Chapter 3 #2
The couch looked cozy and there was a large flat screen mounted on the wall above the fireplace.
It was homey and warm. The décor was manly, favoring the bold leather couches and dark tones of the wood furniture.
The living room walls were painted a rich brown that reminded me of chocolate frosting.
It was so inviting. Too inviting. Too good.
Too good to be true was an adage for a reason. Or maybe this was his way of earning my trust, showing me his so I’d show him mine.
“Did my sister ever spend the night here?” The question came spewing from my mouth before I’d even processed it mentally.
Maybe I asked because the quickest way for me to compartmentalize Luke Rosen and his handsome face was by picturing him with Presley. To picture him as hers.
“No.” Luke shook his head.
“But you dated.”
“Yes. For a short time.”
Presley had told me she’d dated Luke but I didn’t know how serious they’d been. I didn’t know much at all about my sister’s life over the past decade. Certainly not much about her lovers.
Though I guess lovers was the wrong term. For most of that decade, she’d been with Jeremiah. He’d found her after he’d left me. They’d been engaged until he’d jilted her on their wedding day.
Because of me.
“Did you fuck her?” I asked with too much bite.
Luke didn’t so much as blink. “No.”
Maybe he was telling the truth. Luke didn’t seem like a man who’d lie, but I was a pitiful judge of character. For all I knew, he’d lured me into his den. I’d become his prey. Tonight, I was too tired to care.
I shuffled past the island, lifting a hand to skim the smooth surface of a white cabinet. Luke’s cabinets were pristine. Clean and unmarred.
I hoped they stayed that way.
We’d had white cabinets at home. Mom would scrub their faces to keep them free of grease and grime.
At least, that was the lie she’d tell herself.
Really, she’d scrub them after one of Dad’s outbursts.
Just last year, not long before I’d left, he’d taken a plate of baked ziti and thrown it at a cupboard.
Mom had used store-bought marinara sauce instead of making her own from scratch.
I’d helped her clean that mess because he’d pushed her so hard that she’d fallen and strained her wrist.
Funny how being in a nice home brought back memories of my own. I’d been so consumed with Jeremiah and the Warriors that my parents had fallen to the wayside. Not forgotten, but not front and center. But it seemed today, I couldn’t keep them from the forefront of my mind.
“What happened with you and Presley?” I asked Luke, joining him in the living room.
“You didn’t ask her?”
“I didn’t have a chance.”
When I’d come to Clifton Forge, I hadn’t seen Presley in ten years. Not since the night she’d escaped Chicago and I’d chosen to stay behind. But I’d known where she lived. Presley had picked Clifton Forge long before she’d fled our father’s rule.
It had taken me a long time to join her. Too long. Instead of leaving Chicago and finding her, like I should have done, I’d gone to Jeremiah.
He was marrying her and I had to know if he’d ever loved me at all. Or if he’d always wanted Presley.
Me. He chose me. And in the process, he ditched Presley and their wedding.
The guilt of my actions, of humiliating her, would stay with me always.
That guilt was part of the reason I didn’t go to Clifton Forge and seek her out.
I stayed with Jeremiah at the Warrior clubhouse, pretending like things between us would be okay.
If we could just get a little more money.
If we could just get our own place. If we could just get away from his brothers.
If, if, if.
Months passed as I repeated those ifs. Until finally, I opened my eyes. Or had them opened for me.
The day I packed my bag and raced from the Warrior clubhouse was the day it should have ended. I hitchhiked to Clifton Forge but the truck driver only took me as far as the highway.
From there, I walked to a pay phone and called a cab, using up some of the precious money my mom had given me, money that I’d kept safe since Chicago.
When I arrived at Presley’s doorstep, I was so tired, so relieved to be safe with her, that I fell asleep for days. Finally, when I woke up, we sat down to talk.
Then Jeremiah showed up at her door and pressed a gun to her head.
When I’d left the Warrior clubhouse, that should have been the end of it.
Now, the end was nowhere in sight.
“Like I said, we dated,” Luke said, answering the question I’d nearly forgotten I’d asked. My brain was sluggish and heavy. “Movies. Dinner. She’s an incredible woman. But it wasn’t meant to be. She’s in love with Shaw.”
