Follow Me Back (A Fight for Me Stand-Alone Novel Book 2)

by A. L. Jackson

  27

  Hope

  The walls of the entire house shook when the door slammed closed.

  A violent blow.

  Or maybe it was just my insides ripping apart.

  Collapsing and imploding.

  A raking sob tore up my throat, and I bent in two. I wrapped my arms around my waist as if it might be enough to keep me standing.

  But it wasn’t.

  A rush of dizziness swept through me like a landslide, and I lurched forward. My hands barely caught on the counter before I fell to my knees.

  A loss so intense pounded through me, and my head dropped between my shoulders, mouth parting in a guttural cry there was no possible way to contain.

  “Kale,” I whimpered.

  Thoughts swirled in my mind. Confusion thick. My emotions had been yanked from the highest high to the lowest low.

  What just happened?

  I couldn’t make sense of the sudden shift.

  I didn’t know how he could do this to me.

  Could do this to us.

  He’d promised he wouldn’t leave.

  That he’d be there.

  That he’d stay.

  After he’d sworn he knew what was on the line.

  And he’d left me.

  Over a name.

  Over that vile, cruel name.

  My insides twisted again, my stomach revolting, just the same as my spirit. Because this was wrong.

  All of it was so very wrong.

  The numbers weren’t even close to adding up to the correct sum.

  A switch had been flipped, and I had no idea what had been the trigger.

  Because I’d grown to know this man in the most intimate of ways. I knew I wasn’t just being blind or naïve for the sake of falling for a gorgeous man.

  I’d seen him for who he truly was—kind, generous, and devoted.

  And that man I’d grown to know was not the one who’d just gone running out my door.

  He’d been terrified.

  White as a ghost.

  A slow dread sank over me like bitter cold.

  The horror that had been scored on his face flashed behind my eyes. As if he’d stood right there in the middle of my kitchen and come face-to-face with an apparition.

  A demon.

  Or maybe the devil himself.

  That fear I’d so often seen rise up in him, shuttering that beautiful, unselfish heart, had never been so clear than right then.

  He’d demanded Dane’s name as if my soon-to-be ex-husband was a disloyalty to him.

  As if a name alone held the power to confuse and contort and destroy.

  If a name alone were enough to send him running, what would he do when he found out the whole truth?

  A thunder pounded on the front door.

  Shocked, a breath heaved from my lungs, the sound made up of relief and confusion and deliverance.

  Because there was the man, who I trusted implicitly, yanking and pushing. Dragging my fragile heart through the mud.

  But I had to realize this was all new to him. I’d asked so much of him in such a short period of time. I hadn’t been exaggerating when I’d warned him my life was so very complicated.

  As much as I wanted it—craved it—deep down, I knew the man had stepped into a position he might not have been fully prepared to take on.

  Maybe he needed some time to catch up. But as much as I knew he deserved that time, I couldn’t allow him to go running in and out of our home without thought or consideration of what it might do to Evan.

  Of what it would do to me.

  When another round of pounding hammered from the door, I straightened and sucked in a steeling breath, preparing myself because Kale and I were going to have to talk.

  Really talk.

  Lay it out.

  It was time the two of us shared our true hopes, fears, and reservations.

  I wanted him.

  God, I wanted him.

  But I could admit we’d been moving fast, and I needed him to be ready before he took that final leap. Deal with the fear that would dim his eyes.

  Hurt and a quiver of jealousy staked through my heart.

  Maybe . . . maybe he wasn’t ready to let her go.

  His first love.

  Maybe he’d realized he didn’t have space for me, after all. The idea of letting him go broke me in two, but I was willing to face that reality if I had to.

  Raking my forearm across my bleary eyes, I cleared the moisture, headed down the hallway, and took another deep breath before I turned the knob and carefully cracked open the door.

  “Dane.” A slick of fear lifted my skin in a clammy sweat when I saw him on my porch.

  It mixed with an overwhelming disappointment that it wasn’t Kale.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I want to talk to you.”

  There was something new in his eyes that prickled the hairs at the back of my neck and sent a rocket of chills shooting up my spine.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  I went to close the door. I didn’t have the capacity to deal with him right then. Not after Kale had left me feeling brittle and broken. His arm shot out to stop it from latching, his voice hard as he pushed open the door. “I said I wanted to talk to you.”

  I stumbled back, and the door swung open wide. I edged away as Dane stepped into my little home for the first time ever.

  It was so wrong with him standing there. Black hair and black eyes and black heart.

  “And I said, I didn’t have anything to say to you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes.” It trembled from my mouth.

  He took another step forward. “How about you start by telling me who just drove away from here.”

  I didn’t answer, just took another step back as he took one forward, backing me into the opposite wall. Right in the same place where Kale had had me not thirty minutes before.

  Again, my breath was stolen.

  But this time it was stolen by the clot of alarm that constricted my throat, my heart beating faster and faster with a warning.

  He’d seen Kale. Oh God, he’d seen Kale.

  His hot words were venom across my face. “Who the fuck was here, Harley?”

