Page 87 of His Own Heaven

Except he was supposed to be the protector, not her.

Toby stood at six feet and eight inches in height and could bench press his own body weight without breaking a sweat, and all he wanted to do was hide from his mummy. Hide from the memories he’d pushed so far down inside him he was afraid of what would happen should he let them see the light of day.

After so much time, it felt strange to be so unsure of himself, to feel like he didn’t have control.

“Toby, are you all right? You’ve been quiet all evening. More quiet than usual.” Lucy’s voice was soft but strong and Toby clung to that strength, hoping she was strong enough for both of them. Because he wasn’t sure he could go through with Charlie’s plan if she wasn’t.

Rolling to face her, he swallowed hard and blew out a calming breath. “I need to talk to you about something, someone.” He took another breath. “About Isobel.”

His lover’s gaze snapped to his, alert and focussed. He’d been avoiding the topic ever since she’d seen that bloody text message from Charlie, but she needed to know. He couldn’t keep her in the dark and keep her safe. And now he knew he had her trust he was going to do whatever it took to keep it.

That meant telling her everything. It meant shining a light on all his darkest memories and asking her to understand why he was the way he was.

Why he needed to be in control.

Lucy’s small hand slid along his side then over his bicep, his shoulder, his neck. She touched him in a way that calmed his mind, soothed his soul. She explored his body with such wonder, as though she couldn’t believe he was real, and when her hand came to rest over his heart, he felt the same about her. She couldn’t possibly be real. He wasn’t that lucky.

After tonight, he’d know for sure. The conversation they were about to have could only end one of two ways: either Lucy accepted him and his darkness, or she didn’t. And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t confident of the outcome.

“I’m listening,” she whispered.

Here goes.“Isobel Bennett is an evil human being.” He barked a short, sharp laugh. “And that’s not even her real name. Dad never married her but she insists on using it anyway.” Toby clamped his hand on Lucy’s hip and dug his fingers in, needing to feel her flesh, needing to hear her quiet gasp of surrender. Needing an anchor, something to hold him in the present so he didn’t get lost in the past.

“Master,” Lucy whimpered, then pressed herself closer.Good girl.

Breathing easier, Toby continued. “Isobel is a manipulative, deceitful gambling addict with no moral compass. Over the four years they were together, Uly estimates she stole at least a hundred grand from him, probably more, and she lost every cent of it.”

“Jesus.”

“Dad tried kicking her out when Charlie and I were toddlers, but she fell pregnant with Raffy so he let her stay. But things didn’t improve. I was only four when Dad finally succeeded in kicking her out but I remember the screaming matches they had. He wouldn’t let her take us, threatened to take her to court if she didn’t leave, told her no judge would ever award custody to a gambling addict. Isobel told him he had no right, that we weren’t even his kids, but she was lying, and thankfully Dad knew it.”

“How?”

“After he’d caught her stealing from him, he’d had paternity tests done on me and Charlie. He had one done when Raffy was born too, just to be sure. So he knew we were his and he told her so.” Toby paused and took a breath, let it out slowly, calmly. He needed to be calm for what was coming. “Then she said she’d leave, she would go and he could have us… for a price. One hundred thousand.”

“Holy shit,” Lucy gasped.

“For each of us,” Toby said, his tone disdainful. “Uly wrote her a cheque for a flat half million then told her to fuck off. Told her to stay the hell away from his kids. He never wanted to see her again. And we didn’t, not until we were twelve.”

Lucy’s voice was strained, as though she didn’t want to ask her question but her curiosity compelled her to. “What happened when you were twelve?”

Acid boiled in Toby’s gut at just the thought of what happened then, and the scalding burn of tears built behind his eyes. “She tried to sell us,” he said, spitting out each word like it was poison. “Her own children.”

With the curtains open and the moonlight shining in, Toby could see just enough of Lucy’s face to know she was close to tears herself. Her eyes were wide and her mouth opened and closed uselessly as her words dissolved into nothingness.

She had so much heart, his woman. A soft heart. A kind heart. He’d seen the way she watched people at the garden centre, the way her lips would form a pensive smile when she saw a baby cradled in their mother’s arms.

He’d seen her help people with all manner of things, even when they were wary of her and her scarred face. And he’d watched with a wistful smile of his own as she’d crouched down to let curious children touch her cheek, let them see she wasn’t the monster others thought she was.

Lucy would never hurt her own child the way his mother, her mother, had hurt them. It simply wasn’t in her.

“Why would she do that?”

“She’d gotten in deep with some very bad people and ran out of money.” Toby hugged her closer, comforted them both. “She’d contacted Dad and demanded he bail her out, but he refused.” He shook his head. “He had no idea what he’d set in motion with that one little word. No.”

“What did Isobel do? How did she get to you?”

“Charlie and I were at boarding school in Brisbane. It was our first year there and we stuck to our own company for the most part. Charlie may be show-off now, but when we were twelve, he was just as reserved as me. So when Isobel showed up at school demanding to see her sons, we didn’t protest. We should have. We should have shouted the buildings down, but we were scared. Two skinny, gangly kids with the shared confidence of a skittish stray.”

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