Broken Butterfly: Fallen Brook Series: Book 3 Page 4

  Me: U wouldn’t mean to, but u would. U, Jay, and Jules would be in her face, pressuring her 24/7. I’m Switzerland in this scenario.

  Ry: Help her, Fallon.

  Me: I will. You might not like my methods though.

  Ry: I trust you.

  He shouldn’t when it comes to her.

  Ry: Tell her that I love her.

  I don’t reply. Instead, I turn my phone off.

  It’s one in the morning but I’m too amped up to sleep. As I walk out of my room to go up to the deck and sit for a while with a tumbler of scotch, I hear high-pitched mewling cries and whimpers coming from Elizabeth’s cabin. I’m very familiar with those sounds. They were the theme songs of my childhood. Elizabeth is having nightmares. I hesitate briefly outside her cabin door before continuing my way up the stairs.

  Chapter 4

  Day 2: Finding Elizabeth

  Halloween in the Atlantic

  “You can’t avoid me, you know.”

  “I can try,” I tell myself.

  “It won’t work. I’m you and you are me. There’s no two ways around it. Our memories are back, and you can’t deny me anymore.”

  I’m sitting in a dark room filled with fairy lights, a mirror in front of me. I glare at my reflection because it’s not really my reflection. She is me. Old Elizabeth. And she’s not happy.

  “I want to go back. I want Jayson,” she tells me.

  “Well, tough shit,” I snap at her.

  “He’ll come for me. You’ll see.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Why are you making this so hard on us?”

  My fiery green eyes blaze at her. “You never could decide who you wanted. Jayson or Ryder. I made the final choice. The right choice. I chose Ryder. You never could do that. You can’t have both. You were selfish thinking that you could.”

  “What about Elizabeth Ann?” she taunts. “She was Jayson’s. We belong with him.”

  “Don’t you dare bring her into this. I love my daughter.”

  “You can’t fight history, New Elizabeth. Everything we are and have been belong to Jayson.”

  “That’s not true. I was making a new life for myself. I was happy. For once in my life, I was truly happy. You could never say that. You could never be happy loving two men. Being with one man while wanting another.”

  Old Elizabeth throws back her head and laughs and I want to smack her. “You will never find true happiness with Ryder. You’re deluding yourself if you think you can. Jayson will never let me go.”

  “You’re a bitch,” I tell her. “A weak, selfish bitch. I’m a different person now. Stronger. I know what I want.”

  “Do you? Open your eyes and see, Elizabeth.”

  Those words send chills down my spine. “What?”

  My reflection sneers at me. The eyes of my reflection turn heterochromatic, one blue and one brown. It’s not my voice I hear anymore. It’s His.

  “Don’t you see, Elizabeth?”

  A thick hand strikes out of the mirror, those dual-colored eyes sparking devil fire. The hand grabs my throat and I start to choke.

  “It’s always been about you, sweet Elizabeth. Hailey was a poor substitute for you, just like your new life is a poor substitute for Old Elizabeth’s. You will never win because she and I will never let you go.”

  “Kill her,” Old Elizabeth chortles. “Set me free. Let me go back.”

  “No!” I scream. “I don’t want my old life back!”

  A knife appears in my hand. It’s the same one He used on me that night. As his fingers continue to tighten around my throat, I stab blindly at his arm with the knife. I will never allow him to hurt me again. He’s taken too much from me already.

  “No!” I scream over and over again. Old Elizabeth is screaming now too, our combined voices creating a sonic blast that shatters the glass of the mirror. Then everything goes silent. It’s just me sitting in the dark room. Alone.

  I wake suddenly to tangled sheets around my head. No wonder it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Shit. I haven’t had a bad dream like that in a while. Sleeping in Ryder’s arms usually kept them at bay. At least I don’t have to listen to my asshole neighbor pounding on the wall, telling me he’ll call the police if I didn’t quiet down.

