Maybe she was better off without him.
Jimmy cleared his throat, bringing Tig back to the present.
“Jimmy. Hey, buddy. What are you doing here so early?” He looked around the surrounding deck, scanning the opposing team bleachers again. Still empty.
“We need to talk, Coach Tiggs.”
Tig’s ears perked up. Jimmy always called him Tig. He scanned Jimmy’s face….
Serious expression. Voice firm. Tear-streaked cheeks.
Wary, Tig waved his arm toward the bleachers and waited for Jimmy to sit down beside him.
“What’s up, bud?”
“We’re moving.”
As if a vacuum had turned on, sucking every bit of oxygen from the area, Tig couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened, his heart pounded, pulse accelerating. He searched Jimmy’s face for any indication that this was some sick joke, or a dream that Tig would soon wake up from.
The wetness flowing from Jimmy’s eyes told Tig he wouldn’t wake up from this nightmare.
Jimmy waited patiently for Tig to find his words.
“I don’t—what do you mean? Where are you going?”
“Sagey found a job in Mexico—”
“Mexico! What? How? Where—?”
“Albacorekey. Mexico.”
Tig sighed. New Mexico wasn’t good, but it wasn’t all the way in actual Mexico. His mind reeled from the information, scrambling to do the math, tally the distance and time it would take to drive to her, calculating the journey, the mileage, the gas…as if those things even mattered. Sage didn’t want him in her life, and now she was about to add physical distance between them, making real the metaphorical distance of the past few months.
“I don’t want to leave, Tig. This is my home. Ellie and you are my friends.”
Tig smiled, trying to push the debilitating ache away so he could be strong for Jimmy. He’d deal with this crushing blow on his own later, but not while Jimmy needed a friend.
Tig placed his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, then rubbed his back. “I know it’s scary, buddy, and you don’t want to leave, but I know Sage wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t the right thing to do.”
“She’s wrong about moving. I know. I know what’s right for her.”
Tig wanted to believe him, agree with him. Man, did he ever. “You trust Sage, don’t you?”
Jimmy nodded.
“Then you need to trust her now, buddy. She’s doing what’s best for you, so you two can stay together.”
“It doesn’t feel best.”
“I know. It doesn’t feel best to me either, because I’ll miss you.”
“And Sage? You’ll miss Sagey, right, Tig?”
Tig swallowed. “Yeah. Sage, too.”
“Do you love her?”
He inhaled a deep breath. “Yes, I love you both.”
“No. Do you love love her?”
Tig tilted his head, scrambling to find a way out of the direction Jimmy tried to guide the conversation. “I love you both. You’re like family to me, Jimbo.”
“Sage calls me Jimbo.”
“She does.”
“And Sage loves you.”
Tig didn’t respond.
“She cries at night, but doesn’t scream anymore.”
Like a punch to the gut, that vacuum returned, sucking all the air from the room. The thought of Sage crying did strange things to Tig’s body. Sadness consumed him, filling his chest with a dull ache. Confusion followed, blending with the sadness and causing his stomach to knot. Then came the anger. Anger that anyone would cause her such pain that she’d cry herself to sleep.
And then…realization. The numbing truth of it all. That he was the one to blame for her pain. He’d messed everything up, multiple times—chosen others above her, made her feel second rate, unwanted, unloved. He’d promised to protect her, then tossed her aside after high school the way so many men had before him. Coming back here just reminded her of all he’d done to destroy her back then, pulling the thread of time and unwinding the memories she’d tried to move on from.
Eventually, Tig had even driven her to the arms of another man.
And now, because of him, she cried herself to sleep at night. “How often?” He wasn’t surprised by the raw emotion in his voice.
“Every day.”
Tig closed his eyes, wishing for time to still. He wanted to go back, undo all the damage he’d caused her, take back all the times his actions spoke louder than his words, muting the love in his heart. He wanted to rewind to before she ran to the comfort of Artie Langford, seeking solace from her broken heart. Tig just wanted to go back.