Shaw Valance. A movie star. I liked that for my sister. I liked that a lot. “Is he a good man?”
“Yeah.” Luke nodded. “He is.”
I raised my eyes to meet his. “Are you a good man?”
Luke stared down at me, his dark blue eyes unwavering. “If you don’t know the answer to that already, I guess I’ve got some work to do.”
Damn. That was a great answer.
“Come on.” He jerked his chin for me to follow him through the living room.
We passed a staircase railed with wooden pickets.
The steps turned at a square landing in the middle, then led to the floor above us and a small balcony that overlooked the living room.
The main floor was finished with a dark hickory, but the carpet on the stairs was plush.
My hands itched to run across the fibers.
Was it as soft as it looked? It had been a long time since my bare feet had plunged into a soft carpet.
Luke pointed to the ceiling above us as we went down a hallway. “My bedroom is upstairs.”
“Okay.”
“This is yours.” He leaned into a room on my right, flicking on the light. “Towels are under the sink. Shower is stocked but if you need something, let me know.”
“Why is the shower stocked?” My question came out more accusing than curious.
Did he have a lot of overnight female companions? Why did it bother me that he might? Luke was a stranger with a perfect face. Nothing more. And after everything that had happened with Jeremiah, the last thing I needed was complications from another man.
“Never mind,” I blurted before he could answer. “Not my business.”
“For when my dad visits. Hope you like the smell of Old Spice.”
“Oh.” An odd surge of relief flooded my body, and I gripped my backpack tighter to keep it from falling. “I should have plenty of things. From before.”
My first day at the safe house, a female officer had brought me some toiletries and clothes. I suspected that was from Luke’s instruction. The woman had also hauled in some necessities for the house. I might have remembered her name if she hadn’t brought all of the daisies.
“If you need anything, just make me a list,” he said.
Tampons. That was going to be fun to put on the list. “Okay.”
Across from the bathroom was another doorway. Luke reached inside to flip on the light, then stepped aside, waving for me to go ahead.
The room was large with a king-sized bed positioned across from a dresser. The flat screen on top was enough to make me weep. Maybe if I had the TV on at night, it would keep the nightmares away.
The bedding was a simple dove-gray quilt embroidered with squares of the same color thread.
The walls in here were even darker than the living room, a charcoal-like ash.
Not unlike that ring around Luke’s irises.
The blackout blinds were down and I suspected that when I turned off the light, it would be like sleeping in a cave—if I could sleep.
It was all monotone, including the black and cream rug that extended beneath the bed, but with the wooden dresser and end tables that matched the chocolate hardwoods, it was cozy. Most importantly, there wasn’t a daisy in sight.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He nodded and leaned against the door’s frame. “Remote is in the top drawer.”
“Okay.”
“Come on.” Luke jerked his chin for me to follow him back to the living room.
He took a seat on the couch, the one directly across from the fireplace and TV mounted above the mantel. I took the chair beside it, the furniture forming an off-kilter U around the coffee table.
“We need to talk about some rules.”
Rules. The word made my spine stiffen, but I stayed silent to listen.
“Please don’t leave.”
I narrowed my gaze. Never in my life had someone included please when reciting rules. What was the catch? “Okay,” I drawled.
“You’ve got the run of the house. TV. There are books in my office upstairs if you like to read. If you want something to eat, just give me a list and I’ll hit the store.”
I stayed quiet and unmoving, still waiting for that catch.
Luke leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.
Here it comes.
“Stay inside,” he said. “Keep the blinds closed. Don’t unlock the doors. Don’t open the doors.”
He paused, waiting for me to acknowledge him so I gave him a single nod.
“The alarm will be set on the doors but I’ll leave the motion sensors off,” he continued.
“When I leave for work, I’ll turn the lights on.
Leave them on. I’ll shut them off at night.
That way it doesn’t look like someone is here during the day while I’m at work.
It’ll just seem like I’m an energy hog who can’t be bothered to shut off the lights. ”
I studied his face and the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Was he was trying to be funny? On a different day, I might have laughed. But not today. Not when more was coming. Because that couldn’t be all the rules. “What else?”
“That’s it.”
“Just stay inside?”
He nodded. “Just stay inside.”
Another prison.
