Page 178 of Forgot to Tell You Something

I bite back a laugh. My tiny vixen has the floor.

She stares at me for a moment, before walking out of the room. Perhaps she’s gone off her rocker. It can happen in pregnancy.

“Here.” She returns with a glass of water and two pills. “I can tell you have a headache.”

“Thanks.”

“I told you to be quiet.”

“Are you exploring a career as a dominatrix?”

“That might be fun. But don’t make me lose my train of thought.” She stands in front of me, her hands planted on her hips. “I was furious with you last night. I considered everything—the lies, the omissions, your stunning ex-fiancée—and decided I would be better off without you.”

Shit. This does not look promising.

“Then I realized something. You’re damn lucky to have me, and I’m damn lucky to have you. We’re amazing together. Charlotte may be gorgeous and wealthier than Midas, but I have a cool cat and I’m ridiculously good in bed.”

I chuckle, laughter floating up from my chest. “You’re superb in the sack.”

“And?” she questions, her dark eyes widening behind her glasses.

I take a minute to figure out to what she’s referring. “Hecate is the coolest cat on the planet, bar none.”

“Exactly. But…”

I grimace at her use of the word but. I hate that word. It rates right up there with fine on my most detested expression list.

“You claim I keep running away from you, Owen. You’re right.”

Another shocking admission. I expected to get an earful about how horrible I am, while dodging projectile kitchenware.

This scenario never played out in my mind.

Please don’t let it be a trick.

She’s chewing her lip again, a sure sign that whatever topic she’s about to broach won’t be pleasant. “You know that the doctor I dated screwed with my life, but you don’t know the extent.”

“Then tell me, Darlin.”

She crosses the small space between us, shaking her head in exasperation. “One more word out of you—”

“And you’ll what?” I counter. This conversation is offbeat, but I’m also hopeful as to the outcome. Hey, at least she isn’t hitting me. Yet.

Tally rolls her eyes, looking skyward. “You know, Dad, maybe this isn’t a good idea. Maybe I should just kill him.” She chuckles before the laughter falls from her face. “You asked about my scars. They were no accident. My ex-boyfriend drank copious amounts of alcohol. He claimed it eased the stress. But he turned into a monster when he drank, and I never knew which version of him I might encounter. One night, I worked late, missing a medical dinner where he was speaking. It was unintentional, a patient and staffing emergency, but he felt slighted. For that, I had to pay. When he got home, high off booze and God knows what else, he didn’t give me a chance to explain. I saw all four corners of the room that night. He threw me against a mirror, and the shattered glass lacerated my side.”

“Jesus Christ,” I gasp, my blood near its boiling point. “Where is this man now?”

Tally rests her hands on my shoulders, willing me down. But that won’t happen until the piece of shit is dead in the ground. “Shh. Just listen. I woke up in the hospital, with only a vague recollection of what happened. Fifty stitches in my back, another forty-two along my side, a fractured jaw and a broken wrist.” She wipes her eyes, and I see the pain living there. “Then, for kicks, because beating the shit out of me wasn’t enough, he got me fired. He was a brilliant doctor, and he spun quite the story for upper management. He convinced them I had attacked him—apparent from my severe injuries and his total lack of any. He gave them an ultimatum—him or me. They chose him.”

My heart breaks as she tells the story of her past. I finally understand why she was so adamantly against dating doctors.This man ruined her, body and soul.

“He turned many of my coworkers against me, and I knew as far as New York was concerned, I was finished. My father had retired and moved to Florida. It seemed as good a time as any to leave, particularly when the phone calls started again, and the good doctor threatened that this time he would finish what he started.”

“That’s fucking it,” I roar, jumping to my feet. “I want his name. That piece of shit is going to rue the day he hurt you.”

“Owen—”

I shake my head, my body trembling with rage. “No, Tally. I won’t let this rest. He’s going to pay.”

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