Sleeping Brides Page 3

  “You’ll be okay, sis!” Dermott called out, tight with worry. “If you need anything, I’ll be here!”

  Remembering tradition, I pulled out a wolf from the bottom drawer of the desk and passed it to Laney through the gate, knowing she would give it to Aileen when the time was right.

  “What now?” Dermott asked when they were out of sight.

  “You finally unclench your fists,” I answered. “You were right to bring your sister here. Once Laney has checked her over, if she finds Aileen doesn’t need to go to the hospital, then she’ll let her sleep.”

  “That’s good,” Dermott uttered, nodding his head, distracted, only half-involved in the conversation. “It’s probably best she sleeps tonight anyhow.”

  I hesitated before speaking again, knowing what I was about to say would bring him no rest. “If she chooses to leave, we can’t stop her.”

  He understood. “I know what she said, but she wants to be here. When she was sober, we agreed that she would come here if things got worse. Tonight...” He shuddered, reliving it. “Tonight, I witnessed a new low. He did this to her.”

  “You should file a report with the police,” I said. “Whatever happened, they should know.”

  “Do you want me to call them?” Carl asked. I had almost forgotten he was here.

  I looked at Dermott.

  “No,” he determined, running a clumsy, agitated hand through his dark hair. There was a wildness to him, his passion surpassing his wisdom. In situations like this, that was never good. “Thank you for everything,” he told us quickly, his thoughts elsewhere, and he rushed towards the doors, his intentions obvious in the anger he carried. He was going to confront the boyfriend.

  “Dermott, wait!” I shouted, but he didn’t stop, so I ran after him, following him out of the manor to the circular drive. With his towering stature, he took long strides, but I was quick and managed to put myself between him and the blue pick-up truck parked sideways in the middle of the drive, the passenger door still open. “You cannot take this into your own hands.”

  “I have to,” he contended. “She’s my sister. I’m supposed to protect her. I can’t let him get away with this.”

  “You are protecting her,” I pleaded. “You brought her here. Don’t give him a reason to turn the blame around. Don’t let her wake up tomorrow to the news that her brother was arrested. Or worse. She’ll never recover.”

  I watched the battle unfold within Dermott, his integrity tearing at his common sense. “I can’t do nothing,” he finally mumbled.

  “Then let me help you.” I indicated to the truck. “I’m assuming this is yours?”

  “Yeah, bad parking job.”

  “I’ve seen worse. Let’s take a seat inside.” Before he could protest, I hopped into the passenger’s side.

  “It won’t do no good, darling,” he said, leaning against the open door. “I’ll take you with me if I have to.”

  It was an empty threat. There was no way he would put me in harm’s way. He was an old-fashioned rebel, old-fashioned enough to think it his duty to protect a woman. When I sat, I became the anchor holding him down. “Just get in.”

  Complying, he joined me from the driver’s side, his leather jacket rustling against the seat.

  “Nice ride,” I said, running my hand over the beige interior.

  “It’s actually my sister’s truck,” he admitted, flexing his hands against the steering wheel, his anger starting to cool.

  “I gathered that from the bunnies on the dashboard. Do you have a car of your own?”

  “Just my bike.”

  “Cool.”

  He barely heard me, once again preoccupied. “Listen, you don’t have to sit here with me. I—”

  I stopped him. “I want to. Carl will alert me if they need anything at the desk. I’d give you a room for the night, but it’s against the rules. The only men allowed in are those who need our services.”

  “Men?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Are girls allowed in, those who aren’t in your services?”

  “We screen them first, but yes. It’s not unheard of for us to let another female stay for a few days and offer support. We have a really rounded approach at the shelter.”

  “I have another sister. Emer. She’s more grounded than Aileen, even though she’s a year younger. Emer really has it together.”

  “Well, she sounds like the perfect person to help Aileen through this. And you too. You can’t stay, but you can still visit. You should visit. As often as you can.”

  “It’ll be hard for her,” Dermott foretold. “She’ll go through withdrawals.”

  “We’re prepared to help.”

