Chapter 8: Filthy Crown: Chapter 7

Damaged teenager.

Matt’s words keep replaying in my head. Over and over again, like a record on loop. I know I shouldn’t’ve eavesdropped, but I wanted to know what was so important that I had to leave the room.

Serves me right, I guess.

Agh! I want to scream! I’m trying my hardest to show Jack that I’m responsible and that I’ll be able to take on the kids when I turn eighteen, but no matter what I do, I end up bickering with the man.

I knew better than to sass him, but I couldn’t help it. He drives me absolutely berserk.

Clutching the laptop to my chest, I remember the look in his eyes when I’d called him Daddy.

My mind flits back to the way his body tensed and jaw clenched. There’s no denying that my words affected him.

He liked it. Damn. Who am I kidding? I liked it too.

But still, that was definitely the wrong move. No matter how much I want to get under his skin—annoy the hell out of him and hurt him the way he did me—I can’t. Not if I want to make good on my promise to Mom.

I let out a frustrated sigh as I push the door to the playroom open. Thank god Alex and Amanda are good kids. I don’t know how I’d navigate this if they were little carbon copies of me.

“Pen!” Alex looks up from his book while Amanda rushes for my legs.

“Hey, tiny terrors.” The term of endearment is clearly facetious, but it makes them giggle just the same. “Y’all ready for the therapist? Uncle Jack said he’d be here soon.”

Amanda just nods, but Alex scrunches up his face. “Do I have to? I really don’t want to. I’m fine.”

Blinking, I try to swallow my immediate reaction. How can anyone be fine after what we went through?

Despite my apprehension with strangers, maybe this therapist can tell us why Alex thinks he’s fine.

I pick up Amanda and walk over to the couch, plopping us down next to our brother. “You’re strong, buddy. But you, me, and Amanda just went through a lot. Saw a lot of stuff that leaves darkness and hurt buried inside us. And And that darkness can make our hearts sick without us even knowing it. That’s why this is so important. Sometimes the only way we can find it and let it heal is by talking about it.”

“But what if I don’t want to find it? What if I want to leave that darkness alone?” His eyes search mine, trying to find a solace I don’t even have.

Reaching for his little hand, I give it a squeeze. “Sometimes we have to do hard things, things that aren’t so fun, because they’re what’s good for us.”

“Like eating broccoli?” Amanda’s tiny voice cuts in, making me chuckle.

“Yes. Like eating broccoli.”

“Well, I’ll eat all the broccoli in the world if it means I don’t have to talk to the therapist.” Alex looks at me, his statement in earnest.

“Ha! If only life worked that way. Gosh, imagine. I don’t want to clean my room, so I’ll eat a plate of broccoli instead. And poof! A clean room magically appears.” I’m shaking my head and smiling big when the door creaks open, breaking our conversation.

A towering Jack walks in with his jaw ticking and broad shoulders practically taking up the entire door frame. It’s not until he moves aside that I see the man behind him. “Kids, meet Dr. Leventhal.”

The therapist seems to be in his forties, with a similar build to Jack and wisps of grey touching his temples. He’s not as tall as our uncle, but he’s no shrimp. What is it with Colorado men? Is there something in the water?

“Hello, Dr. Leventhal,” I greet, squeezing both kids’ hands and urging them to do the same, which they do.

“Hello, children. It’s nice to meet you, although I wish it were under better circumstances.” A small frown touches his lips before he catches himself, giving us a fake smile. “If you’re all okay with it, I’d like to talk to everyone in this room. We can start with Alex, and then Amanda, once my colleague comes inside. She’s a play therapist and I find it’s easier sometimes when we talk through play.”

I nod, thinking that’s a good idea. Nonetheless, I get up and walk toward the laptop I’d dropped when I first walked in. This man is crazy if he thinks he’ll be unsupervised during his visits. I don’t care what letters follow his name.

Looking toward the kids, I give them an encouraging smile. “I won’t be too far, and this room is wired with cameras. So just call out my name if you need me. I’ll be able to hear you and come right on in.”

I glance at the therapist, making sure my words are loud enough for him to hear me, not caring if I hurt his feelings. I want him to know that he’s being watched.

He gives me a genuine smile; the action making me feel a little better about having Alex start first. He seems to understand and isn’t threatened by the surveillance.

Dr. Leventhal looks away and toward my brother. “Alex, shall we begin?”

“I’d rather eat broccoli, but I guess I have to.” Alex puts down his book and looks up at the doctor expectantly.

I know I should walk out, but my feet are firmly on the ground, as if weighed down by concrete. That is, until a strong hand falls to my lower back, the touch sending warmth through my body.

Jack leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Let him work.”

With a soft tug of my hips, Jack steers me out of the playroom, a curious Amanda in tow. “Can I stay with Alex? I want to play too.”

