Initially, I used to bring the hurt and suffering home with me. Even though I knew it was unwise and perhaps even unprofessional, it was difficult not to get caught up in their suffering. I wanted to help each one financially, support-wise, and even with a few, bring them home with me to love and care for. But that was impossible. No, I had to learn that it isn’t healthy to constantly bear that weight.
Not for me, or for my son.
I almost laugh at myself because really, it’s not like my situation is that great – too many things are unhealthy in my own life. Bringing my work home with me would only add to the challenges and emotions so I leave it at the office as much as possible. When I cross my doorstep, I often take a deep sigh, close my eyes, and try to let go of the happenings of the day or what may occur tomorrow and fixate on what awaits for me immediately beyond the door. Picturing him, I briefly smile.
Stirred from my revelry and deeply sighing, I grip the steering wheel and try not to think about how much my feet ache or the nag I feel in my head telling me a headache is on the horizon. Plus, the smoothie and turkey sandwich I had for lunch wasn’t enough if the sound of my stomach is any indication.
I briefly indulge in a fantasy that involves me doing a U-turn so I can head in the direction of my apartment. Thoughts of walking through my front door, kicking my shoes off and making a beeline for the freezer to grab a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia seems like a perfect evening. I could dismiss Theresa, Ryan’s nanny, and he and I could cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie of his choosing. I’d end up watching him more than the movie and my heart and soul would find peace in what I know would be a perfect moment.
Then I remember that the consequences of doing so aren’t worth it. Who knows what Nico would say or do if god forbid he walked in and caught me doing just that. Something cruel I’m sure.
Fear of Nico and disgust with myself makes my grip tighten on the wheel. Taking a deep breath I force the nice but unrealistic daydream involving ice cream and a movie with my son from my mind and turn it instead to my work out.
Against my wishes my interaction with Nico a couple weeks ago pushes to the forefront of my mind. At this rate I know the nag in my head is going to turn into a full blown pulsing pound if I don’t get some ibuprofen in my body.
“I’ve got a surprise for you, amor.”
I’ve given up asking him not to call me ‘amor’ although sometimes it still slips out in anger. I hate it. I also hate his surprises. They stopped bringing excitement long ago. I know better than to assume anything he gives me will bring joy, but I force a smile on my face nevertheless as dealing with the repercussions if I act anything other than grateful will be dire.
“A surprise? Why? It’s not my birthday.”
The words sound hollow to my ears. I only hope they don’t to his.
He smiles and I remember a time I thought him attractive. A time when I would have given anything and done everything he wanted if it meant he’d bestow a smile on me like he is now. I thought he was my hero, my savior. Now, I know he’s really the devil and what used to be a beautiful smile now makes my stomach churn. I now know the evil man that lurks behind the facade.
“Because it’s something you need and besides, you’ve been such a good girl lately, you deserve an award.”
I only hope I don’t vomit on his feet.
“Okay,” I keep the smile on my face even though I’m dreading whatever it is that’s contained in the white envelope he’s holding out for me to take. I look at his face to find it’s giving nothing away. Staring at the envelope for a moment, I reluctantly take it from his hand.
“Go on, amor. Open it up.”
Hesitating one more second, I do as I’m told turning over the envelope and tearing under the flap. Inside I find a copy of a contract and a card and key fob that says, Fitness World. I recognize the name; it’s the new gym that opened nearby.
“A gym membership – for both of us? To go work out?”
He laughs like I made a joke and the sound puts me even more on edge.
“No, not both of us. Does this body look like it needs any work?” He asks while lifting up his shirt and displaying his toned stomach. I don’t think he really wants me to answer that question. He may be in decent shape, but I’ve seen better – a lot better. Wish I had the guts to tell him exactly that, but I’d pay for it.
He walks over to me and takes my arm and holds it out at my side. To my horror and embarrassment he pinches the bottom of it and grabs hold of the skin there.
“Now you on the other hand could use a little toning up. When you look better I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”
“I don’t want your hands on me,” I respond automatically and almost flinch when I see his jaw tighten. Clenching my own, I look at him sternly – he knows that part of our relationship is over – long over.
Fortunately, he ignores the jab. I’d like to say that his cruelty and ‘gift’ surprise me, but it doesn’t. I like my body just fine and I’m not going to let his dickish comment change the way I feel, but my eyes begin burning anyway which makes me angry at myself. I refuse to give him one single tear. He’s not worthy of them.
When I don’t respond to his comment or the gift, the pinch of my skin becomes hard and painful.
“Don’t you have something to say to me?”
Flinching, I remain silent. I know he’s bruising me, but still I give him nothing, nor do I pull away.
“You haven’t said ‘thank you’ to me, amor. And I know you are thankful that I took the time to get you a gym membership, are you not?”
“Yes, Nico,” I finally submit, hating myself. “Thank you,” I practically spit.
He releases me abruptly. “Good. They have a daycare too so you have a place to put the kid while you’re there if Theresa isn’t available to watch him.”
“Thank you,” I say again not wishing to argue or deal with him any longer and hoping the sooner I comply the faster he’ll leave.
