Chapter 3
JOSIE
Ican’t sleep.
It’s been two days since my run-in with Bennett’s ghost, and every time I close my eyes, I see him again. The boy he was twenty years ago, his hair swept back from his unlined face, laughing without a care in the world.
And the man he’s become, all the softness chiseled away, half his face obscured by a thick, bushy beard.
Truthfully, I don’t even know how I recognized him. Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling of the cabin I’ve rented for the month in an attempt to finish my next book, I find myself wondering how I even knew the big, gruff lumberjack was the boy I’d once loved.
The eyes, I decide. How many hours had I spent staring into those eyes when we were younger? First as a child with an impossible crush, memorizing every line of the boy she thought she loved. And later as a woman, lost in that sea of brown as he claimed me as his for the first time.
I would know those eyes anywhere, in any lifetime.
Resigned to yet another sleepless night, I slip out of bed and into the kitchen, which I’ve stocked with all of my favorite “author on a deadline” treats.
There is some real food mixed in, even a veggie tray that will likely sit ignored until it turns into something resembling a science experiment, but I feel healthier for having bought it.
Mostly, though, it’s snack cakes and the fancy chocolates I use to reward myself for hitting my word counts, and every flavor of chips the small grocery store in town had in stock.
If Bennett saw my kitchen right now, I have no doubt I’d be on the receiving end of a blistering lecture—and possibly more.
A memory resurfaces, one I’ve spent years torn between wanting to cherish and wanting to forget entirely.
It was right after I’d graduated high school and my father had bought me a brand-new car as a graduation-slash-eighteenth-birthday gift.
Gracie and I had taken the car out for a bit of a joy ride, and I’d almost immediately gotten myself a ticket for speeding.
Really, it should have been for reckless endangerment, given how far over the limit I was, but the cop took pity on me and knocked a solid ten miles per hour off my actual speed when he wrote the ticket.
I didn’t think much of it when it happened. Not until Gracie and I got home and we told her brothers about it, both of us laughing up a storm over how nervous we’d been and how lucky I was that the cop let me off so easy.
Bennett, however, was not amused.
One minute I was laughing with his sister, the next I was over his lap, my dress flipped up and my panties around my knees while his hard hand came crashing down on my bare ass over and over again. Before that moment, I’d never been spanked, barely even had a cross word ever said to me.
“You think it’s funny to put yourself and my sister in danger like that, Josephine Elise? I have half a mind to wear my belt out on your ass, little girl.”
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, I close my eyes as the memory plays out in vivid detail.
Me, kicking and crying over his knee while Gracie begged him to stop.
But he didn’t, not until it felt like my entire ass was on fire.
And then he’d made me promise to never, ever drive so recklessly again before pulling me into his arms and kissing the breath right out of me.
That was the first, but by no means the only spanking Bennett Kincaid ever gave me. Once that first spanking happened, it was like the floodgates opened and he took every opportunity I gave him to put me over his knee.
And I loved every single moment of it.
Not while it was happening, at least not usually.
When I was in the thick of it I always regretted whatever action had led to me ending up bare-assed over his lap.
But after… after was an entirely different story.
To this day, he’s the best I’ve ever had, though admittedly I haven’t been with many men since his supposed death.
A few here and there to take the edge off sexually, but I’ve never let myself get close to anyone.
Instead, I live out my potential love stories in the books I write, and that’s all I need.
I don’t need a man, and I sure as fuck don’t need Bennett Kincaid.
Which is why you’re standing in the kitchen at three o’clock in the morning thinking about how hard he’d spank you if he saw the contents of your pantry right now.
Ugh.
Snagging a bag of cookies from the countertop, I rip it open and shove three in my mouth, savoring the chocolatey goodness as I chew.
“Naughty girl.”
Jesus Christ, I’ve spent so much time imagining Bennett’s reactions, it’s like he’s right here with me. So real I swear I can feel his breath on my neck.
I have a split second to realize it’s not actually a hallucination before I feel the prick of the needle, and the world goes black.
Josie
Sunlight warms my face as I sigh and roll toward the light. I must have actually gotten to sleep last night if it’s already daylight outside.
Still feeling too groggy to face the day, I sigh and snuggle under my blanket. Beneath me, the mattress is like a cloud, far softer than I remember it. But maybe I’m just not awake enough to notice how hard it actually is.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”
Ugh, not another Bennett dream. Go away, asshole.
“Naughty girl. I should wash your mouth out with soap.”
At that, my eyes fly open. And I realize with growing horror that this isn’t a dream. The man standing beside my bed is very, very real.
Holy shit.
Scrambling backward, I press myself up against the wall as my gaze darts around the room. The completely unfamiliar room.
