by Jolie Day
“I forgive you,” she said. “Of course I forgive you.” It was just an accident, after all. She just had to make sure she didn’t make him angry again. Simple, wasn’t it?
*****
A couple nights later, there was still a bruise under her eye as they hosted friends for dinner. Jack’s friends. And their wives.
They were simple women; housewives that stayed home and cared for the children and had dinner waiting when their husbands returned from work. They each had a martini in their hands as they sat together in the living room. Lauren joined them, feeling oddly isolated and exposed.
“Oh dear,” Vivienne said, “where did you get that nasty bruise on your cheek?”
“Oh,” Lauren said, cupping her cheek to hide the mark. “Well, I just got into a scuffle with a particularly rowdy patient at the hospital. He got a bit violent, but I’m okay. No harm done.”
“Except to your face,” Monica huffed. “What an animal! Are you planning to press charges? I know a good lawyer. I’m married to him.” She cackled at that, nearly dropping her martini.
Lauren laughed, forcibly. “No,” she said. “It’s fine. He, uh, wasn’t in his right mind. These things happen a lot at the hospital.”
“Oh, you are so brave, Lauren,” Vivienne said, placing her hand on Lauren’s arm. “I don’t think I could ever do what you do, dealing with those kinds of people. I can’t even believe Jack lets you do that. He’s such a good man.”
“He really is,” Monica agreed. “You are so lucky to have him.”
Lauren smiled and looked toward the kitchen, where the men were sitting around the table, talking amongst themselves, about business and whatnot. She met Jack’s eyes and smiled, raising her glass to him. He grinned back.
“Yes,” she said, “I really am.”
And she did believe it. Really, she did.
*****
Every time he hits her, he kisses her bruises. Every time he makes her cry, he gets down on his knees and begs her for forgiveness. He begs her not to leave him. He makes love to her, softly, reverently, looks deep into her eyes and tells her that he loves her so much. Then he does it all over again the next day. The hits become more frequent than his apologies until the apologies don’t come at all, leaving her tiptoeing around him, praying that he doesn’t decide that his dinner is too cold or that she doesn’t tell him that she loves him often enough. She fears the moment that he walks through the door, but she’s too afraid to stay too long at work, lest he get angry that she’s not home enough or that she doesn’t love him and is avoiding him.
But she does love him. She loves him so much that it hurts. Maybe this is what they meant when they said that love is pain. Maybe this is the pain that they meant. She can’t be the only person that experienced this, surely. Maybe Monica and Vivienne experience the exact same thing. Maybe they’re just better at hiding it; at grinning and bearing it.
Maybe they’re just stronger than she is.
*****
It’s just before their second wedding anniversary when he leads her into their bedroom and she sees the ropes tied to the bedposts and he smiles down at her, saying that he wants to try something new. Before Lauren can respond, he picks her up in his big strong arms and places her in the middle of the bed, taking her mouth in a rough kiss as he disrobes her and ties her up, making sure that her bonds are tight. Lauren winces in pain as she tugs, trying to loosen them. But they don’t budge and then Jack is placing a blindfold over her eyes and telling her to ‘just relax, baby.’ But she can’t.
She can’t because then she feels the knife he runs against her naked belly. It’s not quite a scalpel, but it might as well be. He pokes her and it hurts. He draws patterns on her with the tip, pressing only enough to scratch her skin and cause an itch that makes her squirm.
Again, she tries to loosen her bonds; tries to kick him away from her as she calls for help. He slaps her across the face and she cries out again, tears now streaming down her cheeks. He doesn’t speak; he just laughs with each slice, each slap, each cry of pain. He’s obviously confident that nobody will come to her aid, but she continues to scream. Even when he presses the knife deeper. Even when he continues to beat her.
Hadn’t they just spoken the other day about how amazing it would be to have children one day? To have sons as handsome as him and daughters as beautiful as her? To have their very own little family? Was he planning this while they were still dreaming up their future together?
Finally, he leaves her out on the bed.
The cuts are shallow; not deep enough to kill her right at this moment, but if they’re left untreated, she could bleed to death before they have the chance to heal. She wonders if he knows this or if he just wants to let her suffer for a few hours before tending to her wounds. She wonders if he cares about her at all.
She whimpers and cries for help through the bedroom wall, praying that her neighbors can hear her and save her. She gets no response and finds herself praying that she’ll be saved.
She hears a bang in the next room and then yelling. She hears her name, but she’s too tired to answer. She closes her eyes, ignoring the scuffle that she can hear from her spot on the bed. It’s happening just one room over, but she can’t force herself to focus on it right now. The sound starts to fade away until all she can hear is white noise.
*****
Present day...
Lauren was woken up by the sound of a bang and she startled, fumbling out of bed and reaching for the gun in her bedside drawer, pointing it at her door and waiting for something—anything—to happen. There was another bang and she jumped, but kept her cool enough to register it as a knock. She crept toward the door, holding the gun at her hip. It was still on safety, meaning she couldn’t shoot her attacker right at this second, but just having its weight in her hand made her feel infinitely safer.
