Accidental Texting: Finding Love despite the Spotlight

by Kimberly Montague

  "Uh—I—" I leaned away from him.

  He had this steely-eyed stare aimed at me that was just too—his eyes were too similar to Brent's, and I stepped back again, but there was a barstool in the corner. I tripped a little and Anthony grabbed my arm to stop me from falling. The alcohol made everything a little hazy and blurred. His hand firmly on my arm had me shaking immediately. The light shined behind his head, putting his face in shadows.

  "Morgan." His voice was too firm, a little angry, even. "Tell me the truth." Those words were the final blow, the final reminder of a night not far enough in my past for me to have forgotten it. I pulled my arms up around my face and dropped to the floor, trying to hide from him. All I could hear was his voice, Brent's voice. I started sobbing, and I tried to be quiet, to be unnoticeable, but he was there, looming over me.

  "Sean," I cried, but I was so petrified, I couldn't get my voice above a whisper. "Help."

  "Morgan," Brent said angrily. "Answer me."

  "Hey!" I picked out Cerise's pissed off voice yelling, "Get away from her!"

  "I'm not—I just—" Brent still had his hand on my arm, and I was trying to squeeze myself as far back into the corner as possible, trying to protect myself.

  "Get the hell away from her!" I recognized Nathan's voice, and Anthony let go of my arm and backed away.

  Cerise pulled me into her arms, whispering, "Hey, now. I've got you. It wasn't Brent, Morgan. It's okay. You're okay."

  But I couldn't stop shaking. Cerise was comforting, but she couldn't protect me. "Sean," I whispered.

  "Sean!" Cerise yelled louder and more panicked than I'd heard her in years.

  And then he was there in front of me. I clutched at his shoulders and stared into his eyes. He pulled me into his arms, and I tried to stop shaking. He turned his head. "What the hell happened?" He yelled, and I felt myself flinch.

  "Calm down, Sean," Cerise said softly. "You have to stay calm."

  He looked back to me, and kissed my cheek, rubbing his hand along my back. "It's okay, love. I've got you." The shaking lightened up at his soothing voice.

  "Anthony backed her into a corner and put his hand on her," Cerise explained calmly.

  "I barely touched her! She ran into the barstool. She was gonna fall. I was just—"

  "It's not you, Anthony." Cerise sounded tired.

  "Sweetie, are you okay?"

  I wanted to be. I was embarrassed, and still so afraid. I couldn't stop the trembling although it wasn't as bad as it had been.

  "What happened, love? What scared you? I need to know, Morgan." His whispers were so gentle.

  "I can't—I don't want to—Don't make me, Sean." I couldn't talk about it, not with everyone watching me, and I just couldn't say any of it.

  "Can Cerise tell me, love?"

  I nodded, but still clung to him. "I—need—some air. Please."

  "Okay. I've got you." He picked me up and carried me upstairs.

  I felt so ashamed for freaking out. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—I embarrassed you."

  "No, Morgan. No you didn't. I'm just worried about you." He put me on the couch and kneeled in front of me. "Can you tell me what that was about?"

  I winced and turned away from him. I didn't want to talk about it. "Okay. Not right now. But later, I want to hear it from you."

  "Let me sit with her." Annalisa put her arms around me as she took the seat next to me on the couch. "Go back down there and hear what Cerise has to say."

  He kissed my forehead. "Will you be okay with Annalisa, love?" I nodded, and he kissed my lips softly before rushing back downstairs.

  Annalisa patted my back and held me like she'd done a million times.

  "I'm so embarrassed," I said quietly.

  "Don't be, Morgan. This isn't your fault. You didn't ask for that prick to do this to you. It's Brent's fault, not yours."

  "I made a fool out of myself."

  "No you didn't."

  "Everyone will know now. They'll think I'm weak."

  "Stop right there." She pushed me away from her and looked me in the eye. "You are not weak. You're the strongest person I've ever known. You keep being dealt this shitty hand, and you get up and keep going. When I first saw Anthony, I nearly punched him, and you know I'm not a violent person. He looks so much like Brent. I just feel awful that I wasn't keeping a closer eye on him."

