Never Been Ready (Ready #2)(37)

"I don't know. It was enough that I lost track...but not so many that I couldn't pass them off as injuries or mishaps when I was at school."

His jaw ticked, and I could see him holding back the anger brimming just below his calm facade. He was pissed. No man outside of my adopted family had ever wanted to protect me. My ex, Daniel, had left me when things got real. Seeing Declan react to my life without running away melted me to the core.

"The first time he hit me was a couple of weeks after my mother had left. Those first couple of weeks were the worst of my life. I wanted my mother back more than I wanted anything else in the entire world. My seven-year-old brain couldn't comprehend why she had left. I kept looking at the front door, expecting it to open up at any minute. I'd imagine her happy face walking through the door, and then she'd apologize and take me far, far away."

A single tear slid down my cheek, and Declan quietly brushed it away with his thumb. He bent his head to kiss my collarbone and then allowed me to continue.

"I became angry and bitter. It was a terrible way for a child to grow up." I briefly remembered the little boy in the hospital who had lost his mother. I thought about him often and wondered where he was and whom he ended up with. I hoped social services had found the family he was supposed to be visiting, and he was in a better place than I was after my mother had left. No child should go through that alone.

"When I tried taking my anger out on my father, I learned quickly that it was the wrong way to go. I ended up with a black eye, and I had to lie and pass it off as a soccer accident. After that, I learned how to be invisible and avoid most incidents. If I was quiet and just basically went unnoticed, I could usually escape bearing the brunt of his anger. There were other times when I wasn't as lucky, but I learned to dodge."

"And yesterday? What happened yesterday?"

"I should have never stayed. I recognized the signs as soon as I walked in. He'd had a lot more to drink than he usually does. He always has alcohol coursing through his veins, but this went beyond drunk. Usually, he's just numb and oblivious to everything around him. But sometimes, he drinks so much that it's like he wakes up and remembers everything. Then, he just gets angry...all over again."

"He took it out on you," Declan said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes. I asked him about Mom. I mentioned the headstone we'd found, and he lost it. He asked me for money, like he always does. I said no, like I always do. I bring him food and any other supplies he needs, but I never, ever give him money or alcohol. I know I can't do anything to stop him from drinking, but I won't support his habit."

Declan pulled me closer. Our bodies fused together, and I savored the feeling of his heated skin against mine. It was a cold morning, and feeling his warm hard arms and legs wrapped around me was blissful.

"What are your parents like?" I asked.

"My father is dead," he answered with little emotion.

"Oh, Declan." I leaned up on my elbows, so I could face him. "I'm so sorry. You mentioned that. I forgot." I remembered the conversation we'd had when he told me about his tattoo.

"We weren't that close. He was your typical stereotype of a wealthy man. He ignored his child, cheated on his wife, and acted like he was god when he was at work. It's no coincidence that he was friends with Logan's father. They were both from the same stock, although Logan had it far worse than I did."

"How did he die?"

"Heart attack. My parents were divorced several years before. My mother finally got the courage to ask for one, and he agreed. He hired the best lawyers money could buy though, and he left her with practically nothing. But she was free, and that was all she cared about. Years later, Karma caught up with him, and he was found dead in his penthouse by his twenty-two-year-old mistress."

"God, and I thought I was the only one with a f**ked-up childhood."

His eyes flashed and grew intense. "No, Leah...what I went through was a soap opera compared to the shit you had to endure. What you went through was hell. What that man did to you..."

"Hey," I said softly, "it's okay. I'm okay."

When I cuddled back into the safety of his arms, I felt him relax again. Letting myself drift back to sleep, I thought I heard Declan whisper in my ear, "I'll make it all better, I promise."

~Declan~

I got the address from Logan. It wasn't that hard to find. The old neighborhood was well kept with dated houses that looked refurbished in an attempt at revamping the city.

Clayton Morgan's house stuck out like a sore thumb. It looked like it hadn't been painted since the original pale yellow had been brushed on decades ago, and the yard was covered in compacted leaves, now mushy and wet from the recent snow.

I pulled up to the driveway and felt my hands grip the steering wheel like a vise. Knowing this was the place where Leah had grown up while enduring years of misery at the hand of the man who lived inside did something to me. It brought out a side of me I hadn't known existed. I wanted to rush in there and rip him apart from limb to limb, making sure he could never lay a hand on her again.

And that was why Logan's car pulled up behind mine. When I called for the address, I also asked him to meet me here. I needed someone to keep me tethered, grounded, so I wouldn't do anything that could land my ass in jail for the rest of my life. As much as I wanted to end that motherf*cker, I didn't want to spend my life behind bars, away from the one thing I was intent on protecting.