He stares at me for a moment and I force myself to stare back. Suddenly, he grabs hold of me and kisses me hard, his lips almost bruising mine. Before I can push him away, he pulls away abruptly and laughs. I know telling him not to do that again is fruitless. He does and takes what he wants. I hate him.
“I’m leaving. I expect you to put that to good use starting tomorrow.” It’s not a request - it’s a demand. I nod stiffly. “Good girl. I’ll see you later – I have some work I need to tend to. Don’t do anything stupid.”
When he left I was finally able to allow myself to relax and take a deep breath. Not for the first time I’m thankful for the fact I no longer live with him – a minor victory after a hefty betrayal. Though I know that I need to keep my fighting with him to a minimum or that will change. Lately, he’s too interested in other things to make where we reside a priority.
To my frustration a couple tears leak out of my eyes. I hate him. I hate the way he makes me feel. I hate that I was stupid enough to get involved with him in the first place. Hard to believe that I ever loved him, cared for him, touched him lovingly, was thankful for the way he took care of me. I can’t believe I actually thought we had a future together. I was young and stupid.
Abandoned and alone after the death of my parents I thought he was my miracle. Willing to do whatever he needed to pay back his kindness and gain his attention got me into trouble. I had no idea that getting involved with him would mean he would have constant control over my life. Control I let him have because I’m too frightened to do anything about it. I dug the hole I find myself in long ago. This is my own damn fault. It all started with something as simple as greed and not wanting all the luxury to be taken away from me. He knew what he was doing. He dug his hooks into me so deep I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was too late.
Now, I’m in so deep I don’t even know how to begin to dig myself out. He’s got me backed into a corner and he delights in it. Lords it over me every single chance he gets.
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Now, for the safety of myself, Ryan and the children I work with daily, I have no choice but to live this way.
What makes my blood run cold is when I let my thoughts roam to what would happen to Ryan if something ever happened to me. An orphan myself, I have no one to help me, no one to run to.
Turning my thoughts back to something less stressful I focus on the gym once more. Truth is, I don’t mind having a gym membership. In fact, the last couple weeks I’ve been coming here have been nice. It’s time away from Nico for one. For two, it’s past time for me to focus on my health and body. Lord knows I abuse it every day given the daily stress I deal with and the lack of time and attention I give myself. I’m too busy taking care of everyone else. Gym time is me time and I don’t have enough of that.
Besides, in only two weeks I’m already reaping the benefits from giving myself just one single hour a day. I’m recognizing a higher energy level and I’m sleeping much better too.
Once I arrive at the gym, I grab my bag from the back seat and hurry inside. A quick scan of my membership card and I’m in the locker room removing the clothes I wore to work and exchanging them for my spandex leggings and matching sports bra.
Grabbing the brush out of my bag I walk over to the mirror and pull my dark hair up into a high ponytail.
At first I try to avoid looking at myself choosing instead to focus on the task, but then I give in and look into my own eyes. The dark circles under them are pronounced. I may be sleeping a little better now, but it’s not enough to make a difference quite yet. My face is pale and it makes the freckles across my cheeks and nose stand out more than usual. The stress shows in the downturn of my mouth and the sadness in my eyes.
Simply put, I look as bad on the outside as I feel inside.
Before I turn away, the dark spot on my arm catches my eye and I have a moment of panic. I forgot about it. Nico’s tight grip left bruises like I knew it would, but they’ve faded over the last couple weeks and now look more yellow and purple than black and blue. I should have worn a t-shirt to cover them. I didn’t think about it, but I’m used to making excuses. This should be no different. It isn’t the first time and won’t be the last, but I loathe the proof that he exists in my life on my body. His infestation of my brain and heart is enough.
With a heavy sigh I turn away from my reflection, stash my brush in my locker and head out of the locker room intending to start my workout with a run on the treadmill.
Thirty minutes later I’m running so hard sweat is pouring down my body. It feels good, as if anger and frustration is leaving my body with every drop of sweat and pound of my footsteps. I used to love to run, was on the track team in high school. It has been too long since I’ve indulged. Something about it clears my mind and settles my body.
My attention has been on the TVs before me and the music pounding through my ear buds so I don’t notice him at first. I’m not sure if it’s movement that catches my attention, but I almost trip over my feet when I see Nico staring back at me from across the room through the mirror. What the hell is he doing here? Is he following me? Seriously?
Slowing down to a fast walk, I stare at him as I finally turn the machine off and walk toward him. My body feels like it’s floating after being on the moving treadmill.
When I reach him, he smirks and it infuriates me, “What are you doing here?” I ask angrily the fact we’re surrounded by people making me feel foolishly brave.
“This is a public place, amor.”
“Don’t call me that. You know I hate it.” He does it to piss me off. I’m not his love.
He smirks and I instantly regret my words. Giving him any reaction, even anger, only fuels him.
“I’m just checking in to see if you’re using the gift I gave you.”
“You know I have been. I told you that.”
“Well, one can never be too sure now can they?”
He’s making a point. He wants me to remember that he owns me.
“Whatever, Nico. Do what you want.”
