The Do-Over (23 page)

“Lanie, did he ever…did he…” Kyle couldn’t even articulate the question, which was so strange for him. His knuckles were now white, and he winced trying to form the words.

“I don’t think so,” she responded so he could stop struggling with asking her if her father had ever molested her.

“What do you mean, you don’t think?”

“I was alone with him a lot. She would leave with Cassie when things got bad. I don’t remember it all.”

“She didn’t take you?” The question came out strained, full of shock and outrage. She wondered for a moment if her admission was harder for him in some ways. She dismissed the thought. He was just being a good friend like he’d always been.

“She said she couldn’t because I was his daughter, and he forbade it. I know the law now and that she had options, but I guess at the time she was trying to protect one of us.” She was almost grateful the memories were patchy. It was her mind’s way of protecting her. Staring at Kyle, she had an urge to comfort him right now. His eyes were blazing green orbs, and his shoulders were shaking, causing her to worry about his stress level.

“That’s fucking bullshit! She had a responsibility as a mother to both of you.” She watched the swift rise and fall of his chest, like he was having trouble breathing. The last thing she wanted was his anger directed toward her mother. Anger was a wasted emotion, and it wouldn’t change anything. She clasped his clenched hand. He turned it over and squeezed hers lightly. The gesture was as much to calm him as it was to comfort her. She noticed it working when he exhaled deeply and unclenched his other fist. “Please, go on,” he encouraged, in a quiet but strained voice.

She shook her head, deciding he knew enough about her psycho family and her tainted genetics. “Kyle—“

“Please, Lanie, I want to know,” he said. It was amazing how insightful he was.

“She always felt guilty about putting Cassie in that predicament because he wasn’t her father. He was mine.”

“So that’s why Cassie doesn’t like skeletons?”

“Cassie told one of her boyfriends when we were in high school. He was bitter when they broke up, so he told the whole school. She was humiliated and made it a point to make sure everyone knew he was my father, not hers. I was able to deal with it better by shutting down and concentrating on school. I worked so hard I graduated a year early. I did the same in college, but Cassie never recovered. She’ll freak if Brad tells her about his father’s illegal activities. Ironically, I thought of it as a common thread, something that would bind. My mother and sister can’t accept what happened and move on. I fully acknowledge they don’t treat me well, but I know why.” She glanced up at Kyle and gained strength from his compassionate expression. “My mother looks at me as the reason she married him. Cassie looks at me as a reminder of him. I look like him.”

“That’s so sick.” She looked away, but he wouldn’t let her this time. He tilted her chin toward him. “It’s sick that they transfer their resentment on you.”

“I know that.”

His eyes moved toward her chest, but there was nothing lustful in his look. Swallowing hard, he stared at the space where her scar was. “Did he do that to you?”

She nodded, shifting her gaze to the floor. “I don’t remember what happened, something about a fireplace poker hitting me in the chest.” Kyle looked away, but not before she saw him wince. The memories of all her years in that house were fragmented and disjointed like a nightmarish patchwork quilt that didn’t fit together.

He leaned closer to her and dropped his voice to a soothing whisper. “You have to know you’re nothing like him, sweetheart. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met, and I interviewed the Dalai Lama.” She laughed, shocked at how he was able to get her to do that when she was on the verge of tears. “You have a huge heart and a remarkable capacity for forgiveness. I can’t believe you tolerate your sister and mother, let alone allow them to be in your life. You’re a much bigger person than I am, and you never cease to amaze me.”

Her heart melted with his words, but she needed to be strong. Now that she had started, she needed to explain everything. “Thank you, Kyle, but you need to understand that my choice to have my family in my life is a simple one for me. You feel some strange compulsion to stand up for me because you think I’m a pushover, but I’m not. I have two choices. I can either accept them with all the unkindness and ugliness that goes with it or let them go forever. I chose to accept them because I’m over it but they’re not. Do you understand?”

He nodded, caressing her hand with his thumb. “That’s why you took on the Hayes case, and you didn’t want your name mentioned anywhere?” He was so smart, always able to pick up on any small detail.

