I Never Asked You To Save Me: Book 3 The Wakefield Romance Series

by Hewitt, Theresa Marguerite

  “Hey guy,” I yell, taking my ear buds out and heading over to him. He was about ten, skinny and lanky with messy blonde hair and his smile wide as ever as I make it to him. “Where’s Lady?” I ask, looking around him seeing his father approach with a wink.

  “Hey Ellie,” Kelley waves, whipping a towel over his shoulder and adjusting the worn out cap on his head. He slaps a massive, hard-worked hand on Bryan’s shoulder. “Go in and tell your mamma to make breakfast,” he whispers in the boy’s ear and he goes running after telling me to have a good day. Turning back to Kelly after watching his boy run into the large farmhouse, I see the strained look on his brow.

  “What’s wrong Kel,” I queried, following close behind him as he waved over his shoulder for me to come into the warm barn. The smell of musty hay and manure meet me, but don’t bother me. I’ve always wanted to live on a farm and would love to own some horses. I keep quiet, weaving around the stalls as Kelley scrapes his hand back through his short blonde hair again, stopping by the open door of one and my eyes go up to the sign stating “Lady” with curly lettering.

  “She started to foal last night,” his thick country accent flows around me as I step forward with wide eyes. The normally full of life mare was laying on her side, her rib cage rising and falling in rapid succession. Looking back and seeing the grim look on his face, Kelley says, “The foal died about two hours ago and I can’t get her to get up.”

  I took in a sharp breath as the familiar pain fills my heart and my hands go to my abdomen as tears fight to line my lashes. Looking back to the horse I grind out, “Is there anything wrong with her or is she just distraught?” I let the last word linger on my lips as I re-live my own pain, sitting curled up in a ball on my bed or couch, crying till there are no more tears to be shed. The only difference, my pain had been self-inflicted, I had done it to myself because I had seen no other way. I hadn’t seen any good for anyone coming from it.

  “Yeah, she just dropped down after Bryan took the body out. Almost crushed my leg,” he tries to smile, but I can see the stress lines on his forehead. We just stand there, not saying anything as my heart was silently breaking for the struggling mare. She is broken, like me. She is scarred, like me. I am zoned out when Kelley’s hand touches my shoulder, scaring me. “I’m not sure I can do anythin’ for her if she won’t get up on her own. Why don’t you see if you can get her up?”

  His eyes seem to cut right through me, searching for something as he looks at me. It’s like he can tell I know how she feels, but how could he? His fingers squeeze my shoulder lightly as he tries to smile and I nod.

  “What about the vet,” I almost squeak, looking from Kelley to Lady with fast glances, trying not to let the pain flooding my heart topple over and become visible on the outside. No one knows what I chose to do. No one is ever going to know.

  “I don’t have any money to pay the vet ‘cause I still owe her a thousand dollars for the last birthing. She said she’d come if I need her, but I don’t want to waste the call and the money, you know?” He was a struggling farmer and family man, and I can totally understand his stand on not wasting money.

  I take a deep breath in, rubbing my hands on my thighs and take a few hesitant steps forward into the hay covered stall. She didn’t even flinch as I rounded her face, but her eyes watch me and I can see the same sorrow in her as I see in me. Kneeling down in front of her front legs, with my knees close to her chest, I slowly, carefully run my hands down her neck, feeling the muscles twitch. She lifts her head for a second, her eye peering at me as if she was telling me to go away and as she lays it back down, I lean my forehead down on her neck, running my fingers through her wiry mane.

  “I know it hurts girl,” I whisper, fighting those tears away from my lashes, “but you gotta get up. You gotta keep goin’ or it’s not gonna end well for ya.” As I lift my head she huffs out a breath, sending a cloud of dust up around her face and she throws her head up, almost knocking me over.

  Kelley stepped in front of me, coaching Lady to her feet, “Come on girl,” he encouraged gruffly, reaching one hand out to me that I took and he pulls me up as Lady gets to her feet, shaking her coat of the hay and dirt. “Alright,” he smiles, running his hand over her shoulder and down to her hip, patting it as Lady whinnies lightly.

