Scoping out the table, I noted that Dash’s and Amber’s wine glasses were still half full. I brought a new half glass to Monet. She reached out for it and winced, sucking in a fast breath through her teeth. I sat next to her and rubbed along the back of her head and through the silky tresses of her hair. She hummed.
“You okay?”
She made a noncommittal sound. “Yeah, just sore today. I did more than I have been. Trying to push myself.”
“When are you getting the stitches out?” Trent asked.
“Monday.”
“I’d be happy to go with you,” Amber said, her eyes lighting up at the idea of seeing a medical procedure. The woman had just started her third year of medical school and was eager to expose herself to all things medicine, even though she’d chosen to practice in pediatrics.
Dash chuckled and rubbed a hand down his wife’s back. “Little bird, I’m not sure our friend wants an audience.”
Amber frowned. “But why not?”
Viv chuckled and patted Amber’s knee. “We’ll talk later.”
“But you had a baby and let me see the whole thing,” Amber fired back. “It was absolutely amazing, you guys.” Her face lit with excitement.
“We know, we know!” Atlas and Mila said at the same time. Both of them looked at each other and started laughing and then kissing like two lovebirds.
“What?” Amber scowled, not getting the joke at her expense.
“Amber honey, you’ve told Will’s birth story at least a hundred times.” Viv stated it in a placating tone but still patted her hand lovingly.
She shrugged. “I can’t help it. Seeing my nephew brought into the world was like…” Smiling wide, she looked up to the ceiling.
“Watching a miracle come to life.” Almost the entire room finished her statement, having literally heard her say it more times than any of us had fingers and maybe even toes.
Everyone burst into raucous laughter, joy and friendship spilling out around the room. I genuinely enjoyed the camaraderie of the group. Usually I hung out with Trent and Atlas, sometimes Dash, but mostly when we were at the gym or shooting the shit at the local pub. Sitting in a room full of couples and being one of those couples gave me a sense of rightness, of purpose. A new sensation I’d twist my arm to get more of. It had been too long since I was in a relationship or been one of the crew. I had to admit I wanted it long term.
“Aw honey, come here.” Dash nuzzled his wife’s cheek and brought her close. “You can tell me the miracle of life story a million times.” He nibbled at her ear sweetly.
She pouted and mumbled, “It was pretty incredible seeing God’s love like that.”
Dash stroked his wife’s hair and kissed her cheek. “I know, I know. How about you tell me the story again tonight while my fingers are so far up your…” He lowered his voice and continued whispering into his wife’s ear.
Amber’s cheeks turned a bright crimson, and she crossed her legs and gripped her knees with both hands, all ten knuckles on her fingers turning a bright white. She swallowed and moved back, fanning her face. “I think we have to go,” she muttered, her voice cracking.
That time, Monet and I howled.
Dash stood up, holding his wife’s hand. “We must take our leave. I have a woman’s needs to tend to this evening.” He grinned wickedly, and Amber laid her head against his chest, letting the veil of her hair hide her face.
Monet went to get up but I stayed her movement. “I’ll walk them out.”
She smiled and squeezed my hand.
Once they left, I checked on Lily and Will. The baby was already asleep on a pallet of blankets on the floor in front of the TV. Lily was lying next to him. She turned her head and lifted a finger to her lips and made a shushing sound.
“Baby’s sweeping.”
“Sleeping. He’s sleeping, not sweeping.”
“Shhh, King Clay.”
I chuckled, ruffled her hair, and went back to our friends. Atlas was now singing a song he’d just written for an up-and-coming male singer Knight & Day Productions had signed. The guy he was writing for had a grunge approach and alternative appeal that hadn’t been given a go in the music industry for a solid twenty years.
Atlas belted out the chorus of the new song.
* * *
Take me away from here…
From the things that harm.
It’s cold and strange…
alone…
Never warm.
Take me away from here, bring me home.
* * *
His voice flowed and ebbed like a wave, and when he finished, the character’s fear and anxiety fell away with the lyrics of the song.
