Page 53 of Broken Daddy

21

KAYLA

Itook a deep breath as the sobs eventually subsided.

I couldn’t tell you why I was crying. I didn’t feel any pain, and the assailant hadn’t managed to hurt me. My body was still shaking, so it was likely a delayed reaction from the adrenaline rushing through my body. Or perhaps shock. Yes, shock to my body was most likely because I still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

I was almost taken. They’d almost had me.

I suppose I had lost my edge, being in Gracetown. The feeling of safety had made me lose that inherent watchfulness that told me to remain looking over my shoulder, making sure no one got the edge over me. I should have known this would happen. Whenever I started feeling even a little comfortable in any space, something always came along to shatter the illusion and make me even more paranoid and distrustful than before.

It seemed life was just determined to teach me that I could never just relax and be safe. And that sucked.

But you feel safe right now.

Right now, as I lay against Monty’s chest, his strong arms around me, his large palm running down my back, I felt my body slacken, the tension dissipating despite my warnings. At that moment, I couldn’t help it, but everything about him…everything about him put me at ease instantly. I breathed in his scent, letting it wash over me until I felt my body finally relax and felt the shaking subside. The silence in the house showed that Hunter was asleep, and only then did I have the comfort of being able to give it all up.

It was strange that he had that effect on me until I realized…

I trusted Monty.

The thought hit me like a ton of bricks.

Even though I had only really known him for a few weeks, I trusted him implicitly. There were also a plethora of other emotions I had regarding him, emotions that I did not entirely understand, but they ran deep regardless. I looked out for him, trusted him, and cared about him, a lot more than I initially realized. It should concern me, but it didn’t. After all, why would I not develop feelings for this scarred hero, this tortured giant who had once been my enemy but has continuously saved my life? Who seemed determined to help me even when I pushed him away? How could I not love him? He was one of the best men I had ever known.

I raised my head slightly, looking up at his face. He examined me, his eyes glowing in the moonlight and filled with emotion too. Perhaps I was simply seeing what I wanted to see, but I thought there was longing mixed in with the fierce vigilance and worry. I remembered the expression on his face as he had been about to go after that guy, the unadulterated rage. I knew without a doubt that if he had caught that guy, he would have killed him, no questions asked.

But I didn’t want that. I just wanted to be safe and have his hands around me again.

And now I that had him with me again, long unfulfilled hunger poured through me once more. I felt the emotion build up inside me. Perhaps it was due to the need to center my world again, to have something that would make me feel good once more. Right now, that thing was him.

I reached up to kiss him. Instantly his head moved back, avoiding my lips, and the kiss landed on his neck.

His breath caught. “Stop.”

“Why?” My lips continued down his neck, kissing it. I shifted in his lap, my hands reaching out for his chest, but he gently pulled them off, lifting me off his lap and getting up.

I tried not to get offended by the way he rubbed his hands on his jeans—jeans that had a sizeable bulge in the front of them.

His hands clenched into fists as he shut his eyes, frustration clear on his face.

“We can’t…” he started, then amended. “Ican’t do this with you anymore. I’m going to stay just long enough until this situation is solved and to make sure you’re okay. Then I’m going to leave.”

I blinked at him, pain lancing through me. “You’re going to leave me rather than go to therapy.”

“You don’t understand,” he said with a weary sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. “Therapy doesn’t work on me. I’ve tried it all, like cognitive stuff, and I even considered medication, but unless I pop enough pills to put myself in a near vegetative state, that shit isn’t going to work, and I’m going to fucking hurt you again, and I can’t—” He shook his head, and then his eyes flew open, fixing me with a stare. “I’d kill myself before I let that happen again.”

“But you have to talk to someone, Monty—”

“Are you not listening?” Monty sounded angry now. “That shit doesn’t work on me, okay? Not everybody needs to spill their guts to other people. Everyone has shit going on, secrets they don’t want to tell anyone, probably even you.”

My heart ached for him. I remember what Faith told me about her feeling like she didn’t deserve to be helped and Monty possibly feeling threatened by his own vulnerability. What if he thought I would judge him if he expressed weakness in front of me? He had to know I would never do that, but then again, how would he? I had lashed out at him before, so how could he be sure I wouldn’t do it again and hit him where it hurts?

How could I expect him to trust me with his secrets when I had yet to trust him with mine?

I sighed, readying myself for the incoming emotional turmoil as I let the memories rush back.

“His name was Adam,” I started. “I met him in my junior year of high school, and he was in college at the time. I knew it was wrong, but I was so happy that a college guy was interested in me. I felt like all the guys in my school were boring and immature, and Adam was just so…interesting. Artistic. Cultured. I was flattered he was even interested in boring old me that I ignored the red flags when it came to the age thing. He told me that I was mature for my age, way more than the girls in his college even.”

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