Slowly, she unlocked the door as she took a breath, then raised the gun in the air, pointing it at the figure on the other side as she tugged it open.
Marc jumped back, holding his hands in the air. “What the fuck!” he shouted. “Put that thing down!” He grabbed the barrel of the gun, twisting it out of her hand and checking the safety. Lauren turned to retreat back into her bedroom, but he reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, tugging her back against his chest. He held her tightly as she struggled against him, keeping her constrained until she finally settled down, blinking up at him as if seeing Marc for the first time.
“What?” she murmured. “What happened?”
“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” he retorted. “What’s going on with you?”
“I…I don’t…” She couldn’t even finish her thought as her face suddenly crumpled and tears began to leak from her eyes. Lauren buried her face into Marc’s chest and wrapped her arms around his waist, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. He didn’t attempt to push her away or pull himself out of her embrace. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her in return, one hand running through her hair as the opposite one stroked soothing patterns up and down her spine.
When Marc Kelly first showed up in her life, she couldn’t wait to say goodbye to him. For one thing, he was a strange man and she hadn’t done too well with those since…well, since Jack. She had hoped, in those first few hours, that Joe would have his Harley fixed by the time the sun set the next day so that she wouldn’t have to spend more than one night with him taking up space in her life.
But the more they got to know each other—both in the bedroom and outside of it—the more she began to realize that he wasn’t so much intruding in her life as he was fitting into it, like some kind of puzzle piece. One that she had been missing for the majority of her life. She wondered where he had been all this time and how they hadn’t found each other sooner. If they had, maybe she could have avoided all the pain Jack had put her through.
She wasn’t sure if Marc Kelly was developing feelings for her beyond lust, but based on the way he was looking at h
er with concern, she thought it might be possible. On the other hand, he was a ‘no feelings’ type of man.
When she was finally out of tears, Lauren lifted her head from Marc’s chest and pulled back. His grasp loosened, but he didn’t let go of her entirely. Instead, he locked eyes with her, leaning forward until their foreheads were touching. It was so intimate that Lauren was half-convinced this wasn’t Marc at all, but some kind of clone that had invaded her home while she slept.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice as gruff as ever. Lauren shook her head and struggled to get out of his embrace, but he wouldn’t let her leave. He didn’t hurt her to make her stay, and she actually felt quite safe in his embrace, but it was more than she could take so she continued to struggle. “Lauren,” he said, firmly. “Tell me.”
“I can’t,” she sobbed. “I can’t tell you. It’s too…it’s complicated. I just have to leave.”
“What?” Marc huffed. “What are you talking about? Does this have something to do with your ex-husband?”
Lauren froze, staring up at Marc with wide eyes. “How?” she asked. “How did you know about…?”
“Do I look like an idiot to you?”
She shook her head, but her eyes were still wide and she could feel her suspicious nature coming back, putting up defenses around her heart.
“Why else would you be living in this nothing town, working as a doctor when you’re trained as a fucking trauma surgeon? You’re better than this, Lauren. You’re made for something more.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Lauren said, finally succeeding in backing out of his grasp. But perhaps that was because he wasn’t fighting too much to keep her there. She didn’t attempt to retreat to her bedroom this time. Instead, she took a couple of steps away, turning her back on him as she wrapped her arms around her midsection, looking down at the ground. Emma sat at her feet, wagging her tail and bumping her nose against Lauren’s hip.
She would have to take Emma with her when she left. She had a bag packed already. Everything that was most important to her was in it. All her books and kitchenware meant nothing to her if it would save her life to leave them all behind. Emma, on the other hand, meant the world to her. She could never abandon the pup. She’d added a leash to the bag when the Golden Retriever came to live with her and she could buy new toys and bowls and a bed when they got to their new home. She could probably sell the house quick, leave it furnished for the next person who enjoyed the view from her deck. She would certainly miss it.
“Lauren,” Marc said, startling her from her thoughts as she felt his hand land on her shoulder. She flinched away from his touch, but turned around to see his face. It was the same mask of stone that she’d become familiar with. But his words were genuine. “You should stay,” he said. She opened her mouth to retort, but the look he gave her had her lips clamping shut. “You should stay and I’ll stay with you. I’ll stay and I’ll protect you from that son of a bitch.”
“How?” Lauren sobbed, feeling her heart begin to swell with something she shouldn’t be feeling. Something she couldn’t be feeling. “How are you going to protect me from him?”
“Have you seen me?” Marc retorted, cracking the rare grin. He straightened his back and flexed slightly, showing off his impressive physique.
Lauren shook her head. “You’re no match for him,” she said. “He’s…he has ways of getting what he wants. He’ll stop at nothing.”
“Neither will I,” Marc grunted. “You can’t spend the rest of your life running, Lauren. It’s not healthy.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” she huffed. “You’re hiding from your goddamn boss, because why? You couldn’t keep it in your pants and slept with his daughter? You can’t talk to me about running away.”