Because even before she returned, he’d allowed himself to drown in the lies and deceit he needed to eclipse the only truth he’d ever known: that theirs was an undeniable forever. Two souls meant to ricochet back to one another, pulled together by one tie that bound them against all others.
Their love was infinite.
He wouldn’t allow either of them the luxury of denying it any longer.
Tig stood, but Jimmy grabbed his hand, gripping his fingers tightly. He looked down into blue-gray eyes, a shade or two more blue than Sage’s. “Jimmy?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you the other.”
Tig sat down with a soft thud. “The other what?”
“Sagey made me promise.”
“Is it something else about the move?” Tig searched Jimmy’s face as it reddened. His pulse accelerated. This was something more, something wrong. “Jimmy, you know you can trust me, right?”
“That’s what I said! I know I can trust Tig!”
“Then trust me now, Jimmy. I need you to tell me what’s wrong, okay, buddy?”
Jimmy looked away, turning his head away from Tig as far as it would go without Exorcist-spinning. “Artie tried to hurt Sage!”
Tig was down the bleachers before he even realized he’d moved.
Sage ran her hand along the box, sealing the packing tape stretched over the lid. She searched the floor around her for the permanent marker, then quickly scribbled the contents of the box on its side. She repeated this action with every box, going through the motions silently, not allowing herself to acknowledge the pain that bit at her heart.
Just a short five months ago, she’d finally returned home, back to the town that both caused her worst pain and brought about her greatest happiness, and now, even though she’d pictured herself settled here, imagined herself in love with the man of her dreams, painted the image of Brand and Jimmy and her, forever a family….
She packed another box, this time full of Jimmy’s elephants. A lone tear rolled down her cheek, but she hastily swiped it away. There was no time for tears.
An entire week had passed since she’d broken the news to Jimmy. He hadn’t spoken more than two words to her at a time, and even then, he’d quickly apologize because he was supposed to be giving her the silent treatment. Even now, he avoided her, having disappeared early enough to miss his favorite Saturday morning cartoons.
She’d broken his heart, and she doubted she’d ever be able to make this up to him.
“I heard you were back in town, but I had to see it to believe it.”
Sage froze, her blood curdling in her veins. That voice—
“I said pick it up!”
The slap resounded through the room, echoing off the barren, smoke-stained walls. The pain reverberated through the skin of her cheek, a sting so great that tears sprang to her eyes. She pushed them back, refusing to cry in front of him.
She never cried in front of them.
With shaking hands, she began picking up the shards of glass from the shattered beer bottle. The image of a piece of glass sticking out of his throat crossed her mind, and she gripped the glass so hard her palm began to bleed.
Her mind didn’t register the fingers in her hair until he ripped her up off the floor. She cried out, but quickly slammed her mouth shut. He loved when she showed him her pain.
He brought her face to
his; the stale scent of cigarettes and booze on his breath made her stomach roll and her mouth water.
“Look what you’ve done, you little whore!” With the hand that wasn’t tangled in her hair, he brought Sage’s bleeding hand to eye level. Her toes scraped the floor as she struggled to stand, struggled to support some of her weight. The pain in her scalp throbbed, and she feared she’d lose consciousness like last time—“You’re bleeding all over the linoleum! Mama’s gonna be none too happy about this.” He bent her arm in an uncomfortable angle, then wiped her bloody hand over the bulge in his pants.
Tears finally loosed from her eyes, dripping down her cheeks—proof of her fear, her weakness, her inability to do anything to save herself.
“There,” he said, dropping her to the ground. She fell onto her knees, hands splayed in front of her, slicing her palms even further on the broken glass. “Now Mama will know what a little cocktease you are. Hungry for what only daddy can give you.”
He turned to leave the room, and Sage let out a strangled sob.
“When you’re done cleaning, I’ll be in my room. And clean your damn hand. I don’t want no blood on my sheets.”