  “No one.” The lie cracked on the toxic air. Splinters and shards.

  “Bullshit. I saw someone driving away.”

  Anger fisted my chest. “What does it even matter, Dane. Are you really gonna stand there and pretend like you weren’t stepping out on me all along? You think I don’t know about all those women?”

  I was long over Dane. But there was no stopping the bitterness that came out with accusation.

  His jaw clenched, but he angled his head and his voice turned soft. “You know why, Harley. You know why. You didn’t have anything left for me since you gave every second of every day to that kid.”

  Was he serious? He was jealous of our child?

  Pathetic.

  God, this man was pathetic.

  Flinching, I jerked my chin to the side when he reached out and brushed his fingers down my jaw.

  Revulsion pulsed through my being.

  “None of that matters now. Come home where you belong, and we’ll try again.”

  “Try again?” My eyes snapped back to him, my tone incredulous.

  He ran the pad of this thumb over my cheek. “Another baby. We’ll start over. Forget everything that’s happened.”

  “You’re insane.”

  Dane suddenly pressed himself against me, planting both hands on the wall on either side of my head.

  Gasping, I tried to block out the feel of him. The smell of him. But I was assaulted by a million memories. His cloying cologne. His vicious words. His hatred of our son.

  “Don’t touch me,” I rasped, struggling to push away from him.

  He just leaned in closer, his voice turning hard. Malicious. “Did you let another man fuck you, Harley? Touch what’s mine?”

  �
�You’re disgusting,” I spat.

  A horrified yelp escaped when he suddenly fisted his hands in the fabric of my shirt and pulled me against his chest. “You think I’m a fool? Is that what you think? You think you can play me? You think I didn’t just see that car pull away from here?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Dane. It’s over. You already know this. We’re over.”

  I don’t love you.

  Thoughts of Kale flooded my mind. His kiss. His touch. His kindness. And I had to wonder if I ever had loved Dane.

  “You’re my wife.”

  My eyes squeezed shut. “No.”

  He crushed his mouth against mine, his hands on my face as he tried to force me to comply. I flailed and struggled against the unwelcome intrusion, trying to fight him off while an avalanche of fear and hate crashed into me.

  I drew back my arm, my hand flying out and connecting with his cheek.

  The smack echoed through the foyer.

  He snapped back, his black eyes glowering before he released a menacing growl. His hands moved from my face and wrapped around my throat. Not tight enough to constrict airflow. But tight enough to exert just how easily he could.

  Any coaxing softness he’d worn before had been stripped away, replaced by his true character.

  The man I’d fallen in love with completely gone.

  As if he’d never existed.

  A vile wickedness bleeding free.

  His words dropped to a low, vicious threat in my ear. “You really think I’m a fool, don’t you, Harley? Why don’t you tell me why my attorney can’t find a single medical record on Evan for the last year? You think I don’t know you’re up to something?”

  And I’d thought I’d felt fear before.

  But maybe I had never really experienced it until right then.

  “He’s been healthy . . . he . . . he hasn’t needed to go in.” The lie fumbled from my mouth. Lurching and pleading.

  I was prepared to tell a million more when I was struck with a dread unlike anything I’d ever known.

  Fear and horror and the undying need to protect my son at any cost compounded and sharpened.

  Because all I could hear was the clatter of unaware feet excitedly banging down the hall and through the living room. My little boy thinking he was running out to find Kale and his promise of a story.

  Oh, God.

  No.

  I couldn’t let this happen.

  It was at the same second Dane bared back down on me, roaring with my answer.

  He fisted my dress in his hands and slammed my back against the wall.

  Pain radiated through my body, and I cried out, completely caught off guard. Never before had the danger Dane imposed been physical.

  He lifted me by my clothing, spewing the words an inch from my face.

  “Bullshit, Harley. You think you’re going to get away with whatever you’re trying to pull? Do you know who my family is? What I stand to lose?”

  His statement sent a jolt of confusion tumbling through my mind. I had no idea what he had to lose other than his overinflated pride, but I was too terrified to process it. Too terrified to ask. The only thing I cared about were the feet that rushed across the hardwood floors.

  I could feel Evan’s presence break the morbid air as he rounded the corner into the foyer.

  I felt the second he slammed into shock.

  His iPad slipped from his hands and crashed against the floor, and those innocent eyes grew round with stark, cutting fear.

  “Run, Evan! Go to your room. Lock the door,” I screamed.

  But he wasn’t looking at me.

  Redness blistered across his face, a sort of anger I’d never seen my son wear before. In horror, I watched as he rushed forward. His gangly arms began to fly. He pounded and pounded and pounded against Dane’s leg with his little fists.

  Scraping, rasping cries jutted from Evan’s mouth, and tears streaked from his eyes.

  I knew it was surprise that twisted through Dane’s furious expression, and the man staggered back a single step, his head jerking down to Evan who continued to wail on his leg.

  “No, Evan, no!” I screamed, my spirit begging with him to look at me. To understand.

  Dane’s surprise turned to rage, and he reached out to grab my son.

