Then it happened; an explosion that rocked her body. She arched and screamed. Her voiced echoed in the room and perhaps could be heard a mile down the empty road. She felt her walls tighten around his tongue while her juices spurted into his mouth. He continued his assault on her until her body calmed.
Chapter 25
They found candles in an old drawer where his mother usually kept them. He was surprised that the matches worked. Chelsea had brought dinner, which they ate together by candlelight. There was no water for them to wash, but that was fine. He just needed to settle his past.
Colt could feel that things were about to get complicated in his life. All of his past came crashing through the door. What troubled him was dragging Chelsea into it. However, she being present in his life was a blessing. She comforted him and listened to him. She was more mature than he originally gave her credit. She was also an intelligent sexy woman beneath the shy and geeky exterior.
He’d wanted to go all the way with her, but making love to her in his dusty old house was not his idea of what her first time should be like. She was not just some pussy he was using to satiate himself. She was special. The thoughts running through his mind surprised him. He’d never called a woman special, not since his mother. But Chelsea was just that … special.
“I need to tell you about my past before we get closer,” he said.
His head was resting in her lap. She was sitting with her back against the backrest while he stretched out along the length of the sofa. She caressed his forehead and hair. He liked that. For the first time, he felt warmth with another woman and not just someone looking for something. He needed and wanted her, but he wanted to cherish her most. It was a strange but pleasant feeling for him.
“You can tell me anything. It won’t change how I feel about you,” she said, taking his hand and kissing his palm. Her lips were like fire on his skin.
“My father passed away when I was a toddler. I don’t remember him much. What I remember was how lonely and hardworking my mom was. She took care of me during the bad times and the good. Then a man came in from out of town. He was looking for a wife to take care of his kids and my mom, well, she was looking for a father for me.”
He paused, clearing his throat. His stomach churned with the thought of telling Chelsea all this. What if she didn’t understand? What if she decided not to be with him afterward? It was risky, but he wanted to start things right.
“They married, and I never saw my mom so happy before. But there were secrets. Zoe would complain that she needed to get away from her monster of a father. I had no idea what she meant. She ran away when she was sixteen, and we haven’t heard from her since.”
“She was older?” Chelsea asked.
“Hmm, by a couple of years. Jason is one year older than me.”
“Tell me what happened,” she urged.
“He beat us. It started a few months after they were married. It happened by him verbally abusing her and the one slap. Gradually, the slaps became more than one or two. Soon, it would last for hours with my mom before he turned on me.”
She bent and kissed his forehead, giving him the confidence to continue his story.
“One night, it got so bad that I thought my mother was dead.”
“What did you do?” her voice registered her concern.
He hesitated before he continued. “I fought with him.” Colt sat up. Her hand dropped to her lap, and she frowned.
“You don’t have to tell me if it hurts,” she said.
He got up and walked to a window facing the side of the yard where the old truck stood. He recalled that his stepfather had fixed his father’s old truck and driven it around. He’d begun dreading hearing that old truck roll into the yard at night. He felt Chelsea move up behind him before hugging his waist.
“Did you kill him, Colt?”
He stiffened, but he could not answer. A stab of pain so severe ripped through his stomach. His eyes stung, and something strange begun to happen. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. Not only were the memories of his brutal childhood painful to bear, but the burden of what happened that fateful night came crashing back in full force.
Chelsea pushed her head under his arm, coming around to face him. She was wiping his tears. She tipped on her toes and kissed his cheeks. “A man like that does not deserve your tears,” he heard her say.
His eyes connected with hers. He could not believe what she just said. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. I know about such things. I know of people who have had to defend themselves against evil people like him.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tight.
“Thank you,” he said in a gravelly tone. “But if you ever tell the boys that I cried, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Ha-ha, now I have something on you in case you misbehave,” she teased.
Chapter 26
Reid was out of his mind. He paced the suite like a madman. This was something he found himself doing frequently as of late. There was a pain in his chest, which he knew to be acid from stress. Colt was going to be the death of him; he knew it. Now Chelsea was missing, and he had a feeling they were together. He’d seen the looks between the two and felt the tension. However, he never thought in a million years that she would fall for the rock star. Colt was not exactly the romantic kind … was he?
“Shit!” he cursed as his blood pressure shot through the roof. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
It was not only the fact that his assistant and client were missing, but there was supposed to be a press meeting, and the reporters were beginning to speculate. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and stomped out of the hotel room. The passages seemed clear, but as the elevator closed, he thought he saw Carl Benson. He was too late in trying to the open the door; he had already selected his floor, and the thing started moving down.
“Nah, could be another fellow,” he murmured.
A sinking feeling came over him the minute he stepped from the elevator. The conference room where the press was waiting was fraught with excitement. As he neared it, he could hear the cackle of voices. The minute he entered the room, they rushed toward him.
