I motion for her to hand me the box, and I peel the plastic wrapper off it. “I run the security system here, so I can help you get it set up, get on the Wi-Fi. You can create all your passwords for privacy, but I can fire this up if you’d like.”
She nods and holds Aurora’s toy between her fingers while she stares off into the distance. “I’d like to start looking for jobs,” she says quietly. “I haven’t worked in a while, though. I don’t know what I’d do forday care. I’m not ready to leave Aurora, but I’d like to find a way to pay you back.”
I shake my head. “Fuck that,” I say. “Sorry, Aurora. You want a job because you want a job, you go for it. There’s no debt here, Claire. I’m not keeping a tally.”
“But I am,” she says. She bites her lower lip and looks at me. “I used to be someone, Savage. A whole person. I had a family and a career. I have an education and hobbies.” A silent tear streaks down her cheek, and it takes everything I have in me not to lean forward, drop to my knees, and wipe it away. “You’re not seeing the whole story. Just a really, really shitty chapter.”
Anger and sadness start a bare-knuckle fight in my chest. “I know that,” I croak out. “You don’t have to explain it. I know.”
She lifts her face to me, an unasked question so clear on her face it’s like I can read her mind. How do I know?
“I’ve had more than one shitty chapter,” I tell her as I turn on the laptop and punch in the Wi-Fi, then hand the device back to her. “The only reason I want to do so much for you is because this club, this place, did so much for me when I was at my most fucked up.”
I’m starting to wonder if that’s not the only reason I want to help Claire. But again, I can’t think those thoughts. “She’s all yours,” I tell her.
Claire stands cautiously and sits beside me on the couch. “I used to work at a law firm, but I haven’t used a computer in almost two years.”
I turn to look at her. What the hell has she beenthrough that she hasn’t had a computer or access to one in two years?
I don’t ask because I do not want to know. I just thank my lucky stars that Anthony is already dead. If he were still around, I don’t know that helping Claire would be enough to satisfy me.
If my history is any indication, I won’t see justice served until the abuser is made to pay. But he’s out of the picture, and I’m going to have to channel my anger someplace else.
Claire is leaning close to me, looking at the laptop screen, when we both hear Aurora say very, very quietly, “Ma-ma.”
Claire leaps off the couch, a stunned and deliriously happy look on her face. She swoops down, picks up her baby, and lifts her high in the air. “Did you just say that? Did my big girl just say Mama? Aurora.” She taps the bright sunshine on the new T-shirt that covers her daughter’s chest and then taps her own chest. “Mama. Aurora said Mama.”
Aurora blows a spittle-covered raspberry and giggles quietly. Claire turns to me. “You heard her, didn’t you? Tell me you heard her say Mama.”
“She sure did,” I say, grinning. “Was that her first time?”
“The first time she did it so clearly. You said Mama.” Claire is beaming at her daughter, then looking back at me, radiant with joy, sharing this event with me.
I want to celebrate this moment with them. To savor every second of happiness, love, and progress that thesemilestones represent. But I can’t. This hurts too much. I can’t watch her be a good mother, to love on her daughter, despite all they have been through together. I start to wonder where Claire and Aurora would be now if Anthony hadn’t died. If Mad Dog hadn’t been willing to sell them like used car parts.
I’m not angry that she didn’t leave sooner. I know why she couldn’t. Why she didn’t. At least, I’m damned sure I think I understand. I’ve spent years processing why women like Claire get trapped. How they get stuck in a situation that starts as love and ends in violence. How they keep their babies in horrible circumstances while taking the worst of it with their faces, their hearts, and their souls.
I’m just not able to deal with the fact that this goodness, freedom, and hope… That’s what’s ahead for Claire and Aurora. They deserve it, that’s for fucking sure. But not everybody gets that. I want it for her, for them, I do. But goddamn, I want it for me. I want it for the kid who got the black eyes. Who hid his face, his voice, his needs—until he couldn’t.
My mama was proud of me once…just once. And then I threw it all in a dumpster, doused it with gas, and tossed a match right on top. I did it because it was the right thing to do, but goddamn if it doesn’t still hurt.
I thought I got through all this years ago, buried the past once and for all and moved the fuck on. But clearly, being around Claire and Aurora has me dredging up shit I thought I had buried.
It all hurts more than I can take. Watching Claireright now is like a beautiful dagger through my heart. I’m not over what happened to me. What I lost. What I gave up.
I can’t be here, can’t see this.
I’ve got to fucking go.
I leap up from the couch. “Right. You’re all good here, so I’m going to go. Stella will take care of your dinner tonight,” I tell her. Then I yank open the door and get my ass out of that room as fast as my boots will take me.
6
CLAIRE
Savage leavesin a bit of a rush, but I’m too excited about Aurora saying Mama to think too much about it. Maybe he has work to do or something came up. I’m glad he was here to share this happy event with me, though. As strange as it sounds, I like his company, and it may not be smart of me, but I’m getting used to the way he treats me.
I’m getting used to how everyone acts around here.