“About that,” Marc sighed, looking away. “I should tell you—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” Lauren said, starting back to her bedroom. “I’m leaving and that’s final.”
Before she could even reach for the doorknob, Marc was pushing her into the room, toward the bed. He sat her down on it, looming above her, his face stolid as he considered her. In any other situation, with any other man, she might have been too scared to look him in the eyes. She would have cowered below him, possibly covered her face and begged him not to hurt her. With Jack, she would have expected at least a slap across the face. With another man, she wouldn’t know what was coming.
But with Marc? With him, she knew that she was in no real danger. He’d proven as much in the time that they’d known each other. He would never touch her with any ill intent. He was rough and rugged and strong, but he would never use that against her. Never.
Which is why Lauren found herself staring straight into his eyes, bold and brave, as he stared her down in return. He didn’t speak for a long time as he considered her, his gaze searching hers as if deciding what to say next.
Finally, he spoke.
“I’m not going to tell you what to do,” he said. “I’m not going to tell you whether to stay or not to stay. You do what you want. If running is what you want to do, then I am not going to try to stop you. I can’t stop you. I don’t own you.” Lauren felt her heart swell ridiculously at that. “But I need you to understand that this guy—your ex—is probably never going to stop. If he’s found you now, here, in this little town with a population of 500, then chances are he’ll find you in the next place, as well. Chances are he’ll continue to follow you, all over the country—all over the world—until he’s caught you and done whatever he’s wanted to you. Chances are, Lauren, he’s not going to stop until you’re dead.” Something flickered across his face. It was too quick for Lauren to identify, but it broke the hard expression he wore, if only for a moment. “If that’s what you want, then…I won’t stop you.” She could have sworn that his voice cracked right there, but that was impossible. No part of Marc Kelly broke.
Ever.
“But, if you want to stay here and fight, I will be right by your side. I will protect you from him. I will put myself between you and that asshole. I will beat him to a pulp for you. Hell, I’ll put a bullet through his brain. Just say the word.” He looked dead serious.
“Why?” she asked, her throat clogged with tears that she was barely able to restrain. “Why would you do that?”
The mask was back on his face, even as he kneeled in front of her, placing his hands on her thighs as he stared into her eyes, his icy blue ones chilling her to the core with the seriousness of his expression.
“Because,” he said, “you…you gave me a place to stay.” It didn’t sound exactly like what he’d wanted to say. “And I can’t leave without paying back the favor.”
“Well, I can’t let you do that,” Lauren said, her voice just above a croak as she finally put all her cards down on the table. “He’ll kill you, Marc, and I can’t watch you die!”
His face darkened and his hands raised, cupping her cheeks in his calloused palms, bringing their faces together until their noses were practically brushing, their lips only a breath apart. “And what,” he growled, “makes you think I could do the same?”
At that, the dam broke and Lauren surged forward, attacking his lips with her arms and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pulling him down onto the bed with her. There was no more arguing after that.
*****
She stayed. And he stayed.
Marc was at her side at all times. He took walks with her and Emma and escorted Lauren to the grocery store and sat on the beach with her, playing fetch with the golden retriever until they could head back up the beach. He was like her bodyguard, keeping her safe at all times, watching over her. It really wasn’t so different than it had been, except now Lauren stayed home from work.
She had taken a leave of absence from the office, at Marc’s insistence. She’d be much safer at home, he said. Somewhere that he could keep an eye on her. Somewhere they wouldn’t put anybody else in danger if Jack just happened to show up out of the blue
. Somewhere they had firearms available.
That was the part that finally convinced Lauren; the firearms. Marc kept his tucked into his belt at all times, ready for anything. When there was a knock at the door, he answered it, gun out and hidden behind the door. It was usually just a neighbor or a delivery person, though, so he never had any reason to use it.
Not yet, anyway.
He continued to spend the night in her bed, a comforting weight on the mattress next to her. Lauren fell asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat, but she was almost certain that Marc stayed awake long after she had drifted off to sleep. She could sense it in the way he dragged a bit in the morning, but you wouldn’t know anything was different by the way he pressed her body against the wall whenever the impulse struck him, his mouth coming down roughly on hers as he ran his hands up and down her body.
Lauren would moan at these times, allowing him to do anything he wanted with her body. She welcomed the roughness. She welcomed the passion and the heat and everything that came with it. The way he bent her over anywhere she stood and tugged down her jeans and panties with one hand while the other unbuckled his own belt. The way he plucked her up, like she weighed less than a feather, and pushed her against the nearest wall, his mouth assaulting her neck as he buried his hand into her heat and made her cum around his fingers, screaming out his name. The way he took her in the shower, under the spray of hot water, pushing her firmly against the wall with his body as his hands teased her and his hardness pressed in and out of her, bringing her to orgasm after orgasm, until they were both spent and hoarse, huddled together on the shower floor.
Every single time was full of heat and passion. Every single time was rough and left her aching for more. Every single time, she would kiss his jaw afterward and mouth the words she couldn’t say aloud just yet. Or ever. Because it was just sex.