Shadowed Past

Claire chased him. His body no longer tall and lean, but small, chubby. His steps unsteady. He was running for a cliff. He was going to fall over the cliff. “Greyson!”

She caught his shirt sleeve, but when he turned, he wasn’t her baby anymore. His teenaged face twisted, teeth bared. “You mean nothing to me.”

... nothing to me ... nothing to me ...

She lost her grip on him and he fell. “No.” She dove for him.

Claire.

She now stood on a stone walkway. Dim voices filtered over intricate topiaries and grand marble statues where a large group of people gathered around elaborate tables of food after Brandon’s funeral.

Not here. She couldn’t be here again.

“How lucky you were to have him as your husband,” a faceless woman said.

She stumbled backward, her back colliding against a stone wall, hand pressed to her chest. The pressure was building. She couldn’t breathe.

Claire!

She ran. Her room suddenly in front of her. She gasped for air, the walls expanded and shrank.

Something caught in her periphery and her head slowly turned.

Not this. Not again.

The bathroom door was wide open with a clear view of the tub. A sob choked in her throat. Brandon floated in cold water. His large blue eyes, dimmed gray, gaped at her from the rim of the claw-foot tub. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.

She rushed forward with a cry and slammed the bathroom door closed.

That smell. Stale with heavy cologne. It filled her nose right before her bedroom door opened and a large, broad-shouldered giant of a man stepped in.

She should run. Something in her gut said she needed to run, but nothing worked. Her limbs hung heavy, moving like molasses.

“How are you, Madelynn?” Her son’s driver said, rubbing a hand over his thick, square jaw.

“I’m ... I’m fine. Thank you.” Her eyes darted around the room. It was her room, yet something else. Wooden panels blended with murals of Tuscany.

“You don’t look fine.” He stepped forward. There was a vibration in his hands. An unsteadiness in his footfall ... unease grew in the pit of her stomach. For months now, he’d been getting too attentive. Too familiar with her through light touches and lingering eyes.

The concerned tilt of his head didn’t match the dullness of his eyes. She clutched over her tightening stomach. “Really, I’m alright. Maybe you should find Greyson.”

His thick fingers curled into fists, taking another step, making her press back against the bathroom door for space. “Come now, Madelynn Claire, let’s not pretend you weren’t just begging me with your eyes to follow you here.”

Phantom pain in her wrist sprang and she rubbed and rubbed over it.

“The way you’ve been begging me for years to take care of you like he didn’t,” he continued, gleaming gaze traveling to the door behind her like he could see Brandon through it. The black endless pits of his eyes returned to hers and inched down her body. “I will take such good care of you, Madelynn.”

Her. Limbs. Wouldn’t. Move. Heightened pain shot through her wrist. She glanced down to a scar, red and swollen, blood pulsing beneath her skin. Please, she begged her body to move. “I-I don’t want this from you.”

He smiled like she hadn’t spoken, and his rough fingers slid along her jaw.

“Don’t touch me!”

One large hand slapped over her scream and the other snatched both her useless wrists in a bruising grip. “You think I waited ten years for you to be free from him only to tell me I can’t touch you?” His voice was a manic whisper.

Dead, gray eyes ... Greyson ... you mean nothing to me ... Flashes of faces and words. All of it blurred together with his tightening grip.

Violently shaking, she tried to scream again. A hand swallowed it. Another hand twisted her around, slamming her into the bathroom door so hard it burst open, knocking the air out of her lungs.

Breathe, Claire.

She wriggled and convulsed. Her lungs ached for oxygen. The man’s grip tightened, and the stench of his cigarette breath fanned the side of her face.

“It didn’t have to be this way.” The weight of his body pressed heavier, forcing her head to the side.

Her leaking eyes fell on the tub. Brandon was alive. Sitting on the edge with their son next to him. Both shaking their heads in disappointment. She gasped against the ache squeezing her chest.

“Help me,” she rasped, but they looked away. No one would help her. She had failed them both.

Open your eyes, Claire.

Cold metal pressed against her cheek, and she froze at the glint of a blade in the corner of her eye. “Let me make something very, very clear. Behave or,” Greyson’s driver ran the blade along her jaw, “this won’t be as fun for you.” The knife slithered down the side of her neck, down her collarbone, and stopped on her chest.

Rage boiled from her clenched stomach, and she became suddenly aware that this was not how it ended.

She would not. He would not.

Claire thrust her head back into his nose and dove for the knife. He was faster. The sharp sting of a razor’s edge met flesh, and she cried out. The scar was open. Blood swelled and ran down her wrist. She released a guttural scream and tore around, clawing the flesh under his eyes.

