Blue-Eyed Devil (Travis Family #2)(25)

I usually preferred coffee, but I thought it might be tough on my stomach. "Tea would be great."

Gage drank his own coffee, set the cup down, and reached over to cover my hand with his. "How are you?" he asked.

As soon as he touched me, a nasty threatened feeling came over me. I couldn't stop myself from jerking my hand away. My brother, who had never done violence to a woman, looked at me with open-mouthed amazement.

"Sorry," I said, abashed as I saw his reaction.

He tore his gaze away, seeming occupied with a fierce inner struggle, and I saw that his color was high. "You're not the one who should be sorry," he muttered.

After Liberty had brought me tea and my prescription pills, Gage cleared his throat and asked gruffly, "Haven, how did you get away from Nick last night? How did you end up with no purse and no shoes?"

"Well, he . . . he sort of . . . threw me out. I think he expected me to wait on the doorstep until he let me back in."

I saw Liberty pause temporarily as she came to pour more coffee for him. I was surprised by how shocked she looked.

Gage reached for a glass of water, nearly knocking it over. He took a few deliberate gulps. "He beat you up and threw you out," he repeated. It wasn't a question, more a statement he was trying to make himself believe. I nodded yes and reached over to nudge one of Matthew's Cheerios more closely within reach.

"I'm not sure what Nick's going to do when he sees I'm gone," I heard myself say. "I'm afraid he might file a missing persons report. I guess I should call him. Although I'd rather not tell him where I am."

"I'm going to call one of our lawyers in a few minutes," Gage said. "I'll find out what we need to do next." He continued talking in a measured tone, about how we might need to take photos of my injuries, how to get the divorce over with as quickly as possible, how to minimize my involvement so I wouldn't have to face Nick or talk to him —

"Divorce?" I asked stupidly, while Liberty set a plate in front of me. "I don't know if I'm ready for that."

"You don't think you're ready? Have you looked in the mirror, Haven? How much more of a pounding do you need to be ready?"

I looked at him, so big and decisive and strong-willed, and everything in me rebelled.

"Gage, I just got here. Can I have a break? Just for a little while? Please?"

"The only way for you to get a break is to divorce the son of a"— Gage paused and glanced at his attentive baby — "gun."

I knew my brother was trying to protect me, that he wanted what was best for me. But his protectiveness felt like bullying. And it reminded me of Dad. "I know that," I said. "I just want to think about things before I talk to a lawyer."

"God help me, Haven, if you're actually considering going back to him — "

"I'm not. I'm just tired of being told what to do and when to do it. All the time! I feel like I'm on a runaway train. I don't want you making decisions about what I should do next."

"Fine. Then you make them. Fast. Or I will."

Liberty intervened before I could reply. "Gage," she murmured. Her slim fingers went to the taut surface of his clenched bicep and stroked lightly. His attention was instantly diverted. He looked at her, the lines on his face smoothing out, and he took a deep breath. I had never seen anyone wield that kind of power over my authoritative brother, and I was impressed. "This is a process," she said gently. "I know we want Haven to skip over the middle part and get right to the end . . . but I think the only way for her to get out of it is to go through it. Step by step."

He frowned but didn't argue. They exchanged a private glance. Clearly there would be more discussion later, out of my hearing. He turned back to me. "Haven," he said quietly, "what would you say if one of your friends told you her husband had thrown her out on the doorstep one night? What would your advice be?"

"I . . . I'd tell her to leave him right away," I admitted. "But it's different when it's me."

"Why?" he asked in genuine bewilderment.

"I don't know," I answered helplessly.

Gage rubbed his face with both hands. He stood from the table. "I'm going to get dressed and go to the office for a while. I won't make any calls." He paused deliberately before adding, "Yet." Going to the high chair, he lifted Matthew and held him aloft to make him squeal with delight. Lowering the wriggling body, Gage kissed his neck and cuddled him. "Hey, pardner. You be a good boy for Mommy while I'm gone. I'll come back later and we'll do some guy stuff."

Settling the baby back in the chair, Gage leaned down to kiss his wife, sliding his hand behind the back of her neck. It was more than a casual kiss, turning harder, longer, until she reached up and stroked his face. Breaking it off, he continued to look into her eyes, and it seemed an entire conversation passed between them.

Liberty waited until Gage had gone to take a shower before telling me gently, "He was so upset after he brought you home. He loves you. It drives him crazy, thinking of someone hurting you. It's all he can do to stop himself from going to Dallas and . . . doing something that's not in your best interests."

I blanched. "If he goes to Nick — "

"No, no, he won't. Gage is very self-controlled when it comes to getting the results he wants. Believe me, he'll do whatever is necessary to help you, no matter how hard it is."