Luke

Monday morning rushed in like an unexpected tornado, my phone ringing every ten minutes. There was a lot to do, and plenty of that ‘to do’ list was centered on Candace.

Theo called, wanting an update from the weekend; Jackson called, asking if I’d been able to find out the nature of Candace’s situation yet, and Lyla called, asking me to come in and meet with her about Candace that morning.

Since Thursday morning in the barn with Lyla, Candace had been talking again, even though it wasn’t often, or about anything pertaining to her life, her situation, or why she was on the road that night. I didn’t ask her; Theo had warned me not to push, as well as Xander, and Lyla, so I didn’t. I waited for her to open up to me, but that hadn’t happened yet. I was beginning to wonder if it ever would.

Candace visited the kittens every day with Lyla by her side. I wasn’t sure what they talked about, if anything, but I hoped today I’d find out.

“I’ve got to get to work. Do you need anything before I go?” I asked.

Candace shook her head. She was on the couch, not her corner, but sitting in the center with an open book in her hand. She smiled as she looked up, the same sweet smile I remembered as a kid.

“I won’t be long,” I promised.

As I walked out of the front door, I thought of what it would be like if she stayed, not just until she healed, but long after. My heart swelled with hope and the memory of how our love was so young and pure what seemed to be a lifetime ago.

I climbed into my truck and headed towards Lyla’s office, hoping that she’d shed some light on the mystery that surrounded the woman I once loved, and admittingly, still did.

“I’m so glad you had time to see me, Mr. Sheridan,” Lyla spoke quickly as she reached for my hand.

We shook, and she quickly turned, moving swiftly behind her desk. “Luke. You can call me, Luke,” I mumbled, feeling awkward being addressed with such formality.

Was I supposed to call her Dr. Madsen? I suddenly felt foolish for calling her Lyla.

“Of course, and you can call me Lyla,” she smiled, taking her seat behind her desk.

I sat down in the chair in front of her, eagerly awaiting her to give me some information.

“So, how are things with Candace?” she asked.

“She’s talking more, but not about much of anything important,” I hummed.

“So, you still have no idea what’s happened to her?” she asked.

“I was hoping you did,” I admitted, feeling my anxiety peak.

“I’ve been very patient with her. I’ll admit I’ve been afraid to push her too hard. She’s great with the kittens, almost a complete transformation. I can see her anxiety almost completely disappear when she’s in the barn,” Lyla stated.

She had a warm smile when she spoke about Candace. It was obvious she had a soft spot in her heart for her.

“So what do you suggest?” I asked.

“I suggest, Luke, that you have a straight-forward talk with her about what has happened,” she said sternly.

“I wouldn’t even know how,” I sighed.

“I can speculate. I suspect that domestic violence is the cause of her damaged esteem, but she doesn’t feel safe. Until you know what has happened, you can’t guarantee her safety, and she needs that guarantee,” Lyla dictated.

Sweat beaded up on my forehead as I leaned into the hard chair. I wanted to know how to help Candace, and guarantee her safety, but I wasn’t sure this would go well. The thought of her running away scared the shit outta me.

Lyla shook my hand and walked me to the door. She gave me advice on how to ease into the conversation, but to stay on the topic until I’d gotten at least some answers.

“Don’t expect everything all at once,” she smiled softly as I waved my goodbyes.

I pulled my truck next to the cabin, parking it and sitting inside for a bit. My heart was heavy with the task at hand, and fear filled my soul as I worried about the consequences of my prying questions.

My feet hit the ground, and the truck door slammed, giving Candace plenty of warning that I’d arrived back.

I fumbled with my keys at the door, dropping them on the concrete stoop before finally opening the door. Candace was in the corner of the couch, in her usual spot, blanket pulled to her chin, and her face pale as sheet paper.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said softly, moving towards her.

A faint smile appeared on her face, and the blanket loosened from her clenched fingers.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered.

I knew it wasn’t my fault, but whose fault was it?

“I’ll try not to make such a ruckus next time,” I grinned, taking my seat across from her in the old worn out chair.

Another smile, still faint, but she seemed to be loosening up. I thought about what Dr. Madsen had said. I had to press for answers, for her benefit as well as my own.

“Candace, we need to talk,” I said softly, trying to hold a stern tone in my shaken voice.

Her eyes widened. They were so green.

“I promise not to touch you, but I have to ask you some questions,” I added.

Her beautiful green eyes dropped to her lap, her head limp with defeat, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through her mind. Was she thinking about running far, far away from here, never to return?

“Okay,” she mumbled without looking up.

My heart raced. My hands clammed, and the silence in the room gave an eerie atmosphere.

This was it. I was finally going to find out what happened to Candace.

“That night when I picked you up, where were you before?” I asked.

Candace’s face was stricken with panic, and I could see her tense up as she stared down into her lap. Her hands clasped, twisting together tightly, her long, lean fingers intertwining like ivy on a fence.

“I know this is hard, but I need you to tell me what you’re running from. If I don’t know what you’re afraid of, I can’t protect you,” I said softly.

Her eyes lifted. Oh god, they were so green, so destroyed with pain. I wanted to reach out and hug her, pull her small frame into mine, promising I’d protect her from anything, from everything.

“Damien,” she muttered.

Damien. That was a name that would forever be embedded in my mind from that moment on. Damien.

I watched her hands twist and turn within one another, her eyes shift to the left, then right. It was as if by speaking his name he would appear, and she was watching from every corner for just that.

“He hurt you?” I asked.

She nodded, large tears flopping from her eyes.

“He said he’d kill me. He said he’d find me if I ran,” she stammered.

“Was he your boyfriend?” I asked, a lump in my throat forming hard and steady.

She nodded, looking away from the look I gave her, one I was certain was filled with rage and pain.

“You’re safe here,” I promised her.

“I’ll never be safe,” she sobbed, her tears growing heavier as they fell to her lap.

“Did you have a fight that night? Is that why you were covered in blood?” I asked.

She didn’t look up. She didn’t answer. She worked her hands together wildly.

“That wasn’t your blood, not all of it. Was it Damien’s? Did you have to fight him off?” I continued to push.

Her shoulders pushed inward, like she was trying to squeeze her own neck. Her hand wrapped around her wrist, one finger sliding up and down a long scar I hadn’t noticed before. Suicide. She’d tried to kill herself to get away from this man?

“I’m tired,” she whispered, sliding down into the corner of the couch.

“Of course. You should rest,” I agreed, hating that the conversation ended without the answers I needed.

Candace pulled the blanket to her chin, closed her eyes tightly, and let out a soft sigh as I got up from my chair and walked into the kitchen.

There was a lot more to this story, that much I knew, but what or how much, I had no idea.