  Knowing I won’t be falling back to sleep anytime soon, I decide to get up and go to the fitness room to burn off some excess energy. I change into some leggings and a T-shirt I find in Tatiána’s drawers. Her shoes are too small for me, so I’ll have to go barefoot or wear socks. I opt for socks. I slip out of my room as not to disturb Fallon since his room is next to mine and make my way up the stairs. As I enter the main area, a man’s voice startles me.

  “Can I get you anything, Miss Fairchild?”

  “Holy crap, Robert. You scared the bejeezus out of me.”

  “May I ask what a bejeezus is?”

  “Sorry. It’s a figure of speech where I come from. It means you scared the mess out of me.” I walk over to where he’s sitting. “I noticed your accent.”

  “Born in Surrey, about thirty minutes outside of London. However, I have lived most of my life in the States.”

  Robert is still dressed in his crisp attire from earlier and it makes me wonder if he ever gets to rest like a normal person or if he has to be on call all the time while we’re on the boat.

  “I couldn’t sleep, so I was going to go work out for a while in the fitness room,” I tell him.

  “If you need anything, just pick up the red phone mounted on the wall next to the door in the fitness room and press number seven.”

  “I remember. Thanks, Robert. Hey, Robert? May I ask you a question?”

  He lays down the newspaper he was reading. I hadn’t noticed him reading it when I walked in because he scared me half to death. He loses a bit of his stiff rigidness and relaxes slightly. He looks like a dad would, sitting at a table with a newspaper in hand. My dad would have had a guitar pick instead of a newspaper, but it doesn’t stop the pang of longing that stabs through me at the thought. I would give anything to see my father again, have him hug me in that certain way only dads do that make their daughters feel cherished, loved, and special. Robert must see something on my face because he motions for me to take a seat with him at the table.

  “What questions may I assist you with, Miss Fairchild?”

  “Please, call me Elizabeth.”

  “As you wish,” he replies, and I giggle.

  “Princess Bride reference,” I explain when he gives me an inquisitive look. Then he nods in understanding, a small curve tipping his lips. “How long have you worked for Fallon?” I ask him.

  “I have worked for the Montgomery family in one capacity or another for about twenty years.”

  “So you know Fallon well?”

  “As much as an employee knows an employer when they’ve worked for them for an extended period of time,” he replies.

  “You must be used to him bringing strange women on board then.”

  “Actually, Miss Elizabeth, from the gossip of the staff that is circulating around, it appears you are the first woman, other than his sister, that he has ever brought on board. You are causing quite a stir.”

  That shocks me and my mouth falling open tells Robert so.

  I lean forward on the table. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, Robert. I had amnesia. I had no recollection of the first eighteen years of my life. My memories returned recently. It’s really hard for me to connect what once was with what is now. I remember Fallon from high school, but my old memories of him are nothing like what I know of him now. It’s very confusing.”

  I have no clue why I told a total stranger that. Maybe it’s because Robert reminds me of my dad.

  “I cannot imagine what you must be going through,” he says kindly. “May I ask you a question, Miss Elizabeth?”

  I sit back. “Please do,” I tell him.

  “Why are you here with Mr. Fallon?”

  “Let’s just say that right now
, he’s my life preserver. Without him, I would have already drowned. Bad analogy, I know, since we’re on a boat in the Atlantic.”

  “Very true.” He chuckles. “I hope Mr. Fallon is able to give you what you need.”

  I consider that and say, “I think he’s the only one right now who can.”

  “Very well, then.” He reaches over to grab a pack of cards at the end of the table. “Have you ever played cribbage before?” he asks.

  “Actually, yes I have. I love it.”

  “Excellent,” he says. “No one on this bloody boat plays and I usually wind up playing Solitaire by myself.” Robert hands me the deck of cards to shuffle and pulls a beautifully crafted wooden cribbage box out of a drawer in the table. Ah, this is a game table. Cool.

  “What’s going on?” Fallon inquires as he saunters in. His hair is windswept, and he brings with him the smell of the ocean.

  My gaze sweeps him from toe to head. “I thought you were asleep.”

  “Nope. I screwed up my sleep rhythm a long time ago. Usually up all night, and then sleep most of the morning.”

