"Did you even think about me?" He asked, hurt and dejected. “I mean, when you were deciding whether or not to give the man that beats you another chance, did you even think about me? About what I wanted?”
"Of course I did, Landon. I didn't want to hurt you but I still don't know what this is between us. Derek is my husband."
"You were going to choose Derek over me?"
I shook my head. "I was going to choose my marriage — which was the right choice. It wasn't a matter of choosing Derek over you. Or you over Derek. That won't ever be a choice for me. When I leave Derek, it will be for me...not so I can be with you. I have to do what's best for me and stop making every decision in my life based on other people's feelings. I've been doing that for way too long. Does that make sense?"
"Yes," he said reluctantly. Then relief washed over his face and he smiled, ever so slightly, for the first time since I found him in the storeroom. "So, what happened between you two, to drive you out the door and straight to me?"
"My heart wasn't in it.” I met his gaze. “And neither was Derek's. I thought I owed something to my marriage — to the institution itself, not to Derek. When I say it out loud like that, it sounds really messed up. Because the truth is, I'm not really married...not in the real sense of the word. It's just a technicality now. He doesn't love me and I don't love him. And if love is the requirement for a marriage, we were never really married."
"What’re you going to do?"
"I don't know. I'm going to take it slow...one day at a time and all that. I need you to be patient with me while I figure this out. Do you think you can handle that?"
Landon just shrugged his shoulders but I knew what he really wanted. He wanted me to leave Derek...today. He wanted me to go to my house, pack up my things, and be done with it all.
But it wasn't that simple.
Besides the fact that Derek had said on numerous occasions that he would never allow me to leave, there were legal things that needed to be taken care of. I had to make sure my mom's store was protected.
"Sweetie, I need you to let me handle this my way," I said to him.
"I know."
"Do you? Do you really understand what that means?" He nodded slowly.
He didn't have a clue.
"It means," I added, "sometimes, I’m just going to need you to sit next to me and hold my hand. You can't fight this battle for me. I need you to let me do this on my own. Can you do that?"
"Yes." Landon let out a sigh.
I looked up into his eyes, stepping forward and placing both of my hands on Landon's cheeks. "I will never do anything to hurt you intentionally. If you believe nothing else, you must believe that."
“Belle, last night you told me that you were scared.”
“Yeah.” I slipped my hands behind his neck and linked them there, pressing my body against his.
“Well, I’m scared too. I mean, I’ve lost everything that I ever cared about. I spent years separated from everyone. I never let myself feel anything for anyone…until you.”
“I know what that feels like,” I agreed. “After Mom died, I never dared to dream. I was afraid. If I did and my dreams slipped away again, it would be unbearable. But now, that’s all I seem to be doing. And I don’t mean just fantasies … although those are great, but I actually dream about what it would be like to have a future with you.”
“Really?” The tension on his face dissolved into relief and he let out a breath.
“Yes, really. But it’s complicated.”
“Complicated I can do. I just don’t want to lose you. I never dreamed much either. I never really knew what I wanted. Now, there’s only one dream that matters. Belle, for me, you’re the dream.”
I couldn’t seem to find my voice. Instead, I stood on the tips of my toes and pressed my lips to his. He reacted instantly. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me tightly against him. He moaned with anticipated pleasure and his lips parted, our kiss deepened.
I took a couple of steps back, bringing Landon with me and never breaking our kiss, until the table I knew was there pressed against my backside. I grinned against his lips. Landon opened his eyes, glanced at the table, and then lifted me up onto it. I lay back on the hard, wooden surface. He followed me, laughing softly.
"What?" I asked, not knowing what was amusing him.
"You don't know how many times I’ve thought about doing exactly this...with you...on this table."
"Really?"
He nodded. "Why do you think I spent so much time back here?"
We laughed together.
"Well," I said to him, out of breath, "Since you made all of my fantasies come true last night, I think it's only fair if I return the favor." And with that, I hooked my fingers in the belt loops on the front of his pants and pulled him on top of me.
Landon and I made love twice in the back room. The first time was fast and hot, as if our bodies had been apart for years instead of a matter of hours. The second was slow, tender, as though we had all the time in the world to discover and satisfy each other.
I reluctantly opened the store an hour later and as I turned the sign to welcome customers back, I watched Landon's reflection in the window.
For the first time in my life, I realized I was truly in love.
Chapter Twelve
On the drive home that evening, I rolled down my windows and turned up a radio station known for playing love songs. I was in the mood for it.
I stopped at every stop sign, coming to a full and complete stop too. I drove under the speed limit and let the warm ocean air tickle my skin. On a normal day, I would have taken my time driving home because I dreaded going home to Derek, but on this day, he was the farthest thing from my mind. I took the time to look around as I drove. Really look. Everything around me had a shiny new glow. I was lucky to live in such an enchanted place, filled with the smells and sounds of the ocean. Sometimes I took it for granted.
Today was not one of those days.
