Blocked number: Condolences on the canceled wedding. Someone must have wised up and realized he was about to marry a whore.
Despite the cruel words, a relieved sigh rushes past my lips. I lean against the bathroom door and shake with tears. If he had hurt Seth, he would have bragged about it in his message.
I shoot a quick text to Brandon to make sure Seth is with him. He responds quickly, telling me that Seth had left early to work on the farm.
My next course of action is to make sure he got there safely. Going through my ignored messages, I find the one from Seth’s dad asking me to come over soon, because he had something he needed to give me. It’s the perfect excuse.
I walk out of the bathroom as soon as I get my tears under control and find the redheaded nurse Blake is currently crushing on laughing at something he said. She’s changing the bandage that is wrapped around his head, and for the first time this week, she seems more relaxed and maybe even a little more flirtatious with him.
I watch them quietly—the way she sits precariously on his bed, wisps of light-strawberry hair falling into her face, and the way Blake closes his eyes and breathes deep every time she leans over him to make sure his bandage is just right.
They don’t notice me as I grab the last of my things to bring back home. I plan on staying at Dad’s house until this mess with Michael blows over.
Blake and Echo continue to flirt quietly until she runs out of excuses to stay in the room. She leaves reluctantly, but not before Blake whispers something I can’t hear in her ear, earning a furious blush on the nurse’s cheeks and trying her hardest to suppress a grin.
I raise an eyebrow at Blake, but he offers no information on their relationship.
“I’m heading out, now,” I say, coming up to the side of his bed.
Ever since Blake walked out on me two years ago, I never thought I’d be able to be around him for long periods of time without wanting to curse his existence. Something that should have been off-limits, awkward and a thousand other confusing adjectives, turned into something comfortable. I’m grateful for the friendship he offered even though we’ve done nothing but hurt each other in our past.
He seems to be thinking the same thing and he grabs my hand “Be careful out there, Jo. Be smart. Fight.”
“I will.” I pull my hand back and touch his stubbly cheek. “Get better, Blake.” I leaned down to kiss his other cheek. “Thank you for being here for me even when you didn’t have to.”
“Anything, Jo. If you need anything, I’ll be here for you.”
Chapter 29
Seth
My hand falls heavily against my thigh, my neglected camera making a soft thumping sound as it hits the ground. My hands shake like they have been doing randomly for the past six days, and I force them into fists until my nails bite my skin. Never have I wished for longer nails so I’d have an excuse to be in more pain.
When the reaction stops, I bend over to pick up my camera and put it back in the saddle bag I have on Ash. Six days without taking a goddamn picture. My passion, my world, my livelihood, and I can’t bring myself to care enough to find a purpose in anything around me.
The veiny leaves that fade from green to orange to purple, the rain pattering against the lake water, the gloss of my horse’s nose—none of it is inspiring.
I’ve lost every sense of who I am, and I used to be tethered to my photography.
Rain starts to fall with more purpose, forcing me to accept the fact that I need to go back. Prolonging the chores that need to be done on the back acres of the farm can only take so long. I’m in no mood to connect or communicate with my parents, and as soon as I make it back to the house, I know I’ll be forced to listen to a million condolences and reassurances that I no longer want or care about.
In spite of the fight Brandon and I had last night about my habit of going to the hospital to make sure everything was safe, I want to go back. Just to make sure she’s okay. Maybe to catch a glimpse of her. To see if she’s hurting as much as I am.
But Brandon was right. She’s no longer my responsibility. A punch thrown out of anger at that depressing truth didn’t stop Brandon from insisting I spend the night at his place. I felt how worried he was, and after luring me in with some alcohol to drown out the pain, I left the hospital and any chance of seeing the girl who broke my heart behind.
I lead Ash back to the stables and fall into a pile of hay in the loft. The shaking starts up again once I’m still. As soon as her face flashes in front of me, it’s as if my body’s initial reaction is to revolt against the pain she’s caused me.
Fisting my hair, I pull until it stings and white dots spot my vision. It’s amazing how one person can destroy your mind and body in the matter of seconds. It’s amazing that she had this much power over me.
The rain patters against the roof of the barn, bringing with it a peaceful cadence that calms me down. Surrounded by nature, the horses chattering and stomping, the creak of the wood straining against the wind, I can almost forget that I was supposed to be married today. I can pretend I’m okay.
Rocks and gravel crunching down the driveway shake me out of a haze, and I sit up to look out the hay loft window. My breath seizes and a painful shock stabs my throat as I watch Josie walk through the front door of my house.
Did she change her mind? How my mind could possibly jump to a hopeful conclusion is beyond me. When has Josie ever reacted in a way that didn’t put me in some sort of emotional pain?
The cruel voice in my head tells me exactly what it thinks about my hope.
You’re pathetic. She left you crying like a bitch and you still want her back.
Yeah. I shouldn’t care.
I certainly should not leave this loft to go see her. I shouldn’t be picturing her in my arms begging me to take her back. I really shouldn’t be climbing down this ladder and walking in the direction of the main house.
