Written on My Heart Read online

  Absolutely nothing.

  He bears down on me, his chest bumping mine, only this time I don’t back down. “Why would I bother taking care of the useless waste of skin you are? Don’t you get it? You’re worthless. You’re nothing.”

  “No.” I tilt my head, meeting his steely gaze head on. “I’m more than you’ll even know. You’ve just got your head stuck so far up your ass, you can’t see anything but your own shit.”

  A shove catches me off guard. For the ten years I lived with the man, he always used words as his weapon, careful to keep his hands to himself—or when he used them, he knew not to leave a bruise. The time he bumped against me, sending me spiraling down the stairs and breaking my rib, I’d thought had been an accident. Now I’m not so sure.

  I cry out as I collide with the coffee table and roll onto the floor. Pain explodes from my hip and knee, sending shockwaves through my body. He’s never blatantly struck me before. It’s clear I’ve pushed him past the point of caring about his image.

  He stands over me, his face crimson and his fists shaking. “How dare you talk to me that way.”

  My own anger cracks, and fear rushes through. Without thinking, I’d poked the bear with a stick.

  And now I’m going to pay.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Lane

  “Found the charger!” Harper pushes the curtain aside and stops in her tracks. “Why do you and Aunt Em look so serious?”

  “C’mere, Harper.” I get down on my knee and motion her close. Looking unsure, she takes slow, reluctant steps, stopping when she reaches me.

  “Am I in trouble?”

  I smile and shake my head. “Of course not, honey. I just need to talk to you about something important before you go off on your girls’ night with Aunt Em.”

  She frowns. “Okay. What is it?”

  I open my mouth but the words don’t immediately come. God, this is harder than I thought it would be. What if Harper freaks out? It’s been just us for so long. What if she hates the idea of having someone else in our life? Work keeps me busy enough—what if adding Ashlyn to our lives gives us even less time together? Would that make me a horrible father?

  Emily gives an impatient huff behind me. “Geez Louise, nobody is dying. Your daddy just wants to know how you would feel about him dating.”

  “I was getting to that.” I shoot her an angry look over my shoulder.

  Em only shrugs. “Yeah, but by the time you spit it out, Harper would be dating.”

  Ugh. The very idea makes me shudder.

  Harper squeals and grabs my shoulders. Her eyes are wide. “Are you serious? Who is she? Are you going to get married? Are you going to have kids? Am I going to be a big sister?”

  “Whoa!” I hold my hands up, her barrage of questions making my head swim. “Chill, kiddo. It’s not like that. There’s a girl I like, but I have to know if she likes me before anything more happens. No weddings. No babies. Just a couple of dates, okay? We need to see if this will work. Besides,” I add, “you need to meet her. All women in my life must get your vote of approval or they’re out the door. Got it?”

  Harper laughs at this. “Got it. So when do I get to meet her? Today?” She hops up on her toes excitedly.

  I can’t help but grin at her enthusiasm. “Not today. But if all goes well, soon.”

  Her smile wavers. “Aw!”

  “What do you mean, ‘aw’?” Em taps her lightly on her arm. “Your dad mentions a new girl and suddenly Aunt Em is old news?”

  Harper rolls her eyes. “That’s not true.”

  “Good.” Emily hoists Harper’s backpack higher on her shoulder. “Because there’s fun to be had and more candy to eat.”

  “No, there isn’t.” I scowl.

  “Of course not. Did I say candy? I meant broccoli.” Em winks at Harper. Before I can argue further, she looks at me, her smile gone. “Good luck, big brother. I’ll have my fingers crossed. I could get used to seeing you happy. It suits you.”

  I open my mouth to answer, when I hear a slam overhead, followed by a muffled cry.

  “What the hell was that?” Em asks, face pointed toward the ceiling.

  Heat surges in my veins. “Ash,” I murmur. Had she fallen? Was she hurt? I start for the door when I hear angry shouting—a man’s.

  Fuck.

