden and set. He appeared from the kitchen, holding a beer and dropped into the recliner adjacent to the couch I took over. “We need to talk.”

You don’t fucking say.

I sat up abruptly and caught that his body was tense and ready for battle.

“What the fuck were you doing there with her?” I whispered as loud as I could without breaking the quiet peace in the house.

“Protecting her like you told me to,” he answered just as harshly. “I couldn’t get in contact with you to tell you my leave had been approved and she had fled town, so what the fuck was I supposed to do, huh?”

“And after you killed my father? What then?”

“We both know you don’t give a shit about him, and we both know what would have happened if I’d told you what she’d done.”

“I don’t give a shit. She’s mine.”

“She won’t stay that way if you keep being a dick. She’s yours yet you keep finding the need to enforce it. The only thing threatening your hold on her is you.”

He might have been right. Fuck… I knew he was right. It didn’t stop me from destroying everything that was good for me.

“Look, it’s done. Mitch is dead. I know you wanted to get to him first, but…” He took a swig of his beer and then picked at the label as his frown deepened.

“Why?” I had to know how Lake convinced him to kill Mitch so recklessly.

“John.”

“Come again?”

“Your uncle. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did and I owed him.

“How the fuck so?”

“He saved my life, and he didn’t even know it.”

“That’s because he didn’t care.”

He shook his head and regarded me with pity. “The saddest part about this is you really believe your uncle didn’t care about you.”

“Ten years of absence will make a person think so.”

“He saved your life! He saved my life.” His voice echoed around us but neither of us seemed to notice.

“Do you really believe that?”

“You really don’t?” When I didn’t respond, he huffed in frustration and shook his head. “You cannot be that blind.”

“John was a coward.”

“And you? Are you any better?”

“What the hell are you getting at?”