  Blinding fury surged inside me so intense I was sure my blood physically boiled.

  I’d never allow this man to hurt my child.

  Not ever.

  From behind, I shoved Dane with everything I had.

  “Don’t touch him!” It was a scream that came from the very depths of my soul.

  Don’t touch him. Leave us alone. We just want to live.

  My effort barely moved Dane an inch. But it was enough. It was enough to distract him from Evan and set that spiteful, depraved cruelty on me. Terror rippled through the confined space, crawling across my skin like a shivering omen.

  Because I could see it slosh and churn from the depths of Dane’s eyes.

  A wickedness unlike anything I’d witnessed before.

  Menace bounced from the walls.

  Trembling, I backed away as Dane stalked forward.

  Frantic, I found Evan’s frightened eyes where he remained across the foyer because I knew, right then, I was in the kind of danger I’d never fathomed.

  The movement of my mouth was exaggerated when I shouted for Evan to call 9-1-1.

  Evan met my eyes, his fear almost enough to bring me to my knees. But I stood strong, willing to fight for him, the one I’d always been fighting for.

  It took only a flash for it to penetrate Evan’s mind, and he darted for my purse where I’d left it on the coffee table in the living room.

  Dane shoved me so hard it sent me reeling, my feet unable to find solid ground. I flew backward, my head snapping back and smashing against the wall.

  A sharp strike of pain blazed across my skull, blurring my vision for a second.

  Dane’s vindictive voice filled the chaotic air. “He can’t hear you, Harley. That little freak can’t hear you.”

  And I knew I would never get through to this man.

  But in that moment, while I stood there helpless, sure he was going to end me, I let the years of pent-up hurt and rage pour from my mouth. “He can hear me. He’s always heard me, just like I hear him. You just refused to listen. To understand him. To see him. You’re the one who missed out. And now you don’t get us, not ever again.”

  Dane growled an inch from my face, “He was a mistake.”

  Defiance pulsed through my veins. “He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

  A clatter sounded from the other room.

  Dane’s attention jerked that way, and his gaze narrowed in shock when he found Evan with the phone, the screen lit and connected, an operator on the line.

  Blanching, Dane reared back.

  Shock on his face before it was gone and the monster returned. Revulsion curled his fists. “You think this is over? I warned you, Harley. I will find out what you’re up to. And you will come home . . . one way or another.”

  He blew out the door.

  A loud sob wrenched from my body, and I slid down the wall to the floor.

  It was too much.

  The shock and the grief. The hurt and the fear.

  Cracks fissuring through my spirit.

  Two seconds after Dane disappeared, Evan ran back through the archway with my phone in his hand.

  And I swore, I was crushed by his expression when he found me balled up on the floor, sobbing.

  No longer able to stand.

  His little face was ridden with horror, confusion, and fear. Maybe the worst was that he was looking at me as if he would give anything to have stopped what had just happened.

  “Evan,” I whispered, and he rushed to me, his precious face a mess of sticky tears.

  Arms stretched out for him, I pulled him onto my lap and against my chest. My mouth went to his temple, my lips moving with the promise as I rocked us
. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

  He made a scraping sound, and his tears soaked the front of my dress as he clung to me.

  “I’m so sorry, Evan,” I whimpered, clutching him tighter. “I’m so sorry.”

  Sorry he had to see that. Go through it. Feel it.

  My little man.

  My savior.

  My protector.

  Sirens echoed in the distance, growing louder and louder as they approached. A gasping, relieved breath tore from my lungs when two police officers finally appeared at my gaping door, their guns drawn as they stepped inside to assess the situation.

  I pressed Evan’s face to my chest to at least protect him from that, hating to put him through any more shock and turmoil.

  “We’re okay. We’re okay. We’re okay,” I told them through my cries, which only increased as the adrenaline bled away.

  As I realized the magnitude of what had just happened.

  As I wondered if my telling them we were okay was just another lie because I wasn’t sure that we truly were.

  Dane had just given me ammunition to fight him. An attack that I’d been unprepared for.

  But did that even matter when he suspected, knew something was wrong with the records? I held Evan tighter against me as if that one touch might protect him from every danger.

  Still, I could feel it slipping away.

  Hope.

  An officer helped me to my feet, and I carried Evan to the couch, and I continued to hold him as tightly as I could while I answered the officers’ questions.

  What happened?

  Did anything occur to incite the attack?

  Were we injured?

  I saw it in their expressions when I told him it was my estranged husband.

  This was just another common domestic disturbance to them. The same kind of call they’d probably responded to a million times.

  Despair settled into the pit of my stomach when they said they would attempt to get in touch with Dane Gentry to get his side of the story.

  As if the fact he’d forced his way into my home weren’t enough.

  After an hour of answering their questions, I followed them to the door to let them out, every muscle in my body feeling as if it weighed a million pounds.

  The younger officer, the one who’d helped me stand from the floor, paused on the porch and turned back to look at me from over his shoulder, sympathy in the tight twist of his brow. “Make sure you have that door locked up, ma’am.”