A Legacy Written Forever – Robert Bell novel Chapter 11

Maybe

Dawson

When I got to Isha’s house, the lights were all off, it was dark on the street except for a streetlamp that was in front of the next-door neighbor’s house. I hurriedly shut my car off, got out, and rounded the vehicle to the passenger side. I opened the door and gently picked her up. I had already gotten the keys out of her clutch, so when I got to the door I opened it. I searched for a wall switch and found it. I carried her over to the couch and gently laid her down.

I brushed the hair out of her face. She was so beautiful. I could see tear stains on her face, and my heart squeezed for her. I took off her shoes and saw a blanket over a stuffed chair. I grabbed it and put it around her.

I laid her clutch, the envelope, and her keys on the table. I didn’t know if I should stay or leave her. What if that b*stard came home? Who knows how much more damage he could do to her emotionally? What if he brought Madilyn home with him? God, I wanted to hit that jerk so badly. Taking a deep breath, I decided to stay for half an hour and if she didn’t wake up by then, then I’d leave a note with my number.

I sat on the overstuffed chair and took out my phone. I knew if I didn’t text one of the guys they’d be worried and hunt me down.

Hey, got caught up in something, won’t be home when I said I would be. I’m going to wait it out for thirty minutes, and then I’ll head home, so I’ll be home in an hour or hour and a half.

Davis: What did you get caught up in?

A pretty little thing. H*ll not just pretty, absolutely stunning.

Davis: Reeeaallly????

Maybe, right now, she just needs a friend.

Davis: Copy that. See you soon.

The little heart made me smile. I wasn’t s*xually involved with any of my friends. I didn’t swing that way, but Davis, Mic and Ford found comfort in each other, and I was okay with that. PTSD was a real thing in life. I knew that there were some people that thought that you could just deal with it and not let things trigger you, but that’s not how life worked. You see some sh*t, you go through some sh*t, and some sh*t sticks with you. Some people find relief in the bottom of a bottle, some with a lot of people. Some find relief with their best buddies. That’s what Mic, Ford and Davis did. Me? I work, I drown myself in it. If I’m not hunting someone down, I’m doing paperwork and networking. If I do find some sleep, it’s rare I go a night without a nightmare.

with drugs or a lot of s* S

A soft moan caught my attention. I shifted and went to my knees to kneel in front of her.

1/4

Her eyes fluttered open, she took a minute and then focused on me.

“Hi, do you remember me?” I hope she didn’t freak out at me.

“Dawson Becks,” she whispered. “You brought me home?”

“Yeah, you asked me to right before you fainted.”

“Right, it’s all coming back to me now,” she said, as tears began to seep from her eyes. Then she broke into a sob. I gathered her into my arms, picked her up, sat on the couch and put her in my

lap.

She cried for a good fifteen minutes as I held her and rocked her. I tried to soothe her the best way

I could.

When she calmed down, I saw there was a box of tissues on the table. I leaned over and grabbed

her a couple. She took them from me and mopped up her face.

“Thank you. I’m sorry I’ve sobbed all over you. I don’t think you wanted to end your night holding a

broken woman,”

“You’re not broken sweetheart. You just had a sh*tty f*cktard hurt your feelings.”

She snorted at that. I was glad I could give her some humor. It meant she would be okay.

“I knew this was going to happen. I mean not him asking for a divorce. I assume that’s what’s in the envelope. But for months there were signs. It started right after our one-year anniversary. He

started coming home later and later. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. He was a hard worker.

He told me about this billionaire who was looking for land. He showed him a lot of land and

houses, and they went to a lot of dinners, and apparently strip clubs, because that’s what Jason

told me. I used to, with past clients, go to those dinners too, but this time I wasn’t invited. So, for

six months, I endured his late nights out, him not coming home for dinner, the all-day texts and

calls on his days off.