Page 32 of Javier

Missy

The news punched me on the chest. The air rushed out of my lungs. The night closed around me, dark, dangerous, and suffocating.

My father was dead.

I met Javier’s eyes. He was telling me the truth. The control freak who’d forced me to run away from my life was no longer around. I didn’t know what to do, how to feel.

“When—” I sucked in some air and forced myself to make words. “When did he die?”

“A few months ago.”

Father had been dead for months and I’d had no freaking idea.

I looked down on my clasped hands.

Father was gone. My fingers turned white under the pressure.

It struck me that I was officially an orphan. My mother had died when I was very young. Other than the memories my sisters had shared with me, I had no recollections of her. On the other hand, my father had trampled all over my life, leaving me scarred with his disdain and his temper tantrums. Why, then, did I feel like crying?

My gaze roamed over the water. Unlike me, the lake was calm at this late hour. I wondered if any of my sisters were awake and looking at the same sky. Small ripples kissed the shore and a warm, lazy breeze blew through my hair, reminding me of Thena’s gentle touch as she comforted me when I was a kid. I shut my eyes. I wished she was with me right now. With all of us gone, she’d been all alone when Father died. Knowing her, she’d probably taken the brunt of the consequences of his passing.Then she’d been poisoned.

Oh, Thena.

I swallowed a sob. At least she had Dash with her now. It was some consolation, but it didn’t erase the pain and guilt lodged in my throat. She’d been my rock all my life, and I hadn’t been there for her when she needed me.

Memories of my father drifted in with the clouds overhead. On those occasions when we’d come home from boarding school and he joined us at Astor House, I lived in terror. I scrambled from his presence, locked myself in my bedroom, and avoided him at all costs.

Everything about him frightened me. His stern voice and his alcohol-scented breath blustering over me when he’d drank too much; his glare whenever I tried to make eye contact with him, which taught me to stare at my hands or my feet instead; his preference to ignore me whenever I walked into a room, as if I didn’t exist, or worse, with disdain, as if being my mom’s last born had somehow made me the cause of her death; his wrath whenever I cried and after every fainting episode I’d ever had in his presence. Every word that came from him was a put down. Every sentence stabbed at my heart.

Without thinking, I lifted my hand to my chest and massaged the sore spot. I’d learned the hard way that when a little girl’s heart is broken, it was difficult, perhaps even impossible, to mend. Because of my father, I’d learned to distrust men. I had no expectations from them, no wish to be in a relationship.

I dropped my chin to my chest. A few tears escaped the corners of my eyes. I swiped at them angrily. My throat closed with the effort to stop myself from grieving for a man who’d never shown me love. My body trembled as I fought to control my emotions.

I kept my head down. Javier already thought I was youngand silly. I didn’t want him to see me crumble into small, pathetic little pieces. I cleared my throat. “I need a little space.”

“I hear you, Angel,” he murmured. “But I’m not leaving you alone out here.”

“Why not?”

“I need to keep you safe until I turn you over to your sister.”

He sounded as if I was a baton in a race and he was eager to pass me on.

“You’re also sad,” he added, almost like an afterthought. “I don’t want you to be sad all alone. It hurts me. Here.” He bumped the top of his fist on his chest. “Don’t ask. Can’t explain. Only that it hurts.”

For some reason, his words uncorked my waterworks. The tears rolled down my face, slowly at first. Then more came and my sobs got stuck in my throat. I couldn’t hold off the onslaught much longer. The sob trapped in my throat escaped. I dipped my face in my hands and covered the deluge springing from my eyes.

“Come here.” He hooked his arm over my shoulders and pulled me to his side. “I’m told crying’s a good thing, so cry away.”

I brought up my knees and leaned against his big, warm body. For a few minutes, all I could do was bawl. I couldn’t stop. I was such a wimp. My father would’ve been livid. My sobs shook my chest, my entire body. Javier’s arms encircled me as if trying to keep me together.

“You…” I hiccupped. “You think I’m acting like a child, that I’m pathetic and weak.”

“You’re none of those things,” he returned with conviction. “Any idiot can see that. I’ve watched you handle some tough shit. You’re brave, like your sister Thena. You’re Astor strong.”

Three years of loneliness plus a lifetime of sorrow poured like waterfalls from my eyes. Hiding my face in the crook of Javier’s neck, I wept until the side of his T-shirt was drenched and I had no more tears left. I was a mess, but he was a stoic champ. He didn’t yell at me, or call me names, or put me down. He wasn’t like my father. Instead, he let me cry, rubbing his hand in circles on my back, caressing my hair, soothing me with his quiet presence.

“I’m not crying for him,” I sniffled.

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