Another Stroke of Fate (The Carnal Exhibitions Book 2)

by LW Barefoot

  I rip Evan’s necklace off. It falls through my fingers.

  My emotions accompany it as they fall and splash on the muddy ground. I stare out across the trees to say my silent goodbye because I’m leaving. I’m not giving up hope. I’m not running away. I’m simply learning how to play by the rules. Measuring up my opponents and biding my time. This isn’t over, not even close.

  Evan

  Brad takes the belt off Harper’s wrists and carries her away from the wreckage. Not looking at me or acknowledging my destruction of her studio. I wait until I know they’re out of earshot.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Grayson demands as he storms in the room.

  I don’t answer him as I look around as if sobering up and realizing the destruction I’ve caused. My chest is tight and has been since I saw my father’s fingers bruised in Harper’s neck. The taste of her skin lingers on my tongue and I savor it like the finest wine because I will never experience it again.

  “I don’t know how to do this,” I confess.

  Tom and his team of agents were coming up short on leads and evidence on the Sculptor. At least, the painting Joe brought as a gift is long gone and will be in the hands of the FBI. Hopefully, they gain something from the evidence. I pray I never have to see the damn thing ever again.

  “You’ll figure it out, you have to,” he exclaims.

  I walk over to the window, looking down and watching the front of the plantation. The place I call home that no longer feels so comforting.

  Brad throws Harper’s studio door open. It crashes against the wall, pulling both of our attention to him. His shoulders are splattered with rain. His chest heaves and an anger I’ve never seen him possess before takes over and controls him.

  He stomps across the room and swings his fist so hard and fast across my jaw my head snaps to the side. I don’t deflect the first hit or the next one. Blood trickles down my split lip as I take Brad’s assault.

  “How could you?” Brad rages at me.

  I’m silent as I take a hit to the stomach. Blood trickles out of my mouth. I watch in morbid fascination as Brad’s fury comes full force.

  When I spit a mouthful of blood on the floor, he backs off, turning to the wall and hitting it as hard as he can.

  “When is it enough? When is it ever going to be enough for you? She’s already broken. You’ve been so scared you were going to turn out just like your father, but congratulations, you’re the spitting fucking image of him,” Brad yells.

  “I’m sorry,” I choke out.

  “I never thought I would have to protect Harper from you of all people. I’ve been preparing for months to stand between her and the Sculptor or your fucked up dad, but you, you son-of-a-bitch, I never thought you were capable of this.”

  I stand up, wipe a fist across my mouth, and widen my stance to accept more of Brad’s fury.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry. You’re damn right you’re sorry, but I’m not the person you need to apologize to and beg forgiveness from,” Brad yells.

  “I think Harper should come with me to Florida,” Grayson interrupts our heated stand-off.

  He’s attempting to diffuse the situation, but I deserve Brad’s wrath and brace myself for more.

  “We haven’t discussed this but I was planning on taking her with me, knowing she can’t go back to New Orleans and not wanting her to find out the Sculptor is already there,” Grayson explains.

  “It’s done then,” I finally give in.

  My eyes never move away from Harper as she gets drenched in the rain.

  “Are you two going to be all right with this arrangement?” I ask, rubbing my throbbing jaw.

  “As long as he keeps his hands to himself, I’m good,” Brad states.

  “You both heard what Tom said. Don’t let her find out that the Sculptor is here,” I remind them as I study the welts on Harper’s thighs and try not to envision the scarred number that marks her as his.

  Harper

  Brad, Grayson, and even Martin move around me in a blur, packing up a car. As if the raging threat was coming from inside the plantation and not outdoors in the atmosphere that swirls around us.

  My eyes are open, but this has to be the first time. The resolution, the promise I made to fight for Evan echoes and overlays every thought that passes through me. But there are different ways to look at every situation.