  "He didn't know."

  "You're right. And I think he's a decent guy when you get past the obnoxious flirting. He'll know better now, and you won't have to worry about it anymore. So cheer up. It's all out in the open now."

  "Such a cheerful thought," I mumbled.

  Several minutes later, Sean came up from the basement, and I could see the anger in his eyes. Craig was right behind him and put his hand on Sean's arm. "Sean, you can't go near her like this."

  He turned back to Craig and started shaking out his hands and rolled his head back. I watched him take a deep breath, closing his eyes before looking back at Craig. "I got it now."

  "Okay, kid." Craig went back downstairs, and Sean walked over to me. He put his hand out, and I placed mine in his. "Let's get you changed for bed. Then I want to talk to you. I'll sleep on your floor if I have to, but I can't leave you alone tonight." He closed his eyes and shook his head sadly. "I just can't." His voice was so quiet, but he didn't seem angry.

  He put his hands on my hips and guided me upstairs even though the incident had sobered me up quite a bit. I sat on the bed, holding on to the post as he opened a few drawers and handed me pajama bottoms and a soft T-shirt. I'd have to ask him where all my clothes were since he'd been the one to organize my drawers. I went into the bathroom and changed, taking time to wash my tear-stained face and brush my teeth.

  When I came back into the room, Sean was sitting on the edge of my bed with his head in his hands. I walked over to him, and he pulled me into him, placing his cheek against my stomach. We stayed there like that for several minutes before he loosened his grip on me.

  "If you come back to my room, we can make a fire. I promise I just want to have you in my arms—nothing more. I need to know you're safe beside me." His eyes pleaded with mine, and being in his arms was something I needed too, so I nodded.

  When we reached the kitchen, several of the guys came up from the basement. Nathan was leading them toward the back door. Sean kept his arm around me, steering me into his bedroom, but I heard Nathan say, "There's a punching bag in the garage," as Sean closed the door behind us.

  It didn't take him long to start a warm fire. He took some blankets out of the chest at the end of his bed and spread them out on the floor along with a few throw pillows.

  "I'm just gonna change. Get comfortable."

  I nodded and sat on the floor, pulling some blankets over me and hugging a pillow close to my chest. I stared at the fire, trying to zone out. He was going to want all the details. I wasn't sure I could go through talking about it again—reliving it.

  He came out of the bathroom in soft gray pajama bottoms and a clean white T-shirt. For some reason, my eyes were drawn to his bare feet. They were so clean and perfect. When he sat down next to me, leaning against the wooden chest behind him, I didn't hesitate, just crawled right onto his lap, straddling his waist. There wasn't anything sexual about it. I just needed to be as close to him as possible.

  "You know I'll never let anyone touch you ever again. I'll never ever touch you in anger, Morgan. You know that, right?"

  I nodded. "You're different. You get cold and calm and mean when you're angry, but you're not violent or out of control."

  "It took a lot of years of practice to get there, but it's too easy to lose control when you're angry. It's when you need to be focused the most. Anthony's like that, too, you know? He's exactly like me when it comes to his anger. And he would never ever harm you." I nodded, but didn't say anything in response to his comments. He continued to rub my back. "But he looks like Brent?" I nodded again, and he sighed loudly. "I want to know what Brent did to y
ou, love."

  "Cerise told you."

  "Yes, she did. But I need to hear it from you. I want you to talk about it."

  "I don't want to, Sean."

  "I know." His hand on my back was slow and soothing. "But you can't keep this bottled up. It keeps the fear inside and lets it build in strength. You're letting him have more power over you by keeping it in."

  He was quiet for a few minutes, and I thought about what he said. I always thought if I ignored it, it would go away—the memories of it. But he was right. Down in that basement with Anthony over me, it was just as strong as the day it had happened.

  "It only happened three times," I explained quietly. "It's not like I was in a bad abusive relationship or anything. I'm making it a bigger deal than it was. He just got angry at me a few times and hit me. It's not a big deal."

  "Is that what you've been telling yourself since it happened? It's not a big deal?"