  He stared hard at the steering wheel. “I blame myself as much as I blame Brent, her boyfriend. He was a college buddy of mine. I knew he dealt a bit of weed on campus, but he came from a good family and he was doing well in his studies, so I introduced him to Aileen. I thought he was going places. But after graduation, he vested himself into other, bigger enterprises. The more he dealt, the worse Aileen got, as if she was his crash puppet testing the new supply. And then she started showing up at mine with bruises, and I knew he had overstepped his bounds completely.”

  “Did you ever go to the police?”

  “No. Aileen was in love. She still is. She was willing to pay the price to stay by his side.”

  I was sickened. “Why is the debt of love entirely one-sided?”

  Dermott shrugged. “I don’t know.” Exhaustion suddenly peeled at his face, and he relaxed into his seat, succumbing to it. “So, Riley—”

  “Ronnie.”

  “Ronnie. What do you do when you’re not playing gatekeeper to your sisters in need?”

  I sleep a restless daytime sleep, and I pretend that I’m not pushing my boyfriend away. I could probably tell Dermott my exact thoughts, and he wouldn’t judge, but I didn’t. He needed a distraction away from boyfriends.

  “I listen to Johnny Cash,” I replied truthfully. “When no one is around, I stand on my bed in my studio apartment, and I sing to his music, pretending I’m him on stage.”

  This surprised him. “Just Cash?”

  “Sometimes I throw in a few Willie Nelson songs.”

  He was impressed. “A female Johnny Cash. I like it,” he said. “Ever play any gigs?”

  I grunted. “I don’t perform for others. Even if I wasn’t a terrible singer, I would hate it. Unless you’re Johnny Cash, you don’t sing his songs to perform. You sing them to find a way to deal with yourself.”

  Dermott fell further into his seat and yawned. “Gotta do what you love, darling, even if it’s all alone, I guess.”

  “And what about you?”

  “There’s nothing fancy about this boy. I operate a crane down on the freight yard.”

  “Do you love it?”

  “I love life. And it lets me live the life I want. Plus, it’s not so bad with some good tunes. I’ve got Cash on my playlist. Did you ever hear his version of When Irish Eyes are Smiling?”

  Johnny Cash wrote Forty Shades of Green, not When Irish Eyes are Smiling, but I didn’t correct him. “Yeah, I don’t sing it, but I know it.”

  “Well, are mine smiling?”

  His were anything but smiling, carrying the weight of the night, but they did glisten, despite his fatigue.

  “So you have Irish ancestry?” I guessed.

  “Born there. But I was raised here in Louisiana. My parents, they went back last year where the rest of the family are, after Emer graduated from high school.”

  Now I understood why he felt so responsible for his sisters. He was all they had here.

  “I don’t want you to worry, Dermott. Aileen will be okay. This will scar her, but it’ll also make her stronger. You’ll have your sister back.”

  “I hope so. She’s a good girl, when she’s sober.”

  “I don’t doubt it—”

  I meant to say more, but he kissed me. I didn’t expect it. There was no w
arning. There was just his sadness and his regret and his weariness, and suddenly he was kissing me. I let his lips linger on mine, and then I gently pushed him away.

  “I can’t,” I said, thinking of Kyle.

  “I’m sorry,” he declared, his eyes half-closed and red with deprived sleep. “I shouldn’t have.”

  “It’s okay,” I told him, keeping a firm hand on his chest for distance. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

  “She rang me,” he said, his thoughts far from sleep. “She kept saying, ‘I’m gone, Dermott. I’m gone. He’s gonna get me.’ The calm in her voice—even though it was drug-induced—that’s what scared the hell outta me. When I got there, Brent was chasing her with an axe. He was high on something, his face twisted. He was enjoying it. I don’t know how I got the axe out of his hand. I can’t really remember. But I knocked him out, threw a blanket over my sister, and told her to lie low so none of his drug buddies would recognize us on the road. We came straight here.”

  “You did good. Sleep now, and let the police handle the rest. We’ll call them in the morning.”

