Chapter 5
Fred was much happier than Meghan had expected with the trailer.
She had to shovel a path to it; it hadn’t been used since she’d dragged it up the Alcan behind the U-Haul truck she had rented to escape her life.
Fred still didn’t have boots; he had socks, thanks to Henry, but Meghan wasn’t going to make him shovel in them.
“None of the kitchen stuff works,” she said apologetically, wiggling the kitchen faucet in demonstration. “The batteries have been dead for ages, and the water would be frozen if it weren’t empty. No propane, either. The outhouse is just around the side of the house.”
Fred followed her into the house to collect blankets and sleeping bags. It was warmer there; an oil drip furnace kept the small cabin cozy.
“The house isn’t much bigger,” Meghan said, keenly aware that she had not bothered to heat water to do the dishes in several days. Since Sheppard had died, she hadn’t had the motivation to do much besides simply go through the most critical parts of her routine.
“Meghan…”
Meghan recognized the segue and tried to babble past it. “It’s kind of a wreck, I know. Sorry. I wasn’t really expecting company.”
“Meghan…”
“This sleeping bag is old but it’s still got lots of loft. I’m sure if we throw a few of these blankets on top of you, you’ll be fine.”
“Meghan…”
“Some of the blankets are surplus Army blankets. Great stuff. Wool. Ugly, of course, but at least they’re warm.”
Fred gave up trying to talk to her, put the blankets she was heaping into his arms onto the couch and drew her into his arms to kiss her.
Meghan sighed as his mouth touched hers and melted into him.
He kissed her slowly at first, clearly expecting her to resist, but Meghan couldn’t find a reason to protest. She wanted this, wanted it to the bottom of her soul. It was the only thing in her life that felt right at that moment, and she opened her mouth even knowing that she was going to drown.
He was warm, and his body was hard and gentle and dreamy as she pressed herself against him. Meghan could feel the manifestation of his desire for her, but he kissed her slowly, like he had all the time in the world to discover her, like he was in no hurry to unwrap all her secrets.
Meghan froze against him and pulled her mouth away. She couldn’t make her arms let go.
“Wait,” she said plaintively, though she didn’t want to. “You have to know. I have to…I’m married.”
He made a noise that personified a shrug and bent to kiss her more.
“Wait,” she had to confirm. “Do you even understand what that means?”
Fred drew back and looked her hard in the eyes. She still wasn’t sure what color his eyes were; they looked gold in this light. “Do you love him? Are you his?”
“I’m not sure I ever did love him,” she said honestly. “And I have spent ten years trying to escape him.”
Fred looked divided, like he was struggling inside. He closed his eyes, then lay one swift kiss on her mouth and drew her to the couch, spreading the blankets and sleeping bag out into a cocoon of softness.
“You need to tell me,” he said patiently. He tapped her over her heart. “You’re hurting.” Then he enfolded her into his arms and drew her into his lap, kissing her forehead like she was a child. “I will protect you.”
It was difficult at first, finding words for things that Meghan had buried so long. But she told him everything.
She told him about her first exciting date with Grayden—she was just starting college and he was so worldly and interesting.
She’d been so happy that she could interest an attractive older man, so flattered by his attention and flirtation.
If he’d been a little possessive, a little jealous of her friends, well, it was cute at first.
He’d gotten on well with her parents, and talked about marriage right away, pushing the subject when Meghan was a little reluctant.
Everything he said sounded so very reasonable, his arguments for everything were so logical.
It made sense that they live together, after all, and he was just a little old-fashioned about wanting to do the right thing.
Others girls should be so lucky, Meghan told herself.
And if Grayden wanted to listen in on all of her conversations with her mother, well, it was just that he liked her mother.
If he wanted her to stop taking classes at the college to keep house, it was a lot of work she didn’t really need to do.
And it wasn’t that he didn’t want her seeing her friends, or talking to them, or texting them, it was just that he wanted her attention for himself.
“I don’t know when it started going so crazy,” Meghan said softly.
“I just woke up one day and realized that I wasn’t allowed to have my own money without justifying where it would go, and I had to give him the code to my phone so he could look through all my emails and see the phone calls I made.
I couldn’t go out. He canceled my gym membership and got a treadmill because he couldn’t stand the idea of the guys at the gym looking at me.
He made me turn on the Find My Phone feature and give him access to it so he’d always know where I was.
He told me when to stop eating, and counted my calories, and never let me sleep too late. ”
Fred was stroking her arms like she was an agitated dog, gently and evenly. If he still wanted her after this admission of her spinelessness, he was doing an admirable job of putting that aside just to listen.
“Did he hurt you?” Fred asked, and his voice was a dangerous growl.
“Only once,” Meghan said, turning her head to look at him.
