“Yes,” I say, running a hand over my unshaven face. I probably look like a caveman since I haven’t trimmed it in a couple of days. “I’ll tell you whatever you need to know.” I look over at him. “But I’m telling you right now, Parker. Stay out of my way. I will do whatever I have to do to take care of him.”
Parker knows what I mean by that. He and I have bumped heads before—back when my sister was taken. I’m not afraid of losing him as a friend, I’ve been on my own most of my life. I’m used to it.
He shakes his head. “It won’t come to that.”
******
Parker, Slade, and I all sit down in his basement. Slade had told Parker for us to come over to his and Sam’s house. The beauty of technology is that he can watch the cameras installed at the bakery from his smart TV back in his man cave.
“What was he in prison for?” Slade asks, looking over to me.
In order to tell him one part, I’m going to have to tell him all parts. “Attempted murder. I came home one day to find my mother lying in a puddle of blood. I thought that she was dead. He was drunk and laughing at her. I just snapped. I beat him so badly that I had thought I killed him.” I remember the cops showing up. Come to find out Marie had heard me leave on the four-wheeler. She started calling my mother’s house, and when she didn’t answer, she called the police. “The police showed up and called an ambulance for my mother and Jonathan. There was no way to deny any of it.” I shake my head. “I gave a statement while he was in the hospital and then he was arrested upon release,” I say.
They both stare at me for a few quiet seconds. “Angel said that your mother packed up in the middle of the night and took off with you to Alaska,” Slade says confused.
I nod my head. “She did that. The night before he was released from the hospital. He had retained an attorney and my mother was afraid that he would get off and kill both of us. Or pay his way to get out of trouble.” Of course the bastard had to have money. Maybe that’s why she stayed with him. I shrug, surprised that we even left town. That was the only time my mother ever acted like she wanted to run from him. “She said he wouldn’t stop so we had to leave.”
“How did you end up back here?” Parker asks.
I want to snap. What the fuck does that have to do with Jonathan? But I don’t. Instead I take a deep breath and answer his question. “I moved back here as soon as I turned eighteen. Nine years ago. My mother and I didn’t get along. I don’t speak to my mother. And I hated Alaska.” That should be about all they need to know.
“When was he released?” Slade looks over to Parker.
“Two weeks ago.”
“Fuck,” I curse out loud. “He was supposed to have gotten fifteen to twenty years for attempted murder.” I had testified against him. They had run tests on my mother once she arrived at the hospital and they had found old broken bones that over time had healed themselves. Along with my testimony, it was an open and shut case. Especially with the scene the cops had witnessed when they arrived.
“He could have been released early for good behavior,” Parker offers, and I wanna slap him across the face. What could you possibly do in prison to get released early on good behavior?
“He was sentenced in Oklahoma. He has to be on parole, right? That means he’s probably already violated it by crossing state lines,” Slade adds.
Parker nods and Slade straightens in his chair. “We’ll find him.”
“And do what?” I ask, not really caring what they give me for an answer.
“Arrest him.”
I stand up, shaking my head. “For him to get out again on good behavior?” I snort. “I will kill him.”
Slade stands as well. “I understand how you feel. I felt the same way when someone threatened my family. But you have something now. Aren’t you afraid of being taken away from her?” I could stand living in jail for the rest of my life, as long as I knew that monster was dead and not able to land a hand on someone ever again.
I shake my head. “I’m afraid of her being taken away from me. I won’t allow him to hurt her. That is why I’m willing to finish this once and for all.”
My phone rings, signaling a voicemail. I look down at it confused; I never even heard it ring. I hold up a finger signaling to give me a second while I listen to it.
“Tate. It’s your mother. I got a letter today. A letter from…Jonathan. He’s getting released from prison and he says he’s coming for you. Tate. Please call me.” Her voice is frantic as she rambles on. “Let me know you’re okay. Please. I love…”
I hit end. I don’t need to hear her say I love you. I’ve heard it enough to last me a lifetime. And honestly, that word doesn’t mean shit to me.
******
MISSY
I sit on Slade and Sam’s couch as I hold Sadey. I’m quite proud of myself, I must say. I haven’t shed a tear yet but it’s hard. I wish I could have had this.
“Tate,” Sam says in surprise as he comes storming into the living room.
“We’re leaving,” he says to me, before turning around and walking toward the door.
I hand Sadey over to Sam and stand from the couch. “Tate, what’s going on?” I ask.
He storms out of the house, and I follow after him quickly. “Missy?”
I stop when I hear my name being called from behind me. I spin around to see Slade and Parker both standing at the top of the stairs that lead down to the basement.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my concern growing for Tate by the second.
Parker walks up to me and looks down at me. “Keep his mind off of this. Keep him at home. I’m going to try and find him before Tate does.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, looking over to Slade.
He starts to speak but I hear Tate’s truck start up. Will he leave me here? I don’t wanna find out. I spin around and run out of the door.
******
I can feel the heat radiating off of him as I sit in the passenger seat of his truck. He’s hasn’t said one word to me, but he doesn’t have to. His anger is written all over his face and is evident in his posture.
