Chapter Eight
He’s fallen asleep beside me and I can hear the faint sounds of his snoring. I lift his arm off of me and place it back down as carefully as I can, then roll to the side of the bed and withdraw myself from it.
I spin on my heel and look down at him. I’m no better than this manipulating, screwed up asshole is, I think to myself as my gaze travels up and down my bed. Turner’s bed. Our bed. I want to burn it, burn it with this piece of shit lying here naked with a smug look on his face as he sleeps. I hate him. Not as much as I hate myself right now for what I let him do to me, but I still fucking hate him.
I turn and rush into the bathroom, smacking my elbow into the doorframe, not even caring about the pain that is now flaring up my arm. I welcome it. I deserve it. I deserve every ounce of the pain that is hitting me everywhere.
Stepping into the shower, I turn on the hot tap but a blast of cold water hits me across my face and the front of my body. I still don’t care. I shiver and shake, sinking to the bottom. The overwhelming pressure lets loose as I curl myself up in a ball on my side.
Oh God, I so wish I could run to my father and tell him everything. I just want him to hold me in his arms and tell me that everything is going to be all right. And yet I know I can’t. He wouldn’t be able to control himself like Zack; no, my dad would grab his shotgun and kill that beast for the simple fact that I am hurting.
I am suddenly aware that extremely hot water is pelting my skin, stinging my backside. I gradually stand up and adjust the water to a comfortable temperature.
With shaky hands, I reach for the soap and begin to scrub my body everywhere, placing particular attention on my most private area. I need him off of me a-fucking-gain, and no matter how much I scrub and try to cleanse myself, he’s still there.
He’s never going to come off of me, ever, so I stop just before I tear off my skin from rubbing so hard and stand under the spray to rinse away what I can of him.
I look down to see the last bit of suds escaping down the drain, so I shut the water off. I stand there for a few more minutes trying to gather my thoughts before stepping out and grabbing a towel from the towel holder that is built into the wall. It’s yet another reminder of Turner’s thoughtful design when we hired the contractors to redo the bathroom.
He is literally everywhere in this house, and suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. I can’t do this. I just can’t. I need to get out of here and help my brother find the only man that I will ever love and just hope like hell that he is able to forgive me for everything I have done.
I quickly brush my hair and pull the wet strands back into a ponytail. I apply lotion all over my body and add just a little bit of a shiny gloss to my lips. Without even taking a glance at Trent laying on the bed, I grab some clean panties and bra out of my dresser, then step into my closet and grab the first thing I lay my hands on. It turns out to be a very old, pale pink sundress. I pull it over my head, adjusting the straps as I walk out of the room, closing the door behind me.
I practically fly down the stairs in a frenzy, snatching my phone from the counter and stepping outside into the blistering Atlanta summer heat. I adjust one of the patio chairs to face the door so I can watch for signs that Trent is about to appear. Plopping myself into it, I swipe my phone and take a deep breath before hitting Zack’s number. I hold the phone up to my ear.
“Please answer,” I whisper.
After three rings it goes to voicemail. I know my voice sounds shaky and scared as I leave my message.
“Zack. I- I don’t think I can do this for much longer. Please call me back, and please tell me you have found some answers.”
I disconnect the call and toss my phone on the patio table. Leaning forward, I place my face in my hands and my shoulders sag in defeat. I don’t know how long I stay that way as I try and calm my racing brain and my aching heart. The sound of my phone ringing is what brings me back. It’s Krista calling. When I answer, I am greeted by Krista’s frantic voice.
“Oh, dear God! I have been trying to call you for over an hour, please tell me you’re doing okay,” she begs.
“I don’t know, Krista. I feel like I don’t know anything, anymore. This is a nightmare and I can’t seem to wake up no matter how hard I try.”
She must hear the frantic shakiness in my voice because she starts crying.
“Krista, don’t cry. Please.”
“I don’t know what else to do. Don’t keep all of this to yourself. You know I am always here for you. Always. Right?”
“I know you are, and I love you even more for it.” And I do love her. All this has been dumped on her just like the rest of us. “You just had a baby and the best thing you can do for me right now is to take care of yourself and my handsome little nephew.”
After a few moments, her sobs start to subside and a small laugh escapes from her mouth.
“He is quite handsome, isn’t he?” she says with pride.
“He’s the best.”
I close my eyes and images of my nephew with all of his hair and big eyes come to my mind, making me feel somewhat more peaceful.
I wish I had the ability right now to be able to talk to Krista face to face about my feelings. Not really knowing how long I have been out here or when Trent is going to wake up, Krista and I make plans. She is going to call me first thing in the morning and ask if I want to go shopping with her and the baby
I really need someone to talk to about all of this, someone besides my brother, who I cannot tell the most intimate details of what is happening between Trent and me. I need someone who I know will not look at me with pity because that is the last thing I need right now. I need someone who can help me get through this, and Krista is that someone.
An inexplicable unease creeps all the way up my spine when I enter back into the house. Gripping my phone tightly, I walk across the kitchen floor and stand at the bottom of the stairs. I hear Trent’s voice and yet I cannot make out his words, as they are muted and distant. I stand there for several minutes debating whether or not to climb the stairs and try to listen in. Before I know it, my feet are moving ever so slowly up until I hear his muffled words.