  My pulse beats so loudly in my ears it’s nothing but a crash of sound. I’m at the door in an instant, pausing long enough to glance back at Em and Harper. “Don’t go anywhere until I come back. Got it?”

  Harper’s eyes are glassy with fear. “What’s going on?”

  I shake my head and turn again to the door. “I have no idea, but I’m going to find out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ashlyn

  “Where is my money?” Charles leans over me and screams.

  With my heart beating a frantic rhythm against my ribs, I scuttle away until my back meets the front of the couch. Jolts of pain from my hip and knee beat in time with my pulse as white spots speckle my vision.

  What did I do? I’ve always known my stepdad was mentally unstable, but I always figured once I left the house, I’d never have to deal with him. I especially never expected him to barge into my apartment and start throwing me around.

  Charles leans down and grabs the front of my shirt, twisting his hand into the fabric. “Did you spend it on fucking drugs, you worthless whore?” He shakes me hard enough my brain rattles against my skull. Still, his words bite more than the bruises blooming on my legs.

  I open my mouth to tell him he can have the money, anything to get him to leave, when a large shadow appears in my doorway.

  “What the fuck is going on in here?”

  Lane. Part of me rejoices at the sight of him, while another part hates that he has to find me this way, literally cowering in front of the demon from my past.

  Still holding my shirt, Charles swivels his head around, a look of surprise on his face. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I’d ask you the same thing.” Lane, his jaw clenched tight, strides into the room with long, rigid steps. “But I really don’t give a fuck.” Before Charles can react, Lane grabs his shoulder and pulls him off of me, swinging him back so he stumbles against the recliner in the corner.

  “What are you?” Charles pushes to his feet, but his stance in less sure. His eyes dart to the open door. “Her pimp? Her drug pusher?”

  A low growl escapes Lane’s clenched teeth and his fingers curl into fists. “Don’t you dare talk shit about Ashlyn. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave this apartment and never come back. Or else.” He tilts his head from side to side, cracking his neck.

  Slowly, I push myself to my feet. I want to reach out to Lane, to tell him this isn’t his fight, but Charles reacts first.

  He shoves his shoulders back, but his attempt to puff out his chest looks more ridiculous than intimidating next to Lane’s much larger frame. I don’t know if it’s my time away from home, or Lane’s appearance, but Charles’ presence no longer fills the room. It’s like he shrinks before my eyes, until I see him for what he truly is—an old, pathetic, overweight bald man. He raises a finger at me and, to my surprise, I don’t flinch. “I’m not going anywhere until that bitch gives me my money back.”

  Lane shakes his head. “Wrong answer.” Before I can react, he reaches forward, grabs Charles by the front of the shirt, and hurls him across the room, where he crashes against an end table. My scream is broken by the sound of shattering glass from the lamp that topples onto the floor.

  Lane turns to me. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

  “How dare you!” Charles climbs to his feet on wobbling legs. “You’re going to pay for that. He makes a fist and raises it over his shoulder.

  Before he strikes, Lanes lands a blow square against his jaw. The crack of skin and bone makes my stomach wrench, and I cry out.

  I curl my fingers against my lips. “Stop.” Surprisingly, seeing Charles in pain brings me no pleas
ure. He’s brought so much misery to my life, I dreamed of this moment, when he would look at me and his eyes would be full of fear. But now that the moment is here, it’s more bitter than sweet.

  All I ever wanted was for Charles to accept me. I tried conforming to his rules—that didn’t work. I tried making myself invisible—that didn’t work. I even left—that didn’t work either. And now, staring at this pitiful man in front of me, I can’t figure out why I ever cared. The only thing I want now is for him to get out of my life, once and for all. “Lane…”

  But he doesn’t respond. There’s a wildness in his eyes that shakes me to my core, almost like Lane’s checked out, and the man standing in his place is unrecognizable from the one who holds me until I fall asleep.

  Charles swings back, but his punch goes wide and whiffs harmlessly past Lane’s chin.