He pulls up to his house and makes his way to the front door. I walk in behind him and shut the door softly. “Tate. Talk to me,” I say, rubbing my arm.
“There’s nothing to say,” he snaps.
“There has to be,” I continue as I follow him down his hallway and into his room. “What are you planning on doing?” I ask, knowing that he’s going to do something that could possibly cost him his life. He’s been fighting all of his life, and I know he just wants it to end. But I don’t know what he’s up against because he won’t tell me anything.
He spins around and grabs me by my upper arms—not hurting me, just holding on to me. “I plan on doing whatever it takes to make him pay,” he says looking down at me.
“You could get yourself killed,” I say wide-eyed.
“Well, that is the risk I’m willing to take,” he responds carelessly and releases me.
“What is wrong with you?” I ask, my voice rising with every word. “Don’t you ever think of others?” He would throw his life away for a guy who doesn’t deserve it. “Trying to kill him won’t save you, Tate,” I say, and his jaw tightens. “It won’t change your past. It will only destroy your future. Our future,” I say sadly.
“What future do we have?” he demands.
Please. Not this again. “I…I thought…We’re a couple. You wanted to be a couple,” I remind him. This was his idea. I was perfectly fine living with a broken heart. Well, maybe not fine.
He lifts his hand pointing to my stomach. “You refuse the surgery.”
I look at him with my eyebrows drawn together and my mouth slightly open. “What does that have to do with this?” I’ve only had pain one other time since I found out I have uterine fibroids, and it wasn’t nearly as bad. The hormones I take daily are really helping.
“Why? Why do you refuse the surgery?” he demands.
“Because I wan
t to have children someday,” I say slowly, understanding where this is headed.
He points to his chest. “I don’t want them,” he growls.
I shake my head. “I don’t understand what’s happening.” I feel my throat tightening and my eyes stinging from the tears that are coming. He’s ending it. Just like I knew he would.
“There’s no future for us.” He looks down to the floor and shakes his head. “You want more than I can give you.”
“But everything that you have said?” I ask as my heart pounds. “The way you felt about losing the baby…” He seemed just as heartbroken as I was.
“I was pissed that you never told me you lost a baby,” he shouts. “I would have never found out if not for your mother.”
“Our baby!” I shout back. “It was our baby!” I throw my hands up in the air. “Say it, Tate. Say it was your baby,” I demand as a tear starts to roll down my cheek, but I don’t know if it’s from anger or sadness.
He shakes his head. “Would you have told me it was mine if you wouldn’t have lost it?” he asks.
I pause. I pause for one second, not because I would’ve kept it from him, but because I picture him smiling, holding our child. I see him being a different person. I see it changing him. He doesn’t want kids but there’s no way he would have been able to look at an ultrasound and not feel something special. Something heart wrenching. He loves his niece Sadey. I see it every time he’s around her. He would love his child and that scares him. Anything that involves love scares Tate in some way.
“Exactly,” he hisses, thinking my pause means I wouldn’t have told him. “You would have probably told everyone it was Braxton’s.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Tate?” I shout, throwing my hands up in the air. “What kind of person do you think I am? I’m nothing like your mother,” I say, referring to her letting everyone think that Tate belonged to Jonathan and not his real father, Jack.
His nostrils flare and his chest bows at my words. “Right,” he quips. “You’re the type of person who would protect their child from a monster.” He then walks over to the bedroom door and opens the door. “Grab your shit and leave, Missy. It’s over.” His words are flat, holding no emotion at all.
His eyes bore into mine and all I see is that hatred, but this time it’s directed right at me. What have I done?
I stand there staring back at him completely stunned. He’s gonna throw me away because of Jonathan. A man who has already destroyed his life. Well, I won’t continue to let it happen. The cycle ends now.
“No,” I say firmly and cross my arms over my chest.
“No?” he questions surprised by the word.
I lean over and speak as clearly as I can. “I’m. Not. Leaving.”
He walks over to my bag and grabs it by the handles. He tosses it into the hallway. “Still not leaving,” I say, lifting my chin. I’m gonna stand my ground and fight for you.
“Goddammit, Missy,” he shouts. He then spins around and picks up a picture that I had framed of us sleeping. The same one of him and me that Parker had put on his Facebook. He throws it to the floor, and it shatters into a million pieces.
I uncross my arms and walk over to his dresser. I take the lamp and shove it off of the dresser. It breaks as well. “You wanna break shit?” I say surprising myself at how bitchy I actually sound. “Then let’s break shit.”
I walk over to his tall dresser and he comes up behind me wrapping his arm around me, lifting me up off of the ground. I kick my legs as he tosses me effortlessly onto the bed and climbs on top of me, pinning me down. “What the fuck are you doing?” he shouts, looking down at me.