It was a spectacular day. One of the best in my recent memory and I didn't want it to end. I didn't want to leave Landon. After an afternoon of stolen kisses and sideways glances, the time to close the store and head home approached like a speeding train. However, every time I tried to leave, Landon would pull me back in for one last kiss, or so he promised at least a half a dozen times. Each time, I would linger a little longer in his arms, not wanting to leave.
"Be careful tonight," he said, clearly uneasy over the idea of my going home to Derek.
"I will," I promised and gave him a kiss that lasted much longer than it should have. I really needed to get home but the temptation to stay with Landon was strong. "I'm just going to make a quick dinner and turn in early. I need the rest. You wear me out."
"I don't want you to go," he said, ignoring my teasing comments, concern in his face as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
"I don't want to go either, but that's where I live. If I don't change my clothes for a few days, I'm going to get a little bit stinky."
"Who needs clothes?" He asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
"Very cute, Landon. Really, I need to get going. I'll see you tomorrow." I pressed my finger to his puckered lips and grinned. I knew if I kissed him again, it would be any number of minutes before I tore myself away from him again. "Sweet dreams."
"Always of you," he called as I walked out the door and onto the street.
I thought of how quickly my life had taken such a drastic turn. I’d always heard that when people were unhappy in something — a marriage, a job, whatever — they eventually would reach a breaking point. When they did, when they hit the bottom so to speak, then and only then, could real change happen. I had finally reached that point in my marriage and in my life...my rock bottom.
I’d always believed it would be Derek who’d hit rock bottom and then realize that he needed to turn his life around. I never imagined for a second that it would be me who got there first. I now had the confidence I needed
to make huge changes before things got any worse.
First and foremost — I knew that I couldn't stay with Derek.
Only a fool would believe that any part of our marriage was salvageable. That being said, it wasn’t right just to abandon him when he obviously needed help, though. If he was willing to get sober and find someone to talk to about his problems, then I was prepared to stick around, simply as a support, and not as his wife, until he was back on his feet. However, I would probably find somewhere temporary to stay for a bit, perhaps a studio apartment somewhere.
I wasn't a cruel person — not as he was towards me. I didn't want to leave Derek high and dry, and I certainly wasn't leaving him to be with Landon. Our marriage was over long before Landon walked through the front door of Turning Point.
As I parked next to Derek's truck in our driveway, I decided now was as good a time as any to try to talk to him. I would lay things out for him, try to discuss them rationally, and we could take the time while Derek would be in Astoria, to decide how we wanted to handle things. It wasn’t going to be easy and things would probably get heated, but I really felt that tonight was the best time to talk about all of this.
This was the best time. I was sure of it. I just hoped that Derek could see things as clearly and calmly as I did.
Right before I opened the car door, my phone chimed.
Miss U already.
Ditto. I replied.
Stepping out into the evening, happy and at peace, I walked up to the back door, drew in a deep breath, and prepared myself for this tough conversation.
I approached the back door, ready for the challenge, but before my hand even turned the knob, the door flew open and rough hands dragged me inside of the house.
Derek pushed me up against the wall right inside of the kitchen. He put his hand at my throat and pushed in, ever so slightly.
"Where the hell were you last night?"
"What?" I croaked.
"You heard me...where were you?"
"Derek, stop. You're hurting me." I struggled to get in a breath.
"Trust me, you haven't even begun to feel pain yet. Now answer the question. Where were you?"
I didn't answer him immediately. I couldn’t. He pulled my neck forward with his hand and slammed my head into the wall. I saw stars as I sank into the drywall, leaving an imprint of my skull.
"Answer the goddamn question!"
"I went for a drive...to think. Then I came straight back home. That's it." Survival mode kicked in quickly for me, having been through these episodes countless times in my marriage.
"Bullshit!" he yelled at me. Still grasping my neck, he shook me, and my head struck the wall over and over. The wall crumbled under the blows, and chunks of the drywall were caught up in my hair and pierced my scalp.
"Derek, please! Where do you think I went last night? Tell me what you want me to say. I don't know what you want."
"I want the truth."
"I already told you the truth." I dug my hands into his arm, trying to get him to loosen his grip on my throat. My fingers and toes were beginning to tingle. I wasn't getting enough oxygen.
I tried to stay calm despite the fact that I was choking for air under Derek’s grasp on my throat. I thought at any moment, with the next shove maybe, I would go crashing through the kitchen wall. I hoped that staying calm might pacify my husband.
No such luck.
"You lying bitch!" he screamed. His beer-tinged spit covered my face. With one hand still wrapped around my throat and the other gripping my arm, he picked me up and tossed me across the room like a ragdoll. I flew through the air and tumbled past the breakfast bar, into the dining room, crashing against one of the legs of the table. I cried out when the wood cut into my back and the table slid halfway across the room from my momentum.
I would have taken a breath, fighting desperately for air, but I couldn’t. It hurt too much.
"Please, Derek," I choked out. Then I rolled up onto my hands and knees, and then pulled myself up to my feet. "You need to get some help. You have to stop hurting me like this."
"I'm hurting you?" He took two huge steps toward me and repeated, "I'm hurting you?"
