Page 34 of Duke
Finally, Duke drags in a breath, rubbing a hand over his scalp, ruffling the hair on top of his head. “I know this is probably the last thing you want to do right now… and I don’t want to pry into shit you aren’t ready or even willing to share. But I—” He stops, his jaw working back and forth. “I need you to trust me, Lennon. And maybe I haven’t earned it yet. But I can’t help you the way I want to—can’t fully understand what we’re dealing with—unless you do.” He looks down at his hands before he peers at me. “Can you trust me enough to tell me what happened when you were a little girl?”
My anxiety mounts, knowledge rattling my insides. “It’s hard for me.” I suck in a breath, putting my hand on his on top of the table. “Not the trusting you part. But talking about why I have the panic attacks. And I know you’ve seen me lose it firsthand, and I’ve never explained why. I’m sor—” My throat closes up. I feel sick and nervous and scared. Opening up is never easy for me, but when I look into Duke’s eyes, all I see is kindness and caring and concern.
It sends me right over the edge. My face crumples, and I cover it with shaking hands. I don’t see him move, but Duke has me out of my seat and lifts me into his arms moments later. As I wrap my body around his, arms around his neck and legs around his waist, he walks us back to the house and heads directly toward the stairs. My body trembles and quakes against his. Voices from the direction of the kitchen have me hiding my face in his neck. I don’t want anyone to witness this breakdown because it makes me feel weak. And even worse, I’m terrified that Duke will have to explain away our closeness to anyone who sees him holding me like this. I don’t want this to be something that makes him step back from me again. I hate to think I’m putting him in this position in front of the brotherhood, but I can’t let go, no matter how I tell my limbs to loosen their hold.
Duke lets us into his room, then kicks the door shut, carrying me to his bed. He doesn’t hesitate, climbing into it with me in his arms, then lowers us to the mattress. I allow my legs to unlock, but I don’t release my hold on him. Facing each other, we lie there for several minutes while he watches me do nothing more than breathe.
Duke eases back, slowly brushing hair out of my face and wiping away my tears. “The last thing I want is to upset you.” His voice is rough, the words whispered against my temple as I cling to him. “Will you tell me about it, baby? I want to know how to help you.”
I wish I could. Everything I want and need to say is jammed up in my throat.
Duke cups my cheek, peppering my face with soft kisses. “It makes me ache that you’ve gone through something terrible that has had such a profound effect on you.” The careful way he’s handling me says so damn much about him and how far we’ve come. He’s really proven himself. He’s been there for me.
I trust Duke. I need him. I just hope he can handle this. There’s so much to say. And suddenly, I can’t hold it in another second. I draw in a breath and close my eyes, whispering, “I was only five.” My heart pounds loudly in my ears, and I clutch Duke’s shoulders, squeezing my eyes tighter. “I-I’m just going to get it out.”
“Whatever you need to do, Stella. Take your time or blurt it out. Whichever works for you.”
I force myself to look at Duke and end up staring at his chin. The steady rise and fall of his chest calms me like nothing else. “My mother asked her boyfriend to watch me. She was going out for the night with friends. He— I remember him being a real jerk. But the details of why I thought that are foggy. Anyway, he didn’t want to deal with a little girl, so he tried to shut me in a closet. He said we were playing hide-and-seek, and I should stay there. But I understood what he was doing, and I cried.”
Duke’s hand moves up and down my back in a comforting gesture. “Sounds like a dick,” he murmurs.
I exhale raggedly, my fingers digging into Duke’s shoulders. “I guess he got frustrated. Ended up choking me. From the memories I’ve pieced together, I passed out. I must have been in there for a long time because I was out and then awake and screaming to be let out of the closet. My throat was raw on the inside from screaming, bruised on the outside from his hands.” Duke’s so very obviously upset and on edge from the things I’ve revealed to him, but he’s holding all that in. For me. Because he recognizes that I need him to. I wet my lips. “I told Mason a little bit of this because of the choking thing.”
