11. CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER EIGHT
BLAKE
Now
T he little lights that decorate the large stone courtyard glisten over Daisy’s skin. They twinkle in her eyes as she smiles at me. I can’t help but wonder what I’ve done that I deserve this gift of sitting in the resort with this beautiful woman.
Not that she’s yours, Blake. Remember this, you dumb shit. Daisy is not yours.
Not yet.
“Does it hurt?” I ask her, looking down at the blistered red line on her ankle.
She smiles sleepily at me. “A little.”
“We don’t have to attend this party,” I tell her. “We can go back to the room instead.”
She looks at the crowd gathered around the large fire pit in the center of the courtyard. “I want to be here.”
I tear my eyes off her and look out at the view. Flames lick up from the large fire to the night sky, highlighting all the faces nearby with a garish orange glow. Tonight’s party means that nearly every guest at the resort is gathered around the bonfire, waiting for the festivities. The staff promised food, dancing, and a special show tonight. At least a hundred people must be milling about, all drinking and laughing.
Daisy’s family is in the crowd somewhere, Erin no doubt taking pictures. Daisy’s family told her to rest tonight and they’d resume pictures tomorrow. Lily had fussed over her for hours when we returned. Heather had brought her pain medicine in a little orange bottle, a fruity drink, and hugged her like she was a small child. When Daisy looked overwhelmed from all the attention, she said she needed a nap, and everyone finally left. I felt completely useless and put to the sidelines, but I could tell that Daisy loved all the attention from her family .
“Do you want to be here?” she asks me.
I look back at her. She’s watching me intently and I wonder if her question has a deeper meaning. Like do I want to be here . At this resort. With her . “There is no place I’d rather be.”
The corner of her mouth flickers with the start of a grin, but she covers it by taking a sip of her drink.
“Daisy,” I say her name lightly, more so to taste her again on my lips. Her eyes travel back to me and stop on my mouth. Instantly, my dick hardens.
“Blake?” she says, a bit of a question.
“I’m glad you invited me.”
Her lips do that little tugging down at the corner thing again, and it seems as if her eyes sparkle even brighter as she looks back at the crowd.
I suck in a huge lungful, not sure if I should ask the next question. “Will this happen again?”
She blinks but keeps her eyes on the crowd in front of us. She knows exactly what I mean. Will this, our meeting for another Gathering, happen again? She takes so long to answer that I regret asking. Finally, she looks at me. “Do you want it to?”
Fuck yes , I want to scream, but say instead, “I’d like it to. If you want me.”
She looks at me now. She opens her mouth, but then her face changes and contorts when her eyes move to something behind me. Her jaw clenches tightly as she shifts in her seat.
I swear I smell the cheapness of his cologne before he walks into my view. He’s smart enough to keep his distance, but his eyes are all over Daisy, undressing her. No doubt imagining her like he did the other day when that tiny bikini barely concealed her glorious body. I’d hated her in it only because that stupid part of my primal male brain didn’t want any other man to see her smooth skin and freckles. Only I’m supposed to see her perfection, it screamed at me. Not this frat boy with perfect teeth and privileged sneer.
Even though I’m staring at Greg with such hatred that he’s got to be feeling a pinprick of pain where my eyes bore into him, he refuses to take his eyes off Daisy. Fucking man has some balls coming here and leering at her.
“Blake,” Daisy says like she can feel the shift in me.
Greg leans back against the bar with such arrogance that I wonder what my fist would feel like smashing into his smooth jaw. My pulse quickens, thumping in my neck. I need to calm down, but my mind is sizzling with how he looks at her. He takes a long pull of the beer his friend hands him, then slowly slides his palm down his white shirt and grips his dick, flashing that sneer at Daisy.
I’m up and moving before he’s let go of his dick. That primal brain hears Daisy calling me, but the thundering of rage burns away the sound of everything else. No thumping of music. No laughter from the cheerful crowd around us. Only my heavy breathing and pure wrath thumping through my head.
He doesn’t flinch when I approach him. But he does when I grip his fist, still cupping his dick, and twist. He bends into the move as I twist his arm behind his back, pressing all my weight down on him. With my other hand, I shove the back of his head down, smashing his face into the bar. His mouth hits with a satisfying smack.
“You seem to have a hard time keeping your eyes to yourself,” I growl in his ear like a rabid dog. Someone shrieks to let him go, but I twist his arm up higher on his back until he lets out a small grunt. My shirt gets tugged roughly back, but I ignore whoever is trying to pull me away.
“Get the fuck off me,” Greg says, but it’s muffled because his mouth is smashed into the glossy bar top.
“You grab your dick in front of her, fuck—in front of any woman—and I see you? I’m going to twist your little prick off.” I knock his head into the bar again for good measure and let go.
It all happened in less than a minute, but a large crowd has gathered around us. The hand at my back tugs hard, and I step away from the sack-of-shit and turn to find Kane pulling me away.
“Dude,” Kane hisses. “Let’s go.”
“Do we have a problem?” a man in a resort uniform asks, pulling a phone from his pocket.
