Changed Beauty

By Tara Sosa

She was beautiful. Living in a nightmare. Surrounded by disaster. Setting herself up for destruction ...

Allie James knew what she was doing. She was surviving. She was sacrificing. She was barely living. She knew what she wanted out of life, what she needed, what she deserved. She deserved love, happiness, respect, security, stability, peace, freedom, and hope. She knew that she deserved a future that wasn’t riddled with alcohol, drugs, cheap sex, criminals, lies, chaos, abuse, and heartbreak. She had plans. She just needed to survive, and eventually she would get what she wanted – she would get her normal.

And then her plans changed. She met him. And she wanted everything with him. Now. She let herself give into her need, her fantasies, she let herself hope and believe. She wanted Aiden Masters. She saw a future with him. But Aiden Masters didn’t want her. He crushed her. He broke her. He destroyed the little pieces of her that were barely holding her together in the first place. He found her lacking, less than, tainted, unworthy. He pushed her away. He ruined her self-confidence. He broke her heart. He hated her. Or so she thought.

It’s not what I wanted from her. It’s what I wanted for her. And the differences between those two words were enough to keep me away from her. It was enough for me to destroy her, and myself. I knew what she needed. More than she knew what she wanted. I changed everything between us, for us, over and over. And my ultimate change might just end up being the worst of all ...

Aiden Masters wanted one thing in his life – normal. He had too much of everything else. Betrayal, lies, heartbreak. Broken bones, shattered dreams, fear, and pain. He’s living a nightmare that won’t go away, but he’s pulled himself out of a life of abuse and torture and made something of himself anyway. He’s a provider, a protector, a fighter, and now more than anything he just wants his own happily-ever-after. He knows what he’s looking for, and it’s not Allie James. It shouldn’t be her. But it is. She’s everything he’s not looking for – she’s a reminder of a past he wants to keep buried, a past he clawed his way out of, a past he sacrificed for, a past he nearly died for, a past he bent, broke, and bled for. He’s moved on. And yet he hasn’t. Because he wants Allie and he knows what that means for her and for him. He’s tried distancing himself, he’s tried being mean, he’s tried pushing her away, he’s crushed her, but it’s still there between them. The burning. The fire. The want. The need. The passion. The connection. The love.

He needed her to stay away, he knew he couldn’t be the one for her, but he also wanted her to have a voice. He wanted her to have everything in life she’s ever wanted. She’d taken every bad thing and asked for nothing good in return. All she got was the bad, the horrible, the unmentionable. Same as him. He didn’t want her hurt and silenced again, but he wasn’t the option for her no matter what they both felt. Because he knew things were about to get ugly again. Things were about to get evil. Things were definitely going to go wrong. But he saw her with someone else. Someone who wasn’t him. And things changed. And they kept on changing. All his plans? Gone. All his thoughts of what was best? Destroyed. Aiden changed. And because of it so did Allie. But all changes weren’t good. Especially when their pasts, their presents, their individual futures, collide.

When they start out with so much against them, at times even themselves, will the very last change end up being beautiful? Or will that change be catastrophic, deadly, an end-all for everyone and everything?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tara Sosa
• Release date: Aug 23, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311671875

Tara Sosa

Tara Sosa grew up in New Jersey, went to a few of its colleges and earned her degree with honors, as well as her teaching credentials, along the way. Though she is technically a High School English teacher, she finds it much more enjoyable to read and write all day without restrictions, which is why she is literally without a classroom and students.From a very early age she knew she was in love with books and always would be, and though she tries to get everyone to love them too, she is constantly disappointed to find out that not everyone does. She absolutely loves her family, including her husband and two babies – of the four-legged variety. One day soon she hopes to add a few of the two-legged kind to her total, where she hopes at least one of them has the good sense to love reading and writing as much as she does.Right now she is currently living her dream as a writer.

Book preview

Prologue

Aiden!

"Aiden!"

She screamed at me. She screamed for me.

I heard her struggling behind me, trying to get loose from the arms that were banded around her, but I knew he was too strong. He would never let her go. She wouldn’t be able to break free from him. And though I hated the sounds that she was making because of me, I resolved myself to be okay with them.

I didn’t want her to be a part of this. But she was. She was a part of what was happening.

I didn’t want her broken any more than she had been already, I didn’t want her in any more pain, but this needed to be done.

I didn’t want her to be afraid again, I didn’t want her to be afraid of me, but I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t.

She needed to stay away from this because I was not stopping until it was finished. Until it was done. Until either he, or I, was done.

Her voice was getting hoarse, cracking, because she had been screaming my name over and over again.

She was breaking my heart.

Every time she screamed my name, every time she thrashed around and I heard her struggling, every time she choked on a sob trying to catch her breath it felt like her hands were inside of my chest tearing off little pieces of my heart that she had single-handedly put back together over the past few months.

She was ripping me to shreds after she had sewn me together.

The way she screamed –

Didn’t she understand I was doing this for her?

All of it –

It was for her.

And it was for me.

She pleaded, she begged, she –

But there was nothing I could do. Nothing.

I couldn’t stop what was happening. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

Punch after punch. Blood flying everywhere. Shouts to stop. Shouts telling me that it was over.

It wasn’t over. Not until I said so.

Punch after punch. Cries. Pleas. Whimpers.

After a while I heard Allie whisper my name through the chaos and the madness, but barely. Her soft plea in that moment did more damage to my heart than her screams ever could. It was all she could manage to do anymore.

She was done. And now so was I.

"You’re killing him. Please stop. Please," she breathed out one last time.