Duke’s brows go up. “He mentioned that you’d confided in him, but he didn’t tell me much more than that. Just so you know.”
I nod. “That morning when he lost it, and you had to pry him off me? I acted like him choking me was no big deal because he wasn’t the first. He wanted to know what I meant. It was later that day when I told him.”
Duke’s focus on me is intense, but he hasn’t flinched. “It tracks that Mason wouldn’t deal well with that.”
“Nope.” I let out a sigh as I come back to the concern that has been bothering me since the moment it struck me. I don’t want to believe it to be true, but there are only so many people who know enough about me to hurt me in this way. “M-my mother. She’s the only other one who is aware of any of it. Doesn’t even know exactly what happened to me because I wouldn’t ever tell her. But she saw firsthand the aftermath of what I went through, both the immediate physical effects of it as well as the trigger of the panic attacks that have plagued me all my life.” Exhaling hard, I whisper, “Duke, I’ve told no one else. My mother, Mase, and now you.”
Duke pauses, and I get the idea he’s letting what I’ve said sink in. His body goes rigid a moment later. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. She must have told my father.”
EIGHTEEN
DUKE
My heart poundsan erratic beat in my chest as I lie here watching Lennon nap. After coming to the conclusion that someone in this house has been taking orders from my father, she’d only been able to talk for a short while before shutting down. With the way her ocean-blue eyes had been awash in mental anguish, I hadn’t wanted to pressure her, so we left a lot unsaid.
We have puzzle pieces laid out on a table, ready to figure out how all the craziness that’s been transpiring here at Bainbridge Hall fits together… but there’s no way to be certain how many are missing. And while Lennon is probably one of the strongest women I know, she’s also fragile in a way that breaks my heart. No one should have to experience some of the things she has.
Before falling asleep in my arms, Lennon whispered that she was worried she didn’t have the stamina to go through it again, but she didn’t want to leave Bear and Mason in the dark. She’d asked me to tell them everything—from the horrific childhood trauma she’d lived through at the hands of her mother’s boyfriend, to our assumption that my father has been involved in the attacks on his own stepdaughter.
Lennon is hurting, and if we’re right—if it’s been my father behind this shit—that’ll be it. He’ll have drawn a fucked-up line in the sand with me. What I believe he’s done is unforgivable. Did he tell someone here in the house about her past? Ask them to fuck with her? Had he sent her here so he could have someone else terrorize her, while throwing suspicion off himself? How fucking low can you get? He’s lucky I haven’t flown off the handle. I’m trying so fucking hard to keep a tight leash on my emotions because what I really want to do is rage. Pummel his face until there’s nothing more than blood and bone and tissue everywhere.
Can’t do that yet. I need to have everything laid out in my fucking head. Uncover every dirty fucking deed he’s involved himself in.
Because I’m really concerned Lennon hasn’t told me everything, that there’s something more that links my father to her nightmares and sleepwalking. Something that involves Juliette. The thought makes me sick. And that’s why I’m going to need Bear and Mason’s help.
As Lennon sleeps in my arms, I reach for the phone in my pocket and fumble to type out a lengthy one-handed text. I spell out what’s happened today: Tucker, the pantry, childhood trauma, my father. All of it. It turns my stomach to confirm I think my own fucking father has to be behind some of the shit going on. I don’t know why. It’s not like they don’t know him.
Almost immediately after I hit send, my phone buzzes beside me on the bed.
Bear:
Do you have her?
My brows furrow for a split second, trying to decipher the actual meaning in those four words, capped off with a question mark. I let out a breath. I know he doesn’t mean that he thinks I’m incapable of caring for her—it’s more like he’s disappointed in himself that he can’t be her protector right now and wants to be sure I can manage without him. He’s dealing with a lot, and for him to mentally focus on himself, he needs to know that she’s okay. But damn, the protectiveness he feels for her nearly jumps off the screen. It’s good he feels that way because she’s going to need all of us. I quickly tap out another couple messages in response.