  Lost and overcome with emotion, Dermott obliged. I waited until I heard his shallow breaths then leaned my head back against the seat. I stayed by his side, afraid he would leave if he woke and I was gone. This Brent guy probably deserved the justice Dermott wanted to deliver, but Dermott didn’t deserve to go to jail.

  At some point through the night, Dermott reached out in his sleep and took my hand.

  Despite everything, I let him.

  Chapter Two

  Disappearance

  “Don’t let them feds steal yer cigarettes,” Mrs. Fischer croaked from the bus window, a glint in her glassy eyes. “Give the man hell!”

  I didn’t smoke, but I humored the old woman, acknowledging her with a nod as the bus rattled and pulled away. Please don’t let that be me when I’m old, I begged inwardly, watching Mrs. Fischer bang the window shut as the bus disappeared down the main road.

  I turned towards the shelter. It was evening. A low light settled upon the land, guiding my way up the path, warning me of the dark to come. Breaking through the arch of trees, I looked up at the balcony that wrapped around the second floor of the manor. Aileen stood there. She didn’t notice me. She stared out into the distance like a doll, eternally vacant. I assumed a doll was how the pretty blonde had spent a good portion of her life—painting herself the way she thought the world wanted her to be. Now, there was nothing left.

  It unsettled me. Many women had detoxed at the shelter. Usually, there was screaming and tears as abrasive emotions ripped free, but Aileen was a quiet kind of forlorn. There was no fear. There was no hope. There was nothing, just a doll who walked the halls of the shelter like a ghost.

  I scanned the drive for her blue pick-up truck, but it wasn’t there. Nor was there a motorcycle. I thought Dermott had said he drove a motorcycle. It was hard to remember. It had been well over a week since he’d brought Aileen in. I hadn’t seen him since. By the time I arrived in the evenings, normal visiting hours were over.

  Probably for the best.

  I stuck my hands into the pockets of my black hoodie, unsure of how I felt about the stranger in my thoughts, and in my pocket I found a handwritten note from Kyle.

  I wish you weren’t going to work. I rarely see you these days. I love you.

  I closed my eyes. I should have been happy to receive such gestures, but I felt fenced. Being around Kyle was pleasant, comforting even, like spending time with a good friend, but I no longer felt the boom I had when we were teenagers. My aunt blamed it on the depression and told me to seek counseling, but I refused. Love wasn’t meant to be still. It was meant to be windswept.

  Shoving the note back into my pocket, I went inside, and I ran straight into Dermott.

  Maybe not straight into him. He stood in the lounge of the foyer, speaking adamantly with a girl who shared his dark hair and tawny eyes. Undeniably, she was his sister. They were too similar not to be related, but unlike Dermott and Aileen, this girl was no rebel. She was straight and prim and creaseless with the demeanor of a school teacher, emphasized by her jeans and cardigan.

  I stayed near the doors, knowing my arrival would interrupt their conversation if I went to the desk. It didn’t seem like a conversation that should be interrupted. The girl was upset.

  “She’s not the sister we grew up with,” she said to Dermott before pressing her lips together into a firm line.

  “Don’t say that, Emer,” Dermott reprimanded. “She’s not well. You know that.”

  Emer wasn’t convinced. She smoothed the sleeve of her cardigan, trying to keep her composure even though the pain she felt was evident. “Aileen and I used to be so close. She never would have turned me away.”

  “She’s just tired. Detox is difficult.”

  Behind the security gate, my boss passed through the hallway into the employee breakroom. As routine, she’d grab a mug of coffee, and then she’d make her rounds, including a stop at the front desk. I had no choice but to go to the desk, which was empty, the daytime assistant already gone. I tried to tiptoe across the marble floor, but my footsteps echoed, announcing my presence.

  “Hey, Cuddles,” Dermott called. “Come here for a sec. I want you to meet my sister. Ronnie here is one of the assistants,” he said to Emer. “She admitted Aileen.”

  “Thank you,” Emer said briskly when I reached them. She could be mistaken for unfriendly, but she was hurting.

