by Amy Lynn
Brad shoves my shoulders back hard into the door, slamming his body tightly against mine pinning me against it. The doorknob hits me in the small of my back, and I attempt to cry out, but my lungs are absent of air, only a mere squeak escapes. Pain shoots through my stomach and down my legs as dots swim before my eyes.
I’m so scared and in pain, but I have to find my voice. “Brad, I…” I need to reply with something to make him to take a few steps away from me. “I don’t want to leave, but, I think you’d be happier if I was gone for a while.”
His eyes clear for a moment. “Shit.” His body went slack, the pain instantly easing in the small of my back. Removing his hands from my shoulders, he runs his fingers through his unkempt hair and turns around to retrieve my cell phone that fell from my clutch and had skidded to a stop beneath the kitchen island. When he is several feet away, I take the opening I’m given and bolt through the door. I dive into the front seat of Brad’s car slamming my hand down over the door lock button and not a moment too soon.
Brad bangs on the window calling out my name, but I grab the keys from the passenger seat, jamming them into the ignition and start the car.
“Ava! No! No! No!” he screams and bangs against the window loudly and so hard I’m positive it will shatter. “Don’t go! Please!” he begs. “I’m sorry!”
I put the car in reverse and back all the way down the driveway before putting the car in drive and speeding away.
I am shaking uncontrollably, my heart hammering inside of my chest and my back in excruciating pain. I have no cell phone, no I.D., and no money to check into a hotel. Going to Caroline’s is out of the question as the party is still going on, not to mention that would be the first place Brad would look. And let’s face it, I didn’t want to explain any of this to anyone, especially Caroline.
That left only one place for me to go.
A place Bradley Lauren would never think to look.
Chapter 16
Ava
I knocked softly on the dark cherry mahogany door. Abram Kent opens the door towel drying his very wet tresses; wearing only a pair of boxers slung low on his hips showcasing a deeply inset V and a small patch of dark hair just below his navel leading down to his…
My eyes snap up to his, and I raise a questionable eyebrow.
“What? You expected me to be dressed?” Abe cocks his own eyebrow as he gives me the once over, still in my Belle costume. “Damn princess, you’re really getting your money’s worth,” he quips as he steps aside inviting me in.
I have not been to Abram Kent’s apartment before. While I expected it to be a complete bachelor’s pad, it was also very beautiful. The space is open and inviting, and the furniture is placed so that each room has definition without it being obvious. It is clean but lived in¸ and the black and white décor is carefully brought together by the softness of warm lighting reflecting into all the glass accents, setting the room aglow.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Abe asks pulling my attention away from scrutinizing his apartment.
“No, thank you.”
Abe pulls two waters from the refrigerator, sat them atop the coffee table, and nods for me to sit. I sat slowly and manage to keep the wince off my face as I do.
He uncaps his water, tosses the metal cap onto the coffee table, and takes two big gulps from the bottle, which I now notice is glass. Of course, Abram Kent is superior to drinking water from a plastic bottle.
I expected him to ask me what I was doing at his apartment at 11:00 at night; instead, he picks up the TV remote and lights up the screen with the sports highlights. We sit in comfortable silence. Abe taking the occasional sip of water mumbling profanities under his breath as the final scores are revealed as if I couldn’t hear him all while sitting awkwardly due to his nakedness and my aching back.
My stomach groans loudly and Abe’s water pauses midway to his mouth, his eyes dancing over to mine. “Hungry, princess?”
My face instantly flushes, and I go for my water hoping the cool liquid would quiet the rumbling.
Abe shakes his head, a smile starting to play at the corners of his mouth before he rises and disappears down the dark hallway.
I fan my face with both hands to relieve the heat, hoping like hell he will put some clothes on while he’s back there.
I hear a door softly close and footsteps until Abe is back in full view. He’s still every bit as naked as he was when he left, but he has an article of clothing in his right hand. I take a deep breath and silently bless the fact he is finally going to cover himself up.
Walking past me, he tosses a t-shirt into my lap. “Put that on, and join me in the kitchen.”
It wasn’t a question. I open my mouth to protest, but my words catch in my throat at the way his muscles move across his back as he retreats to the kitchen.
I slip off my shoes and gather a fist full of dress in each hand.
“Powder room is the third door on the left. And make it snappy,” Abe says behind the refrigerator door where he is rummaging.
Rolling my eyes, I make it to said door and turn the handle, the room instantly filling with light saving me from fumbling for the light switch. That was certainly a little feature I could get used to.
Easing down the zipper to my dress, I get halfway down before the zipper snags on the material and gets stuck, refusing to slide any further. Shit! Giving the little metal tab a twist, I try to zip it up to unloosen the hang up, but that isn’t working either. Damn thing may as well have been in cement.
