Take Me Home: Book 4 The Wakefield Romance Series

by Hewitt, Theresa Marguerite

  “He’s not Dad, Jack.” I had laughed lightly, making sure Jake couldn’t hear me, and my brother had just raised his eyebrow at me. He knew something wasn’t right about my now ex, and I should’ve followed his feeling. It would’ve saved me a lot of trouble, broken bones, and bruises.

  “Yeah, well,” he had said, pulling me into a hug, “call me anyway.”

  “I will.” I had kissed him on his clean shaven cheek, playfully rubbing his buzz cut donned head and he had laughed, his smile bringing out his dimples. “Love ya, Bro.”

  “Love ya, Sis.” He smiled one last time, pulling me in for a quick kiss on the top of my head like he always had and then he was gone, his Jeep kicking up dust on our little road.

  If only I had listened to him, or gone with that gut feeling his warning had left me with.

  “Ellie!” Jude’s loud voice snaps me from my dreaming and I notice I’m just standing by the patio door, staring out into Rhea’s backyard. The horses are chasing each other on the other side of the fence, causing the chickens to scatter in a flurry of feathers. I turn my eyes to my friend.

  “What?” I don’t hide the snippy tone as I dry my hands on the damp towel on the stove and give Jude a bitchy look. He returns it with a raised eyebrow, and I know he’d playfully repay my attitude with a body slam onto the couch in the living room, no doubt kicking off a rowdy roughhousing session between the guys, but my look keeps him in check and he just sighs heavily.

  “Nothin’. Damn,” he says, leaning his hip on the counter and crossing his very toned arms over his chest. “I was jus’ askin’ ya if ya wanted anything to drink, or if you wanted me to take you home? But if you’re gonna react like that, you can walk back to the trailer park.” He gives me a joking snort and I throw the towel I had dried my hands with at him, hitting him right in the face as he chuckles.

  Garth comes around from the living room just in time to see the towel make contact, and, being the ever present joker, says, “Does she need her ass kicked, Brother?” He gives Jude a raised eyebrow and for a second I contemplate my escape routes, but Jude just shakes his head.

  “Nah, I’ll let the attitude slide for now.” He laughs and Garth joins in as I stick my tongue out at both of them. I grab my purse from the chair and slide my arm around Rhea’s waist as she tries to clean up Charlie’s highchair.

  “I’ll see ya tomorrow, Ray-Ray.” I kiss her on the cheek as she says ‘ok’, but by the look in her eyes I know she can tell there is something bothering me. I ignore her look and give my favorite little guy a quick kiss on the forehead as he squeals. “I’ll make our lunches for work so don’t worry about it,” I say as I make my way through the living room behind Jude.

  “Okay, don’t forget my Snickers! You owe me one!” She shouts and I turn back around to see her face around the archway, giving me a fake evil eye and I can’t help but laugh. “Don’t laugh,” she says, shaking her finger at me, “you ate the last one out of my desk. I should fire your ass for that, but since you’re my cousin, as long as you replace it, I’ll let you slide.”

  “Okay, okay,” I hold my hands up in surrender, “I’ll get you a whole bag of Snickers.”

  “Good! And I don’t want the fun size ones either. I go through them like it’s my job.” She smiles and I see Chad come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her cheek.

  “Yeah, Ell. Don’t deprive my wife of her chocolate,” Chad says, smiling as Rhea swats him in the chest. “We all know how she gets without it.”

  “Yeah, superbitch!” Garth chimes in and as I reach the door, hearing Jude laughing in front of me as he holds it open, I turn back just in time to see Garth get blasted in the face with a thrown pillow. I can’t help it, as I wave goodbye to my laughing cousin, I burst out in a fit of giggles, too. My friends are so damn weird.

  I’m still laughing lightly as Jude pulls off Rhea’s street, heading for our trailer park. His brand new, tricked out Camaro shifts smoothly into third as he speeds down the bare road, taking the corners way too fast, but that’s the kind of guy he is. As the back end of the car slides around another corner, skidding in the loose gravel, I instinctively grab onto the center console.