Her pout is too damn cute, the move making me chuckle. “It’ll be your turn soon. We’re just waiting on the play therapist.”

I shoot Jack a questioning glance and he nods. “Yes. She was just getting some things from their car. We’re quite the drive from the airport.”

“Airport? They aren’t local?” My brows push together, wondering why on earth we wouldn’t have gone with someone a little closer.

“No. They’re from Dallas. The best, and they come highly recommended by a family friend.” He doesn’t even bat a lash as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to fly in doctors for every visit.

“Um, that sounds pretty damn expensive. I’m sure we could find a good doctor whose invoice won’t include airfare.” I raise a brow, trying to knock some sense into the man. See? I can be a conscientious adult.

Jack stops in his tracks, making Amanda’s small frame run into me. He slowly turns, boring his eyes into mine and with calloused fingers, he cups my cheek. “Pen, I’d give up every cent I own if it’d make you whole.”

My chest tightens and eyes prickle. That can’t be right. He can’t care that much. If he did, then why did he leave me?

Jack’s eyes narrow, his whiskey-colored orbs flitting back and forth between mine. The intensity in his gaze is too much. His words are too much.

Blinking tears away, I break away from his touch and walk right past him, dragging Amanda’s hand in mine. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us.”

Without another glance back, I leave him in the hallway. I have no idea what he’s thinking, saying things he doesn’t mean, stirring up feelings he has no right to.

He’s a deserter. Just like my father and every other man that’s come into my life thereafter. I’d be a fool to let myself fall for his words, and I’m no fool.

I need space. Space from this man that has my chest feeling all funny and my head not thinking clearly.

Unfortunately for me, I’ve barely made it into the kitchen when Jack’s thick fingers wrap around my wrist and pull me into his chest. He dips his chin, his eyes staring into mine while he speaks into the room. “Amanda, can you go into the pantry and find the cookie mix?”

“Uh-huh!” Amanda claps her hands excitedly and walks off into the butler’s pantry just as Jack walks me back into the wall, his grip on my arm punishing.

His body is flushed with mine, the rise and fall of his chest pushing against my breasts with every breath.

“Now listen here, little girl. I don’t know what ideas you have floating around in your head, but I care about you. I’ve always cared about you.” His jaw clenches and nostrils flare. “This isn’t the time or place, but we’ll be talking about this. Soon.”

The pitter patter of little feet scurrying toward us has him releasing his grip, but not before he dips his head and runs his nose along my jawline, inhaling my scent.

Holy shit. I think my panties are soaked.

Damnit. No! He’s not making me fall again. I won’t survive it. The last time he broke me, I was a naïve little girl, and it was nothing more than puppy love. Now? Now, he’s dragging lust into the mix. An emotion I wasn’t capable of feeling back then, but sure as hell am now.

I shoot him a glare. Unwilling to let him know just how much he affects me. Despite what his lips spew, his actions speak the truth. Those actions proved I was nothing more than a blip in his memory. And it’d serve me well to remember that.

Penelope, Fifteen Years Old

Another Sunday. Another letdown.

I’m sitting by the window waiting–I’m always waiting–but he never comes.

It’s been two years since he stepped foot in our home, breaking our weekly tradition.

Is it me? Did I do something wrong? Did I make him mad?

My chest aches, and my stomach feels heavy and sick. I blow out a slow breath as I play with a loose thread on my sparkly party dress. I wore it for him. It’s his favorite color. Blue.

Now I hate blue.

This is why I told mom fairytales are for children. They make you believe in dumb things that aren’t real. There’s no happily ever after.

The only ones on to something were the Brothers Grimm. Their stuff has truth in it. That witch lulling children into her candy cottage, only for her to turn around and eat them? Yeah, that’s what men are.

Just like my father. They’re supposed to be there for you, but when it matters, when it really matters, they’re not. They leave you all alone with this sick hurt in your chest.

Jack is no different. Like the witch in the woods, he lulled me into thinking he’d always be there. For five years, he’d always come to my recitals and bring me flowers. He’d take me for milkshakes, listening to me talk about stupid boys and mean girls.

But it was all a lie. He did worse than eat me alive. He broke my heart. Tore apart the last bit of faith I had in men.

My nose stings as I swallow the lump in my throat. I’ve been so stupid.

Today is my birthday, and the wish I made as I blew out the candles? I wasted it on Jack. I wished that he would come, surprising me like he used to. I didn’t care about presents or money. All I wanted was Jack.

My heart sinks as I search the driveway one last time, a lone tear trickling down my face.

It’s time. Time that I put aside childish things like fairytales, love, and men.

Actions don’t lie, and I’ve known the truth since my dad walked out. I should have known better.

Being foolish and stupid, I clung to childish thoughts. But no more. No. Men are worthless, and all they do is leave.

As I turn, abandoning my post at the window for the very last time, I vow to never let them trick me again.

I’m better off alone.