Easing open the door, I pop my head out, a divine aroma trailing down the hall from the kitchen making my stomach groan even louder. I tiptoe quietly to the kitchen and spot Abe standing at the range pushing something around in the skillet.
“Abe?”
He half turns, spatula in his hand. “Yeah?”
“Could you…help?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” He sets down the utensil and strides over to me.
I turned around, carefully holding the top part of the dress to my body, so when the zipper is freed, the dress doesn’t fall to the floor.
Abe tried the zipper a few times. When it wouldn’t budge, he slid his hand down the backside of the zipper inside my dress, the soft skin on the back of his hand and the occasional brush of his knuckles against the dip in my back instantly gave me goose bumps. The way he was manipulating the fabric this way and that, I knew there was nothing sexual in what he was doing, but it didn’t change what I felt.
The zipper made a zing when it was finally freed, and the fabric went slack against my body, getting more loose the further down he descended with the zipper. I knew he could probably see the top of my panties, and I quickly walked out of his hold before he looked too closely and saw any bruising, if there was any. I hurried down the hall, with a quick “Thanks” thrown over my shoulder that echoed off the hallway walls around me.
With the door closed, I take several cleansing breaths. I feel like my nerves are hanging on by a thread, and my sexual frustration is going to cause me to explode. I turn in the mirror and let the dress pool at my feet, and see for the first time, the purple ‘S’ shape bruise that’s stamped into my skin at the hands of my husband.
Pulling the t-shirt over my head, a fresh scent clinging to the dark fabric, the hem falls just a few inches above the knee and the sleeves swallow my elbows, but at least I am rid of the ball gown and comfortable.
I enter the kitchen just as Abram, who has a towel thrown over his bare shoulder, is placing two white square plates filled with eggs, bacon, and toast. Fresh cut fruit sits in a large bowl beside a glass pitcher of orange juice and two bottled waters.
“Just in time.” He turns to look at me, carefully keeping his eyes on mine, not allowing them to travel south. “Hungry?”
“You did all this for me?”
“Hell no. I did it for me and just made a little extra. Would be rude not to feed my guest now, wouldn’t it?”
I narrow my eyes and slide into
the chair next to him, the cold seat piercing the backside of my legs. Lifting my bottom, I tug the back of the shirt down to make a barrier covering my exposed skin and sit back down.
Abe had begun to eat, his soft chews barely audible. He wasn’t like most guys who inhaled their food. He took moderate bites, enjoying the flavor and texture that each mouthful brought. Picking up a strip of bacon, he bit into the crispy end, making more noise than he had since we’d sat down.
“Are you going to eat or just watch me?” he questioned, looking at his plate.
“I’m not watching you!”
Abe gave me a sideways glance and a smirk. “You were.”
“You weren’t even looking at me so how would you know?”
Abe laughed, and it rumbled deep in his chest. “With the magic of sight through peripheral vision, princess.”
I pick up my fork and scoop up a helping of fluffy eggs, my taste buds exploding the instant they meet my tongue.
We don’t speak again until both of us had cleared our plates of food.
“Abe, that was delicious. Thank you.”
“The secret is the buttermilk in the eggs.” He deflects my compliment and shrugs. “I also add a little paprika for color.”
After we finish eating, I take my plate to the sink, rinse it, and I’m just about to put it in the dishwasher when Abe takes it from me. “Oh no, you don’t. You will not be doing my dishes, Ava.”
“But you cooked, and I don’t mind.”
“Well, I do. My house, my rules.”
Well, it seems when Abram Kent was deciding which pants to put on today, he decided to go with bossy.
I let Abe win this round, and as I look around the room, several books catch my eye on a bookshelf. Pulling one from the stack, I thumb to a random page, and words from Rumi instantly light up the page. I have to admit I didn’t picture Abram Kent as a poetry lover, but I like him a lot more now. I read and instantly get lost in the words of one of my favorite poets.
“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”
Abe’s lips are a whisper away, his warm breath stirring my hair, and I can feel the heat of his shirtless chest like rays of sunshine against my back.
Swallowing hard, I close the book and return it to the empty space on the shelf. “I love that quote,” I mumble, shocked I was so entranced with the words of Rumi I hadn’t felt his approach.
“Me too.”
I take a step to the side for some distance and go to the window to peer out at the twinkling lights of the city. With my heart no longer pounding in my ears, the fog cleared a little in my head, and I wonder if there was a hidden meaning behind Abe’s quote selection. Did he know more about what was going on between Brad and me than he was letting on?
I’m suddenly overcome with emotion as tonight’s events surge back to me. My back begins to instantly ache, and my tears are no longer under control.
“Ava?”
I don’t answer because I can’t.
“You can always disappear here.”
I meet his eyes not caring that he’d see my tear streaked face. Abe is just a few feet away, the skin of his chest warmly illuminated by the soft glow of lamp light, his eyes sparkling a brilliant blue.