“Mr. Richardson, is it true that Colt is gone into hiding … again?”
“Has he gone to rehab, Mr. Richardson? Are you covering up his drug habit?
A headache was pending. The voices were maddening. Reid stood at the small podium, waiting for the crowd to calm. He glared at the reporter who asked the ridiculous questions about Colt being in rehab. It took several minutes for silence, and that’s when he began to speak.
“We would appreciate the same respect we give to you. Don’t make ridiculous and damning assumptions about Colt. At this time, the Purple Crush is resting and sends his apologies for not making this meeting. He …” Reid’s voice trailed off as his eyes rested upon a figure leaning against the back wall.
Carl Benson was staring at him with amusement written all over his face. Reid knew he was the center of all the media drama about Colt. After a few minutes of a stare-down, the journalist moved off and disappeared through the door. He had the mad urge to dash after him, but another set of questions were being thrown his way.
“Listen,” he addressed them. He tried to remain as calm as possible, but the vein in his forehead was ready to pop. “Colt is not in rehab, he was not kidnapped, and no, he’s not in trouble of any kind. He needed rest after the fiasco on stage a couple of nights ago. That’s what he’s doing. Now, we have a concert to prepare for. We’ll talk at the next media meeting.”
As he stepped from the podium, someone grabbed his arm. He spun around, ready to give them an earful when he met eyes with soft brown ones. His eyes traveled lower to the familiar scarlet lipstick. His shoulders began to relax as a whiff of her familiar lilac perfume penetrated his nostrils.
“Ella, what are you doing here?” His voice softened as her name rolled off his tongue.
“My com
pany is buying a small business in the area, and I just happened to be staying at this hotel. Imagine my surprise seeing you here.”
He grinned. She was his first love, maybe his only love. They’d dated briefly in college but never went past first base. He had not forgotten her, though he knew through acquaintances that she’d married.
“How have you been?” His heart was doing backflips looking at her. Her wavy raven hair was hanging loosely off her shoulders; it glimmered in the fluorescent light of the room. His eyes drank in her heart shape faced and settled on those slightly up-curved lips.
“I’m great. How about we catch up over drinks, in my suite?” She was looking at him strangely, and his breath stopped for a second.
Reid cleared his throat. “Are you here by yourself? Where is the hubby?” he asked.
“With his new mistress, I suppose,” she casually replied.
He stared at her in disbelief. Was it his lucky day or what? However, he had no time to find out as Colt was missing, and everything was coming apart in the band. The boys were frustrated about the constant bad publicity and Colt’s continual mood swings. On the other hand, he needed the distraction, and Ella was hooking her arm through his.
She started moving forward, and like a teenage boy with his first crush, he was apt to move along. Her suite was three floors above theirs. Imagine that? Reid wondered how many times during the last few days they passed each other as they went about their business.
She ushered him into the much smaller suite than theirs. Hers was a one bedroom with living area and large balcony. It was ideal for the businessperson to hold meetings and not have guests see where they sleep. She walked to the small fridge in the kitchenette area, pulled two wine coolers, bringing them back to the living area. He briefly wondered if anyone actually used these little kitchens provided by most hotels.
“So how have you been,” he heard her ask as she handed him a bottle.
He took the cold bottle while he replied, “Good. So what happened?”
He had to divert his attention away from the curve of her hips in her tight suit skirt. She had peeled off her jacket as soon as she entered the suite and threw it over the arm of the sofa. Her sheer baby blue blouse stretched across her voluptuous chest.
“You know you don’t really want to know that,” she replied, watching his eyes.
He looked away while sipping from the bottle. The cold liquid hit his hot tongue and slid coolly down his throat. He finished it in one gulp then placed the bottle on the counter near the fridge. Ella was watching him, which made him quite awkward. She walked up beside him and sat her half-empty bottle on the counter.
“Now, why are you acting so shy?” she said. “If I remember correctly, you had a huge crush on me in college.”
“Ha-ha.” He chuckled nervously.
“Don’t deny it,” she said, placing her hand on his chest.
He grabbed her hand to pull away, but a rush of current gripped him at her touch. She stepped closer to him, her body almost touching his. Her three-inch heels making her stand almost as tall as he was. Their eyes locked, and he lost his train of thought for a minute. Without a planned thought, he pulled her close until her breasts crushed into his chest.
“It was more than just a crush, Ella,” he replied in a gravelly tone, dipping his head.
His lips were just a breath away when his phone began to ring. “Ignore it,” Ella whispered.
“It could be Colt,” he answered in a low tone.
“Colt is a big boy; he can take care of himself. I can feel your big boy needs attention,” she said as she tipped and pressed her lips to his while her hand caressed his bulging crotch.
Chapter 27
She awoke to the sound of banging. It had been a few days now that they were at Colt’s childhood home. He was feeling better from his rib injury, but his toe was still quite sore.