“Damn, Curly, you’re so talented.” Mila grabbed Atlas’s face and laid a wet kiss on his lips. “That song is going to be a hit when that new kid sings it and works with you to put his spin on it.”
He smiled. “I think so.”
“Man, it’s really great,” Trent added.
“You can tell the guy is tortured and searching for something more out of life. A home. Something we all need to feel at peace,” Genevieve contributed.
Boy, Viv hit the nail on the head with her insightful comment. I could relate to the guy in the song. He wanted to get away from the world that made him feel out of place. He wanted to find a home where he could be at peace within his soul. I too had been looking for that very thing. I glanced at Monet, her skin glowing against the light of the lamp behind her. Her lips glistened and I watched her pucker them in thought. Her beauty floored me, but in that moment, sitting around our friends, being touched by a song that could tell the story of my life, she was so much more. She was my future.
“I like the part about him wanting to be brought home. I can relate to that,” Monet said, her body flush against the arm of the couch, one hand holding up her head.
For a while we all just sat, sipping our drinks and listening to Atlas entertain us, until the phone rang.
Monet grabbed the handheld sitting on the table near her side. She looked at the display and frowned before bringing it to her ear. “Hello?” she said and walked out of the room, probably to hear better. I watched as she stopped midstride in the entry to the kitchen. One of her hands flew out to the wall as if she needed to hold herself up.
A sense of dread prickled against my spine as I watched her body bow and shoulders fall. Her head turned toward me, her eyes flat and lifeless. Her entire face went white as a sheet. Shit!
* * *
“You think you can hide away in your house and I wouldn’t know where you were, huh? You stupid bitch.” An angry, hateful voice ripped through the line.
My heart started pounding and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.
“You think what I did to you was the worst of it? Oh no. I have so much more planned for you.” Again that voice, hateful and ugly, but I recognized it.
It took me several moments, though, to understand what I was hearing.
“Kyle?” I knew it deep down to my soul that my ex, my attacker, was on the line. The sensation of acid burning my skin filtered through every pore as I held the receiver tighter and tried not to be frightened.
Breathe, Monet. Breathe. He doesn’t control you.
“You know, Monet, I have dreamed every night about slitting your throat and watching you bleed out onto the concrete floor of that garage.”
I reached for my neck on instinct. My throat tightened and I slammed my hand against the wall, trying to breathe and calm down. “No, Kyle, no. Why?” The words were small, childlike, and filled with sorrow.
He chuckled as though what he was doing was nothing more than a sick game. “Monet, you stupid cunt. I told you. That money you have should have been ours. You’re just wasting it away on that beaker baby and that fucktard friend of yours. You’re probably buying her bullshit art now too.”
I clenched my teeth, my entire body now shaking uncontrollably. “I gave you everything,” I choked out, gripping the phone as h
ard as I could even though I wanted to smash it against the wall. He’d been my husband, the man I opened my heart and body to. At one point, he’d been everything to me. I thought I was to him, too. We’d been happy. For a time.
He laughed manically, the sound cold and toxic—a laugh I’d never heard from his lips before. “You gave me nothing but a limp dick. That’s why I couldn’t get you pregnant. Then you had to go and stuff your cunt full of someone else’s sperm. Good fucking riddance.”
“Monet…” I heard Clayton’s voice from behind me. “Who’s on the phone?” he demanded.
I ignored Clay and focused on my ex. “Kyle, you can’t possibly hate me this much. I didn’t do anything. I was a good wife.” God, I gave him everything. Made dinner every night, provided us a home, a child. I’d supported all that he loved and encouraged him to do what he wanted to do. Never demeaned him or his manhood.
“You were a good-for-nothing boring bitch of a wife. I hated every day of being married to you. I have more fun in the sack with your sister than I ever had with you. You disgust me. And the second you leave your house and you’re all alone,” he taunted, “I’ll get you back under me. Only, this time, I’ll be having all the fun.” His promise slithered up my spine and clenched around my heart so tight I could barely breathe.
