Secrets Within Us

5. Chapter 5 - Hadley

Chapter 5 - Hadley

Confusion

H e disappeared upstairs, shaking his head like I’d confused him.

He was the most frustrating man I’d ever met.

He was the confusing one!

I got all the food off the stove and onto plates, carefully carrying them to the table, trying hard not to drop them from my weakness as I replayed our conversation in my head, looking for clues about the mysterious man. When he came back down, he was in jeans and a fleece pullover. He stopped and let Dev out the front door on his way to the table, staying completely silent and unreadable.

“I didn’t know what you wanted to drink, but there’s fresh coffee in the pot if you’d like some.” I babbled stupidly.

Of course, he knew where the coffee was; it was his house after all .

My subconscious was a real self-loathing bitch sometimes.

“Sit down and eat Hadley, I’ll grab some coffee and be there in a second.” I cautiously lowered myself onto the chair at the small wooden table, as if his words somehow granted me permission.

He came out of the kitchen and sat across from me, instantly digging into his meal without caution. Even if I were the worst cook in the world, he bravely took a massive bite, risking an unpleasant taste.

He looked up, catching me staring at him quizzically as he chewed, before he grinned lopsidedly as he swallowed. It should be against the law for a man as good-looking as him, to scowl so frequently and smile so rarely. “It tastes great, thanks for cooking. But you don’t have to do anything. You should be resting.”

“I can handle it. I would, however, like to use your shower after breakfast if it’s not too much trouble.” Pausing briefly, “Oh yeah, did you find a bag of my clothes when you found me?”

“Yeah, I placed them in the laundry room when I brought you in because they were wet from the snow, and I wanted them to dry for you. They should be all set by now. ”

“Thanks.” Once again, he finished eating before I did and quickly took care of the plates once I was done. Just as I was about to tidy up the dishes in the sink, he intercepted and stopped me in my tracks.

“Come on, I’ll show you where everything is in the bathroom and then you can shower while I clean up out here. I have to go outside and do some work around the property today, so I’ll be gone most of the day. Probably won’t be back in until dinnertime.” He stared pointedly at me, and I wondered what the shaggy dark hair around his temples felt like. “Just make yourself at home and relax, okay? Don’t do anything strenuous, especially if I’m not here in case you hurt yourself.” He continued, snapping me out of the mental sexual daydream I had no business having. “There are books all around the living room and quite the movie collection in the entertainment center. Just relax and I’ll cook dinner when I get back.”

He talked as he walked away down the hallway to the bathroom, so I followed silently. There were three doors at the end of the hall, one was open to the bathroom I’d used last night and this morning, and the other, he opened to a large laundry/ mud room off the back of the house where he grabbed my clothes for me. The last one though, he didn’t open or say what was in there, so I figured it was off-limits and didn’t ask. But I’d be lying if there weren’t red flags flying at my face each time I walked past the closed door.

He showed me where the toiletries and towels were in the bathroom and then excused himself without another word. In my short time with him, I quickly realized that Kip wasn’t a talker. He said what he needed to when the urge struck him, but he was more interested in speaking with body language and facial features than words most times.

I listened from the hallway as he got on his boots and gear and left the house, taking Dev with him. Leaving me truly alone in his space.

With my clothes in hand, I hurried to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I knew that staying still for too long would only invite unwanted thoughts. And I couldn’t afford to think, or I’d break down.

I hadn’t cried since I’d escaped. A few tears fell last night when I saw the damage done to my face, but that had been just the beginning of a very large tidal wave of emotions that was building inside of me.

So instead I stripped off the shirt Kip had given me and put it in a hamper in the room’s corner, turned the hot spray on in the shower, allowing it to get to the perfect temperature before I carefully stepped in.

The hot water cascaded down my body, providing a soothing sensation as I inhaled deeply as if it was the first breath I had taken in a week.

The rich shampoo from the shelf instantly filled the stone shower with Kip’s scent as I lathered it into my tangled hair. I leaned my head back, allowing the water to wash it from my scalp, and just breathed him in.

