I watch her sleep. Her face isn’t as bad today as it was yesterday. The swelling has receded a bit, but she’s still got a long road to recovery ahead of her. I close my eyes tightly and curse to myself. This was all me. Me and nobody else. If I had better protection over her when I left for LA, then Graham wouldn’t have been able to get to her.
Fuck, if I hadn’t let her into this life, then she’d probably be married to some straight-laced fucker right now, in a mansion with three kids. Graham wouldn’t have ever been on her radar, and I wouldn’t have pissed him off enough to take his anger out on her. None of this would have happened and she’d probably have a much better life.
No matter how you look at it, this is all my fault.
“This isn’t your fault,” a familiar voice says from the doorway. I turn around to see my mother standing there.
She’s wearing designer, as per usual, her bleached hair styled to perfection and her makeup impeccable. She looks like the society bitch she is, but I’ve always just called her mom.
“You finally get sober enough to drive over here?” I ask, feeling the heat of my resentment at the woman rise.
“I knew her parents would be here, and I knew they didn’t want to see me, so I waited,” she shrugs as she takes a few more steps into the room. “Goddammit, that man is a fucking monster,” she gasps, abandoning her perfect language for curse words, which I prefer.
“Something like that,” I state, not wishing to look over at Genny again. Staring at her will not make her better. It will not make the damage disappear.
“I hope you took care of him,” my mother states as she walks over to the sofa and slowly sits down.
“I did,” I say, but lift my brow in surprise that she’d even direct me to do so. My mother hates the club, hates my life, and hasn’t hidden that fact—ever.
“If you’re going to be in a group like that, I’m glad that it’s good for something,” she huffs.
“Yeah, well, he’s no longer an issue.”
“I’m all moved in to my new place, your brother is gone, and now this. Everything’s just falling to pieces, Sloaney,” my mom whispers, using a little nickname she had for me when I was a kid.
“You upset about dad being gone?” I ask curiously.
“Hell, no. That man was wretched. I did contact the mothers of his children. There are three,” she says quietly. “I’m meeting with them next week. I know their children are now financially taken care of, but I guess I just wanted to know the women he preferred over me, and maybe get some closure.”
“That could do more harm than good, mom,” I warn.
“I know,” she nods. “Kipling has been a mess. Thank you for getting him gone sooner rather than later. He’s taking it all very hard.”
“I offered to pay for his schooling after this first semester,” I state. She shakes her head.
“There’s no reason to. I have plenty of money,” she says with a wave of her hand.
“As long as the business does well.”
“No, Sloaney, I have plenty of money. My family had money, too, you know. Not as much as your father was worth, but I have more than most of the people in this world, and I’m going to put my boy through Harvard. I also plan on spoiling your children, if you’ll ever have any,” she says.
“Okay, mom,” I say, shaking my head. “But I’m taking care of his second semester. You want to pony up for the rest that’s cool, but I have some funds that I want to use on it.”
She nods and doesn’t argue, which I’m grateful for. “I love Imogen. I always have. I wasn’t always nice to her because she reminded me so much of myself. I wanted more for her than I had,” she murmurs. “I saw the way you were, it reminded me so much of your father. You aren’t him, are you, son?”
I think about her question. Three years ago, I was more like the man I despised than I care to admit, especially when it came to women and the way I treated my wife. Though I never physically hurt Imogen, emotionally? I completely broke her, shattered her into pieces. I didn’t give a single fuck when I did it, either.
I was chasing a high, always chasing that fucking high. I never looked back at the damage, or pain, I was inflicting on this woman who only wanted my love. This woman, who wanted to love and wanted to be loved. I fucked her over time and time again.
“No, mom, I’m not him. Not anymore,” I whisper.
“Good. Be better than your father. My only hope in this life is that you and Kipling show the world that the Huntington name still stands for something good,” she says as she stands up and smooths down her pants.
“I’m not sure I’m the man for that task, mom.”
I watch in silence as my mom walks directly over to me, cupping my cheeks in her hands as she looks down into my eyes, watching me for a breath before she speaks.
“You’re a better man than your father. You left and have never asked for a single thing from us, from him. That pissed him off to no end. He wanted you to fail and come crawling back to him, but I knew. I knew that my Sloaney was smart and he would take care of himself without incident. Love Imogen the way she deserves. You only get one life. Please, Sloane, be the best man you can be for her, but most importantly, for you.”
