Fight For Me by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Luna

I spendmy Tuesday in the yoga studio. I finish at nine, which means missing dinner with Harrison and his family. When I arrive at the Beesley’s penthouse, Harrison is in the foyer discussing something with Scott.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets me, brushing my lips with his.

“Hi,” I mumble then turn my attention to Scott. “Hey.”

Harrison lifts his right hand that holds a binder and says, “Can we have a word?”

I nod.

“See you at home, Scott,” Harrison says, placing his free hand on the small of my back.

When we arrive at my room, he closes the door and hands me the folder. “Here’s what you’ve been looking for,” he says.

I open and start reading, taking a seat on my bed. I read every word, study every picture, and remind myself to breathe while doing such. After I finish, I repeat the process all over again. Nothing makes sense. This isn’t what I asked him to give me.

I wanted the truth about Mom’s death. This isn’t it. “You’re wrong,” I mumble.

There’s a picture of a baby sitting down next to her mother. I can’t see the body of my mother but I know it’s her, because the baby next to her looks like—me? That can’t be me. It was Sammie who was taken along with her, not me. I was safe…somewhere.

Wasn’t I?

I stand up from the bed, brushing past Harrison to reach the small desk where I keep my files. I’ve gone through this information so much, I know immediately where to find the folder with the original documents. I open it and go through the highlighted notes, double checking the few pictures I have. There’s no baby in the picture, just Mom, eyes closed with a white sheet over her body. No description of the child, no mention of her at all really.

The file I have is thin, too thin compared with what Harrison gave me. I’ve known about it for a long time. I expected that the other one would be larger, but not completely different, and I can’t help the bitter laugh I let out when I compare the two. This binder has interviews, testimonies, and pictures. So many pictures of where they found her, how they found her…

In one of the pictures, I see her as they must have found her: a naked, bruised and bloody corpse next to some bushes. Her eyes are wide open, and her long blond hair is matted in multiple places, stained with blood. Her face had been turned toward her baby in her last moments. They found her car abandoned on Highway 95. Their little boy was close by, asking for help from the drivers who passed along the site. According to her husband, she was going to visit her mother. I had no idea. Mom was found in a wooded area, in Greenwich.

“Lucas,” I gasp, covering my mouth. “He was there too, but they only took her and…me.” My voice disappears as I continue reading page after page of the same.

A lump forms in my throat, my stomach turning with every new revelation. She suffered so much, experienced so much torture before they finally killed her. A hiker found her because the baby was crying.

And the killer left a note.

She’s next. You can’t hide them from us.

My stomach ties into knots, my breathing is uneven. I’m frightened for the children who almost died, for the way my mother…this can’t be true. I am in a state of denial.

“That was an act of brutality. Why do you think he hired that man?” I’m still hoping to blame her ex-husband for taking away my mother and destroying our family.

“Who?”

“Sammie’s dad.”

“It wasn’t Sammie’s father.” Harrison takes the file away from me.

“There’s no other option,” I insist, shaking my head. “Then why did he keep Sammie away from us?”

“He filed a restraining order against your father after this happened. He claimed that Cristobal was a danger to his child. Though your dad fought it, he never got to see her again.”

“Where was Sammie?”

“According to my investigators, she was with her father,” Harrison responds. “Your mom wasn’t allowed to take her out of the city without his consent.”

Then what happened to my sister? I thought seeing her mother die had broken her but now I’ll never know for sure. Maybe she never recovered from missing us, or maybe it was abuse. Mom always said in her journals that he was hitting Sammie.

“I feel like my entire life is a lie.” I plop on top of my bed, resting my elbows on my thighs and cradling my head.

“I wouldn’t call it a lie,” he says, quietly.

A sob elbows up my throat. I’m as confused now as I’ve ever been. Hurt. My father lied to me. All these years he—“He lied to me.”

“There’s always another side to the story, Luna.”

“What would you do?” I lift my head, looking at him.

“If I were your father or if I was you?” He exhales harshly.

“If it was your wife,” I rectify.

His face goes slightly pale. He takes me into his embrace. He brushes sweet kisses up the side of my neck. “If you were taken away from me, I’d die with you.”

The tone of his voice and the words rock my entire system. I couldn’t survive if he died either. I know that’s what happened to my father. I doubt that he’ll ever be the guy he was when Mom was around. But why hide it from me?

“Harry.” I push him away, walking across the room. “Help me understand, please.”

I can’t think about Harrison and what’ll happen to him when I die. This probably isn’t the best time to tell him, By the way, I don’t have too much time left. The women in my family only last thirty-one years. But I’m falling so hard for him and the reminder that we can never be feels like a vice around my lungs. I push it away before I’m overcome.

“There has to be a better answer than the one he’s given me. I don’t accept that I just have to live with the lies I’ve been told.” I say. “What would you do?”

“I probably would bury everything so deep that no one would ever know what happened. I wouldn’t want my kid to know that. You have to talk to him.”

“Harry,” I say, as I see his face breaking.

Harrison pulls me back into his comfortable arms, and the weight of the world vanishes from my body. He cups my face, catching my lips with his. The kiss is soft at first but becomes deeper, rougher, passionate. It’s so much different from all the other kisses we’ve shared since we came back from the Keys. Meaningful, lustful, but healing too. It’s like he’s trying to absorb my pain with every touch of his tongue.

“Sorry, I can’t think about losing you. Not when we are finding each other and—” he pauses and shakes his head—“Stop torturing yourself and talk to him.”

“You think I have to?”

“That’s the only way you’ll find your answers, little moon.”

Is he right? Will Dad finally tell me what happened? I can’t think, this is all too much.

“Luna, how can I help you?” Harrison’s concerned voice warms my heart. “We can fix everything—one thing at a time. You have my support. I can listen, suggest, or do whatever you feel is necessary.”

I know I could get through this by myself, but having him here makes everything so much easier. His heartbeat reminds me that there’s hope. His strength shows me that pain can only break you for so long. Learning the truth about the past isn’t the end of the world. This might be the beginning of something different. But what?

“He’s been lying to me,” I complain, resting my head on his chest. “Dad, Lucas… I bet Tiago knows too. Why would they hide that?”

“Say the word, and I can have you in Alexandria tomorrow morning.”

“Jess will fire me,” I retort, but does it matter. I can find something else later. “But I want to talk to him.”

“I’ll set it up for tomorrow morning.” I close my eyes, blurt the words and hope he says yes. “Stay with me tonight.”

“Luna, I can’t. Not yet.”

“Just hold me, nothing else.” I smile, pretending to be fine with the arrangement. Telling him that I want to be with him might grant me a no, and my emotions are too fragile to handle the rejection, even when his reasons are sweet.

We are not ready.

What happened to his cheesy and crass innuendos?

I’ll be setting you on fire.

There hasn’t been any fire. The heat between us increases, and I feel like I’m about to combust, all alone.

“Fuck, give me strength.” He closes his eyes. “We’ll play things by ear.”