  "It isn't, Sean. I just had bruises and some pain. Not like broken bones or hospital visits."

  He pulled me away from him and looked me in the eye. "This is serious. I can't believe you don't think it is. He hit you. You don't hit someone you love—ever. I want to hear it all. Start talking."

  "I don't want—"

  "Morgan," he warned.

  "Ugh!" I put my head back down on his shoulder. "We were making plans for the wedding. It was stressful. There were bills to pay, and he kept insisting I ask my mom for more money, but I knew she didn't have it. I was in the living room, and he was yelling at me because I went with the least expensive band. It wasn't the band he wanted. He—" I sighed. "He said I was too spoiled and always had to have my way. I called him a jerk and he slapped me. Then—"

  "How hard did he slap you Morgan?"

  By his tone, I could tell he already knew more, so I gave in. "I—I fell off the couch and hit my head—against the coffee table. Do you want to know the size and severity of the bruising as well, or can I get this over with."

  "Go on."

  "Two weeks before the wedding, he cornered my mom and demanded she ask her family for money for the wedding. He told her she was selfish. I came in and made my mom leave. He turned on me, and… I tried to turn away from him, but he punched me in the back several times. He shook me so hard."

  Tears were slowly escaping my eyes. The memories were still too vivid, and I rushed to get them out. "The last time was on our wedding day. He—my grandpa flat-out told him I would never inherit anything. He came to me—my mom was dealing with a catering problem. I was in my wedding dress, and I smiled at him and teased him that he shouldn't be seeing me in my dress. He—he pushed his way into the room, his mother right behind him. He—he—Sean, I can't."

  "I've got you, Morgan. You're safe with me. It's just a memory. He can't hurt you anymore. Just tell me what happened."

  I held onto him tighter, and he squeezed me more firmly. It made me fell a little safer to focus on his arms around me. "He uh—ripped my dress off, leaving—he—there were scratch marks across my chest. I—cried out and huddled in the corner like usual. But he—he knocked me to the floor and kicked me in the stomach again and again. He said I was a lying bi—a liar for trying to trick him into marrying me. He said that—that I knew there was no inheritance and was leading him on. He kicked my back a lot. His mom finally pulled him off me, and they left."

  "Jesus Christ, Morgan. Didn't you go to the police?"

  "My mom begged me to, but I was so embarrassed."

  "What on earth do you have to be embarrassed about some low-life piece of shit who blames you for his own greediness then beats you for it? He's the sick bastard here, love, not you. This is not your fault."

  "I should have known. He talked about money a lot and being wealthy. I should have known he thought I had money."

  "You're being ridiculous. You can't read minds. You're blaming yourself for something out of your control. Now you're welcome to blame yourself for not going to the fucking police the second he laid a hand on you. You should have put the bastard in jail, but I'm assuming you loved him. People do stupid things when they're in love."

  "Like buy a huge house by a lake?"

  "No, sweetie. That's one of the smartest things I've ever done." He squeezed me even tighter. "I love you. I'll never let anything like that happen to you ever again. Even if you don't forgive me, even if it never works out for us, I will kill anyone who touches you like that."

  "I don't want you to kill anyone, and I don't want you to go anywhere. I just want to stay like this for a long, long time."

  "Well it might be tricky to eat and shower, but I think we can figure it out." He'd made that joke before, but it felt familiar and warm.

  I stayed in his arms the rest of the night. We stretched out in front of the fireplace, and he ran his fingers through my hair, telling me stories about how he met Anthony and the millions of times he'd seen Anthony get shot down by a woman. I told him the story of Beans, and how he carried me home after I tripped in the woods. I even told him we were in the woods because he stole my stuffed unicorn and was finding the right tree to throw it in.

  I'm not sure when we fell asleep, or when I fell asleep, but I know it was light out when I woke up alone in Sean's bed screaming at the top of my lungs. He came rushing out of the bathroom and wrapped his arms around me, cradling me close to him. A few minutes later, a knock at the bedroom door surprised me.

  Anthony peeked in. "Is she okay?"

  "Yeah. I've got her," Sean said quietly as he rocked me in his arms.