  The first night I met Evan I was more than comfortable walking around guarded and insecure. Allowing my past to be worn around me and I used it as a pitiful excuse not to progress, not to grow as a person. Evan changed all that. I didn’t understand it at the time, but that’s exactly what I needed, who I needed.

  There was no lie in his determination or intentions. In fact, he’s the most brutally honest person I’ve ever encountered. And as he climbed the walls I built around myself, he never gave up, never took no for an answer because he knew me better than I knew myself. I shook with fear and fascination as this fierce man took over my life, irrevocably. Inserting himself in every aspect and never apologizing for his approach or actions.

  As I stand in the aftermath of what just happened, I realize I’m the only one who has been dishonest. I made it easy for him to push me away. I ignorantly assumed he would see past all my cautious words and cryptic actions. I hate myself for dancing around what I really wanted. I never let him in on who I really am because I didn’t know who she was.

  I replay memories of our short time together and I’m ashamed. I should have been able to express something to let him in on what I was feeling. I allowed the presence of our problems to justify and overshadow my self-doubt about him, about me, and worst of all, about us.

  I want to stop making excuses and finally put a voice to my feelings. Knowing this is the only time in my life I’ve had to face this. I’m closed-off and damaged and I’ve wished I could change that. But it only matters now that it’s over. He’s given up, he’s pushed me away, and I willingly let him do it.

  I want to laugh at how stupid I’ve been. I’ve been reckless and unaware and that’s also my fault. Evan’s been so afraid of turning into his father he thinks he’s succeeded in making me believe he’s become him and it’s not fair. Evan’s just shown me his scars and they might run deeper than my own.

  My blinders have been ripped off. My brokenness with my mangled existence saw beyond what Evan thought. I didn’t see his father in him, I saw him. And he’s far from perfect, just like me.

  I’ve been through the ringer and I’m not about to be cowed by the love of my life. I’ve witnessed two men exhilarated and jubilant in causing me real pain, I know too intimately what that looks like. Despite what everyone else moving around me thinks, Evan hated it. There was no pleasure in what he just did, nothing but pure desperation and fear.

  As the rain washes my tears away, I promise myself not to lose him, not like this. I let out the deep aching breath I’ve been holding and with it, I release all the weight of the things I can’t change. I allow one last look up at my studio and see Evan staring down at me. Shrouded in darkness, his silhouette looms as lightning highlights the dark room.

  That wasn’t beauty I created and he destroyed. It was my feeble excuse to express myself because I’m too much of a coward to do it with words. I was the one disgusted with myself and not wanting to progress. I assumed the passion I threw into my art was an act of reclaiming some of what the Sculptor took from me. I thought it was healing me, making me whole, but that progress was taking place in the here and now.

  Evan fought through my dreams and even the light of day to come for me and love me. It’s not just him either, but I watch as Brad loads Rufus in the car. Grayson openly watches me as if I might fall. I hug the blanket Martin brought out to me and replay all the times his quiet presence was needed these last few weeks. It’s not just the fear of losing Evan, but the mixed family I will have to let go of as well.

  Mae comes out and wraps her arms around me.
Rubbing her hands up and down my upper back and I allow myself to sink in her embrace.

  We watch as the world spins around us, both of us getting drenched in the rain and not giving a damn about it. It’s obvious Evan and I aren’t the only ones dealing with this. Mae’s presence seems to calm the energy around us. I pull from her unwavering strength, fortifying myself against this aftermath.

  Brad slams the rear hatch on the vehicle and Grayson climbs into the passenger seat. Mae squeezes me tight before letting me go, holding me out so she can look at me. Her deep eyes hold mine and it feels like she’s testing me. When we first met, my eyes were unsure and unable to hold someone else’s, but now, I openly stare back at her.

  A sly smile creeps on her face and she whispers, “That’s my girl. You call your momma you hear me.”

  It takes me a minute to understand that she’s referring to herself.

  “Thank you, Mae, for everything,” I say, ignoring the fact the rain comes down stronger.

