"Hello and good evening, I'm Jenna Archer here for HKWC News tonight sitting down with a very interesting name in the media as of late, Mr. Jay Shepherd.  Mr. Shepherd has two children who've been in the spotlight recently.  Jay, can I call you Jay?  What's that like for you?"

My father, dressed impeccably in a dark navy suit, no sign of his red tinted eyes that gave off the fact that he'd been drinking, sat in front of the reporter who'd published the article that focused more on my relationship with Matthew than it did absolving him of the false steroids narrative that had risen once the media had caught wind of it from high school. 

My father, the man who'd abused me and beat me down into submission more times than I could count, was free of his usual yellowing pallor, face clear of scruffy hair that usually adorned his chin and cheeks.  

My father, the man who was supposed to protect me with everything he had in him, the man who'd betrayed me and my brother and my mother over and over again, was sitting down to do a fucking tell-all interview with a reporter known for flipping words and telling the story that she wanted, sometimes stories that weren't even necessarily true. 

"It's amazing, to tell you the truth.  All I wanted for my boy, for Eli, was to achieve his goals, and look at him now, on a huge team and married with kids to a wonderful woman.  I couldn't have asked for more for him."

Eli snorted, muttering, "I'm not 'his' boy.  He's my fucking step-dad."

But he wasn't my step-dad, unfortunately.  No, I had a blood claim to the man sitting before us all on the television and my heart hammered uncomfortably in my chest as I tried to slow my breathing down. 

My phone was blowing up with notifications from Phoebe, Zeke, Lan and even Dorian, all of them asking if I was okay and what the hell Jay was doing on national television, but I didn't respond, just stayed in a half catatonic trance while Matthew let me lean my entire weight into him, uncaring of the way it was perceived by Eli or V; he was giving me comfort and I wasn't about to refuse. 

"And Elodie Shepherd, are you proud of your biological daughter as well?  You helped train your step-son Eli in basketball, but Elodie was taken from your custody at just fourteen years old.  What can you tell me about what happened there?"

My father tensed as he began recalling events that happened almost five years ago to the date.  I was taken from my 'family' a month before my fifteenth birthday.  

The five year anniversary of Eli and V taking custody of me was next month, and then the next month, November, it would be my nineteenth birthday.

"We were going through a hard time, Elodie's mother and me," Jay started, voice gruff like he was trying to hold back tears.  I scoffed, feeling anger rise in my chest, but I stayed quiet so I could listen intently to what he had to say. 

Matthew only hugged me tighter, lips brushing against my temple to keep me grounded. 

I could barely feel the tingles from his touch. 

"When you say a hard time, are you referring to the court's decision to place Elodie in her older brother's care, as well as his girlfriend, Virginia?"

"Yes.  I want to say they were wrong for doing that, but I can't.  I had let the alcohol addiction get to me, and her mother wasn't much better.  We weren't fit parents for her then, but I came on here tonight to show her that we're better now, that we love her, and her brother, too.  We're going through a family tragedy and we just want to be there for her, for both of them."

"Are you speaking about Elodie's grandfather being in the hospital with terminal cancer?"

My father nodded on the screen, just as a drop of sweat beaded up on his forehead, the perspiration trailing a line down his face and taking a streak of makeup with it. 

Underneath it all, the fake-ness and the facade, he was still as gaunt and yellow as he always had been.  His liver probably had a year, two max, if he kept up his drinking habits. 

His drink of choice was ranging anywhere from an entire case of lite beer to a bottle of Jack mixed with a can of coke.  He'd always make me mix them, and if I put too much coke in with it, he'd find someway to remind me just how he liked it. 

Nausea boiled up in my gut, but I couldn't run from this.  Not now, not yet. 

"Why haven't you reached out to her?  Show her and her brother that they can rely on you now?"

"They think I'm only coming back for their money.  They don't trust me, and I don't blame 'em.  I was a terrible father, an even worse step-father.  I only want them to know that I don't want nothing from them, not even their forgiveness.  I can go to my grave knowing there's no repairing the things that I did, only moving forward.  I don't want my dad going to his grave without seeing his only grandkids."

"And Jay, what exactly did you do to feel that you don't deserve their forgiveness?  You're family, surely a mediation can be reached between you."

"No, no there's no going back from what I did.  My little Ella, if you're watching this, I just want you to know I didn't mean it.  I love you with everything in my heart, and when I came back and found you again in New York, I was trying to quit.  I was on day three of withdrawals, and I promise I didn't mean to hurt you as bad as I did, but I just couldn't help myself.  I'm clean now, got my gold chip, ten months sober.  I can show it to you if you want.  I just want you to see granddad before it's too late.  I know you can't come home sweetie, you're probably doing so well in school, got yourself a nice boyfriend to take care of you, but don't let what I've done to you ruin your goodbye with him.  He has no part in what I did to you."

