Waiting on Faith (She's Beautiful Series Book 2)

by Nicole Richard

  Table of Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BOOKS BY NICOLE RICHARD

  Waiting on Faith

  Copyright ©2016 Nicole Richard

  Editor: Ashley Williams – AW Editing

  Proofreader: Vivid Words Editing

  Formatting: Champagne Formats

  Cover Photo: Darren Birks—Darren Birks Photography

  Cover Design: John Pacheco

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  “TRENT, PLEASE LET me go. Please, I beg you,” I whimpered, afraid for my life. I kept my voice down, hoping that his choking grip on my neck wouldn’t get any tighter. The skin around my left eye puffed painfully, and I imagined what I would look like in the morning. It was on the heels of that thought that I silently vowed to get as far away as I could from the abusive psycho excuse of a man, Trent Mattheas.

  By his glazed-over eyes and the constant twitch in his jaw, I knew he was high. He swiped his hand under his nose and his grip tightened. He stepped closer to me, eliminating any space that was between us, and I felt his saliva spray the side of my face.

  “You feel that, baby?” His erection pressed into my stomach, and I cringed, knowing there was a good chance I’d be forced into having sex. If I were smart and wanted to walk away without being beaten to less than half my life, I wouldn’t fight him.

  Trent bit and sucked at my neck, grinding his erection into me, and the bile gurgled its way up my throat.

  “You want this, baby. You know you do,” he growled low and dangerous as his fist yanked my hair back. Wincing, I stared directly into the blue eyes of the devil.

  I let my eyelids drift closed and slowly inhaled a breath. I sent up a silent prayer, hoping Trent would drop dead right there in front of me. I prayed for him to go into cardiac arrest so he’d never hurt another soul again.

  Breathe, Natalie, just breathe.

  He continued his assault on my neck and down to the swell of my breasts, all the while bucking his disgusting erection into my belly. The whipping sound of his belt sliding out of the loops caused me to cringe again, and instinctively I rolled my eyes. Thankfully, they were closed and he didn’t see the gesture.

  With his left hand still wrapped tightly around my neck, he jerked me and threw me onto the bed. My arms braced the fall, and I propped up on my elbows. I tried my best to keep the tears from falling, but after the excruciating whack of his belt across the backs of my thighs there was nothing I could do to stop them.

  “You fucking . . . little . . . bitch!” he snapped. “You ever plan on telling me you were pregnant?” Trent yanked my head back so his mouth was inches from my ear. “You fucking around on me, Nats? Is that it? That’s why you didn’t tell me? You’re going to pay for that.” No, I would be too scared to cheat on him, but how the hell did he find out about the clinic?

  Dragging his tongue across my cheek, his lips stopped next to my ear again, and he shook his head. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he blared violently, and despite the fact that my knee jerk reaction was to flinch away from him, I didn’t.

  I did my damnedest to remain expressionless. Breathing slowly, in and out, and watching for when he might strike.

  “You fucking around on me, aren’t you, baby?” His fist gripped my hair and twisted again, making my scalp burn. He bit into the tender flesh of my shoulder so hard I knew it would leave a mark and flipped me on my back to face his wrath.

  “That’s why you’re hiding, isn’t it?”

  Pain shot through my lower lip as he bit down hard and pulled away from me. I knew he didn’t see me, though. His blue eyes were looking at me, but they were cold and distant. Murderous.

  I didn’t expect it his next move, but I knew I should have. The back of his hand cracked me across my cheek, and the taste of iron exploded in my mouth. Please dear Lord, if you can hear me, please, please help me, I beg of you. I shook my head slowly, afraid to make a sound, afraid of the anger that may be stewing.

  “What is it then, Nats, huh? Were you waiting for the right time so you can go kill our baby, huh?” he roared in my face. I thought back. Did he see me at the clinic or was it the drugs making him think all of this twisted shit? The second hard whack across my cheek made everything go dark.

  After waking up from the last beating I would ever take from that poor excuse of a man—or any man for that matter—I ran. With a loaded down trunk and a backseat full of stuff, I drove as fast and as far as I could. There was no way I would have subjected a child to the same hell I had dealt with for three excruciatingly painful years.

  I knew Spencer would take me in and help me through this. He would help me get my life together, and he was the only person in my family I could trust. I was certain now that Trent would never change. He would continue to be the drug dealing and using, abusive son of a bitch. If it weren’t for my being so naïve and thinking it was just a phase, I might have ran sooner.

  Thoughts continuously bounced around in my head. I didn’t think I would ever understand where things went wrong or when he got involved with the drugs. He left me clueless, obviously hiding it well.

  At first he was everything I thought I had ever wanted, and I thought I loved him. However, looking back, love was an incorrect description. Brainwashed made for a better term.