“No problem,” Kane says, still jerking me away. He shoots a daring look at the dirt bag, who’s wiping his mouth and glaring back at me. “Do we have a problem?”
Greg shakes his head, and that perfect-toothed sneer comes back. “No problem here.”
Kane leads me back to where Daisy is standing, now joined by Lily and Justine. Daisy watches me intently, a little line creasing her brow.
“What did that twat waffle do now?” Lily asks as Kane deposits me in front of Daisy.
“The asshole made a rude gesture to Daisy while practically eye fucking her,” Kane tells Lily.
That little sparkle Daisy had in her eyes earlier has vanished. Now they seem dark, the green shadowed by something I can’t identify. Anger? Or worse, it may be disappointment. Fuck . I want to tell her I’m sorry, but I’m not.
Kane claps my back and squeezes my shoulder before looking Daisy dead in the eye. “That guy deserved that little shake-down and more.”
“That seemed unnecessarily violent,” Justine says to me, her mouth twisted into a sour frown. She steps in close, looking at Daisy. “Seems you have a thing for violent men.”
“Seems you have a thing for other people’s boyfriends,” Daisy snaps.
Justine steps back, a serpentine smile on her lips. “They say that once a woman loses respect for herself, she attracts abusive men.”
“They?” Daisy asks, her voice so cold I’m surprised she’s not breathing ice. “By they, do you mean toxic people like you?”
Another smile from Justine. “Is that why you wrote your silly little books? To feel some self-worth after Jim?”
A small whoosh of air escapes Daisy. I don’t have to look at her to see her face fall. I press my fingers to my eyes, my shoulders slumping. I wish I could take back the last few minutes. Letting my hand fall, I catch Daisy’s expression. Her eyes shimmer with my betrayal .
“Whoa, what is happening here?” Lily asks, stepping between the two women. She glares at Justine. “You need to back off.” Lily wraps an arm around Daisy and leads her away, throwing a narrowed glare at Justine as they leave.
Justine casts me a sneer that reminds me of the creep whose face I just smashed into the bar and stalks away, tossing her hair over one shoulder.
Kane scoots in close to me and claps my back again. “I have no clue what’s going on, but the smack down you gave that jerk was gold.”
***
“I’m sorry,” I say before the door completely shuts behind me. My apology feels weak, so I clamp my mouth shut.
Daisy sits in the center of the enormous bed, wrapped in a robe, shoveling chips in her mouth. She leans over, grabs a can of soda and a small mini bottle of rum from the nightstand, and takes a tug off each. Making a face, she places them back on the table and digs in the small potato chip bag, her eyes boring holes into me .
“What I did was over the top,” I tell her. It took me about thirty minutes of walking along the waterfront to come up with what seemed like an adequate apology. Looking at her now, I feel like nothing I say will be good enough.
She nods and pops a chip in her mouth, then chews slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Even though the creep deserved it, I shouldn’t have gone near him.”
Another nod. Another chip.
“I acted like an over-jealous boyfriend.”
This time she doesn’t nod. Instead, she just pops another chip into her mouth.
“Are you mad at me?”
My answer is a loud crunch as she eats another chip.
“The silent treatment won’t help me fix anything,” I tell her and sit at the end of the bed. “Talk to me.”
She rumples up the bag, the cellophane crackling loudly in the quiet of the room, and places it on the nightstand, then resumes her silent glare.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask again. Duh, dumb ass, of course, she’s mad at you.
“Do you always resort to violence when you’re angry?” she asks flatly .
The tension in me seems to build higher to the point I may break. That’s all she saw. Me angry. Violent. Just like my father. I promised myself I’d never be like him, yet here I am, smashing men’s faces into bar tops and storming around Daisy like a possessive creep. I flex my fist, remembering the many noses I’ve broken, the hot-tempered fights in dirty bars over women getting felt up by lecherous men. I’ve fucked everything up on so many levels, and she’s not even brought up what Justine said.
“No,” I tell her, my shoulders slump as the tension leaves me. “But I have before.”
“Kind of a big red flag,” she says.
“Huge,” I agree. “Not only do I resort to violence when provoked, but I’m covered in tattoos and own a Harley.”
“You’re an all-around bad boy.”
“The baddest boy ever.”
“Are you in a motorcycle club, too?” There’s a hint of a smirk.
“Worse,” I tell her. “I was in a computer hacker club in college and president of my high school debate team.”
The smirk disappears as her jaw goes slack. “Are you serious? ”
“I was the nerdiest of the nerds,” I confess. “Scrawny, smart, and beat up at least once a week.”
Daisy narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. Those green eyes scan over me, taking in each detail. After her close inspection, she says, “I can see it. You’re intelligent and just enough of a smart-ass that I can picture teen Blake mouthing off in a debate club.” She looks at my arms. “Then you grew up and started working out so no one could bully you again. Let me guess. You started playing a sport?”
“Perceptive,” I say. Daisy’s almost spot on. I started working out to bulk up, but it was mostly so my father would leave me alone. “I joined the wrestling team my senior year. And I don’t like people in positions of power taking advantage of people who can’t defend themselves.”