“Yes, I didn’t want my story interfering with my clients. I’ve dedicated a great deal of time to cases like this one, although not as notable. I wish I could eradicate the thoughts of evil people, but I can’t. At least I can get justice for some of their victims.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” he said. The pride in his voice surprised her.

“I’ll agree with you when we win. In any case, I’ve worked very hard to escape my father’s shadow. I’ve lived my life in such a way that those evil genes can’t take root.” She had thought the seeds of immorality were within her, just clawing to spring forth like weeds in a flowerbed. She didn’t feel like that anymore. In fact, Kyle had helped her with that in some ways.

“There’s nothing evil about you, not now or ever, but what do you mean exactly?”

She took a deep breath, readying to reveal the litany of choices she’d made since her mother first compared Lanie to her father when she was a little girl. “My father was a lazy trust fund kid, so I’ve always worked very hard. He was a criminal, so I became a lawyer. I choose not to drink because he was an alcoholic. He was a violent man, so I spend my time working on cases dealing with violence. I abhor violence. And of course, my father was a serial rapist, so I was—”

“Celibate,” Kyle finished for her.

She nodded at him. “It had nothing to do with saving myself. I just never thought I was fit for a relationship. The things other girls dreamed of weren’t in my DNA—that is until I met…Brad.” She blinked, realizing the statement sounded strange to her. It was true, but it didn’t exactly feel
truthful
for some reason. It didn’t matter, though. She was so exhausted she couldn’t fight back the tears anymore. They flowed freely like a dam burst.

Kyle scooped her up in his arms and held her tightly. He caressed her hair while the hot, fat drops rolled down her face onto his bare chest. She could feel his heartbeat against hers. They were in sync, beating rapidly to some desperate, melancholy melody. She clutched him tightly, and he let her cry, rubbing her back and holding her close. Her body shook as the violent weeping took control. She didn’t think she’d cried so hard in her life. The tears stung her eyes, and the sobs were physically painful, but being in his arms made it bearable. Finally, she had nothing left but shallow, shrieking breaths.

“Thank you for telling me,” he whispered as he cupped her face and wiped away the last of the tears with his thumb.

She shifted off him, feeling awkward about the wet trails left on his chest. “I’m sorry I used your body like a tissue. I’ve never told the whole story like that before.” She tried to manage a smile. She couldn’t; her face hurt too much.

“Anytime you want to use my body, you just say the words.” He was trying to make her laugh, but she was having a difficult time digesting all the rampant emotions running through her.

“Kyle, is it okay if we don’t have sex tonight?” The last thing she wanted was to reveal the ugly physical scar to him again after baring so many mental ones.

“This wasn’t meant to be a booty call.” He looked upset, almost offended, but he shook his head and smiled softly at her. He took her hand and kissed each fingertip. “Miss Lanie, my shoulder will always be at your service. I wear your tears like a badge of honor.” The statement was so genuine and sweet she almost started crying again, but her body felt emptied of any potential tears.

“Oh yeah? Is that why your shirt’s off, slut?” she asked, trying to bring some lightheartedness to the thick gloom permeating the room. She thumped him with the pillow. He caught it in his hand and laid it down on the end of the couch. Then he eased her on her back so she was lying on it. He picked up her feet, set them on his lap, and took off her shoes. “I always walk around with my shirt off. You should know that by now.” He peeled off her socks and rubbed her feet. “Here’s the plan. I’m going to make you the biggest hot fudge sundae you’ve ever seen, and then I’m going to feed it to you one spoonful at a time.”

“Hmm, keep talking,” she said, feeling the corners of her mouth twitch.

“Then I’m going to give you a foot massage while we watch television. Guess what? I have a whole channel with nothing but infomercials on it.” He gave her an impish smile, tickling her foot. She laughed, trying to pull it away, but he held it steady, immediately rubbing it with his strong hands. She felt herself start to relax as if his hands were healing her.

“I don’t want to watch infomercials tonight,” she said, happy her voice was clearer.

“What do you want to watch, sweetheart?”