“Where the fuck am I?”
Bennett raises a bushy brow in a stern expression I recognize all too well. “If you keep using those grown-up words, I really will wash your mouth out, Josephine Elise. Right after I spank that naughty little bottom.”
His voice is rougher than it was back at the candy shop. More growly, more…
Dangerous.
But I was never afraid of him as a girl, and I refuse to cower before him as a full-grown woman. “I fucking dare you.”
“Have it your way.”
He reaches for me, and I dive to the side with every intention of crawling off the bed and making a break for the door.
Only, there is nowhere to go. On every side of me stand wooden railings, blocking my path.
“What the fuck—”
And then I’m airborne, draped over his shoulder while his hand swats at my upturned ass. The swats burn, more than I remember, and I can’t quite smother my yelp as the pain spreads over my backside.
“You always were a brat, but I don’t remember you having this much of a foul mouth.”
“Well a lot has changed in twenty fucking years.”
To my shock, he laughs, his entire body vibrating with the sound. “Fair enough.”
He carries me to a chair, where he sits and flips me over his lap with an ease that knocks the breath from my lungs. Just like that, I’m eighteen again, about to get my ass spanked by my bossy-as-fuck boyfriend. Nostalgia swamps me, and for a moment I almost feel guilty about swearing at him.
But then I remember that the reason I haven’t seen him in nearly two whole decades is because I thought he was dead.
Lost to me forever, along with his entire family.
My family. I grieved their loss almost as much as I grieved losing my father and mother in the car accident that took their lives five years later, and knowing that I went through all that pain, all that suffering, for nothing once again fills me with rage.
“Let me go, you bastard! I’ll fucking kill you for real this time!”
There’s a tug, followed by cool air brushing over the backs of my thighs, and my fury burns even hotter when I realize he’s pulled my panties down.
Naughty girls always get spanked on their bare bottoms, Josephine Elise, you know that.
Caught between the past and present, I ignore the shattering of my heart and fight with everything I have to escape. But his grip is like iron, and a moment later his hard hand connects sharply with my bare skin.
“Ow! Get the fuck off of me right now you son of a bitch!”
“I hope you enjoy the taste of soap, because I have a feeling you’re going to be eating it often. Especially if you let your Uncle Eli catch you talking like that.”
Another hard swat, with enough force behind it to bring tears to my eyes. Or maybe those are tears of frustration and anger, I’m not quite sure. “Who the fuck is Uncle Eli?”
“My brother, Elias. You knew him as Everett, but you’re going to have to get used to everyone’s new names.”
I’m still reeling from the idea of calling a man a year older than me uncle when the rest of his sentence finally hits. “Everyone?” Hope beats painful wings against my chest. “Gracie?”
“Yeah, baby. Gracie’s here, too.”
I can’t breathe. Every breath in feels too shallow, every breath out too ragged. “Please, Benny. I can’t… I can’t… please.”
The spanking ends, as abruptly as it began, and then I’m in his arms, my tears soaking his shirt as I weep for the family I thought I’d lost so many years ago.
“Shh, baby. It’s okay, Josie. We’re here and we’re safe, and we’re going to keep you safe.”
“I h-hate you,” I choke out, trying to shove away from him. But I’m crying too hard and he’s far bigger than I remember. Giant, almost, and his body seems to swallow mine even with the extra pounds I’ve put on over the years. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”
“I know. And I don’t blame you one bit, bug.”
Bug. The sound of my childhood nickname, the one only he ever used, tightens the band around my chest. It started as one of those annoying older boy kind of things, with him telling me to bug off as often as possible whenever Gracie and I got on their nerves.
Somewhere along the line it became almost affectionate, and then when we made that leap from friends to something more, he started calling me his lovebug.
Too much. This is too much.
Somehow, I find the strength to shove out of his arms. I race for the door, yanking my panties back up as I trip and stumble my way out into the hallway, tears still blurring my vision almost to the point of blindness.
There. Stairs.
Freedom.
I choke on a sob as I head for them, my sock-covered feet sliding on the hard wood when I take the corner too fast. Luckily, I recover quickly and run down the steps toward the front door.
“Josie?”
Skidding to a stop just feet from the door, I spin around. And find another ghost staring at me.
“Gracie.” Despite the two-year age difference, Gracie Kincaid was my best friend in the whole world growing up. We did everything together, and losing her was like losing half my soul.
Now, here she is, alive and whole and watching me with all the wariness of someone who has backed a wild animal into a corner.
“Yeah.” Gracie nods slowly. “It’s me.”
Again I have the fleeting thought that this is too much, more than any one person should be expected to bear, before the world around me goes dark once more.