Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
A spen watched through the window as Dylan’s gray Toyota Tacoma reversed out of the driveway. Fear pitted her belly. A fear that ran so deep it made her feel physically sick. Every part of her wanted to just go. Leave her things in his house and get out. But she had to be smart. She had to get everything she owned out of his house so she never had to come back. She had to be done with him for good.
His truck disappeared down the street, but still, she didn’t move right away. She had to be sure he was gone. Because if he caught her leaving with all her things…
A shudder rolled through her body. No. He wouldn’t catch her.
Two entire minutes ticked by, and in those minutes, the silence beat into her. Almost absently, she ran her fingers over the place on her arm he’d just grabbed. She cringed at the dull ache. It would bruise. It had bruised last time.
Now, Aspen whispered to herself . You have to move now.
Straightening her spine, she forced her feet to cross the living room into the bedroom. They’d been dating less than a year. She didn’t have a lot in the house. Little bits and pieces here and there. Spare deodorant. A couple pieces of clothing. She needed all of it. She needed Dylan to have no reason to come to her. No possessions to return. No messages to pass along.
She grabbed a couple of T-shirts and some leggings from a drawer. The drawer Dylan had emptied for her. She could still remember the smile that had stretched her face when he’d shown her. She’d been excited that he’d made room for her in his house.
That was before any of this had started.
Stupid. So stupid. He’d been so good at hiding the ugly parts of himself. The angry parts. The downright scary. But she still should have seen the warning signs. The loss of temper. The raised voice.
She threw the clothes into a bag before checking the laundry basket, then under the bed. When she was sure everything was clear, she moved into the bathroom. Her deodorant sat on the counter. Moisturizer and some concealer in the drawers.
There shouldn’t be so much here. There shouldn’t be anything here. She should have left long ago.
Weak. She felt so weak and stupid and pathetic for staying. She’d always prided herself on her strength, but maybe she’d never been as strong as she’d thought.
Sudden tears pressed to her eyes, and she scrunched them shut. She didn’t want to cry. He didn’t deserve her tears.
She grabbed everything that was hers from the bathroom and dropped it into the bag on the bed.
Next, she moved into the living room and set her bag on the couch. A charger and a couple of things in the kitchen…then she’d be gone.
Her fingers shook as she pulled the charger from the wall. In the kitchen, she grabbed her mug and a Thermos.
There. That was everything. In a few hours, Dylan would return to his house and there’d be no sign that she’d been here apart from the note. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. The edges were scuffed and the page crinkled from spending too long hidden away.
She’d written it days ago. But only now, after their disastrous morning, did she have the strength to leave it. The morning when he’d grabbed her arm for telling him she wasn’t staying over that night. Yelled at her like she was nothing. Like she was a possession of his.
She set the note onto the kitchen island.
She wished today had been the first time he’d hurt her. God, she wished that so badly. It wasn’t. And she hated herself for that.
She stepped back into the living room and had just put the mug into her bag when the click of the front door unlocking sounded.
Her heart crashed into her ribs, gaze flying to the street… Dylan’s gray Toyota Tacoma. It sat in the driveway.
He was home.
He stepped into the living room. His gaze moved from her to the bag on the sofa, then back to her. There was no anger on his face. No shock or frustration. In fact, his face was eerily clear of emotion.
And for some reason, that was even more terrifying than the anger.
“I thought something was off with you. It’s why I came back.” He stepped closer, his voice sharp, cutting into her skin like a razor. “You’re leaving.”
It wasn’t a question. But she answered as if it was. “We’re over, Dylan. I can’t be with you anymore.”
Still, there was nothing on his face. And it made the fear in Aspen’s belly triple.
He inched forward. “I don’t want us to be over.”
Some of the fear shifted into something else. Something darker. Something easier to feel.
Anger.
“It doesn’t matter what you want. I’m done walking on eggshells around you. I’m done making excuses for you. I’m leaving. And if you don’t like it, you should have thought about that before you —”
He was across the room in a second. His fingers wrapped around her upper arms in a grip so tight that she cried out in pain.
“You’re not leaving me.”
She shoved at his chest. “Let go of me. Now!”
“I’m not losing you.”
“You don’t have a choice. I don’t love you — ”
His arm swung and he backhanded her. She screamed as she fell back, hitting the coffee table so hard that the glass shattered beneath her.
Jesse’s eyes shot open. Something had woken him. What?
He sat up silently…listening. Waiting for whatever had woken him to sound again.
A soft cry sliced through the air.
Aspen.
He shot out of bed and reached behind his bedside table to pull the Glock from his hidden safety holster. With the weapon in hand, he sprinted down the hall. He threw open her bedroom door—only to freeze.
Aspen’s salt lamp cast a dim glow over the room…the seemingly empty room. Empty of anyone other than her. She lay in bed, chest rising and falling in slow succession. She was asleep.