  “I don’t know what you said, but thank you,” he grins, shaking my hand as I shake my head, trying to play it off as I didn’t do anything. Like I didn’t know what the horse was feeling.

  As he checks her out I step outside the stall, falling back against the rough wood, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. “You made the right choice,” I tell myself silently as my hands grip into my track jacket, my knuckles turning white, and “what kind of life would they have had? With a father that would beat them like he beat you? But you have Rhea, she would’ve helped you.” That voice of guilt always sneaks its way into things when I try and talk myself out of a breakdown, but the slamming of the stall door brings me out of it, facing a still smiling Kelley.

  “I don’t know what ya did Ellie, but she seems to be doin’ okay now,” he grins, placing his hand on my shoulder as he leads me out of the barn chatting away, but I’m not listening. My mind is still trying to put itself back together. As my eyes roam over the wet gravel and the few puddles near the door, a light pat on my shoulder pulls me out of it. Shaking my head at him telling him I didn’t hear what he said he laughs, “I said did you wanna come in for some breakfast?”

  “Oh, no thank you,” I smile, patting him politely on the shoulder before backing away down the driveway, putting in one of my ear buds and cueing up my ACDC again. “I gotta get home. Today’s movin’ day remember!” I smile and wave before turning around after Kelley does the same and I’m off, trying to shake off the pain from my heart as I push my legs harder and faster than before.

  Pushing my legs till it feels like they aren’t even touching the ground, the pavement passes by under my feet as the grass, trees and the far between houses fly by but I’m not really paying attention. The tears had started as soon as I turned out of the Springs’ driveway and they flow down my cheeks as my heart tries to put itself together. “I had to do it,” I tell myself, “I couldn’t be a mother to a child when I couldn’t even take care of myself.” Hesitating for only a split second at the stop sign, I sprint across the road and keep up the pace, wanting to get to my car and leave for my new trailer in Wakefield.

  I want to leave all this pain behind, but it never leaves. It’s attached to me like a shadow. It will seem like it has disappeared but then when I least expect it, it rears its ugly little head and breaks me down, again.

  As I turn into the familiar rows of trailers, I see the fancy, shiny, brand new Audi R8 parked in front of my soon to be former home, with Marco’s stocky, well defined figure leaning against the back of it, talking with Melody. Their gazes hit me as I start to slow up, turning down the volume of Luke Bryan on my IPod and popping one of the ear buds out. I really didn’t want to talk right now, to anyone. I just want to get in my shitty Berretta and get to my new trailer, put my stuff away and take a long, hot shower.

  “Well look who decided to finally come back,” Marco smiles, flashing his perfectly straight, white teeth and I can’t help but shake my head and grin, stopping and trying to catch my breath. I lean my hip on the taillight of his grossly expensive car as I feel his dark eyes roam over me, hesitating on my right cheek and eye, a deep crease forming in his brow.

  “Yeah, well, I’m gonna go get to bed,” Melody looks me over, giving me a sad sort of smile as she notices the bruise, throwing her arm out for a one armed hug. She was taller, maybe five foot eight, with light mocha toned skin and bright pink, curly hair. She is one of the sweetest girls that work at the club with me and we have gotten close. She has two little girls, one seven and one four, with no father in the picture and she works hard to make sure they want for nothing. “I’ll miss havin’ ya so close Ell,” she says, giving me a pout before releasin
g me.

  “I know, but we’ll see each other almost every night anyways,” I grin, shrugging my shoulders and she giggles, kissing Marco on the cheek like usual before jogging over to her trailer and disappearing. Turning my attention back to my boss, I see his thick, muscular arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow cocked, looking at me with a sidelong glance.

  Shoving his attention off, I jog up the short set of stairs, throwing the door open to go and gather the last couple things from the bathroom and bedroom. The door slams behind me and I whirl around to face the intense gaze, being only a few inches from my face. His fingers grip my chin, rotating it until my bruise is right in his line of sight and I strain my eyes to see him.

