Page 41 of Sheltering Lawson
Long minutes passed, and bit by bit the discombobulated sensation passed, and my ability to think was restored. But I felt as if I didn’t have a whole bone anywhere in my body. I was sure that if he let go of me, I would simply turn into a puddle at his feet.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, I ran my hand up the back of his neck. What did one say after something like that? A simple thank you hardly seemed appropriate. And stating that he had absolutely rocked my universe seemed woefully inadequate.
Ethan rubbed my back, and I could feel him smile. “Who knew the kitchen could be this much fun? I think maybe I’ll do some baking in here.”
I loved him for that, and I smiled back. “Well, you certainly baked my cookies.”
Ethan grinned and gave me a hard hug. “I find your cookies damned nigh irresistible.”
I blushed and closed my eyes. “I’m not going to name what I feel is irresistible on you.”
“Ah, c’mon that isn’t fair.”
I felt him grin again. I closed my eyes and hugged him, my throat suddenly tight. How did I get so lucky? He was a living, breathing miracle—this big, hard man.
He sighed deep in his chest as the timer for the scones sounded. “The coffee is brewed and whatever smells so damn good—”
“Chocolate chip scones.”
“Mmmhm. Scones are done.” He cleared his throat and now there was nothing but serious business in his tone. I looked up at Ethan, my heart skipping a beat when I saw the dark, unsmiling expression in his eyes. He held my gaze for a split second; then lowered his head. Cupping my jaw to protect me from his heavy stubble, he brushed my mouth with the sweetest kiss, and my breath caught and my pulse stumbled. His lips moving against mine, he said, his voice very low, very raspy, “It’s time we talked, Haley.”
My stomach dropped into my toes. He was right. It was time to get everything out into the open. He deserved to know the whole story.
Telling it would be a good way to build up my courage to the level I needed to move forward into a future that was filled with promise.
Chapter 14
ETHAN
My first thought this morning when I woke up in Law—Haley’s bed was that, fuck yeah. It’s where I wanted to be for so long. Touching her last night, holding her, and finally taking us both where we wanted to go was beyond my imagination and I had a good one. We’d used up almost all the condoms and I was a bit surprised I had it in me. But I couldn’t get enough of her.
My gut clenched thinking that she might still make the decision to go, leave me and Suttontowne for Texas. I wanted her to stop running, and I needed to hear everything she had to say about her past. It sounded as if that bastard had not only taken advantage of her, but had robbed her of her inheritance and her freedom. I hated the son of a bitch and wanted to make things right for Haley.
I marveled at what she had done for almost a year. The courage it took to do what she had done humbled me.
She pulled out a wooden tray with fireflies painted on it and put two fresh cups of coffee on it with creamer and sugar along with a plate of the piping hot, aromatic scones. We headed back to the bed and climbed in. It took all my willpower to keep my hands off her. Besides, I needed fuel. I was sorely depleted.
“Before we start, let me throw your clothes in the washer so they’re clean.” She held out her hand for my jeans. I shucked them and my underwear off, handing them to her. She left with my shirt still on and came back with a pretty pink robe belted around her slim waist. She settled back on the bed and picked up the coffee she’d placed on the nightstand, taking a sip.
There was a deep hollow look in her eyes, a vulnerable look to her mouth. I wanted to spare her this, but it was important for both of us to hear it and deal with it. She was in limbo now, and I wanted her to be safe and able to make her own decisions without any fear.
“It’s been so awful,” she whispered. “The worst of my life.” Sensing that she was preparing herself for the telling, I waited, my gaze locked on her face. Finally, she drew a shaky breath and straightened. She looked at her plate with the scone and pushed it back on the tray, reclining against the headboard as if she needed the support. I wanted to haul her against me, but we needed this distance to get it all out.
“I was duped by Brad. Plain and simple. He was on his best behavior when we dated. My father thought he was the ideal man for me, and I went along because that’s what I did. I was always the good girl, and I thought he was right. Little did I know both of us were so terribly wrong.”
She turned her head toward the window, her profile stark against the bright light. “The abuse started after my father died. It began as small things—I forgot something he wanted at the market—something he’d never even asked for but insisted he had. My clothes weren’t sexy enough, I used too much makeup or not enough. It was so nitpicking it started to grate on my nerves. When I told him to stop it, he hit me…I don’t want to go into the details of what he did,” she said giving me another hollow look.
I rubbed her shoulder. “It’s all right, babe. I get the picture.” I tamped back my anger for her treatment, gritting my teeth and using a calming breath like I did in combat to battle the fear.
“My father-in-law supported everything he did and Bradley didn’t bat an eyelash when his dad hit me, too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Then I noticed large withdrawals from our accounts. I asked him about it, but he put me off. I didn’t know then that he had a serious gambling problem—a very serious gambling problem. I knew he gambled, but I really thought it was strictly recreational.” She finally looked at me, her gaze bleak. “He gambled away hundreds of thousands of dollars. And when I called him on it, the abuse got so much worse. He started to restrict my access to the money, took my car keys during the day, discouraged friends.” She dropped her head into her hands, and I clasped the back of her neck, massaging. “But it was only the tip of the iceberg. I should have seen the signs, the runny nose, the dilated eyes, the dazed look. He was doing cocaine and using my family’s money to bankroll his disgusting lifestyle. I was so angry, so horrified that he could have sunk so low. The pressure of his job, his own weakness, I don’t know what caused it.”
She started to tremble and I ached to hold her, the urge almost beyond my control. “He got even more unstable until I finally had enough. I needed to salvage what I could and get out of the marriage. It was my only hope. I borrowed money from a close friend who helped me immensely and hired a lawyer, filing for divorce. When he was served with the papers, he went ballistic. I had no illusions that he was in such a rage he would have killed me.” She stared ahead and the trauma dulled her voice. “Something in me snapped. I couldn’t take it anymore, and I hit him with a lamp, knocked him out cold.”
I swore under my breath and just wanted the bastard’s address, but she continued.
“I knew when he woke up it was only going to get worse. He was so lost in his addictions that the threat of me withdrawing my considerable fortune was too much for him. I ran. I left everything behind and took off.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