“I get it,” he said. “I’d be angry if I were trapped too. But give it a little time. Give it a week or two to let the dust settle. Then, we can reassess the risks.”
Maybe it was another prison. Maybe this one wouldn’t be so bad. If I had the TV and a book to read, I could distract myself from the shit swirling in my head.
“Okay,” I agreed. I’d try. Not for Luke, but for Presley. I wanted to live to give her the apology she was owed. Though when this place began to feel like a prison, I’d be gone. “What about babysitters?”
He chuckled, the sound so soothing and deep, it caught me off guard. “No babysitters. If you can promise to stay inside, you’re on your own during the day. You’re stuck with me at night.”
Yes, I was definitely stuck.
Luke stood. “I’ll leave you alone to get settled. I’m upstairs if you need anything.”
I stayed seated as he gave me another polite nod, then went to the staircase, disappearing from the main floor. When he was gone, I went to the bathroom, shutting myself in and locking the door.
Then I turned on the shower, stripping out of my sweats. The steam enveloped the room and when I stepped under the spray it scalded my skin. But I stayed under the hot water, letting it chase away the chill in my bones and warm my frozen toes.
Finally, when my skin was red and tingling, I emerged from the shower and swiped a hand over the steam on the mirror.
My reflection wasn’t as awful as it had been earlier.
The dark circles under my eyes were still there.
I’d lost too much weight and the skin over my collarbones pulled too tight.
But the food from earlier, the fresh air and hot shower, had given my skin some color.
And for the first time in ten days, my blue eyes weren’t so flat. Maybe they even held a glint of hope.
I studied myself, from the widow’s peak in my forehead to the tip of my chin. Had I ever looked in the mirror and liked what I saw?
No.
At least, not recently. I didn’t like the woman staring back at me.
I didn’t like myself.
Somehow, that had to change. Somehow, I had to become a better me. I wasn’t sure how that was going to happen sequestered in a stranger’s home, but I could start small by keeping my word and obeying Luke’s rules.
I combed through my hair, the scent of Old Spice filling the room. I’d used what Luke had left in the shower, not bothering to unload my backpack. Maybe I smelled like a man, but it wasn’t all bad. At least I was clean.
With a towel wrapped around my body and my clothes and shoes in my arms, I tiptoed across the hallway to the bedroom, glancing past the staircase to the living room.
The lights were off except one above the sink in the kitchen.
Luke must have come down and shut them off while I’d been in the shower.
I closed and locked the bedroom door behind me, then took out the last clean pair of sweats and panties from my bag. Maybe if I asked, Luke could get me some pajamas. I had a little money left over and something other than sweats would be nice.
Dressed and ready for bed, I picked up a shoe and groaned.
Did I really need to wear them? I wasn’t going to run, certainly not tonight.
So I tossed it aside and flipped back the quilt, sliding between the cool sheets and snuggling with a down pillow.
The light was on but the cotton was so smooth and soft against my cheek, I couldn’t muster the energy to open my eyes and lift my head.
Above me, the ceiling creaked under Luke’s feet. He was moving around, doing whatever he did. The sound of a hushed television floated through the ceiling.
I took a deep breath, smelling my own soap and the fabric softener on the sheets. It was the same brand my mother used. Pressing my nose into the pillow, I dragged in a long breath.
I missed Mom. Maybe I should have stayed in Chicago. Maybe I should have stayed, sentencing myself to a slow death alongside her.
But now that I’d gotten out, I’d never go back. I doubted I’d ever see her again. No matter how many times Dad hit or raped her, she’d never leave that man. She didn’t believe she deserved anything better.
Well, I did.
I deserved more than my father. I deserved more than Jeremiah.
My heart had broken countless times in the past ten days because I was so goddamn angry at him. But this . . . he hadn’t deserved this end.
Without warning, a sob escaped my throat. I muffled it with the pillow, feeling the sting of tears as they flooded my eyes. Then, for the first time in ten days, I cried. For Jeremiah. For my mother. For my sister and all I’d put her through.
And I cried for me.
Whether it was the emotional release or my body physically shutting down, I didn’t cry for long. I surrendered to the bed and the gentle sounds of Luke above me.
And for the first time in ten days, Jeremiah’s nightmare didn’t visit me in my sleep.