  The first year or so we were good, happy even. Trent was sweet and spoiled me with lavish expensive gifts. And my god, the sex—off the charts hot! Well, I assumed it was off the charts. Trent was my f
irst, and he manipulated my virtue out of me. Even now I thought of myself as pathetic, since Trent was the only man to have touched me.

  One day, about six months after I moved in with Trent, I told him I was going to get my hair done. He told me he didn’t like the idea, but I went anyway. I didn’t do anything drastic. I got a trim and added some highlights. Trent lost it, took a pair of scissors, and chopped off a chunk of my hair. He made sure I didn’t leave the house that night, even though he left and didn’t walk in the door until three in the morning with perfume staining his skin.

  The physical abuse came on slowly. A shove here and there, a couple of times he grabbed my arm tight enough to leave a bruise. He used to apologize profusely, and I believed and forgave him like an idiot. Eventually the apologies stopped, and by then I had no idea what to do.

  We’d been together for two years, and his good days were getting farther and farther apart. The bad side of him had become normal, but I loved him anyway. I was worried about him. In fact, I was so worried that when he wasn’t home, I searched his symptoms. After only a few minutes it was clear to me that Trent was an addict.

  I didn’t leave him. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell him what I had suspected. Flashbacks of one of the many heart wrenching days I had in my time with him came to mind.

  I sat with my legs crisscrossed on my bed, my laptop in front of me, shopping for lingerie. Trent walked into the room holding a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses. Without saying a word, he laid the flowers on the bed, slid in behind me, and enveloped me in his arms. His warm hands ran along my thighs and all the way up to my breast as he kissed and tickled my neck. He moaned close to my ear, rested his chin on my shoulder, and pointed to the computer.

  “That black one. I could fuck you for days with that thin scrap of lace fisted in my hand.”

  I leaned back into his embrace, and I caught a scent. It was new, floral, and so heartbreakingly not mine. I half-turned and looked him dead in the eye, and my brows pinched.

  “What is that smell?” I asked flatly, but my heart pounded in my chest. I hoped my questioning wouldn’t warrant a slap.

  “Hmm.” He pulled me awkwardly onto his lap. Half my ass and thigh were sitting on his erection, and he bucked against me.

  “Take your clothes off. I want to fuck you—now,” he growled in my ear.

  I hesitantly shook my head. My nerves were shot. “Trent, what is that smell?”

  He kicked my laptop and it went crashing to the floor. His eyes narrowed in indignation and he scoffed, “What . . . you think you’re the only one I fuck?” His twisted smile turned into a sinister laugh. “Aww, don’t look hurt. You’re my queen, baby.” He grabbed my cheek a little too roughly for my liking and kissed me, trying to shove his tongue into my mouth before he pulled back. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have a throne room full of precious jewels.”

  Six weeks later, two pink lines appeared on my home pregnancy test. What little confidence I had holding me together finally shattered and I hit rock bottom.

  I wasn’t certain how exactly Trent found out my whereabouts the other day, but he knew about my trip to the drug store and going to the doctor. No wonder he thought I was pregnant and then had an abortion. He probably didn’t even think the baby was his at this point. Not that he ever gave me a chance to explain before he made me pay for it.

  He beat me.

  He beat me black and blue.

  Beat me until I could hardly peel my left eye open.

  The physical pain that ached through my bones after learning the truth about the man I had allowed myself to fall in love with still twisted my stomach. Utterly disgusted and completely hopeless, I pulled away from my family. I hid the bruises and made excuses to avoid holidays. I even believed Trent when he told me he was sorry. I had once hoped that my love would be enough for him to stop, but he didn’t. By the time I realized I was wrong, I had already shoved every person who loved me away while I tried to hang on to the one person who meant to do me the most harm. Alone and lost, I toyed with the idea of killing myself. Of course, I didn’t. I stayed and endured his abuse, wishing that eventually I would find the strength to leave.

  Then, when I passed out, he beat me until the majority of my body welted from his tan hide leather belt.

  Was that really less than two days ago?

  Erratic thoughts of Trent bombarded my mind as I waited at the truck stop exit. Paranoid, I checked the rearview mirror one time too many, and that was when I caught a glimpse of my bruised and battered cheek. I adjusted the mirror to get a better look and winced as I pressed my fingers atop my discolored skin. In a few short hours, I’d be home free. I’d never have to endure another second of Trent and his lying, cheating ways. I looked left then right then sped off into the night.