A sob tore through me. “No.” I shook my head and fell to my knees, the cold tile and harsh fall barely registering.
“Fuck, babe!” Clayton was there, curving protectively around me and trying to grab for the phone.
I shook my head and shivers racked my frame violently.
“Yes!” His tone was confident, bordering on arrogant. “And when you’re dead, Matisse will get your child and all the money she should have had. Sleep with one eye open, Monet. I’m coming for you,” he sneered and laughed hard before the line went dead.
I dropped the phone, and it clacked to the ground and bounced, a piece flying off it. Strong arms came around me from behind.
“Monet, baby, please. Get up.”
I couldn’t move. The tears poured from my eyes, my fingers grasped for anything to hold on to, but instead there was nothing. Nothing but the cold, hard tile below my palms.
“He’s going to get me. He’s going to kill me. Oh my God.” The words left my mouth on a screech. But Clayton was there. He pulled me into his arms so we faced each other. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he lifted me off the ground as if he’d had practice doing it. He moved smoothly, taking care not to jerk or jostle my body too much.
“Moe…” Mila said, her hand grasping for mine.
I pulled my hands away and fisted them. “No, he’ll get you too. Don’t touch me!” I cried out, attempting to kick and push off the steel bands that had me wrapped up.
“Stop struggling. Stop it, Monet. It’s me. Clayton. Beautiful, I’m here. I’ve got you.”
I shook my head, his words not hitting their mark. “No. He’s going to kill me.”
His head pressed against mine so his lips were touching my ear. I shivered.
“Atlas, see to our guests while I take care of Moe and put her to bed.”
“Got it,” he called out.
“He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me.” The words fell from my lips over and over as Clayton held me and walked through the house and down the hall.
His hand locked around the nape of my neck while he rested his head alongside mine. “No one’s going to kill you. No one is going to so much as touch a hair on your head. I fucking swear it!” he growled as he pushed open my bedroom door and kicked it shut.
With harsher strides than he’d used before, he stomped over to my bed, turned, sat down, and pushed back until we were against my pillows, where he laid us both out flat. Me on top of his body. I shook uncontrollably, every word Kyle said running through my system like hot lava. Clayton tugged the side of the comforter up and covered us with it. A blanket of warmth shrouded over me, and I tucked my body in tighter, bringing up my knees alongside Clayton’s hips and cowering into his body.
Clayton whispered words of comfort, caressed my sides, my arms, and head as I shook.
“You’re okay, beautiful.”
He ran a hand down my side. I trembled, trying to let go, but failed.
“I’m here.” A promise.
I shook my head against his chest as tears leaked out and wet his shirt. The sobs tore through my lungs as Kyle’s words shredded my battered psyche once more.
Clayton held me through it all, allowing me to get it out.
I’m not sure how long I lay there and cried while he comforted me. I didn’t even hear everything he said to me until the following words entered my emotional haze.
“You’re safe.” Another promise I couldn’t dare to believe.
He pressed his lips against my temple as I gripped his ribs and focused on his heart.
Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump.
“I’ll protect you.”
A long, heavy breath left my lungs as I warmed, the tears drying up and Kyle’s words fading out while Clayton’s seeped in. His heartbeat, his caress, and his words lulled me into a dreamlike state until I finally relaxed. The trembling stopped, my muscles twitching and easing along with the rest of me.
Clayton paired his breathing with mine and I nuzzled into his form, rubbing along his solid frame. He was safety. As long as I stayed with him, I had nothing to fear.
“What did he say to you?” he asked after what had to be at least thirty minutes of us lying there.
I mulled over the conversation, trying to use a blind perspective as I would when giving therapy to my clients. Remain separate from the equation, don’t step into the client’s shoes, be thoughtful but considerate. Give the client something to think about, tools to figure out their own problems and manage their lives in a healthy way. That’s what I was supposed to do. Needed to do in order to get through this and find perspective.
Do not let Kyle control you. You are in control of your reactions.