  “No thanks needed,” I said. “Dermott was right to bring her to us. Will you be staying tonight?”

  Emer flinched. “No,” she stated. “I will not.”

  “Aileen would rather be alone,” Dermott explained. “She hasn’t seen any visitors.”

  Oh. I should have guessed that’s what Emer meant by Aileen turning her away. It was easy to believe that Aileen didn’t want visitors. She was so detached.

  “Give it time,” I encouraged, trying not to let the concern I felt show. “Healing is complex.”

  “Healing is complex, but my sister isn’t,” Emer snapped. “She’s always been selfish, but we were close, so I ignored it. We all did. Maybe if we hadn’t, if we’d called her out on her bullshit, then she wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  “Emer,” Dermott warned.

  “No,” Emer said, holding her ground. “Aileen did this to herself. She chose this life. It’s time she takes responsibility.”

  Unable to say more, she stormed out.

  Dermott didn’t follow. He watched her go then turned to me. “I’m glad I ran into you again. How have you been?”

  “Good,” I answered stiffly, folding my arms across my chest. The guard I put up wasn’t against Dermott; it was to rein myself in.

  “Good is good,” he said awkwardly, sensing my standoff. “Any gigs?”

  “I told you, I don’t perform.”

  “Then what do you do when you’re not standing on your bed pretending to be Johnny Cash?”

  “Sleep.”

  He smiled, not at all put off by me. It was a charming smile, unrestrained. “And what do you dream about when you sleep?” he asked.

  Defeated, I let my guard drop—slightly. “I dream about traveling,” I said honestly. “But not just traveling for the sake of traveling. I want to do something meaningful, like volunteering to teach children in Nepal, or putting together a band of women assassins so we can kill all the evil bastards who oppress women.”

  “So you’re one of those saps.”

  I glared at him. “You one of those beefed-up rednecks who don’t believe women should have equal rights to men?”

  “No, darling. I’m one of those beefed-up biker dudes who believe if you wanna do something big in this world, you gotta go out and do it. Not just sit behind a desk and dream about it. Though, in all fairness, the work you do here is pretty important. You’re saving my sister.”

  “You saved her by bringing her to us,” I said. “And now it’s up to her to save herself.�
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  “I’d say the same to you.”

  I looked down, resisting the urge to walk away. “I don’t need saving,” I said coolly, ignoring how much his words resonated within me.

  “You sure? Because you don’t seem all that happy.”

  “This is a serious place to work. It’s not supposed to be happy.”

  “I just heard Carl there making fart jokes,” Dermott pointed out. “It ain’t all graves and blues here, darling. Maybe you outta ditch that lawyer boyfriend of yours.”

  I should be outraged, but I wasn’t. “You checking in on me?”

  “If a girl sleeps next to me all night then sneaks out the next morning, I ask questions.”

  “Well, don’t,” I told him. “I don’t need some wannabe Irish cowboy telling me how to live my life.”

  “I ain’t no cowboy,” he said, teasing me. “I own a bike, not a horse. And you’re free to take a ride with me anytime.”

  I leaned back, taking him in. “You talk big, boy, but I got you. This whole outlaw getup is just for show. You’re a family man. I see the way you take care of your sisters. You want to settle. You want the family man life. You’d be as happy with ten kids running around your feet as you would be whipping down the highway on your racer.”

  “Cruiser,” he corrected, not at all offended by my judgement. “I cruise, baby.”

  “Well, you can cruise right on out of here, because I don’t need a man to save me.”

  “I never said I was the one to save you,” he reminded me. “I said you had to save yourself.”

  A blast from a horn outside interrupted our tug-of-war. “Emer’s about to leave. Gotta go,” he said. “Until next time, babycakes.”

  “You can eat your cake, baby,” I called after him as he left, ignoring the part of me that very much wanted him to stay.

  ***

  As I flipped through the latest reports left for me on the desk, I felt the lightest of weights set on my head, as if I’d been crowned with feathers.

  No, not feathers. Flowers.