  With the kind of person Trent was, he would have someone following me or he would be doing it himself. Spencer suggested I run to Vegas first. He was supposed to meet me at a storage facility a couple miles outside the Strip. He said we would store my car there for a while, and in his words, “Throw these crazy mother fuckers for a loop.” I pulled into the parking lot next to Spencer’s black Jeep. We both stepped out at the same time and rushed toward each other. Without a word, he wrapped me in his arms and held me tight. Spencer was my rock and his shoulder was exactly what I needed. I let it all out, regardless that he hated to see me cry.

  Pulling back, he tenderly grabbed hold of my cheeks. “What happened, Natty?” he whispered.

  “He beat me, Spence. He broke me,” I choked between sobs.

  Spencer grabbed my hand. “Come on, let’s go home.” Home, I wish I knew where that was.

  A year and a half later . . .

  “THANK YOU, SPENCER. Thank you so much for everything and be sure you make time to visit. I’m sure your mom and dad would be happy to see you,” I told him just before I hugged him good-bye. California was just not the place for me. I needed something less city like and more slow-paced. It was time to start a new life that I would be proud of instead of just existing as some meek scared girl always looking over her shoulder.

  My car had been sitting in the same storage unit, but I hadn’t even paid a bill for it. Spencer took care of everything for me, and now we were back here in Vegas to pick it up and send me off. I was headed to Savannah where Spencer’s dad, my Uncle Blair, had a position waiting for me at the lumber supply warehouse he managed.

  I hadn’t even left yet, but I already missed my favorite cousin dearly. I had to let go though. Ideally, the four-day drive would give me time to come to terms with the decisions I had made thus far, and more importantly, it may help me decide where I wanted to go and who I wanted to be.

  “Hey, make sure you give me a call when you arrive. I want to know you got there safely,” Spencer said as he rapped his knuckles on the hood of my car.

  “Of course I will, silly. You’re forever the worry wart.” I smacked his shoulder, and his happy expression quickly faded. Shit. “I’m sorry, Spence. I shouldn’t have.”

  Of course he worried. He’d been taking care of me and making sure nothing bad happened for the last year and a half. Why did I have to be so insensitive?

  “I’m sorry, I know you worry, I wasn’t thinking.”

  He nodded and smiled weakly at best. “I know. Besides, I’m really going to miss you. You kind of grew on me.” He bumped my shoulder and then widened his smile. “Come on, you better get going before my parents start to wonder if you’ll ever show.”

  I could only nod, because my throat was thick with emotion. A tear fell, and I hugged him one last time before I slid into my driver’s seat. With my hands on the steering wheel, I sank into the leather seats and inhaled a deep breath. I had forgotten how much I loved this car.

  Spencer shut my door and double tapped the hood again before he walked back to his Jeep, not once turning to look back. I knew my leaving affected him, but I needed to make a new life and figure out who the real Natalie Brentwood wanted to be. />
  Uncle Blair’s deep baritone Southern voice sounded through the screen door before I even knocked.

  “Claudia, our girl’s here.”

  He pushed the door outward, just as I dropped two of my bags on the concrete porch and ran to him.

  “Hey, kiddo. It’s so good to see you. How was the drive?” Uncle Blair asked. The sound of his gentle and comforting voice soothed me.

  “Good. Tiring, but good.” After a long, much-needed embrace, Uncle Blair set me down. “I stopped off at a couple of tourist traps, wait ’til you see what I got for you guys.” I giggled thinking about the Blue Hawaii Elvis bobble head I bought when I stopped for a bathroom break.

  “I can’t wait, but if I keep you out here any longer, Claudia will have my hide.” His drawl was thick. “She’s been waiting for you. Cooking up a feast like the Royal Queen was visiting.” He shook his head, chuckling. “Go on, I’ll get your bags.”

  “Thanks.” I gave him one last side hug and ran into the house, anxious to see my aunt.

  I giggled softly as I stood in the foyer, soaking up the warmth provided by the soft brown walls and glanced toward the right at the living room. The faint sound of Aunt Claudia bustling in the kitchen had me veering left in search of her.

  She stood with her back to the sink, and when she saw me round the corner, she threw her arms wide, beckoning me in for a hug.

  “Come here, sugar. Oh, I’m so happy you’re here,” she whispered in my ear.

  I loved coming here. I loved how much my aunt and uncle loved me, but at the same time, I was somber that I didn’t share this level of love with my parents.

  My mom, whom I had not spoken to in a long time, never had this kind of connection with me, and my father left when I was too little to remember him.

  Separating from our hug, Aunt Claudia held both my cheeks and stared deep into my eyes. A sudden urge had me wanting to turn away. I firmly believed that the eyes were the window to one’s soul and I couldn’t let her see deep down—not yet. I covered her hands with my own and smiled.

  “Well, I suppose you’re hungry.” She looked at me questioningly. “I heard that belly of yours sayin’ somethin’.”