  “Something botherin’ you, girly?” he asks, and I see him watching me out of the corner of his eye. He’s come to know me pretty well, even better than when I stripped at Marco’s. At times, when I text him late at night because I’m breaking, I don’t even have to say anything out loud. He just comes over, settling next to me on the couch or floor, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, and he starts to tell me some stories about his fucked up childhood, or racy stories about him and his many girls; trying to make me laugh and take my mind off my thoughts.

  “Nah,” I lie, shaking my head and giving him a smile. I feel the weight on my chest growing, though, and I just want to curl up in a ball and disappear. The familiar crunch of the gravel in the trailer park drive underneath his tires makes me sigh heavily and I feel him pat my hand, but I don’t recognize the action. For a second, I wish Jude was Bobby and tears build on my lashes, kicking my ass into that dark place that I’m trying so hard not to fall into.

  I grab the door handle and get out, slamming the door shut in zombie mode. I hear Jude say something like, “Alright, see ya later, girly,” but I just wave over my shoulder. Shoving the door to my shitty little home open, I let it slam shut behind me and toss my purse down.

  Why was I so damn stupid to lie to Bobby like that? Not just about sleeping with Garth and Bobby while he was away, but about my abortion? Why didn’t I let Chad and Bobby, and hell, all of their SEAL buddies, help me when they insisted?

  Because I’m stupid, that’s why.

  I throw myself down onto my old, floral print couch, and sink my face into one of the pillows, trying my best to shove the inevitable tears away. I turn my face to look into the kitchen and in that moment that fateful June day plays out in front of me. I’m sitting on the kitchen floor, crying, with my back up against the cabinet as Jake stalks toward me, his motorcycle boots clicking on the linoleum as he pulls his belt free from the loops on his pants. He grabs the end and snaps the leather, the crack making me flinch, even now, as the leather warms up; like he always used to do it when we were married. The smirk on his face as he pulled me into his arms, telling me that I would always be his, no matter how far I ran. Then he pushed me back against the counter and I slapped him across the face just as the belt came across my stomach, making me gasp and double over.

  “You, bitch,” he had growled, bringing the belt across my back as I was on my hands and knees and it had made me scream. The sting of the leather on my skin as it reached me even through my tank, makes my eyes water now and I try to bury my face in the pillow to force it away, but the heat radiates over my body as another phantom strike lands, this time across my ass.

  I had decided to fight back them, and had kicked him in the shins, taking advantage of his shock and bringing my arm up and into his face, throwing his head back. I had tried to get away, but the pain slowed me down and he caught me around one of my ankles, sending me to the floor again as I grasped at things on my counter; knocking everything to the floor.

  His fists met my face I don’t know how many times as I kicked and slapped at him, but by then I was numb to the pain as I had endured it for our entire marriage. What was one more time, right? And I was determined in that moment to make it the last time, for the both of us. I didn’t want that bastard to own me any longer and I didn’t want to live with my mistakes. So many mistakes.

  The rage, fear, and pain I had felt in those moments as he struck me over and over with the belt fills me and I sit up on the couch and throw the pillow at his damn shadow, hearing it connect with the wall and my trash can. I let out a frustrated scream as the tears spill over my lashes and I hold my face in my hands as the sobs take over. I hate Jake for doing what he did to me. I hate myself for being so weak that I let it happen, and letting it carry on for as long as it did.r />
  My body shakes with all of these thoughts, emotions, and sobs running through me and I fall to my side on the thin carpeted floor. I see headlights coming toward my trailer and my phone starts to play Miranda Lambert’s, Gunpowder and Lead, and I know it’s my friend and co-worker, Chelsi, but I don’t get up to answer it. The headlights come close and I can hear the car running just outside my trailer even over my sobs. I curl around myself, wrapping my arms around my middle.

  I want Bobby’s strong arms to come surround me, lifting me out of this haze as his hazel eyes pull my heart from this funk. I want his touch to wash over me as his lips bring me back to life. But no, that won’t happen. I want to hear his voice, calling me sweetheart in that damn Georgia drawl he has that is so sexy. No, that won’t happen either. I fucked all that up and it makes me sob a little harder and turn my face into the scratchy carpet.

