Page 179 of Damaged Protector

“If you insist on pursuing this,” she waved her hand through the air as she sneered, “physical therapy crap, you can come back home and find a program there.”

“No.”

I had opened my mouth to say that, but the voice that actually uttered it wasn’t mine. It was much deeper. Hawk’s voice. Fuck.

“Excuse me? What did you say?” my mother asked, snapping her attention toward the man beside me.

He leveled her with a glare that should have burned two holes through her head. “I said no.” My fingers pressed into his leg, but he ignored me and continued his stare down with my mother.

“Who are you to speak to me about my child?”

Hawk stood slowly, placing his palms on the table and leaning across it as I tugged at the back of his shirt. “I’m the man who would never lock Mallori in a room for five weeks.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Chapter 54

After a long silence, the quiet room was suddenly filled with murmurs of “what the fuck?” and “what does that mean?” But the loudest thing I heard was completely nonverbal. It was the hurt and confused look on my Dad’s face as he stood up.

He finally spoke. “Mallori, what is he talking about?”

Hawk flashed an apologetic grimace as I rose from my chair, but I ignored it. I’d deal with his big mouth later. Rounding the table, I took my father’s hands.

“Daddy, please sit down. Don’t give yourself a heart attack.”

“I’m not giving myself a heart attack, but I want to know what the fuck that means.”

“Your heart condition…” I started, imploring him with my eyes to calm down.

“What heart condition?”

I stammered, confused. “Y-you have… Mama told me I shouldn’t tell you anything or upset you because you have…”

His eyes widened, realization hitting him at the same time it did me. The bitch lied. He whirled on her, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen him more angry.

“Karen.” That's all he said, but goddamn. The raw fury in his tone had every eye in the room laser focused on what was happening at what was supposed to be a happy occasion.

She stood, nose haughtily in the air as she carefully placed her napkin on her plate. “You’re on medication, Brian.”

My dad’s face went thermonuclear, and I could tell he was trying not to scream in front of everyone. “I was on a small blood pressure pill for about a year. You know the doctor took me off it after I lost those extra fifteen pounds.”

“Well, have you forgotten your grandfather died of a heart attack?” she retorted, and my gaze bounced back and forth between them, trying to process what the hell was going on. She’d told me for years that Dad had a heart condition.

“Goddammit, Karen! Gramps was ninety-seven years old and he died in a bar while drinking whiskey and smoking a cigarette.”

She deflated a little at that. “I didn’t want Mallori to bother you with… trivial things.”

“Excuse the fuck out of me, but locking her in a room isn’t trivial in my eyes. What possessed you to do that?”

She was silent, and my dad turned to me, his eyes softening around the edges. “Your mother convinced you I had a condition so you wouldn’t tell me what was happening while I was gone?” I nodded, and he shook his head. “Honey, can you tell me when she locked you in your room? Was it really for five weeks?”

Inhaling a deep breath, I blew it out slowly, gathering my strength for this conversation. “It was actually in the studio. Around the time I left school, and yes, it was five weeks. She’d bring me food, and when I wouldn’t agree to apologize, she’d leave and lock the door.”

His eyes were back on my mother, who looked equal amounts panicked and angry at her actions being brought to light.

“What if there was a goddamn fire, Karen, and she got trapped up on the third floor?”

“I wouldn’t have let that happen. I would have let her out.”

---