When He Reads To Me

3. Lissie

Chapter 3

Lissie

“I just wanted him to tell me how much he loved me. The things I would do for those words…”

“ Y ou’re finished early. Luckily, he paid already,” Cody, my husband, mumbles, barely glancing up at me as I walk in the door. His eyes remain fixated on the computer—porn being his go-to most nights. This man—my so-called husband—he stopped seeing me a long time ago when he realized what he could get out of me.

Or better yet, what I let him get out of me.

As the years go by, our marriage gets worse. Each passing day feels like another brick in the wall between us, solidifying our indifference toward each other.

I wonder why I stay.

Putting my bag on the counter, I pull open the fridge and find it empty. Nothing new there. Turning back to Cody, who is still glued to his computer, the noises emanating from the surround-sound speakers are unmistakable, so I call his name. He doesn’t listen.

“Cody, where is the food?” I ask, trying to keep the frustration out of my tone. He was supposed to go grocery shopping. He told me he would.

Cody barely looks up from the computer. A dismissive wave signals his indifference. “Fuck off, Lissie, I’m working,” he says, and I watch in disgust as he reaches into his pants and pulls out his cock. His hand circles his shaft, and he starts to stroke it.

He hasn’t touched me for years, not that I’m complaining. I know I’m not with him because I love him. I’m with him because he manipulated my young heart when it was at its most vulnerable, and then he put me in a position where it’s hard to walk away.

Even though I know I should.

Cody is my pimp.

I think that’s the best and only way to describe what he is to me now. We sleep in separate beds, bringing even more distance to a fractured marriage.

He charges for the time I spend reading with Milo. I refused to have sex with Milo, even though he’s never asked. That much I stood my ground on.

I’m twenty-five and have realized I need to leave this relationship—evict myself from it. The thought has been growing in my mind, festering like rotten fruit and gaining strength with every disappointment.

Cody grunts, and I sneer at him as two women take up his screen while he strokes his cock.

Working .

Ha! Yeah, whatever.

He’s probably out fucking whatever is served up to him, and I would never question it—to be honest, I don’t care.

When I was seventeen, I found my mother dead in her bed, with her wrists slit and blood soaked into the sheets. She always had issues, but I never realized how bad they were.

I should have.

Cody had entered my life just before my mother took her life. He was older, charming, and knew what to say, and he was everything a young girl was looking for—trouble and fun. It didn’t immediately start off hot and heavy, but soon, that’s the direction it took.

Cody had a car; he had access to alcohol, drugs, and all the other things that would eventually numb my heart and mind from the pain of not knowing how to save my mother.

Or why I couldn’t.

He would buy me flowers once a week, and in return, I would let him touch me. I thought I was in love with him. He thought of me when no one else cared, and that drew me to him.

It was fun, and when I turned eighteen, he asked me to marry him. I said yes immediately, and then he took all my mother’s money that I received from selling her house and blew it.

And the most fucked-up part?

I let him.

Shaking my head, I grab my bag and stride to the door. The idiot doesn’t even notice I’m leaving.

“ You should take some of that fucking attitude you have for me and throw it his way. ”

Milo’s words hit me with such force that I pause with my hand on the doorknob and glance back at Cody.

He comes, white semen shooting from the top of his cock—

His fucking ugly cock. The noises he makes disgust me so much that I make a gagging sound.

At the sight of my revulsion, I turn away, slamming the door as I leave. The loud bang echoes with the finality of my decision.

Fuck him.

I work for him and do what he says for the sole reason I owe him.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

My sister needed help.

She got into deep debt and asked me for money, thinking I had some left over from the sale of our mother’s house. But when she asked me, I was high. She didn’t know Cody, and I wasted all the money. But Cody—slimy, disgusting, manipulative Cody—was next to me at the time and offered her money. I was too shocked at his words to tell her I didn’t have it. I thought at first maybe Cody did; little did I know it was merely another trap.

Money we didn’t have.

And now, to pay back the debt he owes, I work it off.

Little by little.

Piece by piece of my damaged soul.

I chip away at what’s left of me, sacrificing my dreams and happiness for his mistakes.

My sister has no idea that we owe money to the Savage Villain’s MC, which is the club where Milo is the president. She’s in law enforcement, and if she found out where the money came from, not only would it affect her, it would affect us as well. I’m pretty sure she would never want to come near me again, and I don’t think I could handle that. She’s all I have left, one of the only people Cody hasn’t destroyed my relationship with.

Cody is a pimp for other women too, but not in the same way he is for me. His other women don’t read to men, they fuck them. And while he has tried to make me do the same, I’ve refused, much to his chagrin.

Walking down the street, I grip my bag to my side, wondering how much money I have in there. Shit, will I be able to even afford a loaf of bread?