“Madelynn Claire,” his voice rumbled, blood dripping over his chin. “You’ll regret that.”

“Claire, wake up.”

She gasped, eyes springing open.

“You’re safe.” Her body was enveloped in warmth, and her racing eyes caught worried cyan-colored ones. “You’re safe,” Danny repeated, brushing hair from her eyes, rocking her.

Other hands touched her, and she jolted, gaze snagging on Doc Clark and Annie.

Annie gently smiled. “Gave us a little scare, love, but you’re alright.”

Claire gasped again, her chest heaving.

“Annabelle said you didn’t eat much at dinner,” Doc said, closing a leather bag. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“I-I don’t remember.”

“We’ll make sure you get something,” he said. Then turned to Danny. “Keep her resting. We’ll be back to check on her.”

Claire still panted, heart racing as she scanned over the wood-paneled walls. “Where am I?”

“Your room at Flygande.”

“Flygande,” she repeated. Her vibrating hand went to her forehead, rubbing. She felt so weak.

Danny pulled her closer, continuing to rock her, his warm palm against her cheek. “It was just a bad dream,” he whispered.

But it wasn’t. It was her living nightmare. The one she’d locked deep in her mind and had only relived in short bursts until now. Her tight chest ached as she tried to fill her lungs. More memories flashed through her mind, and she remembered why her caged nightmare broke wide open. “Greyson.”

He’d left. Even now, he chose his driver over her. Despair crushed her insides. She’d lost her son all over again.

“Breathe, Claire.” Danny’s hand grasped hers over her chest. “It’ll be alright.” His other hand rubbed her back, helping air into her lungs. “What were you dreaming?” he whispered.

She gulped another breath and shook her head. She couldn’t say it. “W-What happened?”

“You passed out.” Danny brushed more hair from her face as her eyes ran over the walls again. The mural of her old bedroom was gone. She blinked and blinked again to be sure. Still caught in the between. Dream. Memory. Danny’s present touch moving on her back.

“I passed out?”

“At first, but then you got stuck in a nightmare again,” Danny said. “You were screaming, and I couldn’t wake you.”

Again? He was still there. The phantom scratch of his jaw against her cheek. His stale breath breathing in her ear. She swallowed hard, still gasping for full breaths. She shivered, and Danny tightened his hold.

“I’m going to find out when the food is coming.” He reached inside his pocket. “Where’s my phone?” There was a single knock on the door, and it opened before Danny answered. Emelie, Fin, and Ian walked in. One with a tray sampling everything Danny had made, one with tea, the third a bottle of McClellan whisky.

“Are you okay?” they all said in unison, a little too loudly.

Tears welled in her eyes. The way they looked at her, not an ounce of disappointment. Claire forced a wobbling smile and tried to say she was okay. That everything was fine, but nothing came out of her mouth.

She wasn’t fine.

“She’s in need of this, and this.” Danny balanced the tray in one hand and grabbed the teapot. “But sorry, she doesn’t like whisky.”

“This is for us.” Ian yanked the cork and took a long swig.

They came further into the room, and to Claire’s great relief, Danny stepped in front of them. “She may need a minute.”

Emelie peered around him at her. Her eyes soft like her smile. “Just call us if you need anything else. We’ll be in the living room.”

“Have you seen my phone?” Danny said. “Maybe I left it on the table downstairs.”

“I’ll check,” Fin said.

“Claire?” Ian held the bottle out toward her in a shaking hand, pointing. His eyes so piercing she held her breath. “You didn’t fail your son.” He pointed again, like his finger could push the words into her. “Trust me, I would know.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he took another fortifying drink. “You’re amazing, and we love you.”

The tears fell. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Danny pushed the door shut with the heel of his boot, studying her. “Let me help you sit up.” He wiped her damp cheeks before steadying a bowl of creamy potato leek soup in her hands. She felt his heavy attention on her as she lifted shaking bites of soup.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She closed her eyes on a heavy exhale. The pain in her wrist was fading back into memory again. She shook her head.

“You know I’m not with you for the money, right?”

“Of course, I know.” She rubbed her forehead with a small groan. “Greyson said such awful things. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not asking you for an apology.” He shoved buttered bread between her teeth. “I just needed to make sure that was clear.”

She caught a waver in his voice and gave him a thorough lookover. “What’s this for?” She touched a crease between his eyes.

He avoided her gaze, trading her empty bowl with stir-fry. “I need to ask you something.”