I was vaguely aware of my body shaking, trembling and shivering and twitching against Matthew's side.  After this, he'd realize that I wasn't worth it. 

That I was damaged. 

That he deserved much more than a broken girl who could barely keep herself together, let alone have a mature and normal adult relationship.

"Jay, were you an abusive father?"

My father's head turned downward, faux shame crossing his features.  I'd gotten used to reading his tells, knowing when he was playing for the sake of others, especially during the home visits with social services. 

"I was.  I let my temper get the better of me, with both my kids.  I did my time and I paid for my sins.  My kids left me.  But this isn't about me, it's about my own father, who treated those kids like they were the most important thing in the world to him.  He's dyin', and he hasn't seen them in five years.  It's time to put the past in the past and give the family a second chance.  I think my dad deserves that."

My grandfather was never a part of our lives.  I held no feelings for the man since I hardly ever saw him.  He never bought us Christmas or birthday presents, didn't call, never showed up, nothing. 

That man was nothing to me. 

But the rest of the world didn't know that.  Would they side with Jay?  He was pulling off the shameful apologetic father act, but he'd just confessed on national tv that he was abusive.  They would never know the extent to it, though. 

That I bore scars of my childhood on my skin as a memory of what had happened to me at his hands.  

Scars from the time he spoke about visiting me in New York, when he'd found me and beat me up until I was barely recognizable.  

And I'd just stood there and let it happen, because I'd been weak. 

Because I couldn't fight him back, not when seeing him in person sent me right back to how it used to be back in Florida, when he had all the power.  I was reduced to the little girl who had to take his punches and his snarled, drunken words, and brush it off like it was nothing.  Like I was nothing, no one, something unworthy of the kind of love a parent should have given to their child. 

"And your step-son, Eli...he claims he framed his best friend for steroids just to strengthen his chances at a basketball scholarship at a college closer to home, to watch over his little sister, to protect her.  Why did she need such protection, Jay?  Was it protection from you that she needed?"

"I'm not going to sit here and lie to you all.  I went to prison for what I've done.  She needed protection from me, yeah.  And I paid for what I did, had her taken away, did my time.  I'm not looking to talk about the past.  I know I can't make right what I did, but maybe I can make things good for my father before he goes.  It's what he deserves."

"And Elodie, your daughter...she's now with that same best friend that Eli framed for steroids.  What do you think about that?"

"I'm glad that she's got someone who's selfless, who's willing to take the fall for something he didn't do to protect the people he loves.  I'm not too thrilled about the age gap, but she's eighteen, so I can't really say much about that.  As long as she's happy, though, I'm happy.  I just wish things could've been different--that I'd been sober and she didn't need protection from me in the first place.  I'm just damn sorry."

"Well I'm sure she'd be happy to know just how sorry you are.  Thank you again Jay for sitting down with me tonight.  And to our viewers, if you or a loved one is suffering from domestic abuse, please don't hesitate to visit the website or call the hotline number at the bottom of your screen for help, as well as the RAINN number listed.  You are not alone.  I'm Jenna Archer from HKWC News..."

The reporter's voice trailed off as the room went quiet.  V muted the tv once the interview cut to commercial, and we all sat there, shellshocked in the aftermath of what Jay had just dropped at our feet. 

There was an explosion of sorts happening inside my head, something I couldn't stop.  Something that would never stop happening. 

Seeing his face, hearing his words...my mind knew not to trust him, but that stupid, idiotic piece of hope flared up inside of me and it hurt worse than the anger and hatred that I used as my shield against the rest of the world everyday. 

Common sense pushed the hope out, but I couldn't stop it before it unfurled and spooled out in my mind like a parasite, clutching on to the love that should've been there for my father. 

I was going to cry, and I wanted to be far, far away from everyone before that happened. 

"I need to go."

"No, wait, Elodie.  We still need to talk about--"

I shrugged out of Matthew's hold, grateful that he knew I needed to implement some boundaries. 

"No, V.  I can't talk anymore, not tonight.  I am officially emotionally exhausted.  I'm going to go back to my dorm and sleep, and then when I'm ready, maybe this weekend, we'll talk some more.  I love you, both of you, but I can't do this here, not now.  Matthew, will you walk me to my car please?"

Stone faced and reserved, Eli said nothing as his best friend escorted his little sister out of their penthouse, and shut the door behind on him. 