The entire time, memories of other scents wanted to bombard me.

Dirt.

Musty basements.

Leather.

But I sank into my head even deeper than those memories could go and allowed Kip’s woodsy scent to consume me. It was the same way his presence settled something inside of me, too. Somehow, that man had soothed my wounds instead of festering them. Which made little sense.

Yet there I was, standing naked and alone in his shower, the scent of his skin when he held me in his bed last night still lingering in my memory. If I tried hard enough, I could almost block out the way it felt when the monster had touched me instead.

But I couldn’t use Kip or the bizarre circumstance we’d found ourselves in to distract me from the truth. It would catch up with me someday, I just knew it. Because girls like me didn’t get second chances, we weren’t born with nine lives and endless opportunities. We were born with wit and an uncrushable will to survive, which got us out of more sticky situations than luck ever did. There were limits, though, and I wouldn’t get free unscathed.

I focused on the present as I cleaned myself, but as the washcloth rubbed over the scratches, cuts, and bruises covering my body, I remembered what form of torture he’d used to inflict each one.

Which leather belt he snapped.

Which wooden cane he swung.

Which whip he cracked.

Which blade he ran along my skin.

Which position he forced me into so he could force himself inside of me.

That wound, the one inside of me, ached the worst. I couldn’t reach the source of its pain deep inside my soul, and no matter how long I scrubbed, I still ached .

I don’t know how long I stood there scrubbing my body with soap, but I re-lathered multiple times. Before I knew it, my wounds were reopening and blood was flowing from my scrubbing.

I stood there silently, letting the water run down my body, watching it mix with the crimson ooze as it ran down into the drain.

No matter how many times I scrubbed, the dirt was still there. The emotional dirt. It would always taint my skin. The awful things he did to me would never leave me, even as I washed the blood and grime off.

My weak legs trembled, unable to support me any longer, and I reached out for the side of the stone shower as they gave way completely, causing me to collapse beneath the refreshing spray.

And that’s when the dam broke, and the tears fell. I cried forever. Nearly passing out multiple times from hyperventilating and exhaustion. I let it all out, trying to relieve some of the burden on my heart and mind. Using the solitude and the steam to loosen the binds that held it all in. But it wouldn’t make it better.

Nothing could make it better.

I had no choice but to move forward as if nothing had happened. I had to survive and crying on the shower floor wouldn’t help me at the moment. So I allowed myself one more minute of heartache and weakness. And then I got up.

I turned the cold water off and forced myself to move forward. One step at a time.

Drying off in a daze, taking out a pair of yoga pants, a sports bra, and a zip-up sweater to wear for the day. Until Kip could take me to town and I could finally leave the frozen wasteland, I had no choice but to make do with the few warm items I had packed.

I was supposed to be in Florida, not Utah.

I never should have been so stupid. So na?ve.

I forced myself to get dressed in front of the mirror, taking a complete inventory of my injuries as mental payback for my stupidity.

A couple of my ribs were bruised. My hand felt better, so I was pretty sure nothing was broken in it, but the flesh was pretty mangled. The rest were just contusions, burns, and wounds that would heal with time; I hoped. They’d heal and leave a scar as a reminder of what I survived. That was the best-case scenario, at least.

With my hair tamed into a loose braid, I set out on a mission to find some warm socks to protect my feet throughout the day .

I leisurely made my way through Kip’s home without him hovering over me, taking in the whole feel of the place for the first time. I could tell that a woman had a hand in decorating the space, even though it was rustic and manly, there was still a decorator’s touch to it all.

I wondered pensively if he had a wife or a girlfriend who decorated the place. Was he the type of guy to lie in bed in only briefs, spooning a woman wearing only his shirt if he was committed to someone else? I didn’t see a wedding ring on his hand, but he also didn’t strike me as the type of guy who would have worn one either.

I tried deciphering some of the ink on his body without being caught last night, but it was useless. There were names on his skin, no doubt, but I couldn’t tell what they were or even guess who they were to him.