“Being like you,” I shout in his face. “Breaking shit!” I take in a deep breath. “You wanna break me, Tate?” I whispers harshly. He’s already done it before and all it did was make me stronger. I’ll come back fighting for him. It’s no longer about what I want or what I feel for him. It’s about what I can show him. It’s what I know I can make him feel about himself. Love. “Do it,” I growl. I can feel the heat radiating off of him as he lies on top of me. “That’s the only way I’ll leave,” I admit without shame. “Kick me out.”
He looks down at me and his hands tighten on my arms as he holds me down. I shout, “Fucking get it over with…” But he drops his head and his lips catch mine in a deep kiss. I fist my hands down by my head as his lips and tongue press my head back down into the bed.
I open my mouth for him wanting him to take it. He needs to feel the hate. He needs to feel the rage. Tate is the type of man who thrives off of that. That’s how he’s survived for so long. He doesn’t understand any other way. And I’m coming to understand that. I’m gonna push him every chance I get.
He pulls away, and I take in a deep breath. He jumps up off the bed and yanks me up by my arm. I lift my arms as he pulls my shirt up and over my head. I go to work on the buttons of his jeans and shove them down to his ankles once I get them undone. He unfastens mine just as quickly before he grabs my legs and pulls me up as I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.
I cry out when he shoves my back against the far wall. He reaches between our bodies and pulls my panties to the side. It only takes him a second to feel how wet I am for him. How much I want him to take me.
I’m like the gasoline to his fire. He wants to extinguish his flames but I want them to burn brighter. I want the world to see what he does to me. And I want to show the world that without me he would burn out.
A man like Tate deserves to be seen. He deserves to be heard. He has spent his entire life having to hide who he truly is. I want him to burn so brightly that even the sun bows down to him.
I throw my head back against the wall and whimper when I feel the head of him start to slide in my entrance. Will it always feel this good? Will it always feel like the first time with him? That burning sensation that makes your toes curl and your spine tingle? I gasp and then whimper when he slowly pulls back.
“Fuck,” he hisses as he pushes forward once again—giving me a little more of him every time. He presses my back into the wall and I run my nails down the back of his shirt as I feel every inch of him inside of me. “Is this what you want?” he hisses as he pulls back and slams into me. “Want me to break you, Missy?” he growls.
If this is what being broken feels like then I would gladly let him do it anytime he wants. I take in a deep breath as he pulls back and enters me again, roughly this time.
“Say it,” he demands.
“Yes.” I try to shout, but it comes out as a plea. It’s hard to breathe, he’s pressing on my chest and my back is shoved against the wall.
He pauses and looks down at me. His dark blue eyes are still hard and his lips are thinned. “You would allow me to break you?” His face in expressionless, but I can see the glint in his eyes. He wants that chance. He wants to feel that power. What man wouldn’t?
“You can’t break what’s already been broken,” I say honestly.
He gives me a cocky smile and pulls away from the wall suddenly. I drop to my feet as he pushes me away. As I go to take a step back with wobbly legs, he grabs my hand and pulls me forward. He spins me around and places his hand on the center of my back. He shoves me forward and my knees hit the bed before the top of my body falls onto the bed.
I let out a breath as I feel his hard bare chest lean over my back. He pulls the hair off of my shoulder and the side of face. He takes it, wrapping it around his fist and pulls it back. I groan as my neck raises to an uncomfortable position. “You don’t know what broken is, sweetheart.” His words are roughly spoken against my ear and they send a chill down my spine. “But I would be more than happy to show you...”
He pulls back and rips my panties off, then I feel him spread my legs wider with his foot. I whimper as my hips scream from how far he spreads them apart as I lie half on-half off the bed.
My back stiffens and my heart beats wildly when he enters me in one fast movement. I cry o
ut as my body stings from the stretch. And then I gasp when I realize he’s not wearing a condom. And I couldn’t really care less. The feel of him without one is unbelievable.
I place my hands by my head and push myself up as I fist my hands in the comforter. I take in a deep breath as he pulls out and slams into me again. I go up on my tiptoes and take in a deep breath. As he does it again I push myself up with my arms even more, stretching them all the way and allowing the pressure off of my neck since he still it has my head pulled back by my hair.
He lets go of my hair and then his body falls on top of mine, crushing my arms between myself and the bed. His now free hand comes up under my neck and he grabs a hold of it. I try taking a deep breath, but he tightens his grip.
I can feel myself getting wetter for him as he slows down to an achingly slow pace.
“You feel fucking amazing,” he whispers harshly before he gives my shoulder a soft kiss.
Please. I silently beg for him to go faster. I clench myself around him, trying to make him need it as much as I do.
He growls before I feel his teeth bite into my shoulder and my body breaks out in goosebumps. His hand tightens a little more around my neck.
The slowness is making me need it more. Harder. Faster. And he knows it. I try to move—push against him, letting him know I need more—but he has me pinned down. His front lying on top of my back and my arms are starting to go numb from the pressure being tucked underneath me.
I swallow hard as he demands in my ear, “Lift your hips.” I lift them as much as his body will allow me and I feel his free hand slide between my hip and the bed. His fingers find their way to my clit, and I whimper as he starts to rub it.
The UN Series Complete Box Set Page 146