But the destruction wasn’t stopping because of her final words. It had already ended. I was done.

When I had heard her yelling before, begging him to stop, it killed me that I couldn’t do anything to help her.

Someone was hurting her. She needed me. It was my job to protect her.

I wouldn’t let anything more happen to her.

I promised her –

Not again. Never again. I loved her. She was mine.

…

…

…

But I did hurt her. I couldn’t protect her from any of this. I couldn’t protect her from what had happened. I couldn’t even protect her from the threats thrown her way. The promises that were made good on.

I couldn’t protect her from the hands that had been all over her. I couldn’t get rid of the screams that came from her. I couldn’t ignore all the tears that she shed. I couldn’t un-spill all the blood that was everywhere. Hers. His. Mine.

The sounds of breaking and shattering that would echo in her mind forever would always be a reminder of what had happened here today.

The pleas that went unanswered, my help that came too late, the knowledge of what had happened and what almost happened would always taunt, and burn, and fester.

The aftermath that always came after something like this would be never-ending, and all-consuming.

The devastation of tonight would be felt bone-deep. The changing that I didn’t want to happen for her, for us, would happen. It already did. It was all happening for me, to me, again.

And it had already happened to her.

I saw it in her eyes when I looked up before. She’d already changed. Like me. Except this time, it was so much worse. This time I was even more broken after the chaos. Because this time I was in love with the person who I just had a part in breaking wide open.

I didn’t just love her. I was in love with her.

I ached for her.

I bent for her.

I bled for her.

I changed for her.

I broke and shattered for her.

I breathed for her.

I lived for her.

I existed for her.

I would die for her.

And I would kill for her.

I thought I had been broken before. I thought I had lived through the worst. But I was nothing compared to this.

This … feeling?

It wasn’t broken. It wasn’t hurt. It wasn’t damaged.

It was shattered. It was decimated. It was obliterated.

I was barely able to move. I was barely able to find the strength to turn my head and look at her.

But then I did.

I saw the look in her eyes again, and I knew that everything was all over.

It was all finally done.

I was done.

Her eyes were lifeless when they looked into mine.

…

…

…

And it was fitting … Because I felt lifeless too.

Chapter One

Aiden

Daddy!

Stop it, Cal!

No! Please!

Stop it! No more!

Screams, crying, breaking glass, and banging, finally made its way through the haze of sleep.

Running – I was running out of my bedroom and into our destroyed living room.

My eyes saw the broken, they saw the bleeding, they saw the bruises, and they also saw the one person who I loved more than anything in my entire life cowering on the floor beaten, battered, and defeated by the man I hated the most.

I promised my sister it would never happen again.

I swore to her.

But it did.

And I let it.

I fell asleep knowing our father wasn’t home yet, which meant he was drinking. I knew when he came home he would be looking for a punching bag to let all of his anger, frustration, disgustingness – his evilness out on.

I knew he would be looking for someone to tear down. To hurt. To destroy. To conquer.

I hated being that person, but it was better than a sister who never deserved anything but hugs, happiness, and love. It was even better than a mother who would never leave and continued to let all of the abuse happen to her children and herself.

I loved my mother – but I also hated her.

I hated her for the part that she played in all of it. But I did love her, and I accepted what should have been happening to me at the very moment it was happening to them, because she refused to leave and take us with her.

I accepted what should be happening to me, but was happening to them, because I fell asleep.

It wasn’t happening to me, but it was happening to my beautiful younger sister.

Again.

The first time I saw her bruised and bleeding, I knew it was happening to her too.

I thought it had only been happening to me and my mom.

I thought Lizzy was safe from his words, his hands, all forms of his violence.

But I was wrong.

From that day forward though, it never happened again. I vowed to her and myself that it would never, ever, happen again.

But it did.

Just now.

For years I had stepped in for her even though she begged me not to.

She pleaded with me that it was okay, that she was strong enough, that she could take it. That I needed to give myself time to heal and recover. That she could deal with our father’s brutality just like I did. But I would not let it happen to her ever again. Not her. Never her.

But I did let it happen.

I’d gone and fucked up again.

The damage of what I’d done was right in front of me, and I saw and felt a red haze cloud my eyes and my judgment because of it.

I moved towards my father who was bent over my sister, his fist was raised, he was ready to strike her again. And I knew it was again because I saw her busted lip, I saw her bleeding nose, I saw her swollen eyes. I saw the way that Lizzy was clutching her left arm to her body.

As I neared him I grabbed him from behind, I jerked him around, and I started wailing on him the same way he wailed on me for years. I punched him over and over the way he did to me, the way he did to my mom, the way he just did to my sister.

I wasn’t a scared boy anymore, or a young teen trying to do what I thought was right for his pathetic excuse of a family. I was finally doing what I knew to be right for myself and Lizzy, I was doing what was justified, what was deserved.

I didn’t care that my mom was now screaming at me – at me – or that my sister was pleading with me to stop.

I kept hitting him, and hitting him, until he was done.

Until I was done.

Until he looked far worse than my sister. Until he looked far worse than my mother. Until he looked far worse than I ever did at his hands.

I left him in a pool of his own blood, with his own cuts and bruises and broken bones. In his own pain.

I made my way over to my sister and I tried to cradle her in my arms without hurting her even more.

I didn’t know what to do for her. I would know what to do if it was me. But I didn’t know what to do with her being broken, and in pain, looking so small. She had tears coming out of her swollen eyes and rolling down her bruised, cut cheeks. I heard a whimper come out of her puffy, bloodied, cracked mouth, and I felt the haze take over again.