  I’m gripping the short, worn fibers in between my fingers as the light beaming through my living room from the headlights disappears and I hear a car door open then slam shut. I let out a loud, ear piercing scream that makes my head buzz and I try to curl into myself again. I just want to dissolve into this shitty carpet.

  Light footsteps sound from my wooden steps and there’s a small knock at the door before it swings open and I lift my tear streaked face. It’s Chelsi, as I thought, and I just sob a little more at the worried expression on her freckle dotted face. She doesn’t say anything at first, just comes right over to me, pulling me up to a sitting position on the floor so that my back is against the couch and she settles in next to me, throwing her arm over my shoulders.

  I lean my head on her shoulder and just let it out, I don’t care anymore. She knows the story and she just sits here with me as the last bit of the sunset fades away, my living room growing dark until she switches the TV on. As the scenes of a cheesy scary movie play out in front of my blurry eyes, I wipe my hand across my face and take a ragged breath. My entire body hurts now and I sink my head into Chelsi’s shoulder a little more, her arm tightening around me.

  “Came to see if ya needed to talk,” she says as I straighten up, running my hands over my hair and I give her an ironic smile. The strawberry blonde haired girl just rests her head against my shoulder, the pin straight locks tangling with my curly, dark brown ones as I put my head against hers.

  “I don’t really wanna talk.” I sigh, because I don’t. I just want to feel numb. “You wanna hang with me and watch stupid movies?” I turn my eyes to her and see her smile as she reaches into her purse, producing a little sandwich baggie and holding it in front of her face. She winks and her light green eyes reflect the meager light from the television.

  “Do I want to know what those are?” I say, giving her a loud sigh as I scrape my hand over my face, no doubt smearing my already messed up makeup. I know the girl has demons and she knows I have mine. She’s dangling that little baggie in front of my face as if it is gold. The little pills inside spark my curiosity, I’m not going to lie. Also, I’m not going to lie about this either, I’ve thought about getting high with the girl more than once just to not feel like this anymore, if even for only a little while.

  “Oxy. They’ll make you feel better, and I’ve had a shit-tasitc day myself.” I don’t say anything as I watch her open the bag and pick out two pills, holding one out for me to take. “Now these are pretty strong, so one should do the trick. You wanna chew or snort?”

  I know, I know, I shouldn’t be even considering this. ‘Self-destruction is not the answer,’ the words my therapist has pounded into my head roll through, but right now, I just want to not feel anymore. I want this weight on my heart to dissolve and leave me, if only for a little while. I want a night where I can sleep and not wake up crying Bobby’s name. I take the offered pill and hold it in my palm, staring at it.

  “I guess I’ll chew it,” I say after a few moments spent just staring at the little white circle in my hand. Chelsi gets up and after flicking on the lights, she tosses me a water bottle from the fridge, coming back to sit beside me once more. It tastes like shit, but I chew it real fast and try to swish it from my teeth with the cold water.

  “It’ll make ya feel better, sista,” she says, leaning her head on my shoulder as she scrolls through the channels and I just mumble a response.

  Right now, I don’t think anything will make me feel better. I know that I can get better, I am just feeling too weighed down to start pulling myself in that direction right now. I just need to not feel at all, for a little while, and as Chelsi laughs at a commercial for the new Anchor Man movie, I’m hoping those little pills will be my escape.