  “That’s not good for you.”

  “Yes, Mom,” he yawns and sits beside me. “What are we playing?”

  “Cribbage. Want me to deal you in?”

  “Yeah. Might as well. Robert, can you call the kitchen and get some coffee brought up?”

  I slap Fallon’s arm. “Fallon! Leave the poor man alone.”

  “It’s not a problem, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Not at two in the morning. Where’s the coffee maker? I’ll go make it.”

  “Kitten, sit your ass down.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do. I can make coffee if I want to.”

  “Not while you’re on my boat. The only thing you need to do is rest and relax.”

  “Fallon, for Christ’s sake. It’s just coffee.”

  Poor Robert is standing idly by, waiting patiently, his formal posture restored. Fallon, however, doesn’t care that we have an audience. He leans over to get in my face.

  “You’re having nightmares and not sleeping. You need to rest to get better.” How does he know I had a nightmare?

  “Were you spying on me while I was asleep?”

  That cocksure Fallon smirk makes its arrival. “No. You were loud enough that I heard you through the door, if you must know.”

  Robert slips away while Fallon and I glare at one another.

  “What did you hear?”

  “Enough. Now stop fighting me on everything. You’re supposed to do what I say, remember?”

  “Oh, please.” I roll my eyes, then acquiesce.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re not welcome.”

  “Happy Halloween, kitten.”

  Well, shit. “Happy Halloween, Fallon. And thanks for caring,” I sincerely tell him.

  Chapter 5

  Day 3: Finding Elizabeth

  New York City

  Anyone who has read Under the Tuscan Sun or Eat, Pray, Love knows the romanticized tales of women who travel around the world to find themselves. That’s how I feel right now. A woman preparing to travel the world to discover who she really is. But first, this woman needed some clothes.

  I learned something new today as a result of five hours of nonstop shopping through New York City. Fallon Montgomery is a clothes whore. The second thing I learned today is that he has impeccable taste. He picked out most of my new clothes and shoes. I didn’t care. It’s not like I could really say anything since he was paying for it. I refused, however, to let him choose my underwear and bras.

  We’re staying in a penthouse suite at one of those swanky hotels near Central Park. We have our own elevator and a five-person staff. I’m having trouble believing this is real life, but then again, Fallon grew up around all this pampered, rich bullshit every day. How can people take this kind of wealth for granted? As an idea forms, I drop my pile of shopping bags on the bed and go find Fallon.

  “Hey, Nutter Butter! Where you at?”

  “For fuck’s sake, come up with another nickname that doesn’t sound so fucking stupid,” I hear him yell back.

  “You call me kitten, jackass, so deal with it.”

  I found out yesterday during our Halloween fun on his boat that Fallon has an addiction to peanut butter candies. After that, the nickname came easily. Fallon surprised me with his Halloween scavenger hunt. He hid things all around the boat for me to find using clues and a map. I’m pretty sure all the stuff I found was his. I am now the proud owner of tons of candy, an iPod, a men’s I Love NY T-shirt, a six-pack of beer, a dirty romance novel (not sure if it was his or Tatiána’s), and a sex-toy—I didn’t ask. Yeah, he got a kick out of that one before I threw it at his head. We spent the rest of our Halloween on the boat enjoying scary movies and sitting out on the deck again watching as the boat docked. As we prepared to disembark, I hugged Robert bye, and thanked him for his kindness. Then, Fallon escorted me to a car that was already there waiting to take us to our hotel.

  “Hey, Nutter Butter!” I open a door but no Fallon. The penthouse suite is four-thousand square feet and takes up two entire floors of the hotel. I got lost last night trying to find the bathroom after we checked in.

  “Marco?” I shout.

  I hear a distant chuckle. “Polo!”

  I walk around a corner to where the living area is. “Marco?”

  “Polo!” he calls back. I’m getting closer. I walk up the curved set of stairs that leads to the second floor. I chose the bedroom downstairs and told Fallon he had to sleep upstairs.