Daisy releases a long sigh that seems to leave her deflated. “That guy deserved it, even if it was embarrassing to have my pretend boyfriend manhandling someone in the middle of a resort ran party. But you know that’s not why I’m upset.”
Upset. The word is so much worse than mad. Anger I can deal with. Anger can be fucked away or bought off with pretty flowers. But being upset? That means hurt. I hurt her .
“I didn’t know it was a secret,” I tell her, my excuse sounding meek in my ears. “I realized she worked for a publishing house, and I was talking before I was thinking.”
She leans her head back on the headboard. “You did exactly what any actual boyfriend would have done. Well, maybe a bit more.” She sits upright and looks at me. “I am upset because you don’t understand, Justine, and that’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
Unsure what to say, I crawl up the bed to sit next to her. I grab her hand. Her fingers taste like salt when I kiss them. “Then help me understand. What happened between you two?”
Daisy shifts next to me, and we sit quietly for a while. Just when I don’t think she will speak, she says, “Jim was abusive.”
I shift so I’m facing her, letting her know she’s got my undivided attention.
“Punching walls, throwing plates, and hitting me kind of abusive,” she says, looking away. “He’d accuse me of things, or get jealous, then punish me by leaving me places, sometimes for hours, before coming back to get me. Jim kicked me out of the car and left me on the side of a road for three hours once. I vowed I’d never go back to him, but I did. He’d turn on the charm and cry and make promises. I’d go back wanting it to be different.”
“That’s the cycle of abuse,” I tell her. The number of times I’d witnessed this cycle with my father and various women was disheartening. I was glad when I finally had enough money to move out when I went to college. “It’s hard to break the cycle.”
She nods but still won’t look at me. “Justine saw us in the parking lot one day, and he was being awful. Really awful. Even for him. A few weeks later, I ended up in the emergency room with a fractured wrist. Justine found out somehow. She showed up at my apartment and offered to help me leave him.”
So far, this matches what Justine told me. I debate saying anything but fear if I do, it will derail her openness, and Daisy will stop talking. I run my hand over her arm to reassure her.
Daisy looks at her hands. “Justine got me set up with an agency to help file a restraining order. When they said the courts may not approve it for lack of evidence, I hired an attorney to help me. I was lucky because Jim let it drop when I told him to leave me alone and that I wasn’t going back. Even when the order was approved and issued. ”
“Most aren’t so lucky,” I tell her. “Do you know what made him stay away?”
She smiles faintly and lets out a bitter laugh. “Justine.”
“What do you mean?”
Daisy looks me in the eye. “According to Jim, he ran into this amazing woman in a bar one night, and they hit it off. He’d been fucking her for weeks. Turns out it was Justine.”
My stomach can’t decide if it wants to lurch into my throat or drop to my feet. “What?”
“Yeah.” She nods like she can’t believe it either. “Jim said he’d met a woman a few days after our argument in the parking lot, then told me about Justine and how much more capable she was. That she didn’t get under his skin like I did because she wasn’t weak.”
The sound I make is more animal than human.
“I’m not sure if I’m more upset about him cheating on me with her or that something about me made him abusive because he never hit her.” Daisy shakes her head like she still can’t believe it all. “When the restraining order was issued, she dumped him.”
I lean over her for the unopened mini bottle. The burn as the rum goes down covers the fiery rage boiling my blood. Hearing that this guy, a boyfriend who was supposed to protect and love her, injured her makes me feel murderous. Justine knew exactly what he was and began an affair. I can’t wrap my head around her motivation to start a sexual relationship with someone she knew was abusive while pretending to befriend his victim. After I twist the cap back on and breathe out the rum fumes, I look back at Daisy. “That is a lot to unpack.”
A light laugh escapes her. “I’m not telling you this for sympathy. I’m telling you because she’s toxic.”
“She is,” I agree. “In the end, Jim’s abuse was never about you. You ended up in a relationship with an abuser because he manipulated and lied to fool you into believing he was a nice man.”
Daisy looks away but nods.
“Then he continued the abuse after you escaped by belittling you.”
“Logically, I know that,” Daisy says. “But it still stings.”
“Why didn’t you tell Lily what she did?” I ask. “If you told her, you’d never have to see Justine again.”
Daisy shrugs. “I was embarrassed. I had a restraining order against a man I had in my bed.” She looks down at her hands again. “And I didn’t think she’d be around so much. I thought she’d never show her face at a Gathering again.
I lean back on the bed and cross my arms behind my head.
She gets up and walks around. “Can we not talk about this anymore? It was so many years ago. Justine is awful, but she’s rarely in my life.
“She’s still trying to….” I let my voice trail off. What exactly is Justine trying to accomplish?
“Don’t even try to analyze her,” Daisy says. “I spent a couple years in therapy trying to unravel it all.”
“And what was the conclusion?”
Daisy lets out a dry laugh. “That there are worse people out there than you could ever imagine.”
“Does it make you feel any better if I tell you I’m not one of them?”
She grabs her little bottle of rum and can of coke. After a swig, she raises them both. “Here’s to hoping the man who stalked me for two months isn’t actually psycho.”