  “Oh no, you don’t. This isn’t goodbye, Harper. I’ll be seeing you soon enough,” she says.

  Her arm is around my shoulders as we walk the few feet to the car. I crawl in the back seat while she hugs Brad and tells us all she loves us and to have a safe trip.

  Once Brad gets in the driver’s seat, Mae reaches in to love on Ru’, talking to him in that sugary sweet voice. She stands and shuts the door for Brad.

  I watch in sadness and determination as we pull away from the plantation. Martin wraps Mae in a hug when she climbs to the front porch that blocks the pelting rain.

  My heart drowns in the muddy driveway. I feel the physical distance from Evan with each stretching mile.

  The storm has built and its fury pounds on the car as distress takes over. Its violence demands to be felt. The rushing rain comes down so hard and brutal the windshield wipers don’t have a chance of producing clear visibility. I want to point out that forces of nature protest our escape because this shouldn’t be happening, but no one would be capable of hearing me. The thunder and torrent cover my sobs. The heavy branches of the oak trees sway and slash across the car. The sounds so similar to the harsh strikes I experienced upstairs.

  This isn’t going to last, I tell myself. I knew what was going to happen and I wasn’t going to allow Evan the final say in this. I saw beyond the lies he has built around his life to keep everyone he loves safe.

  Mae is more than just a housekeeper, she’s his mom, the one who nurtured and loved him. Brad isn’t just my bodyguard, Evan views and loves him like a brother. I’ve watched Evan mend his relationship with Grayson through mutual understanding and similar goals.

  As we distance ourselves from the estate, Grayson still held true to his promise. I should have taken him up on his offer to protect me from myself.

  I force my tears to subside with the rain. It’s now sprinkling after miles of rage and waterfalls. I sit up in the backseat and wipe away the moisture off my cheeks. The road signs point the opposite direction of New Orleans and towards Mississippi.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  Brad’s eyes meet mine in the rearview, but he doesn’t say anything and looks at Grayson. Ru’ jumps in the back with me and nestles into the blanket Martin brought out in the rain, even though it’s wet. Brad has had the heat turned on in the car. I’m not the only one who felt the effects of the rain.

  “Miami,” Grayson says without turning around in his seat.

  “Why? Y’all should be taking me back to New Orleans. I know it’s been awhile, but I don’t care at this point if you’re worried about Joe. Ryan and Tom are there and they won’t let anything happen,” I proclaim because that makes the most logical sense to me.

  “It’s not that easy,” Brad mutters and keeps his eyes trained on the road.

  “It’s not as if I commute or have a regular nine to five work day. I work from home and I’m pretty sure Jamie mentioned something about Tom and Ryan using the third floor of our townhouse. I couldn’t be safer.”

  I don’t miss both Grayson and Brad take a long look at each other. They are hiding something from me.

  “Do you feel inspired to paint right now, Harper?” Grayson asks.

  Grayson pauses before pointing out the reason I won’t be picking up a brush for awhile. His tone is nonchalant and he does a good job of acting like he saw nothing.

  “No, not right this minute,” I confess.

  My ass is still on fire from Evan and my chest has a huge hole in it where I left any creative inspiration behind at the plantation.

  “We can’t go back to New Orleans for a little while,” Brad states.

  “Cut the bullshit. I think I’ve had more than enough for one day,” I say and I surprise even myself.

  The guys stare at each other and Brad smiles while Grayson lets out a roar of laughter. I didn’t think my statement was funny, it’s the truth. After Grayson and Brad keep looking at each other and wondering what to say to me I’m tired of waiting. Voicing my concern felt so good.

  “Seriously, don’t you think I’ve been lied to enough,” I point out.

  “Who’s been lying to you, Harper?” Brad asks.

  “Everyone. Every single person I know lies to me.”… ‘And you know how much I hate liars, Casey’ … “You two just witnessed whatever display that was back there and I don’t care what you think, but Evan’s the biggest liar of them all.”