  I open a set of double doors and enter his room. Fallon is bent over the bed going through bags filled with the clothes he bought for himself. Fallon is also shirtless. I’m a girl who can appreciate good-looking guys, so of course I ogle his muscled back and the tattoos he’s sporting—that is until I see the crisscrossing of several faint scars that span the width of his torso. They’re barely noticeable, but I know knife wounds when I see them because I have several.

  “Jesus, Fallon.” I rush over to him and lay my hands against his skin. His body goes rigid and taut.

  “Elizabeth, I would strongly advise that you remove your hands.”

  I ignore him. “What happened to you?”

  He turns suddenly and grabs both of my wrists in a crushing grip. “Life,” he growls out.

  My heart goes out to him because I understand. He really is just as broken as I am. I wrench my wrists out of his hold and step away from his furious gaze. I pull my shirt up and off and throw it on his bed. As he looks at my bra-covered upper torso, his angry gaze changes to shock then quickly morphs into desire.

  I point to my butterfly tattoos that cover my scars. The scars He gave me when He plunged a knife into my side and chest. “You should never be ashamed of your wounds, Fallon. They’re proof of how strong you are. That you’re a fighter. I should know.”

  Fallon comes closer and falls to his knees in front of me. I hold my arms over my head so he can examine my scars better. He gently glides a finger up and down each raised ridge. I notice that his hands are shaking but his face is full of fury and his mouth is pressed into a tight line.

  “Where’d you get your ink?”

  “A non-profit in Seattle that helps trauma victims.”

  His fingers gracefully glide over every part of each broken butterfly. I watch as his eyes travel south to my stomach. He touches my C-section scar above the waistband of my jeans, and I suck in a breath.

  “What about this one?”

  “That’s a secret for another day,” I reply and grab my shirt, pulling it back on. Fallon remains kneeling on the plush hotel carpet looking up at me. “Maybe one day you’ll tell me about yours,” I softly say down to him.

  He nods and stands up. Clearing his throat, he tells me, “There’s a club I’d like to take you to. We can get wasted and dance until we pass out.”

  Sounds perfect. “Oh, before I forget, I’m adding another condition to our deal.”


  Fallon groans and throws himself back on the bed like he’s cliff diving into a pile of clothes.

  “I promise it’s a good thing. I want to visit a women’s shelter while we’re here.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  “Nope.”

  “You wanting to do some volunteer work there or something?”

  “Or something,” I tease.

  “Can’t I just donate some money to whoever so we can spend our day doing something more fun?”

  “That’s not the point, Nutter Butter. You’re surrounded by all this wealth. I know I sound a bit hypocritical since I’m currently the one spending and enjoying the fruits of your money, but I think it will be good for both of us if we go. As for why the women’s shelter, specifically? I feel like it’s something I need to do, because of what happened to Hailey. Is that alright with you?”

  “Where you go, I follow, remember?”

  “Can we also go to Times Square tomorrow?”

  “Yes, kitten. Now go get dressed. I suggest you wear the red mini dress.”

  I roll my eyes, something I seem to be doing a lot of recently. “You don’t tell me what to do Fallon Montgomery,” I sing out and walk downstairs. I put on the red dress anyway and pair it with some black knee-high dress boots that Fallon also picked out for me today.

  It’s the first day of November, which in New York City means it’s cold, and the boots will be better than strappy heels. Besides, I’m also not dumb enough to wear high heels when I’m expected to dance all night. I leave my hair down in its usual mess of haphazard waves. The pink tips and streaks in my hair have faded and are barely visible. I’m not a makeup wearing type of girl, but I do put on some mascara and lipstick which I stole from Tatiána’s stash in her bathroom.

  “I’m ready!” I yell out when I exit my room. Fallon’s waiting for me. “Looking good,” I say when I see him. He’s dressed in snug-fitting jeans and a long-sleeved dark blue button-up. He doesn’t return the compliment, but I notice his eyes keep straying to my ass as we take the elevator down to the private parking garage.

  Fallon leads me to an awaiting dark sedan, and I must have a mirthful expression on my face because he asks, “What?”