She thought for a moment and beamed a true smile back at him. “ESPN Classic?”

He roared with laughter, tearing through the quiet. “Lanie, do you know you’re my best friend?”

Did he know he was hers? That she was afraid to even think about her father, let alone tell the whole sordid story, until she met him? That he gave her courage and strength when she thought she had none? That he made her feel whole instead of broken? It didn’t matter, though. He was just being a good friend, a best friend, and she would always cherish this time with him.

Chapter Twenty-One

Kyle had been thinking about Lanie all day, running through all the horrific details of her story. He’d tried to convince her to call in sick and spend the day with him, but she was too dedicated to consider it. Kyle winced, remembering what he’d said to her about daddy issues the night he walked out. All he wanted to do was take her pain away, not add to it.

He told himself not to probe into it any further, but his inquisitive nature, combined with his concern for Lanie, won out. When he arrived at work, the first thing he did was open the research database on his computer. He spent hours sorting through any article referencing Deland Carmichael. Most of them had to do with his victims and crimes, but he found a few that mentioned his family, particularly the young child found in his mansion home, hiding inside a closet. There was no conclusive evidence of molestation, and she was released to the custody of her mother, who was visiting relatives at the time. Said mother claimed she had no knowledge of the abuse her youngest daughter suffered at the hands of her father.

Kyle flung his arm across his desk, scattering pens, newspapers, research books, and even his mug of coffee across the floor. They crashed and clattered in a symphony of chaos that mimicked his own internal rhythm. He stormed out of his office, knowing he needed to leave before he did any permanent damage.

He had a strong urge to drive to Monton State Prison and kill this man who’d hurt his Lanie. He could get in with his press pass and use his bare hands. Surely he could do that before the guards caught him. But first he would go to the colonial in Lincoln Park and lock her mother in a dark closet. He’d never considered himself a violent man, but thinking about Lanie all alone with that monster was killing him. His own mom would be rolling over in her grave if she knew what he was thinking, but the thoughts kept coming. They followed him all the way home. What kind of woman did this to a child? Why didn’t she protect her daughter? Why didn’t she change Lanie’s last name? Why did she coddle Cassie and treat Lanie like garbage?

His knuckles hurt from clenching his fists so hard. He calmed himself with some deep breaths and knew he couldn’t act on any of it. Lanie would never forgive him. She abhorred violence, and he wouldn’t do anything to cause her more suffering. The vengeful thoughts would not leave his mind, but Kyle knew he could literally exhaust them. He changed into his sweats and Syracuse T-shirt, choosing to do the only thing he could to dissipate the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He ran.

He ran for hours, harder and faster than he ever had, even when he was training for a marathon. He ran so much he threw up in some bushes along East Ohio Street, and then he ran some more. His thoughts turned to Lanie. How was she so stable? Her strange choices made so much more sense to him now. She wore layers as a protective mechanism to keep others out. She didn’t drink or have sex because she thought there might be some evil lurking within her. She was wrong about that. She was the purest person he’d ever met. Kyle forced himself to run harder, to chase the vengeful darkness away.

When the physical pain finally overtook the emotional one, he collapsed on the grass of the formal gardens in Grant Park. He lay there until his breathing returned to normal. Then he took out his cell phone and texted her. He needed to hold her in his arms again.
Come over tonight.

Can’t.

He didn’t like her answer.
Why?

Sick.

Of me?
Although he’d just run twenty miles, he found himself holding his breath, waiting for her answer.

No, silly, I’m really sick. Flu.
Worry flooded through Kyle. He had to see her. To make her feel better in any way he could.

An hour later, Kyle was freshly showered and standing by her bed. “What are you doing here?” Lanie asked in a raspy voice. She looked pale, and her normally luminous hair was stringy and damp.

“I thought you were playing hooky without me.” His initial thought was that she was so upset about hashing out her past she decided to be alone, but it was clear she was really sick. He was glad he’d brought provisions.

“Do I look like I’m playing hooky?” she asked, pointing to the laptop in front of her.

“Not at all, but you need to put that away now. I’m here to take care of you.”