  Lane retaliates with an uppercut to Charles’ nose. Blood explodes from his nostrils, speckling his polo shirt with crimson.

  I press a hand to my clenching gut. No. This isn’t what I want. No more blood. No more pain.

  Charles is blinking, his eyes unfocused. He raises a fist.

  Lane squares his shoulders and lifts clenched hands in front of his face.

  No. I don’t know how much fight Charles has left in him, but I can’t take any more.

  Charles swings, and Lane easily ducks the blow. Lane rears back for another strike when I grab his bicep, halting him. “No!”

  Slowly, he turns to me, the muscles in his arm unwinding beneath my fingers. He meets my eyes, his face questioning. “He hurt you,” he says, the words like a judge passing a sentence.

  My pulse is crashing so loudly inside my head it echoes like thunder. “Yes.” I keep pulling on his arm until it falls to his side. “But he can’t hurt me anymore. It’s all over.”

  Chest heaving, Lane frowns. Confused lines pinch his forehead.

  Charles glares at me from over the bloody hand pressed to his face. Each time he enters my life he leaves it more broken. My furniture is toppled and splintered, my puppy is shivering in a corner, and my beautiful Lane has blood on his split knuckles.

  I’m putting an end to it all.

  “You want your money?”

  Charles’ eyes narrow but he says nothing.

  I walk to my purse and sort through an inner pocket until I find the bills my mom gave me. “Here.” I hold the wad above my head. “I don’t want anything to do with you, do you understand? I don’t believe for a second this is yours, but if it will get you out of my life, I’ll pay.” I take a step toward him, emotion choking my voice. “Just know this is it. I never want to see you again. You’re a horrible man and an even worse father. Part of me wants to be the bigger person, but honestly, I hope you take this money and choke on it.”

  He drops his hand from his face, revealing the swollen, bloody mess Lane made of his nose. “You’ll both be lucky if I don’t call the police on you for theft and assault.”

  Lane folds his arms and laughs. “Buddy, my dad was a cop and I’ve got a lot of friends on the force. You make that call and see what happens. From my end, it looks like forced entry and self-defense. I guess it’ll be your word against mine.”

  Charles’ eyes go wide, and his lips pinch in a frown.

  I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to fight the urge to laugh.

  Charles sees this and snarls, “My money!” He snaps his fingers at me.

  I take a step toward Charles and Lane tenses beside me. I glance over my shoulder to let him know I’ll be okay. I walk past my stepdad and stand beside the open door. I lift the money above my head and let go. The breeze catches the bills, pulling them from my fingers. They flutter down the steps to the ground below. “Get out.”

  “You bitch!” Charles rushes to the door, but I step in his path, blocking his exit. “Get out of the way.”

  “Sure.” I shrug. “But first, this is for my dog.” Taking a page from Emily’s book, I bring my knee up and connect with his groin.

  He doubles over, eyes bulging and cheeks puffing out. I give him a push and he tumbles out the door. I slam it shut behind him.

  Lane stares at me, openmouthed. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  A grin pulls at my lips. “Me, either!” A laugh bubbles up my throat. “I’m done with him! I’m really done with him!”

  Lane’s smile is unsure. “But the money…didn’t you need that?”

  Just like that, the balloon of happiness swelling inside my chest pops. Why does Lane care about the money? Does he want me to go?

  He must sense the change in me because he shakes his head and reaches for me. “Ashlyn, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just trying to figure out what you want. I want you to be happy, no matter what.”

  I want to tell him that he makes me happy, but the words get tangled on my tongue. “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  The way he answers without hesitation stills my heart.

  “You’re all I think about, Ashlyn,” he continues, “since the day you walked into my life.” He grins, tightening things low inside me. “From the moment we kissed, I realized something—you’re my moon, Ashlyn. You pull at me like the moon pulls the fucking tides. I can’t fight it. I can’t resist. I can only go to you. I’ll always go to you. But I also know I can’t make you stay if you don’t want to.”