How the hell did I not kill him? How have I not killed him before this? How could my mom stay with such a monster? How could any of this have happened?

I was trying to comfort my sister, wondering if this time – if this was the time my mom would let us go to the hospital to get taken care of. I was wondering if this was finally the time my mother would stand up for her children. If she would stand up for herself. I was wondering if this was the last time any of this would ever happen. If we would finally be safe. Free. I was wondering too many things when I should have been paying better attention.

I should have paid attention.

Didn’t I learn my lesson when I fell asleep on the job of protecting my sister – the young, precious, and unbelievably damaged girl wrapped in my arms?

Didn’t I learn? Didn’t I?

I didn’t. I didn’t learn anything. Because if I did, I would have never turned my back on the one person I hated and feared the most.

Get the fuck out of my house, and don’t ever come back.

I turned my head and looked at my father, barely standing, holding a gun in his hand that was pointed at me. He was wobbling on shaky legs, making me extremely scared that he would shoot me accidentally because he was so unstable.

His unsteadiness was making me even more terrified that he would miss me and shoot my sister, who was still tightly wrapped up in my arms.

I didn’t have enough time to react.

Every single day for months – for years – I thought about my reaction. My lack of one. Everything.

I wished more than anything that I would have finished what I started. That I would have ended him once and for all. That I would have taken my chances.

But I didn’t.

I sat there while my sister started to tremble, while she started to shake, while she started to sob out loud uncontrollably. I sat there unmoving while he wobbled closer to us. I sat there while he placed the gun to my head.

I sat there when he said that I either get the fuck out or that he would kill all of us.

I sat there through all of it, doing nothing.

But then I finally moved.

I let go of my sister, which was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my entire life, and I moved away from her.

As I was moving away I looked into her eyes that were practically swollen shut, and I could see the devastation in them.

Devastation because he got back up and he was doing what he was doing? Devastation because I was giving into his demands? Because I was walking away? Leaving? I didn’t know. I would never know.

I dropped my eyes away from hers because I had to. If I looked at her any longer I would stop. I would try to stay. And if I didn’t keep moving I knew based on past experiences, based on his threats and his promises, I knew without a doubt he might just kill us all like he said.

He was that type of evil. And the whole situation was just that bad. Even then I knew it.

What I knew then, and what I know now though –

I would have done things differently.

But you can’t go back.

Back then I moved into my room, grabbed a few things, and I left.

I just left. I fucking left.

I tried to justify my actions a lot of ways. I kept telling myself that there was a high rate of probability that he wasn’t joking. He could have killed us. He could have killed Lizzy. He would have killed Lizzy. He hated me so much that he would have killed her first just so I could watch. He was pure evil, and he was smart enough to know that by killing her first he wouldn’t even have to put a bullet in my head to kill me. I’d already be dead anyway if she was. So I made the decision.

When I let go of Lizzy, I made a choice. For her. For me. For my mom. And the man that I hated.

It was the worst moment of my life.

I wanted to stay for her, fight for her, protect her, give her a life she should have had, but I knew if I stayed it wouldn’t happen. She’d have no life at all. And some life would be better than no life.

That’s what my teenaged-self thought.

In the span of seconds I weighed my options: I could fight, I could win, but I could also lose. Die.

Then what?

What should I do?

Should I leave Lizzy behind and pray that she didn’t endure the same thing that fucking broke me inside?

Should I leave and do what my mother couldn’t?

Tell someone? Try and make things right? Be a goddamn adult?

Or hope that she finally did it after I was gone? When she had no one between her and him anymore?

Would she finally realize then that she needed help? That he needed to be stopped? That it didn’t matter who he was, who we were? Would she realize that our last name and our family’s reputation was not more important than our lives? Than Lizzy’s life?

I weighed my options, and I made my choice.

In seconds.

Seconds.

Now, years later, I knew I made the absolute wrong one.

But back then … I thought I made the right one.

I met Lizzy’s eyes again as I left.

I looked into her ravaged green eyes and I made promises to her with my own. I will not leave you here to endure all of this alone. I’m going to get help for us. I will make this right. I will take you from here and we will never look back. I will protect you and love you as you should be protected and loved. I’ll help you …

. . .

. . .

. . .

I kept my promise to Lizzy months later after my father finally killed my mother. That’s when I went back home and I tried to provide the safety and stability that Lizzy needed.

After.

Too late.

I tried to give her all the love that I could. I tried to do everything for her. And I have been trying ever since. If only it didn’t take me so long. What the hell was I thinking back then? What the hell had been my plan? I actually thought I was a man when I went into the living room that night and beat the shit out of my father? Then what the hell was I when I left my sister at his mercy and walked out of the door? Because that wasn’t a man.

I’ll never forgive myself for my actions that night. I will never forgive myself for believing all the lies I was told after that, lies that I should have seen through – they left him, they were safe, she was fine, happy, living, free. I’ll never forgive myself for what happened to Lizzy, for believing, for wanting to believe … I’ll never forgive myself … I’ll never …

Aiden! Aiden, wake up! I could hear Lizzy’s voice penetrating through my nightmare. A nightmare that actually happened.

To me.

And to her.

I could feel that her small hands were shaking me, trying to get me up. I opened my eyes and peered up into hers.

No swollen eyes, no bruises, no bleeding, no cuts, no busted lips, no broken arm. Not today anyway.

It was in the past. I needed to leave it in the past. I needed to let it go. We both needed to keep moving on. The problem was I haven’t been able to. I could never get past it. I knew I never would.

