Legacy (Steel Brothers Saga #14) - Helen Hardt Page 0,5
drinking too much.
Most likely because of me.
And now my beautiful mother had taken pills.
Because I’d come home pregnant.
I quickly dialed information and got the number for the pub.
Chapter Five
Brad
What kind of story did Jonathan have to tell me? I already knew everything, except for why Daphne didn’t know the truth about her best friend.
Was that what had sent her into anxiety and depression? But how could it have if she didn’t even know?
“I’m listening,” I said. “But nothing you tell me will make me love Daphne any less.”
“I hope that’s true, son. I sincerely hope that’s true.” Jonathan cleared his throat. “It’s not an easy story to tell. Not for anyone, and especially not for me.”
“I can’t imagine it’s easy for anyone to talk about the death of a young girl,” I agreed.
“If only that were all there was to it.” He took a sip of his second Irish whiskey.
I wished, then, that I’d let the barkeep make me a second as well.
No. Better to stay focused. Whatever Jonathan had to tell me, I’d remain calm.
Nothing would sway my love for Daphne and my unborn child.
“You know Daphne was hospitalized. What you don’t know is why.”
“It wasn’t anxiety and depression?”
“Son, most cases of anxiety and depression don’t require hospitalization.”
“But my mother…”
“From what you’ve described, your mother most likely had a mental breakdown brought on by your father’s emotional and physical abuse.”
“But I stopped it. She was hospitalized after I stopped it.”
“You may have stopped the physical abuse. That doesn’t mean it ended for her. I’m not a doctor, Brad. I’m not going to try to diagnose your mother. But I do know this, from experience. Most anxiety and depression can be treated with therapy, medication, or both. Rarely is hospitalization necessary, and certainly not hospitalization for an entire year.”
“So Daphne wasn’t anxious and depressed? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Oh, she was, but there was much more to it than that.”
Again, I wished for that second drink. Was I ready to hear this?
Didn’t matter. I loved this man’s daughter. She was carrying my child. I’d made a commitment to her—a commitment I’d stand by, no matter what.
But I had to know what I was dealing with.
“She’s told me she doesn’t remember a lot about that year.”
“She doesn’t, and she’s better off for it.”
“All right,” I said. “Let me have it.”
Jonathan rubbed his chin. “It’s very complex, and it’s not pretty. In fact, it’s horrific.”
My heart sped up as my blood thundered through my veins. “God. Okay. I get it. Please. Just tell me.”
“It happened in August, right before Daphne’s junior year was to begin. Daphne told Lucy and me she was spending the night at Sage’s. Only that’s not what happened.”
I nodded, unable to speak. Jonathan’s voice was muffled beneath the noise of my own blood gushing through me. At least that was what it seemed like.
“Sage told her parents she was spending the night at our house.”
It took me a few seconds to register his words and then reply. “That’s an old trick. Most teens have tried it.”
“And most teens get away with it, no harm done,” Jonathan said. “That wasn’t the case for Daphne and Sage.”
My bowels clenched as nausea clawed its way up my throat. I knew this feeling. The fight-or-flight response.
Flight was tempting.
But this was Daphne. My love.
I chose to fight.
“Go on,” I said.
“It was a Saturday evening. No one knows the details of where they were going or why, but they ended up at the high school after dark.”
After dark. Already I knew where this was headed.
I swallowed back the puke that threatened.
“Someone found them behind the stadium bleachers early in the morning and called the police and an ambulance.”
“Oh, God.”
“They’d been beaten and raped, Brad. Both of them.”
No.
No. No. No.
Not my Daphne. Not my beautiful Daphne. I clenched my fists. Fight. I’d fight. I’d fucking kill.
“No,” I finally said aloud, my eyes squeezed shut.
“I know how you’re feeling.”
My eyes shot open. “How can you possibly know?”
“Because I’m her father, Brad. Three men—”
“Three? Oh my God.” I buried my head in my hands. Three men who’d die at my hands if it was the last thing I did.
“Look at me.”
I stayed buried.
“Look at me, Brad.”
Be strong. Be fucking strong.
I raised my head and met Jonathan’s gaze. His eyes were glassy.
“Three men violated my little girl. My little girl. They stole her innocence, and they stole more than that, which I’ll get to in a minute.”
“Three? Where the fuck are they? Rotting in prison? I’ll have them