I stare at my mom in shock as she drops her hands and bends over to place her lips on my forehead. Then she takes a step back and turns to walk toward the door. I watch her, still totally speechless.
“I’ll see you both at the summer party,” she says as she opens the door and walks out, leaving Genny and me alone again.
“You know she’s right,” Genny mutters from next to me. I look up in surprise to see she’s awake. “You’re better than him.”
I close my eyes and let out a long heavy sigh.
“Get some sleep, sunshine.”
Home.
I never thought I would want to step foot inside of this place again. Let alone call it home. But it is. This is my home, and today I’m back. I’m thankful for the other Old Ladies who cleaned up the evidence of my attack.
It doesn’t look as though it’s even been touched, let alone that a woman had been beaten here. I talked to a grief counselor before I left the hospital and she warned me about all types of things like flashbacks and such. I should be worried about that, but I’m just far too happy to be back.
“Do you need to get into bed and rest?” Sloane asks.
Sloane is another reason I’m not more of a mess. He’s been absolutely wonderful. I feel safe and completely at peace with him at home with me. It’s not a completely new experience, as I’ve been feeling this way lately, but it’s different to have him take care of me.
I like it.
I like it a lot.
Though my face hurts like hell, and the doctors still don’t know for sure if I’ll have permanent damage, I would consider doing it all over again just to have him care after me like this.
“Maybe just a bath,” I shrug.
“Yeah, sunshine, I can handle that,” he smiles.
He wraps his warm hand around mine and gently tugs me toward the bathroom. My ribs hurt like hell, so I can’t walk very fast. I’m excited to soak them in warm water to ease the aches and pains.
“I have some Epsom salt stuff under the sink,” I mumble.
I watch as he digs around and pulls out my Epsom salt soak and bubble bath. Then, with avid fascination, as he starts my bath and adds in the salts and bubbles, I watch him. Without a word, he turns to me as the tub fills and gently starts to remove my clothes. I’ve still yet to look in the mirror, and I am avoiding it. I don’t know if I’ll ever want to look at myself again.
“Your poor fucking body, Imogen,” Sloane hisses as he strips me bare.
Thankfully, my eyes aren’t as swollen as they were just a day ago, and I can actually see again.
Unfortunately, I can see the complete pain etched on his face as he looks me over.
“I’ll be okay,” I say, trying to reassure him and myself.
Sloane’s fingers trail from the hollow of my throat, down the center of my chest to my belly, and then back up before he wraps them, gently, around the back of my neck. He drops his head but doesn’t touch my forehead with his own. I can feel his breath fanning my face, and I watch as he swallows heavily.
“Imogen,” he rasps. “I know you’ll be okay, sunshine. You shouldn’t have to be okay, but I know that you will be. You’re so strong, and you’re going to be just fine. It kills me that you’ve been hurt, baby. Absolutely fucking kills me.”
I place my hands on his waist and wait for him to open his eyes. Looking at the pain that’s deeply etched into his gaze, I give him a shaky smile.
“I will be okay, Sloane. We will be okay. He hurt me but he didn’t break me,” I whisper.
“No, he fucking didn’t. I sure broke him, though,” he growls.
“Did you?” I ask with a small smile.
“Fucking shattered into a million goddamn pieces,” he chuckles as he leans forward and softly presses his lips to mine. “Now, let me help you in this bath and I’ll get us something to eat while you soak.”
“Yeah?” I ask as he lets me use his arms for stability to get inside of the warm water.
“Probably just ordering pizza, sunshine, don’t get too excited.”
“I can’t remember the last time I had pizza,” I sigh as the warm water envelopes me.
Sloane doesn’t say anything, and I’m too busy soaking in the heavenly tub to wonder why. After days in the hospital, using their shitty shower, and then being in so much pain, I honestly didn’t care if I was clean or not.
This tub right here feels like heaven. I’m going to have to wash my hair in the morning, but right now, I don’t care how dirty it is. I’m home, Sloane’s here, and we’re both breathing. That is all I care about.
“You didn’t,” I whisper in feigned horror.
“That pussy had it coming,” Sloane says as he takes another bite of pizza.
We’re sitting in bed, eating pizza straight from the box, and talking. It’s like a dream come true. Sloane reaches over to me and threads his fingers with mine before he tosses his slice into the box. I finished a long time ago, but I’ve been having fun talking with him. I’d forgotten how funny Sloane was, and how much I enjoyed just conversing with him.