I slammed the heels of my hands into my eyes trying to get rid of the images I have yet to get rid of after all these years. Images I know I will never get rid of no matter how hard I try.

How bad this time? Lizzy asked me quietly, worry and sadness all too apparent in her voice and in her eyes. Two emotions I never wanted her to have to deal with again. But I knew better. I also knew better than to lie to her. There was no point. She knew it was bad. She lived it too. What happened in my nightmare – my past – was as much her nightmare as it was my own. Even more so hers, and that made me feel even more sick, more helpless, more disgusted.

It was the time he held a gun to my head and said he would kill all of us if I didn’t leave. I didn’t need to tell her about the whole nightmare. She knew. As I looked into her eyes I knew that night is one that she would never forget. She wouldn’t forget it, just like she wouldn’t forget all the days and nights before, or the days and nights after, that my father hurt all of us.

Especially her.

Realistically I knew that everything that had happened was in the past. I knew I should leave it. I knew I should stop torturing myself by going over everything I couldn’t change. I wanted it to stay buried so it didn’t keep hurting me or Lizzy over and over again. It was supposed to stay buried. It was supposed to be buried forever. Our past should only be distant, disgusting, memories.

But I knew better than that now.

I would never be able to keep all of it buried no matter how much distance I put between me and Lizzy and all those horrible days and nights. I wish I could – for her and me – but I couldn’t.

Especially not now.

Because I received a letter in the mail a few days ago.

Our father was up for parole.

***

The water was running but I wasn’t using it. It would take more than water and soap for me to feel clean after the night I had. I’ve tried for years to feel clean and nothing worked. I knew locking myself in the bathroom with excuses that I needed to get ready for work wasn’t going to do it. Closing myself off, hiding away, ignoring it, it never worked.

It took some convincing for Lizzy to go start breakfast and let me get cleaned up and deal with my nightmare alone. That’s how I knew that this time must have scared her more than the others. She didn’t want to leave me. She wanted to talk about it. But talking wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t help me, and from her silence when it came to her nightmares when she had them, I knew my talking most likely wouldn’t help her either. It would probably just make things worse.

The water kept rushing in the shower and the sink, but I paid it no attention. I was too busy focusing on myself and on what had happened.

I knew I looked horrible without looking in the mirror. I didn’t need to see my reflection to see the sweat coated to my skin, the disheveled hair clinging to my damp forehead and neck, or the trouble, anger, and hatred in my eyes. But as I stared into the sink hating myself, hating my father, hating life, as my hands gripped the sides of the sink so tightly I felt like I could crack the porcelain into tiny little shards, I decided to bring my eyes up and look anyway. I decided to face myself and what I’d done.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, hating the eyes that peered back at me.

My father’s eyes.

No matter how much I altered my body throughout the years, I couldn’t permanently change the color of my eyes. And I tried everything to distance myself from the man that he is, from the boy that I was.

From the moment I walked out the front door of my childhood home as a boy barely on the edge of adulthood, the day that I left Lizzy behind and broke both of us beyond repair, I changed everything about who I thought I should be on the outside. I changed everything my father wanted me to be, because even though I hated him, I did what he wanted because I thought it would be better for everyone, better for Lizzy, if I just did what I was told.

I was wrong about that too because nothing ever pleased him.

I was never good enough, nothing was ever right, I never lived up to expectations, I failed at every turn.

So I changed when I finally thought I was free of him.

To please me.

Once I was told by my aunt and uncle who I ran to for help that my sister and my mother where somewhere safe, that my father wouldn’t be hurting them or me ever again, that I could stay with them, that I was safe and free, I did what I wanted. I did what I needed to do for myself. I transformed into someone else completely.

I inked my skin. I pierced holes into my body in places that would never be acceptable to most people. I started drinking, and partying, and sleeping around. I was a trouble-maker. A bad-boy. A player.

I lived loudly, and for a time it was beautiful. For a time I thought it was beautiful.

I was unreliable. Unpredictable. I was irresponsible. I was that boy that all the girls were warned about. Nobody needed me. Nobody depended on me. I didn’t have anyone to answer to. To protect.

And then one day I did.

I continued to stare at my reflection in the mirror, but I wasn’t seeing myself as I am now. I was seeing myself back then. Clearly, as if it was yesterday.

I was seeing the punk teenager who was tired of being abused, who rebelled against everything and everyone when he thought there would be no consequences to his actions, the asshole who had been missing so much from his life because of the way he was acting he didn’t even know it until it smacked him in the face.

Or literally stumbled into his path.

Meeting Samantha Brennan for the first time is one of the very few things in my life that’s meant something. That’s changed something. That had significance. That altered my existence.

My father.

My mother.

Lizzy.

Samantha.

Daniel Banks.

I could count on one hand the people that shaped me into who I am now. And Samantha Brennan was definitely one of them.

I was envisioning everything about her then. How sweet and shy she was. How perfect. How innocent and trusting. How like Lizzy.

She was everything that I missed when I walked away from my family. She was a reminder of the only thing I missed, the only thing that was good.

So the trouble-maker, the bad-boy, the player, latched onto the most sweet, caring, loving, funny, smart, innocent girl, who didn’t know any better than to befriend a broken person like me. A person who would one day leave her broken for reasons that are still hard to imagine are real.

But before I broke a part of Samantha, I also changed again for her.

I became her best-friend, and for me, she became the piece, the peace, that was missing in my life.

I used her. But I also loved her. And then I broke her.

And then I became broken and shattered more than I could ever imagine.

But all of it led me to where I am now.

