Chapter 20

Penelope

I open my eyes to a dark room, in a soft bed with no memory of how I got there. I sit up and blink several times until the room comes into focus. When it does, I breathe a breath of relief.

Damien…

His name skitters across my brain for the thousandth time since he has come into my life. I wish I could block him out and forget him, even if only for five minutes. I need a break from my thoughts and the life I signed up for.

As I swing my legs out of bed, cold air hits my bare skin and I realize I’m missing pants. My skin flushes as the memory of him undressing me surfaces. Snippets of events fill my head. Damien walking into the bar, pulling me down of the counter, knocking Tiny out, and then finally of Damien carrying me from the truck into the cabin.

I shake my head, feeling the pain of my choice to drink my feelings away. It was a bad idea to drink so much, but I never intended to drink anything stronger than water.

But everyone at the bar was nice to me, and they kept buying me drinks. Especially Tiny.

It was refreshing to have someone to talk to. It helped me forget the pain I felt this morning when I came out of the room and our eyes met for only a second. He looked away first and continued to avoid me. Even as the truck pulled to a stop in the small town, I hoped he would stop me when I told him where I was going. He didn’t, and that hurt even more.

I reach for the sweatpants draped over the end of the bed and walk out of the room, half expecting to find him passed out on the couch. He isn’t there. The cabin is empty and dark. There’s only one place he can be, and since I can see the truck from where I’m standing, I know where to find him.

My jacket is hanging next to the door, and I pull it down, shoving my arms into it and slipping on the oversized boots I’ve been using since we arrived. The door opens quietly, and the cold greets me instantly.

I step out to darkness, much like inside the cabin, but my body senses him the moment I cross the threshold. My boots drag along the wood planks as each step brings me closer to him.

He’s sitting on the outdoor couch, the space heater blaring next to him, but the cold is too strong to feel it. His hand moves, and he brings a lit cigarette to his lips. The drag he pulls from it lights the tip brightly enough to give me a peek at his handsome face.

I shiver, feeling warmth spread through my body.

“You should be asleep,” he clips, and I can tell he’s pissed. The reason isn’t lost on me since I remember almost everything.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, standing in front of him wishing he would look up at me. “I fucked up.”

When he looks up at me, I nearly weep with joy.

“You could’ve been—”

“I know—”

“What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” I admit, feeling ashamed of myself. He’s right, though. I never stopped to think about what could happen to me. “I never planned on drinking. Everyone was being so nice—”

“Didn’t you stop to think about why they were being so nice?” I swallow, unsure of what to say next. “They were nice because they wanted to fuck you. And if I hadn’t walked in when I did—”

“I wouldn’t have let it get that far,” I argue, no longer feeling shame but anger. I already admitted to my mistake; there’s no reason for him to keep going.

“Penny, you were on top of the bar, about to take your damn bra off. I had to knock some Sasquatch-looking fucker out because he said I could have my turn when he was done with you.”

“Tiny?”

“Yeah, that fucking asshole. Don’t know what’s fucking tiny about him, unless it’s a prelude to what’s in his pants.” I snort, because it’s too funny not to. The thought never occurred to me, because Tiny was quick to tell me how he got the name. I don’t tell Damien, though. Anything I say will only piss him off. Even if the man was only talking me up to get into my pants, it was nice getting to know someone. “I know why you thought you needed a drink.”

“Yeah?” I sit down next to him, and he pushes the blanket I didn’t see on his lap at me.

“It’s my fault,” he claims matter-of-factly. While I want to argue with him, I don’t because he’s wrong and I’m not ready to admit the truth to him. It’s more my fault than his. Yes, he hurt me when he treated me like a child, but he’s been honest with me from the start about what this marriage between us means. I’m the one trying to turn it into something it isn’t.

“How’s that?” I ask, curious to hear his reasons.

“I can’t give you what you deserve.” He reaches for my hand, grasping it like his life depends on the connection. His touch sets my body on fire, and I struggle to ignore the sensation. I don’t want him to pull away.

“Damien—”

“We shouldn’t have done it. We shouldn’t have gotten married. It’s only made things more complicated than they need to be—”

“Shut up!” I shout, putting my hand to his lips to keep the words from continuing. “We both knew what we were getting into when we decided to do this. I’m the one who tried to change it.”

“I should have known this would happen.”

“How were you supposed to know what I would do?”

“Because I saved you, and that makes you think I’m a good guy.”

“We saved each other,” I point out, remembering what he said to me last night. “I want to know you, Damien. Not the man you want me to know. The man you’re hiding from me.”

“I hide him from everyone,” he reveals, and like switch flipping, everything makes sense. He’s let his guard down for the moment, and I plan to take advantage of it while being prepared for the worst at the same time.

“Who’s Starla?” I ask and watch his face fall. His eyes flash bright green, and the walls he has been slowly lowering are once again strong as steel. I’m prepared for this, though, and planned for it last night when I lay in bed trying to figure out how to tear his walls down once and for all.