He throws the box onto the floor and rests back against the headboard. Tugging me gently, so that I’m lying against him. The back of my head is on his chest and my arm is curled around him.
“I still remember exactly what you were wearing the first time I saw you,” he whispers. “You had on this tiny little skirt with buttons down the front, with a little sweater that your stomach peaked out of just a little. Fuck me, it was sexy as shit. And knee socks. You were like every wet dream I’d ever had. Your hair was long and straight, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen a prettier girl in my entire life.”
“Sloane,” I whisper as tears well in my eyes.
“I was such a fucking punk back then. Hell, I was a punk for twenty years. I wanted you, but I wanted everything else on two legs, too. You, the thought of another boy even looking at you sent me into a rage. My head was so fucked up, and I’d get blitzed, fuck around, feel guilty until the next time I got high. It was a vicious cycle. Only when I sobered up completely did I truly realize the damage I’d done to you, to us.”
“I was really young. I chose to see what I wanted to see, and I chose to stay when I could have very well left. We’re both to blame for the way things happened, Sloane,” I whisper, looking up at the ceiling.
“Don’t do that,” he warns. “Don’t take the blame off of me when it’s all me, sunshine. You did nothing but love me. When I fucked you over, you reacted. None of that is on you. All of that is on me.”
“I hate that you were with other people. I hate it more than anything else. I hate it more than the fact that we didn’t have children. I just fucking hate it,” I cry. He holds me a little closer.
“I wasn’t with anyone else when we were dating. I said that because I was being a dick. I’m sorry, Imogen. I wish I could go back in time. Fuck me, do I wish that I could. You’re going to have babies, Genny. I’m giving them to you, as many as your heart desires,” he whispers, pressing his lips against my hair.
I fall asleep in his arms. My mind on babies and the past, on the missed memories, on what-could-have-beens, and what-should-have-beens.
I flutter my eye lids open, unsure of the time, and there he is. Graham. Staring right at my face. He sneers at me, and I let out a scream. I try to back away, but he reaches for me. Right before his hand connects with my skin, the bedside table light goes on, and he’s gone.
“Genny?” Sloane’s husky voice calls out in confusion. I roll over to face him, trying to calm my breaths, trying to gain control over myself.
“He was here,” I whisper.
“Who, sunshine?” he asks in confusion, his hair mussed up from sleep.
“Graham,” I rasp.
Sloane’s tightness in his body relaxes and he shakes his head before he slides back down into the sheets and rolls to my side, wrapping his hand around my hip.
“He couldn’t be here, baby. I killed him,” he admits truthfully. Sloane didn’t just get rid of him—he got rid of him.
“You killed him?” I breathe.
“What did you think I meant when I said I got rid of him? And that he’d never touch you again?” he asks as a smile tugs the corner of his lips.
“I don’t know. Not that.”
“Well, he’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore. It was a flashback, and you knew it was a possibility,” he murmurs. “Do you think you can get some sleep? Or do you need my help on that?”
“Help?” I ask curiously.
He shrugs, “I could eat your pussy until you’re exhausted and you pass out.” It sends chills over my entire body, and my belly heats at the thought as I press my thighs together.
“Mmmm,” he hums.
Before I can even say another word, my nightie is shoved up, and my panties are pulled down.
I let out a long moan as Sloane’s tongue slides over my entire center and then circles my clit.
“Don’t move too much, baby. I don’t want to hurt your ribs,” he murmurs against my core.
Sloane eats me. He’s gentle but purposeful, and it doesn’t take me long before I’m writhing beneath him and crying out his name as I tug on the strands of his blond hair.
When he slips two fingers inside of me and begins to pump in and out of my core, I know that I’m done for. I can’t hold on a second longer, and I completely disintegrate beneath him as I come.
His lips touch the inside of my thigh, but he crawls up the side of my body instead of my middle, and starts to gently run the pads of his fingertips up and down my skin, touching my breasts and around my nipples while I try and catch my breath.
“Sloane,” I whisper.
“Can you sleep now, sunshine?”
“What about you?” I ask, knowing he must be hard and ready to go.
“I’ll survive the night, baby,” he murmurs. “That was for you and you alone.”
I sigh as he presses his lips to the side of my head and curls his body around mine. It doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep. Less than five minutes.
I wonder if Sloane will put me to sleep like this every night from now on.