A soft spoken whisper I’ve grown accustomed to hearing in the middle of the night stops me cold in the middle of the kitchen. My legs become unsteady, and I have to grip onto the wall to hold myself up. I shut my eyes tight to try and savor the sound.
Could she be missing me?
I place my hand on the door leading to the living room and stop to take a deep breath. I’m going to see her. The girl who ruined me is on the other side of this door and my body aches to be with her—to hold her and kiss her. To tell her I’m so sorry for letting her go, and that we can work through whatever doubts she has about us.
But what does that say about me?
You’re weak. That’s what it says.
“He’s not in the house, is he?” I hear Josie ask my dad through the door.
“He’s probably hiding out in the stables, hun,” Dad answers.
“Good.” Her sigh of relief is monumental.
My hand slides down the door until it rests clenched at my thigh—my chest heaving and eyes stinging with tears I refuse to shed. Of course she doesn’t want to see me. How could I be so fucking stupid?
My eyes catch the silver glint of a knife resting on the kitchen counter. Something so sharp and yet carelessly left for anyone to take. I shake my head of those thoughts and glimpse the tattoos covering my whole right arm. There’s a reason I’ve covered my skin in art.
Even though I know that Josie’s fucking grateful for not having to see me, I lean against the wall to listen to her. To take in a taste of her even though she doesn’t want me anymore.
“How are you and the baby?” Dad asks. The leather couch squeaks as they sit down to talk.
My heart rate picks up and I close my eyes as the thoughts and emotions I felt on that day a couple weeks ago rush over me. I’ve never been more excited and terrified than when we got to see our baby on that screen for the first time. I made a silent vow to always love and protect that baby.
I don’t want to think that the baby may not be mine. Down to my core, I know I will always be that baby’s father.
How cou
ld she do this to me?
“I think I felt a tiny baby flutter this morning. It could have been the Cheetos I ate, but I’m telling myself it was the baby,” she says, a small twinge of teasing in her tone. My heart aches hearing this. I should have been there for that. We should be going crazy with excitement about that. “As for me … I’m surviving as best as I can.”
How sweet. She pretends like this breakup has been hard on her, when she’s the one who ended it.
Before I realize I’m doing it, I bang my head against the doorframe trying to stop the constant negativity. When my dad asks more about the baby again in a louder voice, I stop myself to strain and listen.
She hasn’t seen a doctor since she’s been staying with Blake in his hospital room—probably too focused on taking care of her new man instead of herself. At least she feels confident the baby is healthy and growing. That’s more important than my petty jealousy.
After what I can only assume is awkward chit chat, since my dad and Josie have never had many heart-to-hearts prior to today, Dad says, “I have something for you. It’s why I asked you to come over.”
A drawer creaks open but that’s the only sound I can make out. Jose falls silent, too.
Finally, I hear, “George …” It’s tears in her voice that I hear. “This is beautiful.”
“I know you have a long way to go, but I wanted to make sure my grandbaby had something from their grandpa just in case …” What he means, I’m not sure, and my curiosity is too strong to analyze it. “You can add to it when you guys have more kids, too.”
“You should hate me,” Josie finally says, voice broken. “Even Seth doesn’t think the baby is—”
“You and I both know that’s a load of horse crap.” Muffled sounds drift through the door. After a few beats of silence, Dad speaks again. “I don’t know why you did what you did, but we’re here for you and the baby when you’re ready to come clean.”
I hear her breathing turn ragged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everything I told him was the truth. There is no coming clean, and there is no future where the two of us are together.”
Pain sears my chest and I have to purposely keep my eyes off that knife sitting on the counter as it grows more and more tempting to use.
I’m not sure what my dad sees or hears differently than I do, but he doesn’t accept her answer. “You can lie to him, and hell, you can lie to yourself all you want, Josie, but I’m not buying that shit you’re selling for one second. I’d like to think there’s a good reason you broke my son’s heart, and I refuse to sit here and pretend that it’s because you don’t want to be with him anymore.”
She’s silent for a minute—one long minute that makes fear start prickling inside of me. She’s going to leave. What if this is the last time I hear her voice? What if this is my last chance to make her give me another shot?
She doesn’t want you, idiot.
No. I suppose she doesn’t.
“You can’t tell him, George,” she says forcefully. “He has to think I’m gone for good. Trust me when I say that I’m trying to save his life. I’ve got this under control.”
The leather creaks and I hold my breath. “And who’s going to protect you, Josie? Who’s going to protect my grandbaby?”
Shuffling and movement make me tense and stand up. I place my hands on the door and almost open it when Josie’s voice, hard and angry, stops me.
“I’m sick of everyone trying to handle me like I’m fragile. I can take care of my damn self. And I don’t need you or Seth or anyone else telling me I’m not strong enough to do it.” She pauses and I hear the front door open.
“Jo—” Dad starts.
“I will always love him, George. I may have made the biggest mistake of my life by letting him go, but I would do it again and again as long as he’s alive and safe in end. If you care at all about keeping him alive, keep that between us. As soon as he realizes I’m lying, he’ll come running, and I’m too scared to think what will happen then.” She pauses and lowers her voice. “Thank you for the gift. If there is an emergency, I’ll be at my dad’s house.”