Dread stilled her hand, fork halfway to her mouth. “What is it?”

“I don’t want to be the cause of tension between you and your son.”

Her fork, suddenly heavy, sank back to her plate. “This is the mess I warned you about,” she whispered, her food blurring in her eyes. “But I under ... I understand.”

With a sharp tug, he tipped up her chin, eyes darting over her face. “What do you understand?”

“That you’re finished with this. With me.”

His face went slack, jaw dropping open. “You think ... ” He snapped his mouth closed and pushed the fork back into her hand, lifting it to her lips. “You’ve got to stop putting words in my mouth, Claire. I don’t throw people away like old shoes. Eat.”

“What is it then?” She spoke around the food, froze, then realized how little she cared about etiquette right now.

“I was going to ask if you needed me to, um ... ” He rubbed the back of his neck. “To give you space to fix things with your son.”

The panic she’d woken with melted into something else. Something hot and liquid in the pit of her stomach. “You’re asking if I want space from you, and what? My son will come running back into my arms again? Sure, Daniel.” She buttered more bread so hard it tore. “Because you being with me is the reason he ran away from me to begin with.”

“Claire.”

“No.” He blinked at her sharp response. “No, I don’t want space from you to fix things. Because you aren’t the reason he’s angry. You’re just another excuse to justify his rash decision to leave me to begin with.” She went still. Her own words smacking her in the face.

Danny leaned in, a small smile curving up his left cheek. “Exactly,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. “Like I said earlier, him leaving wasn’t your fault.”

He removed the empty plates and poured two cups of tea, settling in next to her.

She let out a long sigh and melted into his warmth, head on his shoulder. Her nightmare of a past continued to fade into faint sensations.

“Can I ask you something else?” he said.

She brought the mug to her lips, nodding.

“Why did you stay with him?”

She stopped mid-sip, not needing to ask who he meant. “I’d thought of leaving Brandon many times, but in the beginning, I stayed to give Greyson a more normal childhood than I had.”

“And in the end?” he asked quietly.

“In the end, I planned to leave him anyway and told him that the night he ... ” His empty, gray eyes filled her mind.

“Shit.” Danny gathered her in his arms and pressed a kiss into her temple. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He stiffened, tilting his ear toward the window.

“What is it?”

He rose and pushed back the curtains, squinting. “It’s Greyson.” He held up a hand before she could stand, face twisting into confusion for a moment, but then said, “He’s leaving now with his driver ... Claire?”

Her eyes snapped up to his, but he was staring at her hand. The one she didn’t realize was rubbing her wrist. He took a step closer, and she pushed down her sleeve. The darkness in his expression told her he was making connections she’d kept secret from him. “Daniel.”

He snatched her sleeve, yanking it up. His trembling finger ran over a fading pink scar. “I said ‘driver’ and you touched this.” His voice was low, dark. “Why?”

“I’m okay, Daniel.”

“He did this.” It wasn’t a question but she slowly nodded. “He’s your nightmare. Why you keep yelling at someone not to not touch you. Did he ... ” His teeth clenched tight.

“No.” She brushed a soft touch over his pulsing jaw. “I fought him. That’s how I got the scar.”

Green took over the blue in his darkened gaze. “What’s his name?”

“It’s not important.”

“It is to me.”

She closed her eyes and laid the back of her head against the headboard. She didn’t want the taste of his name in her mouth. “Henderson. Donald Henderson. But he’s gone, Daniel. I sent him out of the country on an early retirement.”

“He should be in jail, or dead. Not retired.”

“My son had just lost his father,” she whispered. “I couldn’t do that to him.”

He took her face firmly in both hands. “This has to stop, Claire. You, thinking of everyone else’s well-being without a thought to your own. It stops now. Do you understand?”

He wavered in her vision. For the first time, she saw the utter truth of his words. How right he was. In sacrificing herself to spare her son, she lost him anyway.

Danny held her gaze until she nodded. “And you’re sure he’s out of the country?”

Her phone buzzed once and when she lifted it, she showed him her daily security notification, confirming his absence. “Even without this notice. My phone will buzz three times continuously if something goes wrong. Then a location of where I’ll be safe will pop up. Jake Matthews is worth every penny he sucks away from me.”

She looked closely at this man in front of her. The one who fed her and held her. Who could make her laugh and snort in her tea. She really looked at him and made a decision. She wouldn’t let these precious moments break against the rocks of her past anymore. She’d let her past wash away instead and hold on to this peace, this joy.

Pulling Danny in, she lost herself. Erasing her dark with his light, she kissed away every worry line on his face.