All Falls Down (28 page)

"Yes. I just thought…." Matthew might have left the guesthouse to me, but that doesn't make it mine. It belongs to his family – to Lexi and Kit and Maddi. I would never take it away from them, especially if they didn't want me here. But I don't have the energy to explain that to Chris right now. "Never mind," I say instead.

He eyes me for a moment and then shrugs. "You gonna get dressed?"

"Where's Jared?" I ask.

"He had to go take care of a few things." Chris shifts from foot to foot.

"Lexi?" I guess. My smile slips.

Chris nods.

I try to think of something to say, but there's nothing. Guilt pricks at me again.

I should march up to the house and promise to stay away from Jared until the girls are safe. They deserve nothing less than that from me, but I'm selfish and I don't think I can make that promise, let alone keep it.

I need Jared. He's the only thing that makes sense to me anymore.

That doesn't make what we're doing right or fair, and I know this, but the thought of being near him but forbidden to touch him presses all of the air from my lungs and squeezes my heart in a vise. I'm not strong enough to do the right thing. I'm just not.

And we're being careful. That has to count for something, doesn't it?

I don't know.

I push the thought away and try to focus on what brought Chris here in the first place.

Toby.

I never want to see him again.

"A restraining order?" I ask, trying not to get my hopes up too high.

"Yes. We have an appointment to talk to the judge in an hour."

Hope crumbles as realization dawns. I have to talk to a judge, answer questions about my relationship with Toby. My cheeks burn with heat at the thought of confessing to the things I let him do to him. Knowing Jared and Lexi and Kit know the truth is hard enough. I don't want everyone to know how weak and pathetic I am. Besides, can a judge even grant a restraining order against someone who hurt you in another country? Is that even possible?

I open my mouth and then close it again.

"Look," Chris says, probably reading the doubt on my face, "I'm not asking for details on what happened with this guy, but it's obvious to everyone that you're terrified of him. You jump anytime someone raises their voice. You apologize for everything. You could barely move the first couple of weeks you were here. Whatever this asshole did to you, we're not going to let him do it again, so Jared called in a favor. All we have to do is go get the judge to sign the papers, and Toby McKee won't be allowed within one hundred yards of you."

I stare at the floor, trying to work through his response. Am I really that obvious? Does everyone know what I let Toby turn me into? That makes me angry. I don't want to be the girl everyone pities. Toby is here, and I can't make him leave, but I don't have to let him frighten me anymore, either. I don't have to keep letting him hurt me. I gave him that power, and I can take it away again.

I desperately want to rip that power out of his hands.

I don't want to hurt anymore. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I want my life back. Whatever that means for me, I want to be strong enough to handle it. And I want the decision to be mine. Maybe I can't fix things with Lexi, but I can fix this. I can stop being afraid.

I'm the master of my fate.

I glance up at Chris. "I'll get dressed," I say, my voice trembling with determination.

A proud grin stretches across his face. "That's my girl."

Chapter Seventeen: Rinse

I'm sitting on the hardest, coldest bench ever made, shifting this way and that, though I've given up on finding a comfortable position. I can't sit still. The clock on the wall across the hall ticks loudly, but it's broken. The second hand gets caught on the ornate
III
on each circuit, moving beyond it only when the gear inside finally gathers enough force to shove it forward. There's a tiny crack in the tile at my feet, too.

Chris and I have been here for nearly an hour. It seems as if days have passed. I'm impatient and scared, and I can't stop thinking about the last time I was in a judge's chamber. Matthew and Caitlyn were with me. Their absence this time is overpowering.

I miss them both.

"Miss Martin, do you want to live with Mr. and Mrs. Talbot?" Judge Harper asks me. Her smile is kind and compassionate. Her bony hands appear better suited to knitting that deciding the fate of abandoned children.

"Yes," I whisper. My voice shakes. I'm so scared she's going to deny Matthew and Caitlyn's petition to become my legal guardians. I know what will happen if she does: I'll go to foster care. I'll never see Kit or her sisters again.

"Please let me stay with them," I say when the judge continues to peer at me.

"You understand that they will be responsible for you until you're of age?"

"Yes ma'am." I plead with my gaze for her not to take everything away from me. My mom doesn't want me, and I don't want to go to a group home. I want to stay where I am. It's selfish, I know. Caitlyn and Matthew owe me nothing. But they treat me like they want to keep me, like I matter to them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Talbot?" Judge Harper's gaze shifts between them. "Savannah's education, medical expenses, and mental, emotional, and physical wellbeing will be your responsibility. Are you prepared to meet her needs to the best of your abilities?"

"Yes, your Honor," Matthew says without hesitation.

Caitlyn squeezes my hand in hers. "Savannah belongs with us."

"Do you feel the same, Miss Martin?"

I nod.

"And you're prepared to stay in their care until you're eighteen?" she asks. "You don't have a family member you'd rather live with?"

"I don't have anyone else," I whisper. The Talbot family is all I have left. I know I'll never fit into their world, but it's the only home I know. The thought of being taken away terrifies me.

Judge Harper glances down at the papers in front of her and then between the three of us. She looks so serious… and then she picks up her pen. "Given that Ms. Melinda Martin didn't respond to her summons and Miss Martin has been in your care for over a year now, I'm inclined to grant your petition for guardianship," she says. She meets my gaze again. "Congratulations, Miss Martin."

My shoulders slump with relief. I don't have to leave. I can stay.

Caitlyn's crying when she jumps up to hug me.

Matthew grins and winks at me.

"Welcome to the family, Savannah," he says.

"Savannah Martin?"

