Page 16 of Save Me

"Wasn't hers either," he says. "He was Bellamy fucking Hill. He knew everyone in Nashville. Hell, he golfed with judges, the former police chief, celebrities…" Brantley snorts. "Even with her fortune, she knew she didn't stand a chance in hell of getting custody if she left when I was a kid. He would have crucified her, and I would have been in that house with him alone."

"Of course it wasn't her fault. Abuse victims aren't villains for staying," I murmur.

"You say that." His eyes lock on my face. "But the world doesn't always see it the same way, little bird. Women are vilified for staying, especially if they've got kids. Especially if the kids are being hurt too. Doesn't matter that both parents are equally responsible for their kids, it's like society expects the burden of parenthood to rest with the mother, especially in situations likethis. If a mother doesn't get the kids out, they place the blame on her shoulders. Happens all the goddamn time. And my mother did everything she could to protect me, but if the world knew, they'd ask why she didn't leave. It's the first question they always ask." He blows out a breath. "And the sad fact is…she couldn't leave. You don't get to leave a man like Bellamy Hill and keep your kids."

I guess he's right. The crime is so awful that people don't leave room for nuance or the complexities that come with it. When you're being abused, people expect you to just leave. They don't always consider that sometimes, you can't. Sometimes—frequently—your abuser makes it impossible for you to go. And when you have kids, leaving is even more difficult. Especially when powerful men like Bellamy are involved.

Do you stay and do everything you can to protect your kids, or do you leave and risk leaving them alone with someone you know will hurt them? When your abuser has all the power and influence, the only options are awful options. I can't even imagine having to face that choice. It kills me that anyone has to do it.

"That's why you let people say the things you do, isn't it?" I guess. "You aren't trying to protect his reputation. You're trying to protect her."

"I couldn't figure out why she wouldn't leave him. I'd been out of the house for years. There was nothing left for him to hold over her. No amount of money is worth the shit he put her through." He sighs. "I found out that she has a heart condition. If she left, she couldn't afford the level of treatment she needed. She would have died. So, I made a deal with him. I'd go to work at the company and keep his goddamn secrets, and he wouldn't put his hands on her ever again."

"Brantley," I whisper, my heart aching all over again. God, she must have hated that he made that sacrifice for her.

"It was worth it, baby," he says, conviction ringing in his voice. "She's had the medical care she needs, and he hasn't laid a finger on her."

"And you've been in a different kind of hell," I murmur.

"It was worth it," he says again. "We weren't free of him, but it was as close as we could get." He blows out a breath. "I quit drinking and got my shit together, started investing every dime I could to help get her out of there once and for all."

"Is that why Daniel started as your assistant?"

He nods. "Guess he figured if I was going to be working with the prick every day, I'd need reinforcements."

"He sounds like a good guy."

Brantley snorts. "Baby, he's a pain in my ass. He's the worst goddamn assistant I've ever met. But yeah, he's been useful in other ways. He keeps my head on straight when I need it."

"I'm glad you have him."

He flashes me the hint of a smile. "I'll deny saying it if you repeat it, but me too. I like the fucker. And there's no goddamn way I would have survived the last four years without him."

"I'm so sorry for everything Bellamy put you through, Brantley," I whisper, pressing my forehead up against his. "You're allowed to hate him for it. You're allowed to never forgive him. You're allowed to feel however you feel about him. Your mom is too."

"You're killing me, little bird."

"I don't mean to."

"I know. That's exactly why you're doing it." He angles his head, brushing his lips against mine in a soft kiss. "You don't even realize how fucking magical you are, baby." He kisses me again. "How sweet this mouth is." And again. "How much I'm enjoying being this close to you."

"I'm enjoying it too, Brantley."

His nose bumps against mine. "Good. I want you to enjoy it, Isla."

"I…like you," I whisper.

He grins at me, his eyes far lighter than they were just a few minutes ago. "Keep telling me things like that and you may never get rid of me."

"Maybe I don't want to get rid of you." I hug him to me, squeezing. It's a ridiculous thing to do—hugging him like he's a freaking stuffed bear or something—but he seems to enjoy it because he groans and pulls me closer, burying his face in my hair.

For long moments, we lay just like that before I feel compelled to speak again. "Are you okay now, Brantley?"

"Yeah," he says roughly, clearing his throat. "I'm good, little bird."

"You were dreaming about him, weren't you?"

He sighs. "I always thought the nightmares would get better eventually, but they never really did. The shit still wakes me up most nights. It's ironic really. They're worse now that he's dead than they were before."

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