Chapter 20

The lights of the police car flashed blue and red. Focusing on it only made the thudding pain at my temple flare up like a firecracker. My jaw was swollen on the right, and there was a cut over my right eyebrow that was oozing blood, the skin around it puffy. After only thirty minutes, it already felt like Paul had hit me with a sledgehammer.

McKenzie's ex sat handcuffed in the back of the police cruiser after our statements, a piece of gauze taped to the back of his head. He would face charges, due to violating the restraining order, and likely the police would pick up an assault charge, as well.

I was sitting on the lip of the ambulance's back entrance, contemplating just how upset the old man would be at seeing my face.

"Ow," I moaned when the EMT touched my temple.

"Sorry, but that probably needs stitches. Do you want to ride with us to the hospital or have your friend drive you?"

"Can't you just put some gauze over it?"

"It won't heal as well if you don't get it stitched up, probably scar, too. Nothing's broken, and it doesn't look like you have a concussion, but that cut needs tending to. I sincerely recommend a visit to the emergency room."

McKenzie appeared at his elbow. "Is she going to be okay?"

The EMT gave a thumbs up. "She'll be alright. Sore for sure, and probably hurting from quite the headache, but if she gets the stitches she needs, the rest will heal quickly."

"I don't really like hospitals…" I began to explain.

"You don't have to go alone. I'll take you," McKenzie readily offered.

Gauze in place, they helped me up, and McKenzie led me to her sedan. At that point, I was mostly resigned. The thought about sitting in a waiting room for the rest of the day didn't put me in a particularly great mood, though.

McKenzie spared me a side glance. "I know how annoying hospitals can be, and I get that you don't like them. My sister Emily is a doctor. Paediatric surgeon, actually. Her house is close. I'm sure she could stitch you up in a few minutes."

"That's really nice, butI don't want to impose. You can just drop me off at the hospital. That's fine." I didn't need any other witnesses to my misery.

But she just shook her head, and for the first time, I noticed the trembling of her lips. "Please, Sam. Just let me help. I feel bad enough about this. And it won't be an imposition, I promise."

"Besides," Vinnie interjected. I hadn't even noticed his approach because I was so focused on not falling over. "She already promised to keep an eye on you for me."

I grunted something unintelligible, then reluctantly nodded. McKenzie led me to the passenger side and belted me in. I waved goodbye to a worried-looking Vinnie.

Later, we parked in front of a small brick house with blue shutters and sunflowers in front of it. I had only meant to close my eyes for a few seconds, but judging by time on the dashboard, it was pretty obvious I'd fallen asleep. I touched my jaw, wincing at how sensitive it was.

When McKenzie got out of the car, the front door slammed open. A second, taller version of McKenzie shot out—Emily, I assumed. She practically sprinted over the lawn, engulfing her sister in a tight hug. "Shit, Kenz, are you alright? When you texted, I didn't know what to expect, had half a mind to march down to the police station and kill the guy myself." Emily laid her hands on both sides of her sister's face. "Are you okay?"

McKenzie tremulously shook her head before burying her face in her sister's shoulder. I averted my eyes at the emotional embrace, managed to release the seatbelt, and carefully got out. The ground under my feet moved. I clung to the open car door in support and waited for the swaying to recede.

"Sam, wait. I'll be right there," I heard McKenzie say while I was trying to get my body to listen.

A moment later, I felt a hand under my elbow. They helped me into the house, and the introduction to Emily only felt a little bit awkward. Probably because I was feeling very tired and in quite a bit of pain.

Emily sat me down on a chair in the kitchen and reviewed the damage, angling my head carefully back and forth. "He really did a number on you," she muttered with pinched lips. "The EMT was right; this needs stitches. Lucky for you, I can just take care of this here."

"Thanks. That would be great."

Emily let her eyes wander to where McKenzie stood leaning next to the sink, absently kneading her hands. "Don't mention it. I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am that you were there today. Or what you did. She told me that you stepped between them. This is the least I can do."

I felt embarrassed when she reached out to squeeze my knee and just nodded. Even that hurt.

The stitches didn't take long, but I was grateful for the local anaesthetic that Emily gave me. I wondered again about how I should explain this to Frank. My dad had always got in trouble for his fighting, and I could only imagine how my grandfather would react to seeing my face.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. McKenzie pushed off the counter, and there was a weird kind of tension in her when she walked out of the kitchen. A moment later, I understood.

"Oh, god," a familiar voice said. Lauren's timbre.

Emily looked me over. "You're all done. Let's go make sure Lauren doesn't blow a gasket. I'm sure one of them can drive you home in a bit."

When we got to the living room, Lauren stood with her hands clenched around McKenzie's upper arms, frantically scrutinising her. "Are you okay?" She finally pulled the smaller woman into a tight hug.

If those two aren't a couple, I'll eat my hat.

Right now, I was very glad that I didn't have to answer anyone about how I looked, or what had happened.

"Mon dieu, what happened to your face?"

My head whipped to the side, and I winced in pain at the movement, but my eyes still widened comically. "Emmanuelle? Uh, what are you doing here?"