I was in town a few weeks before I bumped into Samantha at school, making her stumble. From the moment I laid eyes on her when she stood in front of me I knew she was special and that I needed her in my life. What I saw in her eyes caused me so much pain and also such utter contentment. What I found in her caused me so much misery and also such bliss. She was my savior. And I was hers. For a while.

No matter our differences, or my reputation, we ended up being best-friends. She let me into her life and her heart, she gave me a home, and she protected me by stopping me from spinning out of control and becoming a person I didn’t want to be – a person I hated.

Too bad I couldn’t return the favor and protect her from me.

I let her get close to me. Too close. I let her believe that she could rely on me, that she could trust me, that I would always be there for her and that she was the most important thing in my life. But I wasn’t any of those things, no matter how hard I tried back then. And she wasn’t the most important thing in my life. My sister was. The sister I never told Sam about because I knew that she would see right through me. I knew Samantha would see that I started our friendship only because I needed to be near someone who reminded me about everything I loved about my life before I left.

My feelings for Sam had changed over time though. How could they not? She wasn’t a substitute for my sister the whole time we were together. She meant something to me. I loved her. I love her still. But I had to leave her. After I broke her. Because my sister needed me after my father killed my mother, and after he critically injured her.

Shaking my head I continued to stare into the eyes that had seen so much pain, eyes that matched the ones belonging to the person who caused all of it, and I focused in on the memory of the night I changed Sam’s life. On the night that changed my life. On the night that changed Lizzy’s life.

It was my aunt and uncle that got the call. It was them who told me. My father was drunk driving with my mom and sister in the car, and he got into an accident. He was in jail finally. But my mom was at the morgue. And my sister was in the hospital. And I was going home to be with her.

I knew from the moment I heard the news that my sister lied to me. The only reason I was able to stay away from her and not run back home was because I thought she was safe. She was supposed to be staying with some of mom’s friends, she was supposed to be far away from dad and his fists, his words, his drinking, his destructiveness.

But she lied.

I talked to her every single day and I had no idea what she had been going through, what she’d been keeping from me.

I didn’t know it was happening to her at the time, but I knew from experience what had been happening.

What he did to me, what I saw him do to her twice, that monster did it to her over, and over, and over, every day, and she lied to me about it to protect him – to protect me.

I should have been there protecting her.

But back then I didn’t protect, not really, I only seemed to ruin.

Even after all the nights I stood in front of Lizzy and my mom taking my father’s wrath, I still ended up ruining Lizzy’s life.

And Sam’s. At least for a while.

I blew out a breath and figured I might as well finish the rest of the trip down memory lane …

I remembered going into The Brew that night to pick up Samantha from her closing shift at her parent’s coffee shop. It was our thing. Except it wouldn’t be our thing any longer after that night.

I was completely drunk, and Samantha was worried.

She didn’t know what was going on, why I had been drinking, why I was about to destroy our friendship and ruin something so precious, and I had no intentions of telling her.

I just wanted her to comfort me one last time. I wanted her to make me feel safe like she had every single day since she stumbled into my path. I wanted her to wrap me up in her arms and tell me it would all be okay. I wanted and needed her love and assurance. I wanted to burrow myself inside of her and escape my reality. I didn’t want to know anything. I wanted to forget. I wanted to just be fucking normal. Not abused. Not the rebel. Not the tatted-up bad-boy who became that way to prove a point. To prove a point to who? No one. Not even myself. I just wanted to be me. Whoever the hell that was, because I didn’t know anymore. I don’t think I ever knew.

I didn’t know what I was doing. All I knew was what I was feeling.

I didn’t mean to grab her and try to kiss her.

I knew better than that.

It’s not what I really wanted from her.

I just wanted to feel something, anything, other than what I was feeling.

But I never got the chance to feel anything other than more pain. More regret. More sadness. More loss.

Because her brother Connor came out of the back room and kicked my ass. Like I deserved.

For once I ended up bruised, and bloodied, and a bit broken on the floor because I deserved it.

I said it before, I always ruin everything. And that night I ruined Samantha Brennan.

I will never forget the way Sam looked at me that night. The sadness, the worry, the pleading in her drenched brown eyes when she looked at me, begging me not to leave her after everything that I had done, is something that will stay with me always. The way her voice sounded when she screamed at her brother over, and over, and over again to stop hitting me, echoes in my mind still.

The way she looked at me as I went to the door was like looking at Lizzy all over again the night I left her to fend for herself against a monster. That look still makes my chest ache.

She was broken then. And I did that to her.

I hated that look. I caused that look.

But like with Lizzy, I thought Samantha would get better and everything would be okay after I walked away.

Eventually for Samantha it was. It took years, and it took a strong man and a love so deep that it eclipsed everything else, but eventually her hurts stopped.

But Lizzy was never okay again. Not yet anyway.

When I went back home and found Lizzy in the hospital there wasn’t much I could do for her. It wasn’t until my Aunt Connie and I brought Lizzy home that I was able to take care of her. The state awarded custody of Lizzy to my Aunt Connie, but really it was me who took care of her. There was more than enough money from my mom’s life insurance to keep us comfortable, and all of her assets upon her death went to both Lizzy and I, so I didn’t have to worry about anything other than getting Lizzy well and whole again.

I’m still working on that.

I’m trying my damnedest every day.

For months while I finished up my senior year I watched her recover from her injuries. She hated that I hovered over her, constantly telling me to go out with my friends, to live my life, but I didn’t have friends anymore and my life didn’t matter. With my new appearance, with what my father had done, with the secrets revealed about our family, life was different after I returned. And that was both a blessing and a curse.