I jump when I hear my name. Glancing up from the floor, I see a middle-aged woman standing across the hall, staring at me. She's severe with her hair pulled back in a tight bun and a pair of tiny glasses perched on her face. Her lips are pursed, like she suspects me of trying to rob her.

"Y–yes?" I manage to say.

"Judge Blakely will see you now."

I climb to my feet, trying to breathe through my anxiety. My stomach churns and my head spins until I think I'm going to pass out or vomit on this woman's black pumps.

Chris climbs to his feet beside me.

"Miss Martin only," the woman says, giving him a disapproving glare.

Chris turns to me and smiles. "You can do this, Savannah."

I'm not so sure about that, but I nod anyway and follow behind the clerk. We bypass the court room and enter into an antechamber. It's wood paneled and drab, lacking color and warmth.

The woman ushers me into Judge Blakely's office and hands him my file. I stand back, fidgeting. He's not old like Judge Harper was all those years ago, and there's nothing frail about him. He's maybe forty, with dark hair and big hands. He's imposing, seated behind his massive desk with degrees and awards hanging all around him. Even the books in his office are imposing. They're all antique, and the leather and gilt bindings scream of age and intelligence.

I want to turn around and flee.

"Have a seat, Miss Martin," he says without preamble. He doesn't even look up at me, instead flipping open the file.

My legs tremble as I move toward his desk and drop into one of the two chairs across from him. I think I'm going to throw up. I take deep, even breaths, fighting back the desire to gag. I haven't eaten since before Toby called. There's nothing to throw up.

The clerk exits the room without another word, pulling the doors closed behind her.

Silence stretches across the room, and Judge Blakely still doesn't glance at me. He reviews the file before him, giving his full attention to the petition situated inside. I fidget in my seat, as uncomfortable as I was on the bench. More so. At least out there, Chris was beside me. In here, I'm alone.

The judge finally looks up. His expression is hard to read, sharp, but not unkind. Assessing. Intelligent.

I don't think he misses much.

"Miss Martin," he says, "please tell me about your relationship to Toby McKee."

"We dated for several years," I whisper.

"Did you ever live together?" he asks, folding his hands on top of his desk.

"Yes, sir. In Italy."

"Italy?" His eyes widen. His surprise is evident.

I nod, unable to speak past the knot in my throat at the reminder of Italy and the sad excuse of a life I had there.

"Were you there for school?" Judge Blakely inquires.

"I–yes, but I didn't go."

"Why not?"

His prying question throws me off-balance. I don't know how to answer. Part of me doesn't want to answer, but I can't run this time, or pretend I wanted to quit school. I didn't, and I think he needs to know this.

Wrapping my hands around the arms of my chair, I grip the wood tightly to keep myself in my seat. "Toby didn't want me to go," I admit.

I hate how weak that makes me sound.

"Was Mr. McKee abusive toward you, Miss Martin?" Judge Blakely asks. His expression is still indecipherable, but his voice is softer, less gruff and to the point.

"He called me names, and screamed and threw things." I stare at the little reading lamp on his desk instead of at him. I don't want to see him while I confess to the last two years.

"Did he ever hit you? Physically abuse you?"

"He… No."

Judge Blakely's quiet for a moment, and then he sighs. "Miss Martin, I need you to be honest with me. I can't grant an order of protection without due cause. If you aren't in some kind of danger, my hands are tied."

Tears blur my vision. He's going to deny the restraining order, and Toby's going to waltz back into my life. He'll keep calling me until I can't take it anymore and I agree to see him or shatter into pieces.

For a minute, fear overwhelms me and I want to run again. Just hail a taxi, and tell the driver to keep going until San Francisco is far behind me and Toby can't ever find me. And then Jared's face flashes through my mind. The look in his jade eyes burns me. It's full of love and desire and all those things that take my breath away.

I can't run this time. I can't leave him.

I'm the master of my fate.

"I was supposed to go to school in England," I whisper, gripping the arms of my chair until my fingers scream in protest, "but he convinced me to go to Florence, Italy with him instead. He told me I had no one else, and that I was a burden here. That he'd take care of me and I could go to school with him. I believed him, so I requested admission to the University there. We were there for three weeks when he told me I had to quit school or find somewhere else to live. I had no money… nothing. Every day, he would find something wrong with me. I was frigid. I talked too much. I didn't clean our apartment right. I couldn't cook. I was stupid, worthless, and useless." My voice shakes with emotion, but I keep going. "I did everything I could to be what he wanted, but it was never good enough. If he didn't approve of dinner, he would throw the dishes across the room and scream at me for messing it up. He wouldn't let me call home unless he was there to listen in. I wasn't allowed to come back to visit. I wasn't allowed to work. If I needed anything, I had to ask him for money."

The words pour out as if I'm talking about someone else.

How could this be my life? How could I let this go on for so long?

Telling the whole truth hurts.

How could I not see how wrong these things were then?

Why did I let him smother me with so much anger and vileness?

"He made me do things – sexual things – that I didn't want to do. That I begged him not to do. Sometimes, he'd leave bruises on me, or make me cry because it hurt and I couldn't satisfy him." I swallow down the bile rising in my throat at the memory of his fingerprints branded into my skin in black and purple, of the way he yelled the word frigid at me, blaming me because he couldn't finish when we were together.

"When I caught him sleeping with someone else in our bed, he blamed me. He told me he wouldn't need someone else if I wasn't so frigid and useless," I force myself to continue. "When I tried to leave, I slipped on glass and got hurt. There was blood everywhere, and he screamed at me and told me I was clumsy." Tears burn in my eyes at the memory. I was so scared and in so much pain, and he kept yelling at me.