Page 87 of Laurels and Liquor

“I made you a promise, Diane, and I’ve kept it. And I mean this with the utmost disrespect, but I hope you have the life you deserve, and that it’s a long one,” he says softly.

Her jaw hangs open as she watches him stand and brush his hands together, removing any trace of her from his skin. He looks to me, and without needing to speak, we walk away and out of the front door.

Chapter forty-four

Lydia

Lex’sangerpulsesacrossour bond as we exit the farmhouse, and it takes a lot of my concentration not to flinch away from her, to try to flee, even if I know it’s not directed at me. Some old habits are harder to break than others. She gives me a kiss on the forehead, depositing me in one SUV before moving off, pulling out her phone, and texting furiously.

I’m still in shock as I sit in the backseat of Caleb’s rental SUV, turned sideways to look out over the front lawn through the open car door. I can hear Lex’s voice as she tears Jason a new asshole, and him fighting back. But their words lose meaning as my face continues to throb from where my mother struck me.

I touch my cheek gingerly, the heat and swelling making it tender, but it’s not even close to the worst facial injury I’ve ever had. It hurts, but it’s more of an emotional ache than a physical one. My mother spanked me growing up, but that stopped around my pre-teen years, when I got too big for her to overpower. A psychiatrist would probably have a field day knowing how much I enjoy it when my lovers spank me now, but I’ve never even remotely enjoyed being slapped in the face. And having my own mother, the woman who gave birth to me, strike me in such a demeaning and disrespectful way cuts deeper. Not to mention the things she said.

You weren’t abused.

Maybe God is punishing you.

She doesn’t deserve it.

Old, ugly thoughts I thought I’d buried resurface as my mother’s words replay over and over again. I don’t deserve this pack, or the happiness they’ve brought me. I only cause trouble, because God is upset at me for some reason. Why would these wonderful, perfect people want someone like me? Damaged, unworthy, insignificant.

“Lydi-bug.”

Lucas’s voice draws my gaze up from the ground, and I can barely look at him. His blue-gray eyes are bright with concern, and the cyclone of doubt in my chest immediately rebuffs it. I look away, even as he steps closer and brushes my hair back from my face. For the first time in weeks, I struggle to feel his cotton-soft touch through my alpha bonds, all of them so consumed with their anger that it blocks out everything he’s trying to send my way. We aren’t connected in any way that matters, and he could walk away now that he has what he wants. What use am I to him now that he has his bonds?

“Let me in, sweetheart. I can’t feel you,” he begs, and I whimper.

“I can’t feel you, either,” I mutter, voice cracking as tears slip from my eyes.

Lucas gathers me in his arms, and while it’s not a true fix, I let myself give in to the physical sensation of his arms around me, one hand in my hair, the other rubbing up and down my back. I spread my knees a little to allow him closer, breathing in his smoke and sugar scent until everything else fades away.

“You were so strong and so brave in there. I’m so proud of you,” he whispers in my ear, rocking me slightly side to side.

I don’t feel brave or strong, not when I’ve allowed a few simple words to throw me so far off balance and undo all the work I’ve done to feel good about myself. Sinking further into my own misery, I stay quiet.

“Let’s get out of here before you have to bail me out again,” Rhett’s voice grumbles.

There’s some soft conversation, but I don’t hear anything over the buzzing of my anxiety spiral. The world is drifting away, like a balloon in the vast blue sky. I don’t even bother to try to reach for the string. My face and chest hurt, throbbing in time with my heartbeat. It’s easy to slip into the void again, like riding a bike. You never forget how to let your worst fears consume you.

But then there’s a burst of color and light in the dark, a wave of pine smoke and leather and dark chocolate. I can almost sense it in my navel region, a tether yanking me upward, a strong line wrapped in a softer thread. Rhett and Lucas are there as I open my eyes, blocking out the sun as they squeeze to fit in the open car door.

“You have done nothing wrong, Lydia. We’re here, and we aren’t going anywhere,” Rhett says, voice soft but not lacking in emotion.

“We love you so much, Lydi-bug. You’re our everything, and we wouldn’t change a thing about you, or your past. We fell in love with your kindness, your heart, your passion, and nothing anyone can say changes those things. Least of all those monsters in that house,” Lucas adds, the hand still in my hair clenching tight for a moment in emphasis.

Their words are accompanied by an equally intense surge of love down our bond, and the truth of their declarations is impossible to ignore or dismiss. They love me, every part of me, even the most damaged parts of my soul that I haven’t been able to fully heal yet. They don’t want me to change, or for things to have been different in my past, because that would mean I wouldn’t be the person I am today. These thoughts and more fill my head, replacing the nasty ones the last hour triggered. They don’t stop even as we slide into the backseat and the door closes. Mateo joins their effort from the front passenger seat while Caleb drives us away from the house that’s haunted me.

The hour-long ride back to the airport is quiet, but I don’t mind. Rhett, Lucas, and Mateo use the time to continue to reassure me and help me through the last traces of my anxiety attack. I’m feeling drowsy and ready for a good nap by the time we’re pulling into the airport, curled on my side with my head resting on Lucas’s chest and my feet in Rhett’s lap, one of my hands twined with Mateo’s. When we stop, I don’t miss how he casually tries to roll his shoulder to work out the kinks, not that he once complained about the awkward position he’d held for the last half hour of the drive.

The second SUV pulls up behind us, and Jason leaps out of the back seat before it’s even fully parked. His face is twisted in annoyance, hair rumpled like he’s been running his hands through it nearly constantly.

“I’m not going to apologize for what I did,” he shouts over his shoulder as he heads for the door to the private lounge.

“If you want me to pay for Gideon’s help, you sure as hell will,” Lex snarls, storming after him.

I’d been so overwhelmed with the boys’ soothing that I’d lost track of Lex’s simmering rage. Now it’s back, settling in my chest like heartburn. We all follow the two of them up the stairs to the plush sitting room, the panoramic windows filling the space with afternoon light. I sit between Rhett and Lucas, both of them still reluctant to let go of my hands. Mateo leans against the wall closest to the couch we’re on, the security guards milling around. Caleb is close to where Jason and Lex are standing in the middle of the room, with Lex’s weight having shifted onto her back foot as she crosses her arms over her chest, Jason’s back ramrod straight.

“I don’t want your help if it means having to compromise my integrity,” Jason snaps, lifting his chin.

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