Great job Had; you’re attracted to a man who is probably married.

His wife was probably some crazy hot supermodel away on a photo shoot and I was just some beaten, ugly, frumpy chick who fell onto his property by chance. She’d probably come back home anytime now and find me here and kick me out back into the snow and bitter loneliness .

There was no way he wasn’t in a committed relationship, there was just something about the way he acted, always so protective and watchful, that made me think he had someone worth protecting out there somewhere.

So I did what any warm-blooded woman trapped in a lumber-snack’s remote cabin in the woods with no access to the outside world would do; I spent all day looking around the living space and his bedroom for any clues to tell me more about the mystery man named Kip that held me in his arms all night long like a man who cared.

But unfortunately, I found nothing.

Natta.

Zip.

Zilch.

There wasn’t a single picture or photo album or anything personal in the space. Not an article of clothing or a memento to show there was someone in his life.

There was, however, an enormous amount of bourbon in a liquor cabinet in the dining room. And in the garage off the back of the mudroom, there were a lot of empty liquor bottles.

He must spend his free time drinking .

Which was great, really. Super fantastic. Just the type of man I needed to spend my time with.

I selected a book from the shelf he had pointed out earlier and made myself comfortable in the recliner. As the warm afternoon light filled the room through the windows, I pretended I was on a fancy Aspen vacation, rather than on the run. The fiction I was reading was enough to let me escape from my reality for a while.

When I laid the book down after a couple of hours and looked around the room, I realized the peacefulness of the space was something I could easily get used to. New York City didn’t have this. There was always noise, even locked away inside your own home, you could always hear someone else living their life around you.

But here, there was only silence.

I walked up to the wall of windows at one point to look out over the property and caught sight of Kip, by a shed splitting wood. He had taken his jacket off and worked in just a flannel and his Carhartt pants.

Mesmerized by his fluid movements, I couldn’t tear my eyes away as he swung the axe with a captivating strength. The way his muscles strained against his clothing only intensified my attraction towards him .

I had never found big, muscled men attractive before, as I typically found myself drawn to the clean-cut business suit type I worked with. But there was something about the rugged strength of his body and personality on display that made me want him.

The thought of wanting a man, any man, someone who could overpower me and manipulate me, especially in the aftermath of what happened with that self-proclaimed “saint,” sent shivers down my spine.

Saint .

That’s what they had called him.

But the God I knew would never let a man like that into His eternal resting place if He knew what I knew about him.

I bowed my head and prayed as the sun warmed me through the window. I prayed for peace in my head and on my battered body, and I prayed the saint would find nothing but flames and pain where he was now.

Pain and flames just like the ones he’d used against me.

I was so consumed by the memories and thoughts waging war in my mind that I never heard Kip come into the house. I stood against the windows still, with the warm blanket from the chair I’d fallen in love with wrapped around my shoulders, watching the sunset over the treetops below when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

Startled by the contact, I instinctively leaped into the air, crying out in pain as my chest and sides throbbed relentlessly. I turned towards Kip in fight-or-flight mode before I realized it was him, then sagged into the window as I fought through the pain.

“I’m sorry,” He apologized frantically, “I called your name twice, and you didn’t answer. Are you okay?”

I nodded my head quickly as I swallowed back the scream that wanted to rip from my chest.

“Yeah,” I croaked. “I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated as I turned to sit down in the chair by the fire.

“Don’t worry about it, I was just lost in thought and didn’t hear you.”

He nodded curtly, something he did often in response to things like words weren’t his go-to.

As I settled into the chair, he disappeared once again, going about his normal routine without another word. Before sitting down on the couch and turning on a movie, he took the time to change into comfortable clothes and prepare a delicious dinner for us. I watched him silently as he filled a rock glass with bourbon and sipped on it while the movie played, though he didn’t end up drinking it all. At one point, I looked over at him from my chair and noticed him staring down into the glass, lost in thought, before he looked up at me, locking his gaze with mine until I looked away.