  “Why didn’t you call me,” he whispers, his voice husky and deep as he releases my chin, his hands moving to my shoulders gripping them gently. I can’t look at him, but I can feel the concern in his attitude. I don’t want to talk about last night, I just want to get to my new home so I shake my head and Marco sighs deeply, releasing me to go grab my things.

  As I’m gathering the blanket and pillow from the bed, I see him from the corner of my eye lean on the door way, his hands shoved in the pockets of his designer jeans. “You know why I go out of my way to help you Ellie?” he mutters and I turn on him.

  “You mean it’s not my bubbly personality and impeccable looks?” I joke, trying to give him a mischievous grin as I shove my things into his arms. I flick my fingers through my short hair and he snorts, following me into the bathroom.

  “My dad beat my mom,” he sighs and I stop what I’m doing, turning to look at him with a slight shock on my face. Why was he telling me this? “I see her in you,” he tried to give me a smile but I can still see the pain behind it and it makes me feel guilty. It makes me feel weak.

  Throwing the face wash and makeup into a plastic grocery bag, I turn and get up on my tip toes, kissing him lightly on the cheek. “I don’t need you to worry about me,” I whisper, running my hand over his tense shoulder and chest. “I can take care of myself.”

  “That bruise begs to differ,” he snaps, snorting at me as he turns and stomps back into the kitchen/living area. Slowly following behind him, I’m scanning the area to make sure I’m not leaving anything behind when I bump right into his chest, turning my shocked face up to see his very serious one. “You call me next time. No matter what time it is.”

  His eyes go from hard to soft in a split second, trying to burrow his message into me and I grin up at him, nodding my head. Even though Marco is interested in men most of the time, I’ve seen him woo women off their feet in seconds just by looking at them and right at this moment, I can see why. His eyes are a chocolate brown, framed by prefect lashes on his strong featured face.

  I hit him lightly in the chest and have to drag my gaze away from his with a blush, “Okay, okay I’ll call you,” I give in and he thanks me. “Never give me the Marco stare ever again,” I warn and he chuckles, wrapping me in a hug from behind. He pokes and prods me until we’re out in the driveway, throwing the last things into the passenger seat of my car.

  “I’ll follow you,” he smiles, sliding into the driver’s seat of his tuned up sports car and sliding on his sunglasses with exaggerated movements. I can’t help but roll my eyes, slamming the door shut on my Beretta and bringing her to life. She’s loud, but she runs well and I crank up the radio, blaring Eric Church as I whip it backwards, and spraying gravel at Marco. He throws his hands up and honks his horn as I mouth an “Oops” to him with a grin, flooring it out of the trailer park and screeching my tires on the pavement of the road, headed towards my new home in Wakefield.

  Fifteen minutes later, we pull into the Wakefield trailer park, passing that bastard Duke Orr’s old trailer, now occupied by his cousin Jesse Ludwell. I curse under my breath hoping he’s having a horrible time in jail. Two more down we come to mine. The outside is a light rust kind of color with dark brown shutters. Pulling into the gravel covered, one car drive, I pull my Beretta close to the porch to make it easy to unload my boxes and Marco revs his engine, pulling behind me.

  I shake my head and wag my finger at him as he grins, revving the engine again, letting the turbo whine and then shutting it off. “You’ll make enemies with my neighbors,” I chide, running up the steps and unlocking the screen and storm doors, propping them open.

  The inside isn’t the best, but it is mine for now. The carpet is thin and brown all throughout the single wide minus the kitchen and bathroom, which are cheap beige linoleum. The walls are faded, peeling floral wallpaper which I plan on re-painting when I have the cash and I can hear Marco’s grumbles and disapprovals as he carries the first couple of boxes in.

  “Wood paneling,” he smirks, setting the boxes down in the living room, tapping his fingers on the hallway paneling that looks like it’s straight out of the seventies. “Classy,” he mumbles and I hit him on the shoulder, pushing him back out the door to get more boxes.

  I want to get this unloading and some unpacking done so I can take a shower. I need to wash away the events of last night and this morning.

  Plus, I get to see Bobby in a few hours and he always makes me feel good.