The tattoos and the piercings that started out as a rebellion, that ended up keeping most people away when I got back home, turned into one of the best things that has ever happened to me.

One day at school we were visited by various people who spoke about different career paths. I didn’t know what I wanted to do after high-school, I just knew what I would never want to become. A police officer.

I never wanted to be a police officer. I hated them. I hated everything about what they stood for. Because I only saw the shady parts. The crooked parts. The dirty, seedy, underbelly that everyone knows exists. The part that I lived. Every goddamn day.

I hated them, because I hated him.

Police Chief Cal Masters.

My father.

My father, who got away with everything because he wore a badge.

That badge, his gun, the power, it made my mom afraid. It made her never speak out, it made her sacrifice her children, it made her go back to him time and time again, and then it took her life, and shattered mine and Lizzy’s.

Hate.

It’s what I felt.

Until the day of the career fair when the recruiter approached me and said he had the perfect job for me on a team that he was putting together – a team that would benefit from my overall appearance, including my tattoos, my piercings, my attitude. It was just what he wanted and needed.

The recruiter didn’t know me. He didn’t know the disgustingness of my life. He didn’t know who my father was, or the deep-seated hatred I had of his profession. He just told me the facts of what he knew I could be good for. And I listened. And after a while, I was sold.

I didn’t think anything would ever change my mind about being a police officer. But Detective Daniel Banks did.

After talking to Lizzy, after graduation, and after the academy, I was recruited by Detective Banks and the rest is history – and in some cases, highly confidential.

My looks helped me put away the bad guys like he promised. The tattoos and the piercings, the cold, haunted eyes, the body and the attitude let me infiltrate some of the worst gangs and crews, and helped me put away drug dealers, gun-runners, pimps, abusers, and even a few dirty cops. Sometimes I hated where my assignments took me, sometimes I hated what I had to do, but at the end of an operation when I knew I saved innocent lives, I knew I was where I was meant to be.

As I worked my way up the ranks, and as I took more and more criminals down, I didn’t hate my profession any longer. I loved it. I just hated people who made it corrupt. People like my father.

Unlike him, I earned my rank the hard way, the proper way, the distinguished way. And after a few years I made Detective, which made life a lot easier and more peaceful for me and Lizzy. I loved putting away the scum of the earth, but it was getting to me. Everyone including Lizzy could see it. I needed a change. I deserved one.

I was pulled out of undercover and given a prime job in Intelligence.

I was still doing something meaningful and worthwhile and it felt good after years of abuse, hatred, and self-loathing. But even with all of that, I knew something was missing. Not just for me, but for Lizzy too. Everything was fine around us for once. But we weren’t fine. Not on the inside. We were moving from day to day. We just weren’t moving on.

I knew we needed a change before we ended up feeling like everything was okay in our lives just because nothing bad was happening to us anymore. That wasn’t living. That wasn’t freedom. That was only being fine. I wanted Lizzy to have so much more than that. And at the time in my life I could finally provide a more for her. So I offered her a change. A change that had been a long time coming.

I offered Lizzy a place where I found the most peace in my life. A place that I hoped would offer me peace and contentment again. A peace and contentment that I wanted her to have a chance at too.

At first I didn’t know how Lizzy would feel being uprooted. She was in college, she was spreading her wings little by little – but she wanted to leave just as much as I did when I told her my plans.

And now we’re in Baltimore.

And I can finally breathe easier again.

I loved my job in Tampa. I liked my friends and my partner. I loved what we did every day. But it didn’t compare to being home. Baltimore is home. My aunt and uncle’s house that I bought from them is home. Samantha is home.

It was two months before I saw Sam again after we finally settled in. I wasn’t expecting to see her when I did. I wanted to go to her and apologize more than anything every single day, but I was a coward. Again. I had an apology prepared, I had the truth waiting to break free, but I couldn’t face her. I hurt the second most important person in my life, and there was no apology big enough for that. But after a long day at work, I went into Molly’s for a drink and there she was. Even more beautiful than I remembered.

It didn’t matter that she was with her brother who hated me, who left me lying bruised and bleeding on the floor the last time I saw him. It didn’t matter that it had been years, or that the look on her face as I walked out of her life still haunted me. It also didn’t matter that she was clearly on a date and the guy looked pissed off that I was stealing his girl’s attention. It didn’t matter that I knew he was ready to kill me, and from the looks of him he could possibly do it.

She was my girl first. Not his. And she needed to know how sorry I was. For everything.

I wanted to talk to her, be around her, I just needed her.

For some reason I felt like if I had her back in my life again, everything would be okay.

I had Lizzy and she was finally safe. I needed Sam too.

I had been home for months, but not truly. Seeing Sam, that was me being home.

I know I caused problems for her that night, and I was sorry for it. But not sorry enough that I regretted walking to that table and asking her to talk to me.

Samantha accepted, and then she laid into me about everything that had gone on years before, but then she finally hugged me and offered me the comfort, security, acceptance, and peace I was searching for after I finally told her the truth. She opened up her arms to me, and her heart, and she brought – she brought me and Lizzy both – into the only family that has ever mattered. That will ever matter.

She brought me and Lizzy, Connor, and Ryan, and Liam, and Riley, her parents … and Allie.

She brought me a ton of problems too – like when I had to bail Liam out of a jam with the police after he almost killed a man who attacked her, or when I had to help Riley out with a stalker who was intent on ruining her life, or when I had to save Connor’s life by shooting someone who would not have hesitated to kill him, or me, or Riley … But … Sam brought me so much more good than any of the bad.