The heat that washed over my body from his stare was enough to leave me sweating. I tried to get back into the movie, but I could feel his eyes on me from where he sat. With the passing of time, I stole a quick glance in his direction, only to find him staring directly at me with an undeniable mix of desire and passion in his eyes.

Despite his usual scowl and brooding disposition, his eyes held a spark of something different as he stared back.

We were transfixed by each other’s gaze, while the movie credits slowly rolled in the background. Neither one of us was willing to surrender, even though there was nothing to gain by winning. What was he searching for in my eyes? What did I want to find in his?

There was an intense connection between us, I felt it literally the second I woke up in his bed after he rescued me. But we knew nothing about each other aside from our names and small tidbits we’d discovered through small talk.

But none of it was of consequence.

If he knew me, he’d run for the hills. I was damaged goods, and the look in his eyes indicated that he desired something from me that he would no longer want once he uncovered the whole truth.

And he would find out, eventually. If I stayed with him any longer, he’d work it out of me, or I’d just finally crumble under the weight of it all and tell him. And then he’d make me leave. He’d look at me with disgust instead of lust, and rejection instead of fondness.

And it would break me because, for some reason, he was the first man I ever wanted to think of me fondly.

Back in New York City, I was a paralegal in a prestigious law firm. I worked every single day under the direction and watchful eyes of powerful men who wanted more from me than just my brain.

But I never took that route, regardless of how much easier it would have made my climb up the ladder. I didn’t do it because no one there was worthy of having that kind of control over my life.

Yet, sitting in the wicked wilderness that nearly killed me, next to a roaring wood fire, in a beautiful log home, the lumberjack made me feel like I would do anything and everything I could to get his approval and understanding.

I felt like, if I could just surrender the power he so desperately desired, he would protect and provide for me.

But giving him all of that power was too much. I shouldn’t do it.

He moved with a gentle ease that mimicked that of a prowling lion as he stood up from the couch. He crossed the distance between us until he was standing in front of my chair, but he still had said nothing. His silence only added to his already infuriating mysteriousness.

He slowly leaned down, resting both hands on the arms of the chair, leaving him nearly face-to-face with me, his mouth just inches from mine. I could see the fullness of his lips under the whiskers of his beard, and I wondered what it would feel like to have them pressed against mine with the furriness in between.

And yet, he still said nothing.

Without looking away from me, he reached over and clicked the lamp off, leaving us blanketed in the darkness of the room apart from the moonlight glowing through the windows .

The shadows played off his features, hiding much of his expression in the dark.

I used to be afraid of the dark.

But I could tell that with him, the dark may prove to be where my soul glowed the brightest.

For the millionth time since I came to find shelter in his home, I found myself drawn to him sexually. I wanted so desperately to lean in and kiss him.

To feel his lips on mine. It was unsettling to realize that I could yearn for that so soon, as if there was a defect in me.

Right?

What was the normal wait time after what I went through for it to be socially acceptable to feel yourself aroused and wanting someone?

Was there a right answer to that?

“You shouldn’t want me,” I whispered when he didn’t move after turning off the light. “You wouldn’t want me if you knew the truth about me.”

There.

I said it.

I gave him an out.

“You shouldn’t want me.” He said back, his deep voice revealing some emotion other than annoyance and anger for the first time since I met him. “You wouldn’t want me if you knew the truth about me.” He finished, copying what I’d just said to him. “Yet you do. Just like I want you.”

He brought his hand up, slowly, off the arm of the chair next to me. I kept my eyes locked on his, even though I couldn’t see them clearly through the darkness.

I held my breath as he moved closer to me with a painful calmness. He was never rattled or affected by anything. What I wouldn’t give for that same level of control, the ability to hide it all behind a stone mask.

Kip ran his knuckles along my jaw, from my ear to my chin. His eyes dropped from mine to watch the path his fingers traveled, tracing over the bruises that lingered along my skin. They burned under his touch, but not from the pain.

From something more animalistic than that.

He turned his hand, so his calloused fingertips slid down my neck gently before drawing them back up, lifting my chin higher, tilting it towards his.