"Merde!" she exclaimed, paling at my sight. "Making sure McKenzie is okay, but what is this?"

"Uh, hi. I, uh, got a little caught up in … the situation."

"A little?" She was in front of me in a flash and before I could even twitch back, she had my chin in her hands and angled my head to the side. "Jesus Almighty, you look like someone bashed your skull in with a meat cleaver."

She was too close, and touching me made it worse, and the words tumbled through my brain in disarray. But then I noticed how her fingers slightly shook and the very real worry in her eyes. So much for not being a part of emotional displays.

"I'm alright. Just a little banged up. Emily has taken good care of me. I'll be back to falling out of trees in no time."

Emmanuelle bit her bottom lip before shaking her head. "Are you really joking right now?" Her thumb made slow circles below my ear where she was still holding my chin.

It was suddenly very difficult to remember why I shouldn't lean into her touch. I was just very, very tired. It was the sound of sobbing which finally drew us apart.

"I should have known he wouldn't stop." McKenzie had sunk onto the edge of the sofa and put her head into her hands. "But stupidly, I thought putting so many miles between us would mean he'd leave me be. But then he was there, angrier than I've ever seen him. He would have killed her. I'm sure of it. If the mechanic hadn't shown up, he wouldn't have stopped. Oh god, five years of marriage, and I never suspected how bad he could get. How could I have been so blind…"

I tensed, and Emmanuelle took a step away. She probably thought she was crowding me and that I didn't want her to be so close. Nothing was further from the truth, but I couldn't continue to listen to this one more second. I knew how it felt—knew it only too well.

"Paul is a bully," I stated and caught Lauren's warning look. I ignored it. "He gets off on making others feel small just so he can feel more powerful." McKenzie's eyes were tearful, big and round when she glanced up, but she still listened to me. "It sucks when someone tries to take all your power away and makes you feel insignificant and helpless. But for him to succeed in doing so, you have to let him. Don't let him." I softened my voice, willing her to understand. "I know how easy it is to convince yourself that it's your fault and you should have just behaved differently, done something better, but it's not true. It's not your fault."

McKenzie swallowed. "How can you be so sure?"

It felt like everyone was staring at me now. I sighed. Weariness claimed my body like a flood, and I leaned my body against the door. The old wounds still hurt, but McKenzie's were the ones that were bleeding. I resolved to just ignore Emmanuelle's stare, and everyone else's.

Come on, don't wuss out now.

"My father, he was just like Paul—large and intimidating, and once I got older, decidedly mean. He started to rip apart my sketches when I was in middle school because he feared I would turn out just like his artist mother. My grandparents didn't have much in the beginning, had to save every penny for their budding company, and my father … I don't know if he ever forgave them for growing up in such humble circumstances. He was just so angry, all the time. It was tolerable for the most part, but then he also started drinking."

McKenzie's body trembled. "Did he ever hit you?"

"No." I blew out a breath. "No. But when he got home drunk off his ass, he screamed the whole house down and broke furniture. As a child, I hid under the bed because I thought he wouldn't find me there."

My voice had dropped to a whisper. A part of me could hardly believe I was telling them all this. A room full of strangers. Me. But, once I started, it seemed to just want out. And perhaps by letting it, the painful memories would again lose some of their potency. And even if not, it would still be worth it, if it made McKenzie feel better.

"I was always so very focused on not angering him, but it never worked for very long. Kids just aren't quiet, all the time. I was the recipient of his tongue-lashings more times than I can count. He never let me forget just how inadequate I was. It took me a long time to accept that his behaviour wasn't a consequence of my own actions or mistakes. That he was the one in the wrong."

Silence reigned in the living room as my words were being pondered.

"Maybe you're right," McKenzie finally said. "I shouldn't let him keep doing this to me. I'll press charges this time. Can I ask, what happened to your father?"

Of course, she's going to ask.

"He's been dead for fifteen years." My voice was emotionless like a robot. "And the only thing I regret is that I never managed to stand up to him while he was alive."

I felt Emmanuelle's hand slip into mine, and the touch settled some of the turmoil of remembering all those things about my father. I thought I'd put the bitterness about him behind me a long time ago. Apparently, it only took the actions of one punch-happy person to make it all come back. In a way, family never released its hold on you completely.

"My brother Charlie is an attorney," I said. "I'll give him a ring once my phone is back to working order and ask him if he knows any good lawyer who's from around here. I'm sure he can find someone competent to represent you."

"Thanks, Sam," McKenzie said. "Just … thank you."

I nodded, then winced at a new wave of pain rolling through my head.

"You need to get some rest," Emmanuelle said. "Let's drive you home."

"You really don't need to drive me."

"And just how were you planning to get home?" she inquired politely.

"Uh, cab?"

She snorted. "You think I'm going to let you take a cab?"

"I'm not a toddler."

"I'll drive you."

I opened my mouth, but she simply cut me off.

"We can argue about it a bit first if you want, but then I'll drive you anyway. Your choice."