I was okay with my life now.

It wasn’t perfect – far from it.

I was still lacking complete security, stability, love, contentment, peace, and happiness.

I don’t even know if I truly deserve all of those things, but I know that I want it though. After seeing the life that Sam’s built with Liam, and the life that Connor’s built with Riley, how could I not want that?

I wanted it all … someday.

But where I was now in life, I was okay.

I knew in the next few weeks things would be getting worse with my father up for parole, but for right now, I was okay.

I was okay because I had a family made up of good friends, and a sister who was finally beginning to be completely happy and free, thanks in part to the love, protectiveness, and friendship of Samantha, Allie, Riley, Connor, Liam … and Ryan.

For as much as I wanted things to change, I wanted them to stay the same. I wanted everything to work out for me and Lizzy. I wanted –

Aiden, are you almost done in there? Breakfast is almost ready. Lizzy spoke to me from the other side of the door, and though I couldn’t see her, by her tone I knew she was still concerned. I was too. I didn’t hear her approach I was so deep in my memories. Memories that haunted, destroyed, changed. Only some were good. But from now on those are the ones I needed to focus on.

I need a few more minutes, Liz, I told her, though I knew I needed a lot more than that. But a few minutes was all I was going to get.

Alright, I heard her say back, but she still didn’t move. I knew she was contemplating saying more, but then as I heard her retreat out of my bedroom, I knew she thought better of it.

I looked into my eyes one last time before I finally pushed myself away from the sink.

I turned off the faucet, removed my sweatpants, yanked open the shower curtain, and stepped into the boiling hot water that would hopefully scald all the demons away.

For a while at least.

***

One look into Lizzy’s moss-green eyes when I walked into the kitchen and I knew she would be asking, and I didn’t want her to ask anymore. I didn’t want to have to tell her the truth about why the nightmare was as bad as it was this time. I didn’t want to tell her about our father and the letter I got in the mail. Not yet. I wanted her to have a few more weeks of being happy. I wanted her to have a few more weeks of being a normal college student. I wanted her to have a few more weeks carefree of life’s unfairness. She’s had her fair share of cruelty and worry, was it so much to ask for a few more weeks of normal?

I wanted to handle things on my end first before I talked to her about our father’s chances of getting paroled. I wanted to see if anything could be done. And if there was something I could do I would do it to spare her any more of his torment. I would handle everything this time for her like I should have before. I wasn’t the same person that I was back then though. I was different. A lot different.

But I didn’t want to get into any of it now with her. I didn’t want her any more worried. I didn’t want her afraid. I couldn’t tell her yet.

So I needed to stop her questions even before she asked.

I don’t want to talk about it, I said in a voice that was meant to be resolute, but instead came out sounding harsher and colder than I intended.

Shit.

Lizzy narrowed her eyes at my tone, but she said nothing.

I wanted to apologize for the way I spoke to her, but I didn’t want to give her an opening to start up the conversation I didn’t want to have.

I’m not sure she wanted to have a real conversation about any of this either.

For years I’ve tried to get her to open up about everything that happened when I left, but she only gave me bits and pieces. In the beginning I asked her over and over again to talk about what happened. I begged her to let me in. She didn’t. And for most of it she still hasn’t. Her doctors told me to leave her alone and let her process and heal. That she’d talk when she was ready. She hasn’t been ready in over five years. But then again, I wasn’t ready to relive all of it either. So how could I blame her for not truly opening up, when I haven’t done so myself?

And now I’m hiding even more stuff from her. Important stuff. Things she needs to know and prepare for, for just in case.

Great. Sonofabitch.

I needed to put it all out of my mind for now. I had to.

So what are you doing today? I asked Lizzy as I sat down at the table and started eating the pancakes she made.

"I’m meeting Sam, Riley, and Allie at The Brew in a little while to go over some details for Riley and Connor’s New Year’s Eve party. After that I’m going dress shopping with Riley. I don’t have anything to wear to a party like they’re having. We’ve never really …" Lizzy stopped in the middle of her sentence, but I knew what she meant. We’ve never done the normal things like the others have. We never got dressed up on New Year’s Eve to go to a fancy party. We never had a big Christmas celebration like the one we were invited to at Sam and Connor’s parent’s house where too much food was consumed and too many presents were passed around, and we never had the family traditions that we took part in with our friends on Thanksgiving where friends were treated like family and everyone knew that they were loved, wanted, needed, and accepted.

I didn’t tell Lizzy, but I loved all of it. And I was also jealous that most of them have always had it – the love, the family, the traditions, the celebrations, the togetherness.

We had it now though, because of them. And it wasn’t going to change. Even if part of me wanted to tell Lizzy that she should be staying home on New Year’s. Or at the very least she should be wearing jeans, with no make-up, and her glasses. And a chastity belt.

I felt my lips tug up at my thoughts right before Lizzy started speaking. What are you smiling about? Lizzy asked, confusion written all over her face. I didn’t blame her for being confused. One second she was talking about all the things we’ve never experienced because of our shitty upbringing, and the next I had a smile on my face.

I ate a few more bites of my pancakes and washed it down with some coffee before I stood up from the table. Nothing, I lied. I need to get to work. Thanks for making breakfast. It was delicious.

Aiden … It wasn’t nothing. What were you thinking? Lizzy asked me as I took my plate to the sink to wash it off.

When I was done I went back into my bedroom to get my badge and my gun, ignoring her question. When I was ready I stepped back into the hall and came face to face with Lizzy. She had a determined look upon her face. She wanted some answers. And she wasn’t giving up this time.