So what the hell had he heard? Was he losing his mind?
His arm dropped, gaze once again scanning the room, searching for anything he’d missed the first time. Nothing.
He looked at her again. At the way her hair spread over the pillow. The hand beneath her cheek as she lay on her side.
Fuck, she was beautiful. And he was a creep for watching her while she slept.
He turned and had pulled the door half closed behind him when a soft whimper sounded. It was so quiet, he almost didn’t hear it.
He stepped back into the room to see Aspen’s eyes now scrunched, her chest moving faster, air whooshing in and out of her.
She was having a nightmare.
“ Stop .”
His muscles tensed at her word. At the fear woven through her voice. He set the Glock onto the dresser and inched closer.
She rolled to her back, her chest moving faster again, breaths deep.
What was he supposed to do? Leave her? Wake her? Walking away when she was clearly in pain went against every protective instinct inside him.
“ No! ”
That single word…it was so filled with pain that it gutted him. It also propelled him forward. He perched on the edge of her bed. “Aspen.”
Her eyes squeezed tight again, her breathing almost sounding like cries.
“Aspen!” He gripped her shoulders. “Wake up.”
When she still didn’t, he gave her a gentle shake.
One more scrunch of her eyes and they flickered open. But the second her gaze hit him, she screamed and swung her fist. He dodged it easily before lifting his hands up in defense.
“Whoa, Aspen, it’s me, Jesse!”
Her brows flickered, breaths still too fast. “Jesse? I…I couldn’t see you in the dark.”
“It’s me, honey. You’re safe.”
She turned her head to look around the room, as if needing confirmation of exactly where she was. “I’m in Amber Ridge.”
“You are.” He frowned. “Where were you in your nightmare?”
“Misty Peak.”
“Do you have nightmares about Misty Peak often?”
“I…” She looked back at him and shook her head. “I’m sorry, what are you doing in my room?”
“I heard you.”
Her brows shot up. “You heard me? From your room? Jesus, I’m a mess. What time is it?”
He hadn’t actually checked the time. He hit the screen of her phone on the bedside table. “Three a.m.”
“Three?” Her gaze moved down his bare chest. “You were asleep, and I was so loud I woke you.” She pushed up and ran her fingers through her hair.
“I’m a light sleeper.”
She shook her head. “It shouldn’t have happened at all.”
“What were you dreaming about?”
Even though it was quiet, he didn’t miss the sharp intake of air. “It was…”
A visible shudder rolled down her body, and all he wanted to do was hold her. Wrap her in his arms and chase the dream away.
“I don’t remember,” she whispered.
His frown deepened. She did remember. He could see it in her eyes. The way she was staring at a point across the room, as if reliving it in her head.
He cocked his head. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.” The single word came quickly. And it was the proof he needed to know he was right. You didn’t say no so quickly when you couldn’t remember.
He glanced at the door, then back to her. He didn’t want to leave. “I guess I should—”
“Wait.” She swallowed. “Will you tell me a story? Anything. Help me fall back to sleep.”
“I can do that.” Right now, he’d do anything to wipe the fear from her eyes.
He shifted beside her so that his back leaned against the headboard. She lay back into her pillow, the warmth of her side against his.
“When Clara was ten, she convinced me and Becket to wake up early and help her bake a cake for Mom’s birthday. Becket was the oldest at fourteen, and I was only twelve, and none of us had baked a cake before.”
“What flavor?”
“Strawberry. It was Mom’s favorite.”
“Mm. Mine too.”
He slotted that little bit of information into his memory for later. “The morning of her birthday, we all got up before her, and when I say we had no idea what we were doing, I mean, we had no idea what we were doing.”
Aspen laughed, the sound soft and airy. “Who took the lead?”
“Clara. She’d been watching a few baking shows on TV, so she thought she knew how to do it. She didn’t. But we gave it a really good go. We argued for the full hour. By the end of it, there was flour everywhere. And the cake, if you could call it that, resembled a charcoal brick.”
“Mm. Sounds interesting.” Aspen’s voice was sleepy.
He looked down and found her eyes closed. “Interesting is one word for it.”
“Did she like it?”
“Well, she ran in when the smoke alarm went off. Once she stopped it from beeping, she took one look around the kitchen, which was a disaster, then looked at our charcoal cake…and she smiled the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s nice. Did she eat it?”
“She did. And to this day, she still says it was the most memorable birthday surprise she’s ever had.”
“Mm, your mom’s nice.”
“The best.”
He looked down to see her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Eyes still closed and the look on her face…almost peaceful.
She was asleep. Good.
He didn’t get up though, not right away. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was, his side pressed to hers. And he made a vow. To find out exactly what her nightmare had been about and destroy her ex…because Jesse was certain he was the culprit.