The sound of her own garbled cry pulled Sage back to the present. As quickly as the memory had flooded her mind, it fled, replaced with a fear she hadn’t known in years. Her chest throbbed with the ache of her pounding heart: her pulse thudded rapidly in her ears. She looked down, rubbing her thumb over the scar inside her left palm, the only reminder of that day that hadn’t been self-inflicted. Her vision blurred.
Tears. Goddammit, she was crying in front of him.
No.
Sage stood, wiping her now sweaty palms on the front of her faded jeans, then turned to face him. Graying curls framed his sunken-in face; both the man and his hair were thinner than she remembered. His pot belly protruded even further than before, at war with his thinning frame, prompting the ridiculous query of how his kidneys had fared over all the years of rampant alcoholism to flutter through her mind. His shirt was as stained as his teeth, his old jeans tattered.
Sage wondered if the state had finally revoked his right to foster, thus removing his income.
She inhaled a breath, then he stepped forward, one foot inside her front door.
“No.”
“No?” he mocked. His yellowed eyes widened as he took her in, then his gaze travelled over her body slowly. He grinned, pleased by what he saw.
Her stomach rolled. She almost vomited. Swallowing hard, Sage took a step forward, fists clenched. I’m not that broken little girl anymore.
“You don’t get to look at me like that. Get out.”
“Aw, Sage Shepard, don’t tell me you’re not happy to see Daddy?”
She fisted her hands, then stepped toward him, imagining his feet flying over his head when she pushed him down the stairs outside her front door. Feet over head, feet over head as he tumbled down to the first floor. “Get. Out. Or I will make you get out.”
Anger flashed across his face, his eyes darkening momentarily, but he quickly reverted to amusement and…lust.
Sage remembered that look. He wanted to rape her. Even after all these years, he hadn’t changed, hadn’t seen the wrong in his ways; even after all these years, he looked at her now as though she was a beast to be tamed, a plaything, a—
“Cocktease. That’s what you are. Always have been, always will be. Look at you now, all filled out in all the right places, doing things to my dick that should be illegal.”
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
He took another step forward, but she matched him, her bravery stunning him momentarily. She pushed his shoulders, and he stumbled backward. She felt triumphant until he righted himself, then slammed the door behind him and grabbed her upper arms.
“Now listen here, you little slut! I’ll take what’s owed to me, and you’ll shut your dirty fucking mouth! You made me lose everything! The state came and took all the fosters, and I had no money left! Then Mama left me, and I’m gonna take it all out on you!”
The fragile girl inside her screamed out in protest, but as much as Sage struggled, Leonard Wills was still stronger than her—a fact he proved again and again when she was a kid, and now he proved once more…when he pushed her to her knees in the middle of her own living room.
Surrounded by everything she owned—even Jimmy’s innocent, beloved elephant collection—Sage was going to be raped again. Assaulted by the horrors of her past.
Brand’s face crossed her mind—if she wasn’t moving away from him, wasn’t running from the future she knew was meant to be hers—if she’d just fought for him, fought for them, maybe he’d have been here, maybe they’d have been out when Leonard went looking for his old punching bag.
If only Brand was here now.
Leonard laced his fingers through her long hair, pulling tightly the way he always had before, wrapping the long locks around his fist, sending shooting pain through her scalp. She tried to move, swung her fists at his legs, but he kneed her chin. Agonizing pain flooded her face, and her mouth watered. Or maybe that was blood. She opened her jaw, trying to assess the damage.
“That’s right, open up that pretty mouth for me.” With his free hand, he unzipped the zipper of his jeans, then pushed them open enough to free his penis.
Sage closed her eyes as the tears fell. His hand tightened in her hair—
A light knock sounded through the door. “Sage? Are you home? I need to talk to you.”
“Brand!” Relief flooded her body and she cried out with the force of it, though the sound was cut in two when her foster father’s fist slammed into her cheek—the same one his knee had already damaged.
