Chapter 18

June

The copy machine whirs, printing and stacking paper lightning fast. The Wheatfield Public Library never had anything even half this fast. Heck, this copier makes the Wheatfield Public Library’s technology look completely stone aged by comparison.

It figures. Even the copy machines work faster here in the city. The days go by quicker too, and the relationships…

It’s safe to say that I’m feeling closer to Carter Abraham right now than I ever felt to Kody. And that’s saying something—since Kody and I started dating back when I barely even understood what a boyfriend was.

Maybe it is just this city. Everyone’s lives move so quickly here, the heart finds ways to keep up.

Or maybe it’s just Carter. Call me a hopeless romantic, but whatever’s brewing between us, it’s the stuff of my most embarrassing fantasies.

Not even just the sexy kind, either.

Sure, those are being met and exceeded, but there’s so much more.

Like the sappy, gooey things that I imagined before everything with Kody, before the heartache and the betrayal.

I’ll admit, after what that man put me through, I didn’t have it in me to continue believing in love.

I had put “true love” into a mental filing cabinet with things like Santa and the tooth fairy. It was just one more made-up story that whimsical old women tell and nothing more. I had decided that I had absolutely no use for it.

I guess life has different plans.

I feel the smile crawl across my face at the mere thought of him, and I don’t even try to hide it. I’m too far gone for denial.

I hear the door open and turn to find the man himself.

“Hey!” I say, smiling broadly now that he’s actually in front of me. “I was just thinking about you.”

He smiles back, a strange, wide smile that I’ve never seen on his face before. It’s almost pained, not reaching his eyes. His forehead is creased.

I open my mouth to ask if anything’s wrong when he stumbles, smacking hard into the nearest filing cabinet before he can right himself.

“OOF!”

“A-are you okay?” I ask, hesitant, unsure.

There’s a gnawing worry in my stomach that I can’t seem to get rid of. A feeling of unease, like my sixth sense is trying to tell me something, only I can’t quite make out what it is.

My grandmother was great with her sixth sense, her instinct. Mine, on the other hand, fluctuates. Some days it’s good, other days not so good.

Today must be an off day.

He refocuses his attention on me before straightening and starting back in my direction.

I know before he’s even halfway to me what the problem is. In fact, I’m kicking myself for not noticing sooner.

He stops about a foot in front of me, the stench of liquor on his breath only confirming my suspicions. It’s so strong I fear I may get drunk just from the stench alone.

“Lawrence, how nice to see you.” I say, trying hard to make my face believe what I’m saying and failing miserably to do so.

“Really?” he asks with raised eyebrows. “And here I got the impression that you didn’t like me.”

I bite my tongue down hard on the response that comes to mind. Tempted as I am to spew it out, I know better.

“I don’t know why you’d think that, Lawrence. I hardly even know you.”

He’s nodding his head with a far-off look in his eyes. It’s like I’ve just said something so utterly profound, he needs time to take it all in.

I decide to give him all the time he needs, stepping to the side to get by.

He cuts me off. Of course he does.

What in the Sam Hill does this guy want?

“That’s a really good point,” he says, as if he didn’t just bar my exit, “and actually, that’s just why I stopped by.”

His eyes lock onto mine. What I see in them drives me back a step, my ass bumping into the copier.

His gaze is hungry, almost predatory. Something else as well—anger? Madness? I’m certain I don’t want to stick around to find out.

I feel my skin crawl as he directs his eyes lower, sizing up my body in slow, precise measurements.

“I don’t—” I begin.

“It’s really about time that we got to know each other better,” he says, leaning forward.

“I’d rather not,” I say, again trying to get by.

There is no humor in his laugh.

Before I can so much as process what he’s doing, I feel his mouth against mine. Hard. Pressing, no more like forcing himself on me.

It’s a kiss unlike any I’ve ever felt, and one I hope to never feel again.

I yell into his mouth, my hands pressing hard against his solid chest, desperate to break the contact.

He grabs me by my upper arms, lifting me from the floor with uncanny ease before setting me down hard atop the copier. The act breaks his mouth from mine, and I use the opportunity.

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!” I scream, the curse feeling strange and yet welcome on my lips.

Tempted as I am to spit the stench of alcohol from my mouth, I restrain myself. I don’t want to stain the carpet.

He laughs again, though now it sounds like more of a cackle.

“Oh, come on,” he shouts. “If my brother’s good enough, then I sure as hell am!”

The statement’s so absurd, I almost laugh.

Instead, I bring my knees up, planting my heels into his chest and shoving for all I’m worth.

I’m rewarded with his stunned expression as he is flung backwards.

Too drunk to react, he falls, his back hitting the floor with surprising force.

Boom!

It’s at this moment, of course, that the door to the copy room bursts open.

I sigh loudly, my relief instant and soothing.

Carter looks dumbfounded at the scene laid out before him. Me, legs still half in the air, terror lingering in my eyes. His brother, drunk, struggling back to his feet, murder in his eyes and my lipstick on his lips.

“You bitch,” he mutters as he stands.

I see the look before Lawrence does.

Carter’s face, usually a plane of composure, cracks into absolute fury. His eyes become a storm—raging violently, promising vengeance.

He’s already in motion by the time Lawrence turns to face him, his fist flying through the air with incredible force.

I hear the crack of breaking bone from across the room, see the blood that flies from Lawrence’s now shattered nose, hear his anguished scream.

Time seems to slow as I watch, still perched on the copy machine.

“What did you do to her?” Carter demands, though his expression tells me he already knows.

“What did I do to her?” Lawrence screams, looking in horror at his hands, now filling with blood. “What did you do to me?”

“Nothing compared to what I’ll do if you ever touch her again,” Carter says, this time eerily calm.

The silence is deafening.

“Do you understand?”

Nothing.

Behind them, a security guard I’ve seen but never met pokes his head through the door. Quickly surveying the scene, he directs his attention to Carter.

“Anything I can do?” he asks.

“Yes. Get him out of my sight.”

Lawrence doesn’t even resist as he’s escorted from the room, doesn’t so much as glance behind him.

Then Carter is at my side. He touches me. His hands and eyes run up and down my body, as if searching for injury.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No, it’s okay,” I reply. “I’m okay, really.”

He ceases his inspection long enough to look me in my eyes, the concern in his own almost bringing me to tears.

“Really,” I repeat, “I’m okay.”

This time, he seems to believe me.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe he’d do that to you. I never thought…”

I lay my hand gently against his cheek, cutting off whatever might come next.

“He didn’t hurt me, I promise. I’m alright.”

He nods, his eyes an equal mix of relief and pain.

“Really.” I feel like a broken record, saying the same words over and over again. “I’m more worried about Lawrence…and you. Are you okay?”

His smile is pained, but at least he’s smiling.

“I’m worried about him. too,” he says. “But I can’t think of that now. Right now, you are my priority.” He places his hand gently against my stomach. “You and our child.”

I laugh. It feels nice to laugh after what’s just occurred.

“If there is a child.”

“Oh, there is,” he says, “I’m sure of it.”