Goosebumps broke out over my entire body from just the small touches he was giving me. My breaths came rapidly as I tried not to move at all, in fear that he’d stop.

But in reality, that’s what I should have been afraid of; him not stopping.

But I wasn’t.

He closed the distance between us, bringing his body and face closer to mine until the whiskers of his beard ran across my lips with his breath. I tightly clenched the blanket on my lap, making my knuckles turn white.

“You want me. Don’t you?” He asked, his breath warm on my lips. I could smell the bourbon on it and sighed softly at the mixture of the bold liquor and his scent.

For the first time, I didn’t question my answer before I gave it. I didn’t run all the outcomes and next steps through my head before I found my voice. The old me was brave like that. I needed to be like her again, instead of this wounded and afraid little girl that the monster turned me into.

So I was just honest with him and myself.

“Yes,” I whispered.

His jaw locked and his cheek twitched as he swallowed .

But he said nothing else after that. He just closed the distance between us, pressing his warm lips to mine gently.

He pulled away after only a peck but didn’t back up, simply detaching his lips from mine. “I shouldn’t be doing this.” He whispered against my lips as he opened his hand along the side of my face, sliding his fingers into my hair. “I shouldn’t want to do this.” He slid his lips against mine again softly, but only briefly before he licked them with his tongue and sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, where he bit it gently. He was careful of my wounds, but not in a delicate way that mimicked pity. In a caring way, with just the touch of carnal need breathing underneath it, showing me just how badly he wanted to do more.

God, to be desired by a man like Kip.

After everything else.

“Please.” I moaned across his lips. But I didn’t know what I was begging for.

He pulled my head towards his with more force as he deepened the kiss, growling deep in his throat, sliding his tongue into my mouth as he angled his head to kiss me like his life depended on it .

No one had ever kissed me so deeply, with such rawness. Every other kiss I’d had before that moment felt superficial and shallow. They never left me with the emotions and feelings I got as he dropped his other hand to my thigh.

Even through the blanket, I could feel his warmth against me.

Warm like fire.

Flames.

Pain.

My mind left the room instantly and traveled back to the cell of fear and pain I’d escaped from only days ago.

I felt the panic run up my body from my stomach, into my heart, squeezing off all the air to my lungs.

Kip pushed the blanket to the side as he ran his hand up my thigh again, gentle enough not to hurt me, but with enough bite that I understood his need.

Just breathe, Hadley. I whispered in my mind, reassuring myself.

Kip wasn’t evil. Kip wasn’t him . My desire was the difference between the two situations. And I deserved to desire a man.

I fought to come back to the present, pushing the past out of my mind .

I brought my hands up from my lap, placed them on Kip’s shoulders, and slid them around his neck, pulling him in deeper. Sliding my fingers through the hair on the back of his head, he shivered under my touch as he pulled away from the kiss.

He moved down, placing sweet but hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw and to my ear. Feeling his hot ragged breath against the shell of my ear left me pressing my thighs together, searching for friction.

“Christ.” He cursed as he felt my hips rotate beneath his hands.

“Don’t stop,” I begged, pulling his face back to mine and attacking his lips once more. I was ravishing him like a horny teenager, and I didn’t care. Fuck it all, I wanted him. So damn badly. But more than that, I wanted to want sex to prove I still could.

He didn’t stop, instead; he grabbed my hips and stood up, pulling me up with him effortlessly. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck while my legs clung tightly to his waist for support.

But then the pain hit from changing positions so quickly and I gasped out, wrapping my arm around my waist as I fought to take a deep breath.

“Ahh.” I pulled my lips from his .

“Fuck.” He cursed as he gently sat me back down in the chair, kneeling in front of me. “I’m sorry. Shit, I forgot.” He apologized profusely, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

I fought through it though, finding that it came easier than it had yesterday to get through the pain.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.”