  “He’s trying to protect you,” Grayson says this without thought and then tries to backpedal out of his comment.

  As all this was some plan to piss me off and break my heart in an effort to protect me. If Evan was trying to protect me from falling in love with him, then it’s too late.

  Grayson finally turns in his seat and faces me.

  “Liar,” I say, pulling the blanket up around my shoulders, locking my gaze to his.

  “You’re a smart girl, Harper, does Evan strike you as someone who changes his mind on a whim?”

  “No, not at all,” I say because Evan’s been nothing if not forward about exactly what he wants.

  “Why did he do this?”

  The question is out and remains unanswered. Grayson turns around in his seat and Brad focuses on the road ahead.

  I’m left guessing what could possibly make Evan so afraid as we pass road signs for a place called Picayune, Mississippi. I laugh when I think about the meaning of the word picayune: small and of little importance.

  Harper

  I manage to locate a sundress from one of my bags and slip it on in the dark backseat. Grayson and Rufus are both asleep and I catch Brad’s gaze in the rearview.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, quietly.

  I discipline the tears that want to surface and I control them so well they don’t even blur my vision.

  “I will be. Are you?” I ask.

  I caught sight of his bloody knuckles when he first climbed in the car.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. That’s what I’m for but I never thought he was capable of doing that to you.”

  “Don’t worry, I asked for it,” I say and his eyes immediately shoot to mine in astonishment.

  “Harper, don’t ever say that again.”

  I’ve never heard him talk to me this way. His voice drips in venom and disgust.

  “I pushed him too far, it’s my fault. Please don’t look at me like that. I know exactly what happened back there and even though Evan was wrong, so was I.”

  Brad responds with shaking his head, not understanding my explanation, but I’m thankful we drop it. Even though Brad is exposed to Evan’s world, he’s managed to maintain some of his innocence. There are no words I can ever equate to what I’ve been through for Brad to understand and it’s not for him to. I’m just now beginning to understand it myself.

  I take over navigation on Brad’s phone and it dings with texts from Evan. I enviously watch while typing Brad’s responses for him. The first message is an apology, the second is him pleading, asking about how I’
m doing. Those tears I was so proud of containing earlier start to fall. Brad insists I type back that I’m no longer Evan’s concern, but I can’t make myself do it. Because that’s not what I want Evan to hear.

  I type that I’m okay and I forgive him completely, signing with my name so he’s not confused about who sent it. The incoming texts stop and Grayson’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

  We pull up to a hotel in the early morning hours.

  After we’re checked in and unloaded, the sun starts to rise. Brad and I split a suite and Grayson insists he can sleep on the couch but Brad gets him his own room.

  When I’m out of the shower and dressed for bed, I walk back to the living area to Grayson taking lids off of plates on the dining table. Brad’s already digging into his breakfast as I sit down.

  We eat in awkward silence until Grayson brings up the fact there’s no rush to get to Miami. He still has a few days until he needs to get back on the road.

  Our plan is to sleep in and by the time we finish eating, we’re all completely exhausted. Grayson grabs the key to his room and throws a tube of antibiotic cream on the table along with a bottle of hot pink sleep-inducing allergy pills.

  “I thought you could both use these,” and with that, he’s gone with the click of the hotel door.

  I count the myriad of locks and bolts on the door, but I don’t get up to secure them. Brad looks down at his bloody fists before meeting my gaze. I open the tube Grayson tossed on the table, running the clear gel over his knuckles.

  Since I saw his messed up hands, I’ve been worried about the state he left Evan in. I take the tube with me once I’m done with Brad and smooth over the last marks I’ll ever receive from Evan and pray that those tiny pills work their magic.

  Harper

  Two Weeks Later…

  Brad and I are meeting Grayson at the rooftop bar and pool in downtown Miami. Brad stays out of the sun. He jokes his skin is as dark as he wants.