  So many words and so many emotions rise within me, churning into a tangled mess. There’s no way this can be happening. Even though these are the words I’ve been craving, the desire to turn and run coils my muscles tight. I’m not good enough, I’m too damaged, and I’m a million other things that make a relationship impossible. My stepdad, while kicked out of my life, is going to be harder to kick out of my head. And doesn’t Lane deserve better? My life is so very fucked up and unsure—staying with Lane would only bring my shit into his world.

  “Ash,” Lane’s hand wavers in the air, still reaching for me. “Please, say something.”

  Slowly, I bring my eyes up to meet his. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

  He jerks back. “What?”

  “I’m scared. I’m a fucked up mess. You saw what my stepdad is like. You know what he’s done to me. I’m not going to be fixed overnight. I’m a walking disaster. I cry a lot, and locked doors terrify me. Some days I’m too scared to leave the house, and others I want to drive until I reach an ocean, turn around, and head to the next one. There are a million reasons you should let me go, Lane. I’m a walking disaster. Is that what you want?”

  He closes the distance between us in two swift strides and places his hands on either side of my face. When he speaks, his breath is warm against my skin. “I want you, Ash—neurotic mess, walking disaster, all of you. My dad passed at an early age, putting me in charge. I’m overprotective of my family to a fault and I’m terrified of not living up to the man my dad expected me to become. I’m moody and ambitious. There are days when all I know how to do is work, and others when I feel so anchored by responsibility I want to get in my truck and drive until I reach an ocean, turn around, and head to the next one. I’m pretty fucked up, myself.”

  Grinning, I throw my arms around his neck and press my body against his. The warmth of his skin seeps into mine, unwinding the knots buried inside my chest. “If we do this, it’s not going to be easy.”

  He grins and lowers his head to mine. “Who says I like easy?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Lane

  I curl my fingers around her as a mixture of relief and exhaustion wash over me. The blood on my knuckles has dried and stretches tight across my skin. I nearly lost my mind when I walked in and saw that man standing over Ash. The desire to hurt him, to make him bleed, consumed me, taking over every thought.

  Protect your family. Like the ink on my arms, my dad’s partner’s words are written on my heart, the syllables pulsing in time with each beat. Protect your family. Ash is mine. She whispered as much through tangled limbs and shuddered gasps. An
d nobody hurts what belongs to me.

  Walking into the apartment and seeing her eyes so wide, so frightened, flipped a switch inside me. I was filled the urge to destroy the person responsible—and I might have done just that if she hadn’t grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

  I bury my nose against the top of her head. Her hair’s damp and smells like shampoo. I breathe in her scent—apples, without the usual mix of coffee—holding it inside me like I hold her in my arms. I’m scared to let go. I can’t be sure she’ll stay when she knows everything about me—about the mistake I made at sixteen, about the girl who ripped out a chunk of my heart and the baby who filled the hole. She needs to know how Harper is a part of me, and there’s no loving me without loving her.

  I know now I should have been upfront with her at the very beginning. Instead, I’ve been so focused on her keeping her at a distance, by the time I realized she slipped into my heart, it was too late.

  So it’s now or never.

  “Ashlyn?”

  “Mmm?” She murmurs the sound against my chest.

  God, I almost wonder if I should wait. After the day she’s been through, I wonder if it would be cruel to make her endure another surprise. At the same time, I know I can’t wait. She’s shaken—I can feel the slight tremble of her shoulders—yet I know if I put this off, I’d betray the line of trust that’s opened between us.

  I grab her shoulders and gently push her away. “We need to talk.”

  Her brow crinkles in concern. “Is everything okay?”

  Hell, I don’t know. There’s only one way to find out. Her eyes are so intent, so worried, I can no longer hold her gaze. I glance around the room, at the mess left behind. So many broken things—many of which can’t be fixed. I can only hope I don’t do the same to her. I sweep a hand through my hair. “I wanted to talk about this at dinner, but I guess now’s as good a time as any.”