Page 47 of The Final Beat

“I have no idea.” Scrubbing a hand down my face, I groaned. I was sick of this merry go round with her. The pretence.Mypretence. “I want to have a relationship with you, Dais’. I want to be the person you rely on and trust to talk to. I want you to admit what you’re feeling. I want you to stop putting me in the same box as every other fucking shithead that you’ve saddled yourself with.”

Destiny edged away from me, her back to the door and glared. “How fucking dare you?” she snapped. “You have no right. What happened in my past is exactly that,mypast. I want to forget it and that’s my choice.”

My heart was beating fast as I looked closely at her. The pain she felt from what happened to her was always there in her eyes, but now it was mixed with red hot anger. Maybe her past wasn’t my business, but I wanted it to be. I wanted her to talk to me and let me know exactly what happened so that I could support her.

“Why can’t you tell me?” I pleaded. “Tell me what happened to you?”

“Why should I?” she exclaimed. “It’s nothing to do with you.” She looked up at the ceiling of the car and let out a shaky breath. “Besides, it’s too fucking hard, Joey, don’t you understand that?”

Fuck, I’d pushed her too far and that filled me with guilt. I reached out for her hand, but she snatched it away.

“Dais’, I’m sorry, but I care about you. I just want to help you, sweetheart.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes as she shook her head. “I don’t want your help. I don’t need it. I can deal with it by myself.”

Her whole body was shaking but it wasn’t in fear, it was pure rage. Her eyes, though, were soft and pleading. I could seeshe was torn and suffering but there was no guilt on my part. I was desperate to help her to get some peace. She had to need it because I was damn sure I did from my demons.

“I’m not who you should be angry with, Daisy. I want to help you.”

“No one can help me.” She gritted her teeth and ground out, “And stop calling me fucking Daisy. I don’t like it. I’m not Daisy. We’re not those people.”

We could be. We could fucking be if only she would let us.

“Was it one man?” I asked. “That was violent to you, or is there more than one fucker responsible?”

“I. Can’t. Talk. About. This.”

“Yes, you can,” I urged. “You can let me in. Be honest for once.”

Her hand came out and slapped out at my chest. “Just because you’re struggling with not making amends with your dad, doesn’t mean we all need a come to Jesus moment, Joey. You can’t save me because you couldn’t save yourself.”

“You think that’s what I’m doing? Solving my issues by dealing with yours.” I asked incredulously. “Because that’s not true. I just want to be more to you than a fucking shag whenever it suits you.”

“Suits me!” Destiny’s eyes were wide as she leaned forward. “Suits you, too. And we pissing agreed that was all we were.”

“Yeah, well.” I scoffed. “Maybe I want more. Besides, I think you do too. Or at least you would if you just let yourself.” I leaned into her space. “Tell me, Daisy, what the hell did he do to you?”

I saw it. The slope of her shoulders, the sigh of resignation and dropping of her chin. She couldn’t or didn’t want to fight it any longer.

“You want to know that he beat me every day for years? That he fucking broke my bones and blackened my eye?” She drew in a breath. “You want me to tell you how he pinched me, punchedme, kicked me, and pulled my hair if I even said one word out of place?”

“Fuck, Daisy.” Vomit rose in my throat. “I’m so sorry.” I tried to take her hand, but she shook her head.

“Not a nice mental image, is it? Well, it wasn’t just a mental image to me, it was fucking real. Day after day after day. It was awf?—”

“Who is he?” I demanded. “What’s his fucking name because I’m going to kill him.”

She gave a short, empty laugh. “Too late, love, he’s already dead. A nice, long, painful one.”

The disappointment was like a lead weight dropping in my stomach. The necessity to exact revenge brought back the needy itch to my skin. This one was one that I’d never be able to salve.

“Daisy,” I said in a plea.

“No, Joey, you don’t get to feel sorry for me.” She shook her head slowly. “You asked for the details, so I’ve given them to you, but I do not want your pity.”

“I don’t,” I lied. How could I not pity her for living in fear of the man who was supposed to protect her. “I think you’re the strongest woman I know.” That was the truth. “I just want to support you. I want?—”

“I know what you want, and I can’t give it to you,” she hissed. “I can’t be who you want me to be. I can’t let those walls down or let you be the man at my side supporting me.”

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