I cleared the scratchiness from my throat after my mental pep talk. “He said he was going to kill me.” Just the facts, Monet. Don’t put yourself in the picture. I continued. “Promised to take my baby and all of my money.” The agony at the mere thought of losing Lily shredded my therapeutic approach, and the tears formed again.
No, no, no! Stay strong.
“Keep going. I need to know.” Clayton rubbed my scalp, and I listened to his heartbeat get stronger. He wasn’t unaffected, even though his attempt at being cool and calm was commendable.
I swallowed down the fear that had crept up my throat. “Said I couldn’t hide forever in this house.”
Clayton’s arms tightened almost painfully around my body.
“Do you believe what he said?”
For a couple minutes, I thought about everything. The cops were after him for attempted murder and wanted to question my half sister. Logic flew out the window as I spoke. “Clay, he did get to me. He almost killed me once. Who’s to say he won’t get me when I’m alone? Mila and Atlas can’t stay here forever. Eventually we all have to go back to work, live our lives. What then?”
Clayton pushed me to my good side and faced me on the bed. He lifted one of my legs and wrapped it around his waist so we were glued together. In another world during another time, I’d rejoice in the splendor that was being wrapped around this man. A man I’d lusted after for over a year.
His tone was adamant. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. We’ll make sure you’re covered at all times. One of the first things we need to do is call the police. Update the detectives on your case so they can find out where that call originated. If he’s close, they need to have units trolling.”
Tears slipped out of my eyes as I remembered all the horrible things Kyle had said.
“He told me I was a horrible wife.” A fresh bout of sadness struck.
Clayton cupped my cheek and waited until I’d opened my eyes to look at him.
“I don’t believe that’s possible. I’ve been here every day for over a week, and I never want to leave. No man in his right mind could spend time with you, glory in your beauty every day, and not want to own it for himself. I’d be one lucky son of a bitch to have you forever.”
More tears spilled out. God, so many tears. For a long, long time, I let his words penetrate and cried into his chest. Cried for the injustice of it all. Cried for the pain my ex caused. For Lily. For the fact that Clayton deserved my best and was continually saving me.
Eventually, the tears subsided and I realized I was warm. So warm. Content to be held in this man’s arms as I let myself completely lose it. And he stayed. Held me through it all. Whispered his admiration for me, told me repeatedly how pretty, funny, and smart I was. How he loved my daughter and that I was an amazing mother. He did that for me.
Clayton’s lips pressed against my temple.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
I nodded against his chest, where I’d kept my ear to his heart. Its beat was melodic, calming, the best sound in the world. I’d fall asleep to it every night if I could.
Clayton groaned and stretched his limbs out. That’s when it dawned on me that I had moved my hand under his shirt, stroking his chest, running my fingertips in patterns across the ridges of his muscles. Each indentation was perfectly defined and fit each of my fingers as though I was drawing lines in the sand.
“I’m sorry.” I stopped moving my hand, leaving it flat against his abdomen.
He chuckled, the sound manly and sexy. “Don’t be sorry for putting your hands on me, beautiful. I love it.”
I nuzzled his chest, hiding my face. “I like your muscles. You’re warm and so…defined. Feels nice against my fingertips,” I admitted rather shyly.
He put a hand on my booty, reached down to cup the cheek, and squeezed. “And you’ve got a stellar ass. I’ve wanted to get my hands on it for a while. So how’s about we make a deal. You can run your fingers all over my chest and stomach if I can cop feels of this ass.” He squeezed the underside, nudging me closer to him. A burst of arousal rippled down to center hotly between my thighs. On instinct, I rubbed my thigh against his, putting my sex in contact with his muscular leg. A sizzle of excitement zipped through me, taking away every ounce of melancholy and fear I’d had an hour ago and replacing it with scorching-hard lust. This—being with this man, feeling alive inside—that’s what I needed. I was tired, so tired of being scared, of crying. I wanted to live. Feel alive.
Limitless Love: A Lotus House Novel: Book Four Page 12