Page 15 of Accidentally Mine
And I was going to find out why.
I reached into my wallet, grabbed a twenty, and started to leave it on the counter.
“Honey,” she said with a shake of her head.“You’ve already paid.”
I let out a breath and tapped my temple again.“Consider it a tip.Sorry for the mess.”I grabbed my briefcase and gave Anita a wave.
“Going to do some private detective work, huh, sweetie?”she called after me.
I smiled grimly.There was definitely a mystery here.One that begged me not to stop investigating it until it’d been unraveled.
4
Roselynn
Iloved everything about Boston.Loved going to Fenway, the greatest baseball stadium on earth, where I used to watch a game with my dad.Loved the history of the place and the stops along the Freedom Trail, even when they were packed up with tourists.Loved the smell of the sea and watching the tall ships as they’d come into the bay.Loved walking the Boston Public Garden.Every little detail I loved about the city jumped out at me as I dodged people on the sidewalk.
If it was up to me, I’d probably have been like my aunt and my father and never leave.
But it wasn’t up to me.
I had to get the hell out of there, before what I didn’t like came crashing down on me.
What had I been doing, talking to that man?It was something I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do—allow myself to be zeroed in on here.But he’d just seemed so…lost.Helpless.Like the man from that night…
I willed my brain to shut off as I rushed into the T Station at Boston Common, checking behind me every two seconds, on even higher alert than usual as I thought about the article I’d glimpsed in theGlobe.An article about my dad.Now, I wondered if that man in the café knew who I was, or if any one of the people I passed would.It had seemed like there was some kind of recognition in his eyes.
This was not good.Definitely not good.
I hadn’t been able to sleep the night before, wondering what I was going to do.And now, my worst nightmare was about to come true.Somehow, Anthony’d worked the miracle he always said he could, and had his sentence overturned.I couldn’t leave until I finished sorting everything out and got my aunt taken care of, and now Anthony would be out of prison any day.I couldn’t help thinking that he knew exactly where I was, and was just biding his time.I could almost feel his eyes on me, like the great all-seeing eye of Sauron inThe Lord of the Rings.It was enough to make me want to duck into a shop and hide.
But I couldn’t do that.My father had said to me once, “Don’t live your life in fear.If you do, you might as well be dead.”That was why he’d never left, even when I’d begged him to.His whole life had been in Boston, and he wasn’t about to let people push him around.
When I got through the turnstile, I found a newspaper vending machine, pulled change out of my wallet, and freed the paper on top.I flipped frantically through the pages until I found the article about my father.
Shit.
When I turned the page, my stomach dropped.
It was my college photo, taken about six months before the night of the accident.Me, with my dark hair and pale skin, wearing a bright smile, draped in black with the caked-on makeup that effectively hid all the horrible things that Anthony had been doing to me.The bruises.The abuse that had been just as emotional as physical.
A memory played out in my head, just as vivid as the morning it had happened.
“Bec, sweetheart, where do you think you’re going?”Anthony, lying on his bed, bare-chested, watched me as I’d peeled myself off the bed, away from his side.He reached for my hand, but I pulled away.
The bruises on my body had screamed and my bones creaked like I was a hundred-year-old woman.But I turned back and touched him.I’d been too afraid of unwittingly starting yet another fight I might not survive.“I have my picture, baby,” I’d said gently.“I told you about it?For school.”
In the bathroom, my face in the mirror scared me.My eyes were bloodshot, sunken and purple-rimmed, my skin mottled with angry red welts.I patted on pancake makeup, thinking I’d need a miracle to get through that day.I’d taken to staying most nights at his place because I didn’t want my roommates to notice what was happening.I never even went to see my dad or aunt anymore.
As I leaned forward to sweep on mascara, Anthony came up behind me and cupped my breasts.“Sure you’re not going out whoring?”
I’d frozen with the wand at my eye.Managed a smile.“No.It’s my picture.I have to have one every year.”
“All right,” he said, grabbing his white dress shirt and shrugging it on.“I’ll take you.”
I nodded.By then, I’d known better than to argue, and I’d also expected that he’d take me.I knew better than to lie too.Even when I told the truth, he didn’t trust me.I only left him for classes, and when I did, I came back home right away.Lateness—even just five minutes—was never tolerated.
The beatings.