“C’mere.” He motions me forward with a wave of his hand.
As I close the short distance between us, he holds his arms open to me, and the moment I’m within reach, he pulls me to him. He smells like soap and something sweet, and I lay my cheek against his bare chest and let the tears flow.
For the first time in weeks, I feel safe.
“My façade may look hard, but I promise, Ava, it will always be a soft place for you to rest your head.”
I am so tired of being strong. I want someone to comfort me and let me cry. Someone that won’t ask me a million questions I’m not ready to answer. Someone who sees me and nothing else. And Abram Kent does just that.
Abe runs his hand down the length of my arms and lifts my hands to wrap them around his waist. I cry for several minutes while he rubs gentle circle patterns on my back. He doesn’t ever make it seem like what he is doing is anything but comforting a friend. I hardly believe women come to his apartment to be consoled, but I have to admit he’s good at it.
Abe slowly slides his hands to my elbows, and I pull back to meet his eyes. “Are you alright?”
I nod. “I’m getting there.”
Running a nervous hand through his hair, Abe swallows hard and asks rather awkwardly, “Would you like to spend the night? I mean it’s okay if you…”
“Yes.”
Abe seems momentarily stunned by my answer, but within seconds, he leads me by the hand, down the hall, and pushes the door open to a bedroom.
His bedroom.
A wave of panic washes over me as he turns down the bed and rearranges the pillows to the center of the bed. Just as I start to protest and explain this isn’t what I meant, Abe speaks.
“You sleep here, and I’ll take the couch.” His soft, sympathetic voice touches me.
Pulling some extra linens from the closet and tucking a pillow under his arm, he meets me in the center of the room. Leaning forward, he places a wet kiss on my forehead. “Sleep tight, angel. If you need me, you know where I’ll be.”
Then he’s gone. His soft footsteps are barely audible as he makes his way quietly down the hall.
Chapter 17
Brad
I’ve been sitting in Ava’s car for the past hour with this battle raging inside of me to look for her or simply leave her alone. I know wherever she is, she’s safe and doesn’t want to be found, and sure as shit not by me. I could still feel the strong effects of alcohol coursing through my body, and despite everything, rational thinking told me I was in no shape to drive much less talk. If I had to guess, I’d say she was at Caroline’s. In the off chance she wasn’t, I had no idea where to even begin looking had I wanted to. She had no cell phone and even having lost that little bit of connection with her was fucking frustrating. She probably wouldn’t answer a phone call from me anyway.
First, I needed to get my ass sober. I exited the car, started a pot of coffee, grabbed a banana, granola bar, and a bottled water to wash down the aspirin, and sought a cold shower.
An hour later, I am feeling much better and thinking more clearly than I have all day. Stopping by the den, I take a note pad and a pen from the desk drawer. Pouring myself a tall cup of coffee, I sit down at the kitchen island and begin to write Ava a letter. It sounds kind of lame, but I know Ava. This will be the best way to tell her how I am feeling. Plus, she always loved the sentiment behind a handwritten letter.
I had no idea how to begin, so I thought I’d start with how sorry I was for my behavior and my distance with her lately. I couldn’t tell her why, not yet, maybe not ever, but acknowledging my faults I hoped would help and bring us back to a better place in our marriage.
Within minutes, my brain is flooded with thoughts, so many that my pen could barely keep up. I write frantically to get the thoughts out and as the words flow, so do my emotions. Tears drip onto my paper, dotting the ink and I don’t care. I figure if it ends up being illegible, I’ll rewrite the damn thing.
Six pages later, I put my pen down. My coffee is untouched and cold, but I don’t care.
Sealing the letter into an envelope, I address the front with my favorite endearment for her, prop the letter against her favorite coffee cup, and decide to catch a few hours of sleep.
******
This morning, my alarm goes off at seven. It’s early for me especially on a Sunday, but if I plan on going to church, I need to get moving. First, I need to see if Ava is home. I already know, without even looking, she isn’t in bed. The whole room seems cooler when she isn’t next to me, and today is no exception. I hope she is in the den asleep or perhaps even the couch, but when I find the letter untouched on the kitchen island, and my car still missing from its stall, well, that’s a pretty clear fucking sign. Knowing she didn’t come
home last night simply gutted me.
Showered and dressed in my suit, I eat a quick breakfast and grab the spare keys to Ava’s car. I’ve never driven Ava’s car before. I hate to move any of her personal settings, but there was no way I could drive without adjusting the seat. I find the controls and when I attempt to move the seat back, something obstructs its path. Sliding my hand underneath, I pull out Ava’s umbrella just as my phone begins to ring. I toss the umbrella into the passenger seat and fight the pocket of my trousers hoping like hell it’s Ava calling. With one look at the screen, I discover instead it’s my worst fucking nightmare.