What? she asked me again.

Fine.

I was thinking that instead of a dress you should wear jeans, your hair in a bun, your glasses, and no makeup. And a chastity belt so people like Ryan Flannery got the picture loud and clear.

Lizzy started to laugh. It really wasn’t funny. It’s what should be happening. I’ve seen the way that guys have been looking at her. I’m not blind. She’s beautiful. But she’s also innocent in so many ways and has no clue what thoughts she brings out in men on a daily basis.

Her all dressed up, and on New Year’s Eve? I think I’ll be bringing my gun and badge with me to Connor and Riley’s.

Be safe out there. I love you, Lizzy told me after a while, still shaking her head and smiling. She didn’t address what I said, because to her it wasn’t an issue.

Shit.

I found myself saying, Always. Love you too, before I kissed the top of her head and headed out the door, knowing full well that she’d be getting a dress regardless of what I’d said.

***

What are you both doing here? I asked as I walked up to the counter at The Brew. I knew Lizzy said she was meeting Sam here to go over plans for the big New Year’s Eve celebration that they were all planning, but I didn’t expect to see Sam working, or for Connor to be working either.

I’m just helping out until the girls get here so we can go over some stuff for the big party in a few days. Then I’m going home and spending the next two weeks with Liam. Today is his last day at work before he has all that time off, and we … Sam cleared her throat and didn’t finish her sentence. Her blush gave away her thoughts and why she cut herself off. She definitely had some interesting plans ahead of her.

I turned my attention to Connor, but he was staring at Sam’s face with his eyes narrowed. He knew what she was most likely thinking too.

Yeah, that must be awkward.

It didn’t matter that Liam was head-over-heels in love with Sam, or that they’ve been living together for a while, or that in the not-too-distant future Connor would most likely be calling Liam his brother-in-law, Connor still hated hearing anything about Sam’s plans with Liam.

I smirked.

What about you? I asked Connor with the smirk still plastered on my face.

Connor’s eyes swung to mine and he just stared at me without saying a word for a while which wasn’t normal for him. I fully expected him to tell me where I could shove my smirk or something along those lines, but nothing. I still didn’t understand him sometimes. I don’t think I ever will.

Just figured I’d come help out for a bit while Riley’s busy with the girls today. I don’t have to work at the Firehouse until next year, he said with his own smirk now. I wondered if he was thinking about his own set of plans that had to do with Liam’s little sister, Riley.

I couldn’t imagine the tangled, chaotic, and I’m sure completely unexpected web of dating each other’s little sister that Connor and Liam had to deal with.

Christ.

Thank God that wasn’t my problem.

How the hell did you manage to get off until next year? Didn’t you just get back to work? I asked him, leaving off the part of him only just getting back to work after spending weeks in the hospital after he nearly died.

I didn’t have to say it.

Once I asked the question I knew we were all thinking back to that nightmare.

That chaos.

The shooting. The hospital. The surgery. The aftermath. Me shooting someone in the line of duty to save his life.

I guess you could say he and I have a tangled, chaotic, and unexpected web wrapped around us too.

He kicked my ass years ago because of a misunderstanding, even though I deserved it. And then he wanted to kill me years later when he thought I was moving in on his girl even though I was only trying to protect her when she turned to me instead of him because I was a cop and she needed my help. And then after even more misunderstandings and chaos I ended up saving his life. And somehow now we’re friends – family.

It makes no sense, and yet it makes the most sense in the world with the type of fucked up life I have.

I put in for the days off a while ago, before any of that shit happened. Good thing too, with Riley having off the next few weeks for winter break. I’m thinking of going away with her for a few days before I go back to work. I think we both need to get away for a while.

I knew where he was coming from. Sometimes you needed to get away from the past, the memories, and the reminders.

So Aiden, what can I get for you? Samantha asked, pulling me away from going back down my own awful memory lane again. That shit seemed to be on repeat all morning. Creeping up, seeping in, ruining.

I’ll just take a large coffee. I’m heading into work and the coffee there is shit. Unlike some of you, I’m not done with work until next year, I teased her.

"So when are you done?" Sam asked me as she poured my coffee.

Two more days of work then I’m done unless they need me, I told her while getting my money out of my pocket.

So, the day before New Year’s Eve then? Which means you won’t be working New Year’s Eve. So you’ll be coming to the party then, right?

That’s the plan, I sighed, thinking about Lizzy’s excitement, and her dress.

Don’t sound too excited there, Aiden. And I don’t want your money either. How many times do I have to tell you that? We don’t charge family.

Family.

I put my money away and just stared at her. She was one of the reasons I came back here. One of the reasons I had so much in my life now. I was amazed at her level of forgiveness, acceptance, and love. But I shouldn’t be. She really was amazing, and special, and I knew it the first time I laid eyes on her.

Aiden? What’s wrong? Sam asked when I continued to stare at her. Is everything okay? I just shook my head not knowing what to say to her. Things were good … but not.

Can you do me a favor? I asked her instead of answering. In the span of seconds I thought up a way to lighten the mood. I didn’t want to burden Sam with any more of my garbage. I’ve done enough of that for a lifetime, and I wanted to see her smile. I loved her smile.

Sure, Sam said immediately, not even hesitating when she had no idea what I was about to ask her. She really shouldn’t have agreed so easily, but that was Samantha. Always helpful, sweet, and giving.

I started to smile thinking of what I was about to say. I really couldn’t help it. Or myself.

"Can you tell Riley to encourage Lizzy to get some jeans, and maybe like a