  Rebuilding

  The next time I woke up, Sean's arms were wrapped solidly around me, and it was bright in his bedroom. He was asleep, and I was just able to tilt my head back enough to watch him. He didn't look peaceful though. He looked a little unhappy with the corners of his mouth just barely turned down. I wondered what he was dreaming about.

  Lying there, in the safety of his arms, I had to think about what would happen when he woke up. How was this going to work? Would he think things were back to being fine between us? Was anything ever fine between us? Would he go back to keeping his distance? And did I want him to keep his distance?

  Then there was Brent to worry about. When was he going to show up and announce his ugly presence? Obviously, he was here for me or he would have left when everyone else turned him away, and he would not have called me to begin with. Thinking of his call reminded me that I was now without a cell phone. To make matters worse, my contract wasn't up for another year, so I was going to have to pay full price for a new phone, which meant several hundreds of dollars. I didn't have that kind of money.

  The strong line of Sean's collarbone drew my attention and I absentmindedly ran a finger along it. His skin was the perfect color—not too pale, but not too olive. Somehow I managed to resist giving his collarbone a kiss, but it took some restraint. I had just barely touched my finger to his lip when his eyes blinked open.

  "Sorry." I hadn't meant to actually wake him. I just wanted to touch his lips in case we were keeping our distance today.

  "Don't be." He kissed my finger and pulled me tighter into him. "How long have you been awake?"

  "Not long. I was just taking a few minutes to relax."

  "Relax away, sweetie. I'm perfectly happy here."

  I pushed away from him, stretching. The look of disappointment on his face was unmistakable. "I need a hot shower."

  "You're welcome to use mine, you know?"

  I forced a smile at him, unsure what that would mean to him and even to me. "My stuff is upstairs."

  He looked like he wanted to say something but turned his head to the side and looked out the window instead. He let out a loud sigh and climbed out of bed, grabbing his cell phone from the nightstand. "I should check on Mel. She's flying in later this week. Her husband was giving her shit about it."

  I got to my feet and ran my fingers through my hair. "He sounded really possessive when she talked about him in L.A.. Is he—I mean, he's not like—he doesn't�
��" I stared at the ground, unable to actually voice my concern.

  He walked over to me and touched my shoulder. His eyes were so incredible. They were like two crystal spheres. With the bright light off the fresh snow filtering in through the windows, his eyes were smoky orbs with warm green drops scattered about. "He's never hit her, sweetie."

  I looked back down at my feet next to his and nodded. He put his finger underneath my chin and made me look back at him. "I need you to really listen to me, Morgan. I can be a possessive ass sometimes, and you make me want to pull you into my arms and never let anyone near you ever again. I—uh—I'm working on that, but Morgan, I will never ever raise a hand to you."

  I pulled away from him and walked toward the window. I appreciated that he wanted me to know that. I could understand why he thought I would benefit from hearing it, but I didn't need to. He'd shown me time and again that he wasn't the type to hit. I didn't want my past to be hanging over our heads any more than it already was. I didn't want him to obsessively baby me. Sure, I had fragile moments, but I wasn't constantly ready to break down—well, not usually anyway. With Brent back in town, I guess I was a little more fragile than I had been, but I didn't want to be. I refused to be.

  I walked back over to him and put my hands on my hips, smirking. "Never?"

  Lines formed between his eyebrows. "Of course not, I—" He stopped and quietly scrutinized my expression, narrowing his eyes. A slow smile crept across his gorgeous lips.

  "What if I begged you to?" He was staring at my mouth as I asked the question.

  He took a step closer. "Let me amend that." His deep-dimpled smile made my pulse race. "I will never raise a hand to you in anger. But you do have the most beautiful ass. Any time you find it needs a little disciplinary attention, I'd be happy to help you out with that." My smirk widened into a full smile as he winked at me. I could feel my cheeks warm up. He put his hands on them, rubbing his thumbs along my cheekbones. "You're so beautiful."

  I rolled my eyes, knowing I must look a mess from crying so much the day before. My stomach growled, reminding me that I'd slept the morning away. "It must be late. What time is it?"