  Closing my eyes, I swear I can see Bobby’s face, shaking his head at me and it makes my chest tighten more. It’s wrong, but the haze feels so good.

  ~~~

  Bobby

  Irag

  “Get your fuckin’ ass over here, Hatter! Or we’re gonna deal you out!” I yell over my shoulder, listening to my voice echo slightly off the metal surfaces that make up the mess hall and hallway of our little barracks, calling for one of my fellow guards.

  The jacked, tatted up, funny as shit Mad Hatter comes running in, almost knocking Donnie over as he passes the sink and he slides into the chair beside me, picking up his hand for the game of poker we are starting. Donnie grumbles a ‘Fuck you, man’ as I laugh at Hatter, and he flips D off over his tatted shoulder.

  “Jesus, Bobby, could ya give me any shittier off a hand?” he asks, raising his dark eyebrow at me and peering his grey eyes over his cards, held close to his nose as usual. I shake my head at him and peek at my Ace-King suited by only picking up the corners. Leaning back in my chair, I look around the room, zoning out as Hatter tells one of his usual dirty jokes and the other guys debate about their bets.

  I’ve been in the desert for four months, working this private security detail, our main job being to help guard an oil factory owned by some billionaire; but hey, it pays damn good. We’ve had to travel with the guy a couple of times and I’ve been to Afghanistan and Bahrain, but nothing tremendous has happened. Yeah, it’s a shit job, and sometimes dangerous as hell with all of the extremist terrorists lurking out here, but I had to get away. Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought of home, and of Ellie, every second of every day.

  I still have a hard time sleeping at night, which is one of the reasons why I usually take the night patrol shift. I’d rather be awake, walking the metal walkways and hallways, checking for any disturbances along the electrified fences than lay awake, having her laugh ring in my ears as the vision of her perfect smile rolls through my mind, over and over. I haven’t called her, or text her, or anyone else for that matter, because I want to give her the time that she needs.

  She was broken, and hell, so was I. I feel like a better man now, but I would be even better, I would be more complete, if I was back home with her. Will she still want me, though? Will she still be the sweet, sexy as hell, rowdy little thing she was before all of the lies broke our little world?

  I was mad. I was pissed. I felt betrayed and hurt beyond belief as that asshole, Jake Heart, tossed out those pictures of her straddling Garth, kissing Brad on that day my world fell apart, again. Even now my chest starts to get tight and I shift in my seat as I remember that June day, out there on the football field. My leg starts to shake with the nerves running through my body, and in the back of my mind I hear the metal clicking against another metallic surface as my prosthetic taps into the table leg.

  I realized later, after I had shipped out with these guys, when I had a clear head and the anger had dissipated somewhat, that her little night with them happened before we were together and she didn’t have to tell me about it. It’s not like I sat down and told her every little detail about my weekend fling with Kendall, so what business was it of mine to pry into her sex life? But still, it would have been nice to know that she had hooked up with two guys, who are boyfriends mind you, and who I consider good friends.

  And I know, running away wasn�
�t the best answer to our problems, but hell, it was the only thing I could do at the time where I saw the outcome may be being good. I had, and still have, demons that make me think I should stay away from Ellie all together. When I lost my leg on Easter from that grenade, I changed. At first I was a little hateful and resentful to my SEAL brothers who were okay, but then I realized: I saved my brother, my best friend, Elliot from that grenade. Hell, I’m alive when I could be, and maybe should be, dead.

  I wouldn’t have this throbbing pain in my chest when I think of Ellie if I were dead. I wouldn’t have known what it’s like to miss her arms around me, to miss her lips tracing the tattoo on my arm as a sly smile plays across them. I wouldn’t have to deal with the memory of the way her perfect, sexy body, melts into me when I lay the simplest touch on her soft skin. Fuck. I catch myself and shake my head to try and get the image from my head, looking to my cards on the table once more as the guys around me are laughing at God only knows what.

  These guys know most of my story. They know I left to get away from a fucked up situation with a woman, but that’s about it. They probably draw their own conclusions, but we don’t really get that personal out here. For fuck’s sake, I don’t even know Mad Hatter’s real name, everyone just calls him Hatter because of the enormous and awesome tattoo that covers his right shoulder and arm. The top, covering his shoulder, is a laughing skull that has a stars and stripes top hat cocked to the side. Then from the skulls neck comes a red, white, and blue tie that swirls around his arm, complete with the four horsemen of the apocalypse entwined in there with fire filling in behind the red, white, and blue. It’s an amazing piece of work and it’s actually spurred me to get more tattoos of my own; one on my right calf, one across my shoulder blades, and one on my chest.