Chapter 4 #2
Happy birthday, sis. I got you a Fitbit.
I wonder if Dean is reading my mind because he tilts his head to the side, studying me almost fondly. “She was excited for that ice cream cone today,” he tells me, and there is a whimsy to his voice.
Tears well and burn as I nibble on my lip.
Mandy and I always celebrate our birthdays together with an ice cream cone at a downtown café.
We do our secret handshake, take a selfie in front of the ice cream parlor, and eat our treats on the swings at a nearby park.
It’s been tradition ever since we were children when our parents would take us.
Mandy’s birthday is in November, so often times we are bundled up like Eskimos, getting strange looks from passersby as we sit on snow-covered swings.
But we love it.
And there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.
I wiggle my toes as the memories force a few silent tears down my cheeks. I brush them away with my shoulders and try to suck in a calming breath.
Dean is still watching me, taking in my emotions like a film. “You’ll get that ice cream cone. I promise you.”
I’m not sure why he’s being kind to me. It’s confusing and unsettling, and I don’t know how to respond to him like this. We’re designed to fight—swords of steel, heavy armor, and words that sting and draw blood. Letting my guard down feels an awful lot like surrender.
Unsure of what to say, I just offer him a scowl.
Dean lowers his eyes to the slate gray floor with mild defeat.
When he glances back up to me, the twinkle is long gone, replaced by the hopelessness that is hovering inside these four walls, closing in on us.
“I’m not your enemy down here, Corabelle.
” His words carry an unfamiliar weight as they continue to disarm me.
“I don’t know how to see you as anything else,” I admit.
He stares at me, unwavering, daring me to look away. Then the twinkle reappears, and Dean replies, “Because it’s fun.”
“No.”
My defenses flare back to life and I’m grateful for that—because it’s easier.
Comfortable.
Not fun .
“You’re such a liar,” he persists. “And stubborn.”
I narrow my eyes at him, my molars grinding together in the way that they do when I’m preparing to rush into battle with Dean Asher. I cross my feet at the ankles and lean back against the pole. “You sure have a twisted idea of fun ,” I shoot back.
Dean runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth, breathing in deep as he prepares to take me down.
I can almost feel his dagger poking at my chest. His head cocks to the side, his eyes blazing blue.
“Remember when my buddy from college came into town to take me out for drinks? You told him I had a secret crush on him.”
Ah, crap.
“Then you slipped me fucking Viagra before we left and I had to hide my dick with a bar napkin the whole damn night. But I’m pretty sure he noticed because I haven’t heard from him since, and he deleted me on Facebook.
” Dean is watching my reaction like a hawk.
“You can’t tell me you didn’t love that shit. ”
Dammit . I completely give myself away when a smile creeps in, pulling at my lips. It’s my first smile in days. I’m not sure whether to be angry and accusatory, or to keep on smiling.
But Dean already knows he’s won. “I rest my case.”
I turn my head to the side in an attempt to hide the evidence, but the damage is already done. He sees right through me.
We are interrupted when an ugly presence pervades us.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk .
Those boots stomp all over me before they even reach the bottom of the staircase. I rise to my feet as my heart thunders in my chest with resistance. I’m already shaking—quivering with fear. Dean stands slowly, his eyes still pinned on me, but missing the playful spark I had seen only seconds ago.
I want it back.
“Good morning, pets,” Earl greets us, wearing some kind of black work polo that stretches out over his large stomach, barely tucking into his pants. “How’s my kitten?” His dark eyes shift to Dean. “And the dirty dog.”
I swallow. “We want to go home.”
Raucous laughter erupts from his mouth, and I feel his spit mist my face. I hold back a gag.
“You are home. I’m your master now,” Earl says once his laughter has ebbed. “Is kitten ready to play?”
No, no, no .
Earl loosens his belt buckle as he descends on me with a sickening, lust-filled gaze. I start inching away, kicking my legs, swinging my head back and forth in protest.
“You sick bastard… you’ll never get away with this,” Dean shouts, yanking his chains forward as the veins in his neck bulge and pulsate. “When I get out of here I will beat you into dogmeat if you lay another hand on her. I promise you that.”
Earl chuckles, unthreatened by the warning. “Don’t be jealous, doggie. You’ll get your turn.”
What the hell ? I jerk my head towards Dean, wondering if he is also going to be subject to Earl’s vile acts. Oh, God . The thought makes my stomach pitch.
“Do what you want to me. Leave her alone.”
Dean’s words only tighten the coil of unease in my gut. Why is this man throwing himself to the wolves for me?
He hates me. I hate him.
But I don’t have time to sort through the confusion because Earl is tugging up the hem of my t-shirt and fondling my bare breasts in his sweaty palms.
“No… please,” I whisper. My voice is weak, and my fight is futile. My body still rejects Earl’s advances as much as it can, but eventually I go limp and numb, my eyes searching for Dean.
Dean talks me through it like he did last time.
Look at me, Cora. Focus on me. Nothing else is real. It’s only me and you.
I sink underwater once more and let myself drown.
“I’m cold.”
The sun is setting and our only light source begins to eclipse. A chill has settled in my bones. I’m not sure if it’s the cold cement against my exposed skin or my reality stabbing into me like icicles, freezing my veins.
Both, I’m sure.
I’m lying against the pole, listless and paralyzed. The last forty-eight hours, along with all the long, foreboding hours to come, have taken their toll on me. I’m mentally drained.
And so, so cold .
Dean looks ashen and equally rundown, but he’s spent the entire day talking to me, telling me stories, and trying to lift my spirits. I find that my stone walls are crumbling in the presence of his alter-ego.
He casts his sympathetic eyes on me, trailing them along my naked legs. The muscles in his jaw tick. “I meant what I said,” he says to me, his tone low and hardened. “I’m getting us out of this. And I’m going to kill him for hurting you.”
I’m unsure of what to say to such a bold promise, so I force a tight smile that has no intention of reaching my eyes. “You really think we’re getting out of here?” I ask timidly.
“I know we are.”
I realize Dean has no way of knowing this and he’s only saying it to give me hope, but I let the words soak into all of my susceptible cracks and crevasses. I cling to them with everything I have left.
Before I can reply, I watch as Dean begins to kick off his shoes.
One by one, he uses the toe of his left foot to shimmy out of the heel of his right.
Then vice versa. When his sneakers are removed, he slides them over to me with his sock-covered feet.
“They probably smell like a gym locker, but they’re warm. It should help a little.”
Our eyes catch and hold, a foreign tenderness traveling between us. I press my lips together, my gaze flickering between the shoes and Dean’s vulnerable expression.
He throws me a smile, just as tender, and I wonder how hard it was for him to produce such a thing at a time like this. “I’d give you my socks if I thought you had a way of putting them on.”
Maybe this is what my sister has always seen in Dean.
“ He’s not that bad, Cora. Just give him a chance. He’s a decent guy .”
I used to laugh in Mandy’s face because Dean never showed me his “decent” side. I never understood why.
“Because it’s fun.”
“It’s harmless, and it’s us.”
“You give it right back to me, Corabelle.”
“Thank you,” I say as the day turns to dusk and the sunlight abandons us.
I fall asleep that evening, rattled and bewildered, beaten down and used. But a tiny pocket of hope lingers inside me, buried deep, trying so hard to claw its way to the surface.
And, above all, I am warm.