“I don’t give a shit.” He pauses. “Dad. I have to go before she comes back in here.”
Dad? Are you fucking kidding me? Their dad? What the hell is going on? How any of them could be so fucked up as to do what they are doing is beyond me. My eyes go wide and I don’t have time to think as I hear him walking out of my room and making his way down the hall. I leap two stairs at a time and skid into the kitchen across the hardwood floor, almost falling on my ass in the process.
“Babe?” His voice echoes from behind me just as I am reaching up to pull a glass out of the cupboard. I compose my unsteady voice as best I can.
“In here.”
“You wore me out.”
His gaze searches my face while his hand rubs across his chin. I don’t give a thing away as I stand there calm and collected and drain the contents of my glass of water.
“You’re a little red. Were you outside?” he asks casually, his eyes never leaving my face.
“Yeah. I was out back sitting in the sun and kind of lost track of time.”
I turn and set my glass in the sink and walk his way until I am standing directly in front of him. I cannot seem to read his thoughts. Roaming my hands up his chest and around his neck until my hands clasp together, I kiss him tenderly on the lips.
“So I wore you out, huh?” I smile as I pull myself back an inch or so.
“You’re a smart ass, you know that?”
He places his hands on my hips and closes the small space between us.
“Who? Me?” I shrug. His smile widens. “I just find it funny, is all.”
“Is that right?”
“It is. I could have sworn you said you were going to fuck me raw. Which you did, by the way. However, I do find it funny that you’re the one who got worn out.”
“We’ll see who wears whom out later then.”
He releases his grip and with a slight swagger to his walk, he moves past me to open the fridge. He grabs a beer, twisting the cap off and flicking it into the sink before taking a healthy swig. Satisfied, he sets it down on the counter then leans back and crosses his arms over his naked chest.
“So, lazy day today then, huh? You’re sure you don’t want to go out?”
Hell, no, I don’t want to go out with him!
“We can go out if you really want to.”
“Nah. I think I would much rather stay home and have my wife all to myself.”
His eyes rake over my body savagely, raging with fire.
There is no way he is touching me again, so I walk to the small wine cabinet and pull out my first bottle of wine of the day. I don’t care if it is the middle of the afternoon, I plan on being drunk by dinnertime and passing my ass out. The thing is, while the thought of him touching me again has my skin itching all over, the worst part is the fact that I want him to.
************
“You’re drunk.”
Trent leans into me as we sit side by side on the couch, his lips close to mine.
“So?” I ask. And then hiccup.
“You’re cute when you’re drunk.”
I frown.
“And I’m not when I’m sober?” I inch my face farther away from his.
We have been sitting here watching some shoot-em-up action movie for the past few hours and now the credits are rolling on the giant flat screen television sitting above the fireplace. It hasn’t been used since last winter when Turner and I . . . no, I can’t let my mind wander like that, not when I am drunk like this or I may give myself away.
“You’re more than cute when you’re sober, and you know it.”
He says the last part as if I’m some stuck up snob. I wrinkle my nose.
“I don’t think I’m cute, you ass.”
“Well, you are.” He grazes his hands down my bare legs. “Your legs are so smooth and long. You’re gorgeous.”
His voice sounds so sincere. Even in my drunken state, I can tell that lies and deceit come easily for him. He smoothes his hand back up my leg in languid circles, stopping at the edge of my dress which comes to a few inches above my knees. Keeping his gaze fixated on his every move, he scales up over my dress and leisurely over my stomach and breasts until he reaches my face.
He caresses my cheek as if he is memorizing every single one of my features then runs his hand around to the back of my neck and up into my hair, which is now out of its pony tail and hanging loosely down my back. My body goes weak as he pulls his fingers through the strands from root to tip and then back up again. The feeling is pleasurable and so calming that I close my eyes and drift. It is such a loving gesture that I can’t help but melt. I need to gain my strength back and get away from his hypnotizing words and hands.
“You really are exquisitely beautiful,” he whispers.
I lean my head back against the couch and his hands drop from my hair.
“You really know how to sober a girl up,” I say breathlessly.
“Not my intention at all, babe. Just speaking the truth.”
We stare into each other’s eyes for several seconds, and fuck if I don’t see just a smidge of remorse there. For some reason Trent seems to have a soft spot when it comes to me. I can see it painfully trying to break out while he sits here and stares at me.
He’s a riddle that I can’t seem to figure out, and then I see pain in his expression and I understand even less. Is he being forced to do this? And by who? His father? I glance away from him to look up at the clock and see that it’s dinnertime.
“You hungry?”
I try and read his expression when I look back at him but it’s blank as he stares at the television.
“Yeah. I could eat.”
“I’ll go call us in something, then.”
Shifting my body so I can stand, I grab my empty wine glass and his empty beer bottle and make my way into the kitchen. I set both items down on the counter and with shaky hands I pour myself another glass of wine, downing the entire glass before pouring another. I set the second glass on the counter and after calling for the takeout, I send a quick text off to my brother.
WHERE IN THE HELL ARE YOU?
Almost instantly my phone rings, and when I look at the screen and see it’s Zack, my heart leaps out of my chest. I lift the phone to my ear, but before I even get the chance to say hello, it’s snatched out of my hand and I am pinned to the counter by Trent’s large frame as he answers the phone in my place.
“Hey, bro. What’s up?”