My knees shake as I walk away and I’d like to blame it on the run, but I’d only be lying to myself. I move to a stationary bike and set my weight and choose a route to cycle. I try to lose myself in the music once more, but I finally give in and look back to where Nico was standing and sigh in relief when I see he’s gone. Damn him. I should have known that having this place to myself and getting ‘me time’ was too good to be true.
After working out for another thirty minutes, I’m rightfully exhausted, but at the same time feeling good. Intending to grab a hand towel by the women’s locker room on my way to shower, I stop first at the water fountain wishing I hadn’t forgotten my water bottle.
Wiping my mouth as water drips from my lips, I turn the corner and smack right into a solid wall. I feel hands on my upper arms reach out to keep me from falling and I grab onto strong forearms in return grateful to them for helping me find my balance.
My gaze moves from his forearms to tight abs that are clearly pressing against his shirt. It’s tight and leaves nothing to the imagination. His biceps bulge and his pecs tighten and release with the movements of his arms. When I finally make my way up to his face, my mouth falls open in shock.
He sucks in a breath and I almost fall over right there. I used to dream about that sound. That sound, his face, his voice, his body, I’ve dreamt about all of it. I’d dream that somehow he found me, that he beat down the door, beat the shit out of Nico and took me from the hell I was living in.
I’ve thought numerous times over the years about finding him. But as more time passed, the harder it became to even think about. I knew it would seem strange and the more time that passed since I saw him last, the more absurd the idea seemed. I didn’t want to just bust in on his life again – the fact that we met at rehab had a stigma to it – I wasn’t stupid. Why would he want to be with some girl he met in rehab? Plus, did I really want to expose him to my life?
It didn’t matter because I was too chicken, but I’ve never forgotten him, not in the five years since I’ve seen him. It was kind of hard to anyway with his face plastered all over the TV and billboards right now. I’ll never forget the first time I saw him staring down at me from the freeway when I drove by. I about had a heart attack. I certainly knew after that how to get hold of him now, but again I chickened out not sure how to explain myself.
It’s funny really, we never exchanged anything but our first names – on purpose – but he still starred in more daydreams that I’m comfortable admitting. Part of me wonders if I’m dreaming now.
But then, he speaks.
“Sutton?” he asks and that voice, oh my god his voice. It’s like sex – smooth and rough at the same time and my body instantly responds to it. I can feel my knees lock, my nipples tighten and the hair on my arms stands on end.
“Zane?” I say but not because I really question it’s him, but because I want his name on my lips.
If I thought my reaction to hearing his voice was bad, I wasn’t at all prepared for his smile. It almost knocks me over and I can’t help but wonder after all this time… why now? Why has fate put him in front of me after all this time? And why is my heart racing like I’m still on the treadmill mid run?
“So you remember me? I’m not surprised,” I tell her with a cocky smile. I look at her like I haven’t a care in the world, - relaxed stance – check, cocky smile – check. I want it to appear like seeing her has no affect on me, but on the inside I’m shocked as hell.
But also pleased.
I mean, hot damn; she was beautiful before but now… well, time has done some good things to her.
She’s simply stunning.
My eyes follow a drop of sweat as it falls down her chest and I’m not at all surprised that my first thought is that I’d like to follow it with my tongue.
I remember our time together. I remember it well. I remember it so much that I’d like to have been the one that put that sweat on her body to begin with.
; Trying not to be obvious as I gaze at the curves I remember all too well, my hands almost itch to trace them again. To watch her come undone by my touch.
But, I also remember more. I remember the way she would smile and laugh at every attempt at humor I made. I remember talking for hours about the most mundane things. I remember feeling like I could be myself with her – maybe due to the fact my ultimate secret was exposed and there was nothing left to hide. I remember not wanting to watch her walk away and realizing too late that I should have done something about it.
“Yes, of course I do. Wow, it’s been a long time. You look…”
I smirk, cocky attitude still in place.
“Yeah, I know, muscles are bigger, right?” I chuckle so she knows I’m joking but I totally flex my biceps on the down low and almost growl when I see her eyes fall to them. That’s right baby, imagine these arms wrapped around you again.
“So, how are you? How have you been?”
“I’m good. Really good, now,” I smirk and it becomes wider when I see the flush she’s already sporting get a little brighter and deeper, “And you, little shark?”
She shakes her head at the old nickname, “I’m good too,” she pauses the hesitation clear on her face, but she adds, “Not gambling if that’s what you’re suggesting by the nickname?”
“Believe me, that’s the furthest thing from my mind,” I tell her wishing I could reach out and run my finger across the freckles on her nose. Hell, what is the matter with me? Seeing her has suddenly turned me bat shit crazy. “I’m not gambling anymore either in case you were wondering.”
She smiles and laughs uncomfortably at the clear awkwardness between us and my mind immediately flashes back to our time at The Meadows.
Recalling all the times we snuck off to spend some one on one time together makes me want to find the nearest closet and take a trip down memory lane. I want to feel her soft skin again, taste her lips, hear the noises she makes when she comes. She put all my senses to use when I was with her. I stiffen at the thought and open my mouth to say something, anything – likely something provocative given my train of thought.
Fighting Greed Page 3