“Here.” She showed him the scar on her throat.
“He made me tell the ER that I’d done it myself.
A kitchen accident. Because it might make him look bad and it was only an accident.
He had this…masterful way of telling half truths that made them seem so reasonable.
Besides, he seemed so…sorry. He was sweet and apologetic.
Bought me giant bouquets of flowers and expensive jewelry.
He never raised a hand against me again. ”
“But he hurt you again.” Fred wasn’t fooled.
Meghan sighed. “He would fly into these tempers if I did things he wasn’t expecting—if I went shopping on Wednesday instead of Thursday, or bought things that weren’t on the list. I once got a phone call from a high school friend and we talked for twenty whole minutes.
He burned my high school yearbooks for that.
He flushed our fish once, early on; I never got another pet. ”
Until Sheppard.
“Your family couldn’t help you? Your friends?”
Meghan gave a despairing hiccup. “I was so miserable I mentioned the idea of a divorce once and he called my parents on me. They chewed me out for hours, talking about how ungrateful I was and how I only ever thought about myself. They love him, and only saw the fancy cars and big house. My friends all went on to college and real lives and I never made new ones, except the ones that Grayden approved of. Only women that he personally knew. He’d accuse me of cheating on him if I so much as looked at another guy. ”
“How did you get away?” Fred’s strokes on her arms felt like an anchor.
“The first time, I just walked out. I left the car and my phone and took the bus to the next town. I pawned some jewelry and got an apartment with cash. Signed up for some job training and tried to strike out on my own. I didn’t go far enough.
He found me in two weeks and brought me home like an errant dog.
“It got worse after that. He had me see a therapist friend and start taking drugs. He’d sit and make me take them while he watched.
But I had a taste for freedom then. One of the couches had these zippered slipcovers and I started stashing spare change in them.
He kept the jewelry locked up when I wasn’t wearing it, but I could get a piece or two at a time if I was clever about it.
I sold my psychiatric drugs to a neighbor once he stopped watching me so closely.
Ten years ago I paid cash for a trailer and a beat up pickup and headed north.
It broke down here and Ruby gave me an under-the-table job.
After a few months of living alone, I got a dog. ”
Of all the things she’d finally been able to talk about, Sheppard proved to be the tipping point for her tears.
Fred stopped stroking her arms to gather her close and rock her as she cried.
“That man is a fiend and if I met him I would rip his throat out for you. If you wanted me to,” Fred offered into her hair.
“I just want to feel like a person,” Meghan murmured into his shoulder. “Like a real person of my own.”
“You are a real person,” Fred insisted. “You are so strong and beautiful and clever.”
“I am spineless and useless and stupid,” Meghan countered, angry. “I should never have fallen for him in the first place. I wasted my whole life.”
“If you were spineless and useless and stupid, you would still be there,” Fred told her firmly. “And you’ve got so much of your life in front of you.”
Meghan felt drained. She had cried too much the past few days, hurt too badly, feared too keenly. “I wasted ten years of my life with him. Ten more in fear he’d find me. Half my life is just gone, and I don’t know how to live,” she said achingly.
Then Fred kissed her neck and Meghan turned in his arms to stare at him. “Show me,” she demanded. “Show me how to be alive.”
Feral, hungry eyes met hers, and when she put her mouth on his, all of the gentleness was gone.
His hands were strong and took either side of her face, kissing her deeply. Meghan straddled him, kissing and tugging at his clothing. She wanted to be closer, wanted his skin and his warmth and his weight on her.
He broke the kiss to pull off his shirt, then pulled hers off without care for the buttons and struggled for a moment with the clasp on her bra before she reached behind to assist. There was another desperate kiss, Meghan with her hands wild over his sculpted arms and shoulders, Fred with his hands claiming every exposed curve.
Then they broke apart to wrestle off their pants, equally desperate, equally ready. Fred shoved the pile of blankets onto the floor and lay her down on top of it. Meghan had one brief glimpse of his hard, gorgeous cock, and then he was pressing it into her as she spread her legs in welcome.
She was wet and on fire with need, and he was growling as he thrust into her, harder and deeper with each stroke, until she forgot how to breathe and had to claw at his shoulders and cry out in agonizing pleasure.
He slowed then, gritting his teeth at the effort, and caressed her sides and kissed her neck until she could see again and kiss him back.
Then he raised her once more to a fever pitch of desire and bliss and this time he finished with her, as she cried out his name and clung to his shoulders and wept and laughed in release.
He collapsed on her and rolled off, keeping his arms around her so that she lay beside him. “Trevor,” he gasped.
“What?”
“My name is Trevor,” he panted. “But if you want to call me Fred that way again, I will never complain.”