He lets go of my hand and tries to move away, but I do something I’ve never done before: I fight back. I throw my leg over his lap and straddle him, trapping him in his spot beside me. Being this close to him, I see the crystal blue of his eyes and watch as they darken on me, trying to intimidate me. I place my forehead against his, refusing to back down. Too much has happened in the last few weeks for me to remain the meek girl I spent my life hating. I might have messed up this afternoon in a big way, but I refuse to do it now.

One way or another, I’m going to get through to him.

His lifts his hands to my thighs, but as soon as they touch them, he moves them away like he can feel the heat of my skin underneath the thick material. I smirk down at him, loving the way I affect him even as he fights to distance himself from me.

“Damien, talk to me,” I whisper and wrap my arms around his neck, locking my hands together. My fingers brush against his thick hair, trying to soothe him and take advantage of how I affect him, but it doesn’t work. His body stiffens under me when I bury my face in his neck.

My warm breath caresses his cold skin, and I can tell by the the soft intake of his breath that he’s reached his limit. He stands from his spot on the outdoor couch, and if I hadn’t already thought this far ahead, I would’ve toppled to the ground. I lock my legs around his waist as he tries to shake me off. He’s a strong man. He can easily remove me without pausing, but I know he won’t hurt me to do so. Wrapping myself around him keeps me safe from that happening. This is only one of the things I love about him. Even when he’s fuming mad, I don’t ever have to worry about him hurting me.

Love? How can I love him? I don’t know him.

“Did she break your heart?”

“Let me go,” he growls, tugging at my arms, but it’s no use. I’m not going anywhere. “Penelope.”

“You only call me Penelope when you’re cross with me. Why?”

“You’re asking a question you have no business asking.”

“No business? I’m your wife. Of course it’s my business,” I retort, feeling a small crack form in my resolve to break down his walls.

“In name only,” he snips before repeating himself. “You are my wife in name only.”

“You keep reminding me.” I lean back a little to look him in the eyes. He won’t look at my face. An idea percolates in the back of mind, and I can’t help myself. I have to know. “Do you think this is just about sex?”

I pause, letting the words sink into his brain. There have been too many moments between us for him to believe this is the kind of marriage I want. Unhappy and unfulfilled. Surely, he must know that I want more, and I want it with him.

“It’s not,” I inform him. “Everything you’ve ever asked about me, I’ve answered, without hesitation. I’ve told you everything about me, about my family, about my life before all this madness. But I know next to nothing about the man I call my husband. Nothing about his life, his friends, his family, and I can’t help wondering why. What does telling me a little about yourself do? How can that hurt you or me?”

“Penny—” he starts, finally meeting my eyes with his own. I see pain, a lot of pain, buried deep in his eyes. Pain I want to wipe clean from his memory, from his heart. I’d gladly do it if he would let me.

“Why is it whenever I ask about your life before me, you shut down and turn cold toward me?” I surge forward with no fucks to give. I’m not going down this time without a fight, because if I walk away, there will be no repairing what we have. I pull in a ragged breath, needing him to understand me now more than ever. “I know you’re running from something, something that has you twisted up inside. It has you convinced that you’re no good, and it’s not just me you believe this about. Your life is passing you by, and if you don’t do something about it soon, you’ll wake up one morning and realize what an old man you’ve become, but by then it will be too late.”

“Penny—”

“And just so we’re cystal clear, this is not what I want, Damien. Our marriage is in name only because you choose it to be. Not me. You’re my husband, and maybe that doesn’t mean anything to you, but it does to me. I’m not going to let you hide from me anymore.” I loosen my hands and feet in preparation to let each leg drop to the ground as I prepare to let him go. His eyes roam my face. “There is nothing you can do or say to me that will turn me against you. We are stuck with one another, whether you like it or not.”

“Penny—”

A new realization strikes me in the chest after I say those words, and for the first time since all of this started, I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t want me. The more I think it over, the more it makes sense. He’s pushed me away every chance. He keeps me at arm’s length. He’s told me repeatedly that he’s not right for me, but what if it’s the other way around? What if I’m not right for him?

He doesn’t want me.

It all makes sense now.

He chose me to protect me. He took me with him to protect me. He married me to protect me. He brought me here to this cabin to protect me.

Of course, he would feel the need to protect me. I’m the inexperienced girl who didn’t realize the nice man named Tiny at the bar was only trying to get me drunk so he could take advantage of me.

Nothing he’s done for me means he cares for me. At least not in the ways I care for him. And how could he? I’m a helpless, hopeless mess. I’m a job to him, and I have been since the moment I laid eyes on him.

He doesn’t want me.

“I get it now.” I swallow and let my arms fall from their spot around his neck. I unhook my ankles and slide one leg down and then the other, moving a few steps back because I can’t stomach being this close to him any longer. I want to turn and run. His face twists, and he reaches for me, clearly out of guilt, but I slap away his hands and take another step back. “No, don’t touch me.”

I feel like the world’s biggest fool. How could I believe that one day, he would care for me the way I care for him? I know now it will never happen. I’ll never be anything more to him than someone to protect.

Taking one last look at the man in front me, I turn and walk back inside, ignoring the burn of tears welling up in my eyes.

Such a fucking fool...