"Yes, Derek. You’re hurting me, and it needs to stop."
"Well, imagine how much it hurt to have my wife throw a boot at my head, call me an asshole, and then just run out on me?" He lifted his hair away from his face and pointed at the red smudge on his forehead. I wanted to laugh; a tiny red mark in exchange for innumerable bruises, cuts, and welts...all by his hands.
"I'm sorry." Challenging him to a comparison of war wounds would not get me the result I needed, so instead, I reached out, gripping the table for support, and tried once again to reason with the maniac that I married. It had worked before — I’d been able to escape the beating — once or twice by talking him down. I couldn’t remember precisely what I’d said those times, but it all began with agreeing with him and apologizing. "You're right. No matter how upset I was, I shouldn't have done that. I’m really sorry. But Derek, how many times have you called me names and thrown things at my head?"
"Because you deserved it!" he yelled at me.
"No one deserves it, Derek. Don't you get it? You need to get some help."
"I need help? You’re the one who is going to need help when I'm finished with you."
"Please, don't threaten me anymore like that. Can you even hear yourself? Derek, you need to get help. If you don't—"
"You'll what, Fanny? Call the police? Have me arrested?" He took a huge step toward me, towering over me like an angry giant. He could snap me in half if he wanted.
"No, Derek. I'm not going to call the police."
"Then what? You said if I don't get help, you'll..."
I said nothing, terrified of the words that wanted to come next. I’ll leave you. I’ll divorce you. I’ll stand up for myself. Nothing was good enough and I stood before him dumbstruck.
"You'll what?"
I didn't have any other choice. I couldn't stay with him, wouldn’t stay with him. I had to stand up for myself...for once...regardless of the consequences.
"I'm leaving you, Derek," I said, my voice trembling. "I want a divorce."
He laughed. He actually started laughing at me. It was a sick, sadistic laugh...but a laugh nonetheless.
"Let me get this straight," he struggled through the laughter. "You are going to leave me?"
"It's over, Derek."
Then he stopped laughing and just stared at me as the smile faded from his face.
“Well, say goodbye to your fucking store, bitch.”
Derek thrived on my weakness. He’d found the one thing I cared about more than anything else, and he exploited it. I couldn’t let him do that to me anymore.
“Fine.”
“You’re going to sell the store. Your mom’s store?”
“If that’s what it takes to get you out of my life, yes.”
Before I could blink, Derek backhanded me with such great force that I had flown through the air, and I came down hard on the edge of the dining room table again. This time, I heard bones in my ribcage crack against the wood. The table rocked back and forth from the impact but remained upright as I fell to the floor. My head cracked against the tile and I saw stars again.
Derek stalked over to me, watching as I writhed in pain on the floor.
"Derek, please...stop.”
Instead of granting mercy, I received the hard blows of his boot in my side. I lay there, unable to get away from him, unable to protect myself as he kicked me repeatedly with all the hatred and anger in his entire body driving him.
"You like to use a boot to hit people, bitch? See how it feels?"
I was crying now and found myself rolled up into a ball on the floor when he finally stopped. Out of breath and barely conscious from the pain, I vaguely registered Derek leaning down and grabbing my face in his hand. I tasted blood as my teeth cut into the insides of my cheeks.
He glowered down at me
, his nostrils flaring, true hatred for me in his eyes. He looked as if he wanted to kill me as he sneered, "I will never let you leave. You got that?"
Derek let go of my face and my head fell back into the floor with a loud crack. I saw him draw his fist back and then his knuckles struck the side of my head, just before the entire world went black.
Chapter Thirteen
Sometime in the middle of the night, I came to, still lying in the middle of the dining room floor. I was cold, with no idea how long I'd been out. No clock was within view and I wasn’t sure how much I could move. I reached a hand up to my face and felt dry, crusted blood all around my mouth and nose. Derek's last few punches knocked me out cold.
Rolling up onto my side and then, very slowly, into a sitting position, I realized I was truly injured this time. It wasn't a simple bruise, or just a fat lip — it was much worse. I was dizzy. The room and its contents wouldn't stop dancing, and my ribs felt as if a chainsaw had been taken to them. I looked up at the phone and contemplated whom I might call — who might come to help me.
Hannah? No. She wasn’t emotionally prepared to handle something like this and would only end up hysterical. What would I tell her? After all these years, even though she had asked me repeatedly, I had never admitted to the violence in my marriage. And she was supposed to be a psychic? Well, she never saw anything like this. No, I couldn’t call my sister.
Landon? I dismissed the idea of calling him as quickly as it entered my mind. Everything with Landon was so new, so perfect right now. How would he look at me? With pity? It certainly wouldn't be with the same sexy gaze from earlier. Besides, calling him would only create more problems. Mostly for him. I refused to drag him further into this mess.
Theresa? I could only call her if I wanted this entire night to be broadcast to everyone in town before the sun set tomorrow. Besides, she’d probably tell me that I deserved to be beaten because I didn’t take out the trash or cook enough for my husband.
Turning Point Page 18