"You're sure you're alright?  You can always stay the night at my place."

I stiffened at Matthew's sweet words, fingers tingling as his hand interlocked with my own in the elevator, but I shook my head solemnly. 

"As much as I appreciate you being there for me lately, and for everything you've been doing, I just need some time to myself.  I promise I'm just going to my dorm to wallow, I'm not going to do anything reckless."

"I wasn't thinking you would do that.  I just wanted you to know that you didn't have to be completely alone if you didn't want to be."

"I know.  Thank you, Matthew."

We reached my car, but I didn't make a move to open the door. 

He had me caged in against the driver's side door. 

My heart pummeled my chest in a staccato beat as he reached up gingerly, hesitantly, almost like he was afraid that I would break under his touch. 

I leaned into his hand as it caressed my cheek, gripping firmly with his thumb trailing my jaw, long fingers stretched to tangle in my hair. 

"You're probably the strongest woman I've ever met, Elodie Shepherd."

"I'm not strong, I just survived."

"Some wouldn't have.  You're still here, and you're stronger than what happened to you, you're more than your past."

Oh, Matthew.  If only I actually believed that, then maybe I wouldn't feel so damn tarnished, broken, used.  A colossal waste of space. 

I only felt worthy of love and happiness rarely, like when I was soaring through the air jumping off a cliff, or doing a complete flip in the air on a dirt bike, or even free climbing up a mountain face with no one below to catch me if I fell. 

"You're not mad that the world knows about us now?  Whatever we are, anyway..."

"I'm not mad at all.  I was okay with anything you wanted.  I would've stayed being your secret fling for as long as you wanted, even if it damn near killed me not being able to push, to see what you really wanted out of this."

"Is it bad that I still don't know?  What I want?  I mean, I just...you saw what a shit show my life is right now, plus I just got out of a long term relationship barely two months ago.  It just doesn't feel fair to you that you're basically a rebound."

"Are you planning on ditching me once you're over that Ben guy?"

"I was over Ben the second you kissed me in the club.  Have I ditched you yet?"

He smirked, head dipping low until our foreheads were touching, the slight contact of his skin on mine branding me as if with a hot iron. 

Sea green eyes peered deep down into my soul, and I was worried he could see right through my escape plan, to where it was I was actually going. 

"I wasn't aware my kisses had that effect on you."

I hitched a breath, but couldn't make the laugh fully formed, not as his lips descended on mine in a cacophony of fluttering breaths and the pitter patter of rain on the concrete roof of the parking garage. 

The kiss was firm and sweet and claiming, a searing sensation that robbed me of my breath and all thoughts of the rest of the night. 

But I couldn't drown myself in Matthew.  Not yet at least. 

My arms wrapped around his neck and tugged him down closer to me, his body fitting against mine like he was made specifically for me. 

Warmth seeped through his body to mine even as the cold metal of the car dug into my back.  

He pushed every ounce of what he was feeling into that kiss, and it wasn't lost on me that he had let me set the boundaries, set the pace, for whatever it is that we were doing.  He hadn't even pushed me to define anything with us, and while that would normally make other girls wary, for me, it gave me breathing room. 

It gave me the space I needed to clear my own shit out of my head. 

So I got lost in this kiss, in this beautiful creation of lips against lips, body against body, soul against soul.  

And when it was over and he pulled back slowly, my mouth pulsing and throbbing from the bruising passion of our own emotions, I saw the spark there in his eyes. 

He wasn't going to let me go, which was good, because I'd need someone there to bring me back from the brink. 

"Goodnight, El.  Call me when you get back to your dorm," he'd said, but it wasn't a demand.  It was a sweet request.  Matthew was only ever controlling in the bedroom, but out in real life where the stakes were high and emotions even higher, he knew and understood my own boundaries and needs almost better than I understood them myself. 

So when I drove away and headed straight for the studio after bidding him a sweet goodbye, his lone figure standing in his same spot until my car took him out of my sight, I knew he wouldn't push when I didn't call, or text, or show up back at home that weekend. 

He'd give me the space I needed, whether to heal or destroy myself, was still to be determined. 

But when Leila spotted me in her studio, soaking wet head to toe in rainwater, she merely pulled me into a bone crushing hug before letting me borrow some extra gym clothes. 

I pulled them on, dried my tears, planted my feet in front of the punching bag, and went to work.

***

A/N:

Happy New Year!

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!

What do you think will happen next?

Will Elodie heal, or self destruct? 

What do you WANT to happen next? 

How did you hear about this story???

Until next time my lovely readers, 

Kristen :)