The front door shuts as I push into the living room, heart pounding and breathing hard. Dad turns around, hand rubbing the center of his chest, and gives me a long, knowing look. “Did you hear everything?”
I nod and swallow hard. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? Everything she said before she left hits me hard and I have trouble not running after her car as I hear it starting up. “She could still be lying, Dad.”
“You didn’t see her face. Something’s wrong. Get what you need and follow her. Keep her safe, Seth.” He walks up to me and places both hands on either side of my face. “You stay safe, too. Go get your family back, son.” He kisses me on the cheek and lets me go.
So, I fucking go. I run like my life depends on it. And who knows? According to Josie, my life might be hanging in the balance.
But I’m okay with that.
Because she loves me. Josie is still in love with me.
Chapter 30
Josie
I really need to stop driving while I’m bawling my eyes out. If Seth was behind me right now, I’m pretty sure he would ban me from ever driving again. He’d put in a complaint to the DMV to get my license revoked. Aw, hell, just thinking about him doing that makes me cry harder.
It’s pure luck that I make it into my driveway in one piece. It’s total sorrow that keeps me in the car crying and banging my head against the steering wheel. It’s determination that makes me breathe through the pain and pull myself together.
If there is one thing I’ve learned through every heartache I’ve experienced, it’s that I can pull myself out of it if I try hard enough. I will get through this. I will survive this pain.
And no matter what happens, I will fight to win my man back.
Swallowing the last of my pain, I rub my tiny belly. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll get through this. We won’t let anything happen to Daddy, and before you know it, he’ll be right back to loving all over us.”
I exit the car clinging to that hope that everything will get better soon.
Maybe it’s naivety that brings on this optimism. Maybe it’s the fact that I refuse to let anyone else break me again. Maybe, I realize as I leave all my belongings in the car, I have too much to live for to endure any more heartache.
Or maybe—a hand comes out of nowhere as I enter the front door and covers my mouth with a cloth that smells way too strongly of chemicals—
I’m.
Just.
Stupid.
***
A stinging pain prickles along my cheek. I want to smile at Seth’s silliness, but sleep is too heavy and I can’t move. I imagine Seth above me, a pillow raised above his head, waiting for me to wake up and hit him back.
My stomach churns and the stinging sensation returns. Only it doesn’t feel like a pillow. No freaking way would Seth hit me that hard with his pillow.
I want to open my eyes. I try to open my eyes, but another part of me is squeezing them shut. Cutting me off from opening them and seeing what is in front of me—what is making me hurt. I take a breath through my nose and want to relax as the homey scent of lavender fills me, but still, the other part of my body revolts against the smell. I try to move my body, but it doesn’t move. I’m locked. I can’t move.
My heart pounds in my throat and a sickening burn blooms in my stomach. I try harder to open my heavy lids, blinking slowly until I’m looking into a pair of the darkest brown eyes I have ever seen. A strangled scream escapes, and I attempt to push away from him. Something stops me. I pull and pull and try to stand, but I’m frozen in place. I look down my body and scream again when I see that I’m tied tightly to a chair.
My chair. In my house.
Rocking as hard as I can, I try to get out of the bonds that are keeping me in place. I rock and squirm and push and pull until I topple onto the floor. Still tied to the fucking chair.
; A low chuckle reaches my ears and smooth masculine hands reach out to sit me back up. I keep my eyes closed, willing him to be a nightmare and not reality, but when he tugs on my ponytail, I open them back up and see that he’s real.
Michael is holding me hostage in my own freaking house. His nose is a mere inch from mine and his breath fans the strands of hair that are hanging over my face. He smiles like we’re old friends.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Hello again, little Josie.” His hand reaches out to caress my cheek. He’s perfectly put together, as always. An expensive suit and tie cover his body, and his dark-brown hair is styled expertly. To everyone looking in, Michael is ever the rich business mogul and never the despicable rapist.
My mouth opens to scream, but it comes out more strangled than anything solid and loud enough to be heard. Michael’s hand hits my cheek again—harder. When I turn a glare back on him, he laughs and stands up from his crouched position.
“Fuck you,” I spit. Literally spit at him.
“Oh, my sweet slutty Josie,” Michael drawls, wiping my spit with a napkin he pulls from his jacket pocket. He walks around my living room and pulls out a sheathed knife from his side, turning around to face me. “Today is going to be so much fun.” He crouches in front of me again and slices the blade down my cheek. I gasp as tears flood my eyes.
Do not cry, Josie! Hold it together.
There’s no other words than pure joy to describe what I see in his eyes when I fail and let a tear slip out. Or arousal. He gets off on my pain, something I become very aware of as he pushes his hips against the blood gathering against my cheek. I try to shrink away from him, but he grips my hair to force my face back into his lap.
I try to breathe through his dress pants, but I can’t catch a breath. He pulls my head back roughly and licks the trail of blood. “Today, you and I will get seven years’ worth of reacquainted,” he growls against my ear. I hear his zipper and can’t stop my whimper fast enough.
That's a Relief (Promises, Promises Book 3) Page 19