Chelsea sat up on the sofa where she fell asleep during the night. Looking around, she noticed the front door of Colt’s old home was slightly ajar. He’d swept the living room, removing the sheets that covered the furniture. It was a dainty little room with a homey feel.
She put on her shoes and walked toward the sound. The closer she got, she made out the noise to be metal on metal. To get to where she figured Colt to be, she had to go through the front door and around the side of the house. There he was with an iron bar banging against the old truck she’d seen the day before. The sheen of sweat on his back glistened in the early morning sun. Her cheeks flushed at seeing him without a shirt while her heart double flicked and took off gallantly down the path as their partial love making resurfaced.
For a few minutes, she stood silently watching the muscles in his back ripple each time he smacked the truck with the piece of iron bar. As if sensing her, he stopped while the metal bar hung midair, turned, and looked at her. Her heart ached as she observed the pain in his eyes and the twisted look on his face.
Without a word, he turned back to his task, slamming the bar into the already shattered hood of the truck. A few pieces of rusty tin flew about. The shell of the old vehicle had already fallen apart leaving the sturdier parts. Chelsea was of two minds, should she leave him to vent, or should she stop him from falling apart? Because that’s what she saw. Colt was falling apart like the old truck, and she did not know how to help him put the pieces back together. His story was painful, and she wasn’t sure how he would get over it.
His mood, attitude, and dark moments were all a result of the pain he carried around for the past twenty years. She went back inside, leaving him to vent some of the pain and anger he was feeling. She would not allow him to shatter. Fifteen more minutes, and she would go get him if he was unable to calm himself by then.
Five minutes, and the clanging became consistent. She detected that he was near the peak of whatever was emitting from him. At eight minutes, she detected a rhythm to his trashing of the old truck. It was strange; she swore it sounded like he was making music.
Eleven minutes and the banging began to slow to a sporadic clang before it stopped at the twelve-minute mark. The iron bar hit the ground with a loud clang, and there was silence. Colt returned to the living room with beads of sweat glistening on his bare chest. His hair curled from the sweat and hung loosely around his shoulders.
“Are you okay?” Chelsea asked. Her anxiety registered in her voice.
He nodded and answered in a gruff tone, “Yeah, I’m fine. Did I wake you?”
“No,” she replied with a smile, walking over to him. “We’ve got to get back. Reid must be out of his mind.”
“Yeah, he’s throwing a fit. There’s a press meeting this morning,” he added.
His face got serious as he strode past her into the room. She watched him pick up a towel thrown over a chair and begin to rub the sweat from his skin. He wasn’t ready to face anyone. It was evident in his body language. It was better to let him decide when they should return. Things were already bad as they were; one more day couldn’t hurt.
* * * *
As they drove back to town the following morning, he was feeling better than he’d felt in the last twenty years. Talking to Chelsea was all the therapy he needed. He saw where he could make peace with the past. Her understanding of what happened was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He never imagined in a million years that he would meet someone who would not judge or condemn him based on his past.
Now that he remembered everything, all the memories he’d buried, he must free his mother. He knew it would perhaps ruin him, but he needed to do what was right. The past must be rectified. What his mother must have gone through, sacrificing her life for his. He closed his eyes, and the past came crashing back, the night of the accident.
“Leave from here,” she’d urged.
He stared at the blood on his hands and widened his eyes. His mother quickly ran to the kitchen counter and pulled an old tin can from behind the cookie jar. From it, she extracted a roll of paper money, shoving it int
o his bloody hands.
“Go now, I’ll be fine, and don’t ever come back,” she said, kissing his cheek.
“I can’t,” his voice squeaked. “I can’t leave you. What if he’s dead?”
She shook her head vigorously. “You don’t worry about that, my son.”
He left but hadn’t gone far. By dawn, he could hear the sirens blaring as they approached the little house sitting on the three acres of land his father left them. He’d hidden in the bushes, waiting until morning to leave, but his heart broke when he saw the deputy sheriff handcuff his mother and shove her into the patrol car. An ambulance had taken away the body of his stepfather while Jason stood aside watching with a smirk. Colt never forgot the look on his stepbrother’s face.
He went into town to plead with the sheriff, but no one listened to him. Of course no one listened, he was only a child, and his mother had already given a confession. When he finally got to see his mother, she made him promise to do something with his life and never breathe a word of what happened.
“Promise me, on your father’s grave you make that promise!” she insisted.
“Ma,” he tried to beg her, his heart was thumping fiercely behind his ribs.
“Promise me!”
His shoulders sagged, and his voice lowered. “I promise Ma, if that’s what you want.”
“Yes, now go, and don’t come back. If you break your promise, I’ll never forgive you.”
His heart ached terribly as he looked at her through the metal bars that separated them. “Ma.” He winced as the pain ripped through him and a tear rolled down his cheek
Damaged Love Page 73