But Leonard’s hit was too late—Brand had heard the panic in her voice and pushed inside—so she smiled through the pain.
He’d come to save her. Always her savior.
“What the fuck?”
Brand grabbed Leonard Wills by the shirt, whipping him around—“You son of a bitch!”—but the man’s fingers still gripped Sage’s hair, so he hauled her with him as Brand spun him—“How dare you touch her again!”
Sage cried out, reaching for her head.
Brand took less than a second to assess the situation, then grabbed the man’s right arm at the wrist, steadying the hand that held Sage immobile. He swung at Leonard with his free hand, knocking her captor out cold.
The man’s hand relaxed as he sank to the floor, releasing Sage’s hair, and she scrambled to crawl away from him, whimpering as her back slammed against the wall because she couldn’t get further away, and that’s all she wanted to do. Her feet continued to push, even though her back was against the wall. She had to escape.
“Sage, oh my God, Sage….” Brand strode to her, then wrapped his arms around her frame, cocooning her into his body. She flinched, then struggled, but he held her tighter, and after a few seconds, the familiar smell of his clothes and the safety of his arms reminded her that she was safe.
As long as Brand was there, she was safe.
He’d come.
She cried into Tig’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably and scratching at his arms. He rocked her back and forth, whispering soothing words into her ear, massaging her scalp, and kissing her forehead, her eyes, the tops of her cheeks. And then he rocked her some more. His body shook from the dissipating rage, the slowing adrenaline…the fear of seeing her in such a vulnerable place.
His fucking heart shattered with each convulsion of her body.
Tears dripped from his eyes, landing in her hair.
What if he hadn’t decided to come after all? What if he’d chickened out, deciding the risk of her refusal would be worse than the possibility of reward? What if Jimmy hadn’t come by this morning, hadn’t told him about their move to New Mexico? What if Tig hadn’t convinced himself that by hurt, Jimmy meant Artie had physically assaulted Sage?
What if…?
Eventually, her fingers stilled, and she gripped Tig’s shoulders instead of s
cratching at him. Her sobs slowed, too, quieting to muffled whimpers as her tear ducts ran dry.
When Leonard Wills stirred a little while later, moaned in his sleep but didn’t come to, Brand pulled his phone out of his pocket, then dialed 9-1-1 without releasing his death grip on Sage.
“Nine-one-one, this is Linda speaking. What’s your emergency?”
“I need to report an assault and attempted rape.”
“Are you the victim of the attack, sir?”
“No,” Tig closed his eyes. “It was my girlfriend. Her former….” Tig swallowed, his mouth dry.
“Sir? Are you there, sir?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. Her former foster father found her.”
“Is she all right, sir?”
Tig pressed his lips into her hair, inhaled her scent, then responded. “Yes. She’s here. I found her in time.”
“Where is the attacker now?”
“He’s here as well.”
“Has he been subdued?”
“Yes.”
“Police have been dispatched, sir. Please remain where you are—the authorities are on their way.”
“Thank you.”
“Stay on the line with me, sir.”
Tig did as he was told. He gave the woman the address, even though she’d already traced his call to Sage’s apartment complex. He gave her his name and phone number, as well as Sage’s name and phone number.
And all the while, he held her in his arms, swearing to her repeatedly that he’d never let her go again.
Sage didn’t remember going to Brand’s apartment, but even in darkness, she knew where she was by the smell of the sheets. She pressed her nose further into the pillowcase, burrowing down into the warmth of his bed and inhaling the musky, chlorine-kissed scent of him. His arm moved beneath the pillow, and his fingers grazed her jaw; even that gentle caress sent a surge of pain through her cheek, and with that, the memory of why she was there rushed back to the forefront of her mind.
Sage gasped, and Brand quickly turned on the light. “You’re safe, Sage. You’re safe. He’ll never hurt you again.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she stared into Brand’s warm green gaze, recounting every detail, every agonizing second of her assault.
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