He dropped his head, refusing to meet my gaze as he, too, tried to calm his breathing. I could see the walls falling back down over his eyes with each deep breath, though, and I didn’t want him to shut me out. Not when he finally let me in, even just this inch. I slid my hands along his scruffy beard to his cheeks, angling his head to look at me again. My hands were tiny compared to his face, and I found it so intriguing. “I asked you not to stop. I forgot about it too until I moved, but I’m fine now.”

Yearning for his touch, I leaned back in and pressed my lips against his, silently pleading for him to kiss me again like he had before.

But he pulled his head back again, disconnecting our lips before sitting back on his feet, putting distance between us .

“Don’t,” I begged pathetically, as I felt his rejection wash over me. He was going to take it back. Bile rose in my throat as that dirty feeling crawled across my skin again like it had in captivity. “Please—”

“I shouldn’t have done that-” He started, still not looking at me as I frantically searched his face.

“Don’t!” I cut him off. “Don’t you dare take it back. You’ve acted like I’ve had the plague since I’ve been here, like I’m the most repulsive woman you’ve ever met and the second you treat me like an actual human being, you want to take that back? Don’t you dare!” I could hear the panic in my voice and knew that my emotions were rooted so much deeper than just our present situation.

He snapped his head back up to me as I called myself repulsive, and shock and remorse tormented his usually stoic face. I knew I was overreacting, and that I was projecting my fears onto him and his rejection, but I couldn’t stop it. The words just came out.

We just stared at each other for a million heartbeats in silence before the scowl melted off his face and he said, “Tell me what happened to you.”

Then it was my turn to drop my gaze. I looked back down at my lap as I took a deep breath .

Just tell him.

Just tell him about it. Tell someone! Release yourself from the new cell you’ve locked yourself in. My conscience begged me to let someone in for the first time in my life.

I looked up at him where he sat, patiently kneeling.

But I knew so little about him, I couldn’t give him that kind of info without knowing him more first. He’d have all the power if I did.

“Tell me what happened to you.” My voice was much weaker than I’d intended for it to be. So I took a deep breath and continued. “What happened to you to make you live out here completely alone and miserable? Tell me something that I can hold on to because I obviously can’t hold on to you. Your mood swings bring you in and out of my reach every other second.”

He stared into my eyes for a moment before shaking his head sadly and sighing as he stood. “That’s not how this works. I’m not the one looking for anything or anyone to hold on to, Hadley.”

And with that, he turned his back and walked down the hallway towards the bathroom. “I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, go on up to bed, you look like crap. Maybe some sleep will help.” He called over his shoulder before shutting the bathroom door.

My chest collapsed as the air left my lungs at his insult.

Of course, he thought I looked like crap.

I just wasn’t pretty enough for him, especially without makeup and products. I knew I looked bad with the bruises and cuts, but hearing him say so just shoved my self-esteem further into the ground.

A little mousey, ugly, self-conscious thing like you. No one will miss someone like you, now will they?

I could hear the saint’s voice like he was in this room with me. Like he was still alive, even. He said such heinous things, hitting them so close to home, like he knew my insecurities without me telling him. I couldn’t shake him and his torment.

The sound of the shower turning on broke the stillness of the room, amplifying the cracks in my heart as I sat there in silence and darkness.

I put myself out there, one time.

Just once. Maybe the most important time of my life, too .

And Kip reminded me why I couldn’t afford to do that ever again. No one could hurt you when you didn’t give them the tools to do so.

I slowly rose to my feet and walked over to his liquor cabinet. Opening it, I grabbed the bottle of top-shelf whiskey I’d noticed earlier and a glass from on top.

I slowly made my way up the stairs, careful not to drop the glass or bottle as each step made the ice in my chest grow thicker and thicker. Endeavor had been sleeping on the couch next to Kip during the movie, but he got up and slowly followed me up the stairs.

I hadn’t seen him go upstairs since I’d been there, and I was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care.

Frankly, the company would be nice.

So I went upstairs with Kip’s large protective dog and his top-shelf whiskey and drank myself into a level of drunkenness that I hadn’t achieved since my high school days.

And I finally saw what he found at the bottom of the bottle.

Peace.