  CHAPTER TWO:

  Ellie

  I’ve been laying on the mattress in my new bedroom for an hour now, wrapped only in a towel after flopping down here right out of the shower. The ceiling is yellowed but it’s starting to be less visible as the shadows of the moving sun bring the afternoon. Marco left when all the boxes were in from my car, needing to attend a meeting at his newest project in Virginia Beach.

  I’ve been laying here replaying the confrontation with Jake from last night, unable to get the anger in his face out of my mind. “Where’s the baby you whore,” he had yelled, grabbing my arms as I threw them up to try and protect myself, yanking me to him and holding me tight as he screamed in my face. “Did you kill our baby? You’re a no good piece of shit, you’re a baby killer,” he spat, pushing me back and slapping me the first time, knocking me to my knees.

  His words stung harder than his hit and even now, lying on my back alone in my empty trailer, they bring tears to my eyes. I hadn’t said anything in reply to Jake’s name calling, I had kept my mouth shut, taking the physical and emotional blows like I always had and trying to file them away so they won’t crack the wall around my heart. He had pulled me to my feet, his nose bumping mine as he growled more insults at me, shaking me as he screamed, “Why would you do that to me? To our baby?” Then he had let it loose, hitting me till I was nothing but a crying, curled up bundle in the middle of the living room floor, leaving with the slam of the front door.

  “I did it because there would have come the day when the child would have pissed you off about something, and you would have hit them,” I whisper to myself, sitting up and letting the towel fall away. “You would have hit them and then I would have to kill you.” It was the truth. Jake could have sworn up and down that he would never hit the child like he did me, but it was all lies and when that day came, I wouldn’t be able to take it. I did what I did to spare the child from a life of pain and torment.

  Three loud knocks make me jump and I stand frozen for a second, my heart beating a mile a minute in my ears. Maybe I was hearing things, but no, three loud knocks again and I yell, “Hold on a minute,” hurriedly searching in my duffle bags, pulling on a bra and panty set. The knocks come again, this time louder as I’m stumbling down the wood paneled hallway tugging on a pair of jeans, a red tank and a striped, hooded thermal.

  Reaching the front door, I grip the handle and yank it open, angrily saying, “I said I was comin’,” when the man on the steps catches my eye. It was Jude Faber, a bouncer from Subzero, standing in a tight muscle revealing tee and worn out, snug jeans with a killer grin on his lips. “H-hey,” I stammer, subconsciously running my fingers through my still damp, bobbed hair, brushing it back off my forehead.

  “Hey Ellie,” he grins, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans
making my eyes skip over their position and notice the bulge in the blue jean material. “Jus’ wanted to say welcome to the neighborhood.” I’m still kind of speechless as I grunt a reply, leaning on the doorway and taking in the handsome man’s appearance.

  Jude is about five foot ten; tan and a work-out junkie, the bulging muscles under his shirt atone to that. A few of his numerous tattoos peek out from under the collar of his shirt and at the openings of his sleeves. I snap out of it, noticing that I’m making him a little nervous as I ogle him and he runs his hand back through his short, gel spiked black hair, his light brown eyes darting from me to his feet.

  “Oh, yeah, thanks,” I smile, “did you wanna come in?” I side step, waving my hand for him to come in and he chuckles, nodding his head and walking past me. Shutting the door, I turn to see him appraising the boxes of my stuff and the worn out furniture supplied by the landlord. “I haven’t had time to unpack much, but I might have a few beers somewhere. Would you like one if I can find them?”

  “Yeah,” he grins and I’m frantically looking through the plastic grocery bags containing what was left in my fridge at the old trailer. “Marco stopped by before he left and said you had just moved in so I figured I’d give you a couple of hours before sayin’ hello.” He has a nice melodic voice and I nod my head to him as I keep rummaging through the bags, finally coming to a box and spotting the bottles.

  “Got’em,” I say triumphantly and Jude laughs as I hold the bottles up. Feeling the bottles, they’re not too warm and I hand him one with a smile. He quickly twists off the cap, reaching over and doing the same to mine as he puts his to his lips. “Well this is it,” I giggle clearing a spot for him to sit on the couch.