I shake my head, wondering how my life is still like this.

Why do I stay? I think it’s because I’m used to how my life is, and more importantly, I’m afraid of change. I’m afraid I will have no one again if I leave him or he leaves me. I never had my sister to rely on. Growing up, it was only my mother and me. My sister is ten years older than me and was raised by her father.

“Lissie.” I hear my name as I reach the center of town.

I’ve lived in this small town all my life. It’s quaint and the kind of place where everyone knows your name. The trees on Main Street are old, and their gnarled branches tell stories of decades gone by. They all have fairy lights strung through them, casting a warm, magical glow on the brick buildings with their faded signs and flower boxes behind them. The buildings are mostly historic and aren’t allowed to be demolished, despite the fact that some of them should be. And while parts of it are beautiful, it also has areas that are nothing but darkness.

I lift my head to find Vogue, a friend from school, holding her round belly. She once worked for Cody, not long after we got married, but disappeared on him shortly after that. I only remember because he was complaining about it.

“It’s good to see you. You look well.” Her words are condescending, and rudeness is etched in her tone. I know she hates the tattoos on my skin and the way I hardly wear makeup. Despite knowing she thinks she’s better than me with her piled-on makeup and designer clothes, I smile at her anyway. She was one of the cool girls in school—I most definitely was not.

Now she is married to some lawyer and clearly having his baby.

“Good to see you, too.” I go to step past her, but she moves in front of me, blocking my path.

I’m trying to count how many coins I think are in the bottom of my bag when she says, “Where are you living now?”

“With my husband,” I say, confused, because she knows exactly who Cody is. She tried to sleep with him just after we got married.

“Cody?” she asks, her brows rising in surprise.

The revving of bikes makes us both turn. I stare at the group of over ten Harley-Davidson bikes approaching. The townspeople are used to them, but I still look. Even after all these years, I still watch him . He’s always at the front, always in his black leather. He gets closer, and I know from behind that helmet, he sees me as well.

“Lissie.” Vogue smiles at me, but behind that smile is a flicker of something else.

I’ve torn my attention away but feel a distinct need to leave. Immediately. “I have to go,” I say, stepping past her this time and heading straight for the local grocery store.

Walking into the store, I pass the cashier before heading past the frozen food aisle and straight to the stand that holds the bread. Searching for the cheapest loaf, I grab it and then quickly open my purse to fish out the coins I saw at the bottom. Counting them, I am short, but just barely. Dropping to my knees, I tip my bag upside down. A book falls out, and my empty and very sad purse falls with it.

Shit .

My hands are pressed to the dirty floor, and I take a deep breath to try to center myself. I put my purse back in my bag, but as I reach for the book, someone else grabs it before I can. The first thing I note are black boots, followed by a pair of black jeans I know all too well. He picks up the bread that’s next to me and walks to the cashier. Still kneeling on the floor, I watch as he adds a few other items before he pays for it, and the cashier puts it all in a bag. Managing to stand on shaky legs, I walk over to him and hold out my hand.

“Do you think I got this for you?” he asks, holding the bag. He scoffs, and his voice is dripping with contempt.

Milo Savage is mean and cruel.

But there is something more behind those chocolate eyes.

“I want my book back.”

He glances down at the book in his other hand, then raises his gaze back to me. “No.”

He turns and strides out.

I gasp and run after him.

His crew, if that’s what they’re called, are all waiting for him. I feel all their eyes on me as I tap him on the shoulder. He turns to face me, and those dark, tormenting eyes lock on mine as he glares down at me. “What?” he growls out the word with a sharp edge of irritation followed by his eyes narrowing.

I hold out my hand, and a few of his men start to whistle.

Milo’s gaze flicks to my hand before it comes back to mine. He bends down until he’s in my face, then speaks, “No.”

Sucking in a breath, I lunge for the book, but he tucks his arm behind him, putting it out of reach, but his face is still dangerously close to mine.

“Fucking with Cody’s wife, are we?” One of his men laughs.

“She’s married to Cody?” I hear another say, and my face flushes with embarrassment at their words. While I know some of the men, I don’t know all of them. After my mother died and I married Cody, I stayed in our house for years, getting high, drinking, and not living my best life.

I’ve been clean for at least two years.

I touched my husband once after that and quickly realized I hated even the thought of his touch. I was physically revolted.

Thankfully, he never forced me in that way, but he did use to force the drugs on me. And the manipulation? Yeah, he’s good at that as well.

“Get angry, Elizabeth,” Milo says. “Get fucking angry.” He turns and throws his leg over his bike.

I have been angry for years.

Angry for the situation I’m in.

Angry, wondering when I can leave.

Angry, deciding when I should leave my deadbeat husband.