Chapter 16
CHAPTER 16
BETH
I wake up to Nigel’s arm tightening around my waist and his face buried in my hair. I doubt he’s awake because his breathing is still even, but there’s something about waking up in his arms after everything that happened last night that almost makes me tear up.
I’ve conceded that I’m not running from him anymore. I’m his, and he’s mine. That's not going to change, even though I want it to.
* * *
“What in God’s name is wrong with you!” my mom screams as I sit on the couch, completely unashamed. I knew it would come to this. The confrontation could only be delayed for so long. She saw enough to know what’s going on in my life, and I can’t blame her for freaking out. As far as she knows, a random guy carted me off like I was his property, and she hasn’t seen me since. Granted, it’s been a day and a half, and any parent in their right mind would lose their head, but this reaction from her is…unexpected. I figured she’d slap me for whoring myself out, and I’d disappear to my room until school tomorrow. Then, I’d be carted off by Nigel again, leaving her to drown in her booze.
“Answer me, Bethany! How could you just run off with that hood rat?” she sneers at me, and I return her scowl tenfold.
“Don’t talk about him like that. You don’t know anything about him.” I stand to defend him, but she laughs, still clutching the wine bottle between her fingers. I wouldn't call Nigel by that colorful language, but I have other words to describe him.
“I don’t need or want to know anything about that scoundrel. I know everything I need to know about him. Everyone knows his face. He’s a fucking Bastard. Do you know what that means in this town?”
I hiss. “Of course I do. I’m not an idiot, but he is my boyfriend and I’m eighteen. You can’t make me stop seeing him.”
“He is not like us, Bethany,” she slurs as she holds her head high. “You came from me and your dad, honey. This boy is so below you. I thought things were going good between you and Devon.”
I glare at my mother. No matter how much she has tried to force us together with weekly dinners, there is nothing between me and Devon Jordan. She practically has dollar signs in her eyes whenever she sees Devon or Mr. Jordan, and it’s nauseating. At first, I thought she was trying to get him to donate money to the church, but the more she tried to force me to that douchebag, the true motive became clear. She wants to use me to get her greedy fingers on the Jordan fortune.
She can’t do it herself because Mr. Jordan isn’t an idiot, she is a drunk, and she might keep his attention for a few weeks before he moves on to something bigger and better. She knows this, so she basically wants to sell me off so she can drink herself in a stupor without worrying about money.
“Good? I hate him, and I’ve told you that every week you’ve tried to make me spend time with him. I’m not going to be a goddamn trophy wife. I have more respect for myself than to sell my body like that, and so should you, Mom.” I cross my arms, completely fed up with this line of questioning.
“You are not going to see that boy again. I’m your mother, and I know what’s best for you, and it’s not some hick who will never go anywhere but the run-down house on Mason Road. Do you know what that boy will do? He’ll take your body, leave you pregnant and alone, and you’ll have nothing to show for it but an unwanted child who binds you to your mistake. Do you really think he loves you? Take a look at yourself, Bethany.” The words fall from her lips, and the disgusted look on her face practically screams you’re the problem, which is enough of a slap in the face to last a lifetime.
“You know, just because my dad died doesn’t mean you can treat me like garbage. Do you really think I’m worth that little? Fine, but I’ll keep fucking my boyfriend.” Her eyes widen in shock at my words. “Yeah, you heard me right. If you think that’s the true measure of my worth, how about you go fuck Devon and mind your business of who I have in my bed?”
I’m so pissed off by her audacity that I barely even register her slapping me across my face. The move has lost its shock value at this point. She can hit me all she wants. It won’t change a damn thing.
I walk to my room as she does her apology tour, but her words have lost their meaning. I slam the door behind me as I pull my phone out of my pocket, dialing Nigel’s number. Grabbing my duffle bag out of the closet, I fill it as my mom slams her fists against the door, screaming for me.
Well, that’s different. She’s never done that before, and that’s concerning, but not in a way that would make me want to check on her. It’s the kind of thing that has warning bells ringing in my head.
“Hey, babe,” Nigel answers, but his words halt at the sound of my mother screaming and slamming against my door, attempting to break it down. “What’s going on?” he asks authoritatively.
“Can you pick me up? My mom is trying to break down my door.”
I toss as many things in my bag as fast as possible, panicking as the door starts to split. What the fuck is she doing?
“Bethany!” my mother yells as I zip up my bag.
“I’m on my way. Sneak out the window.”
I nod, knowing he can’t see me, before hanging up. My heart races as I head for the window, fear gripping the muscle in my chest.
“Bethany, unlock this door, or I will put bars on your windows! You’re not going to shut me out like this!”
I unlock my window before throwing it open just as Nigel’s truck speeds down the street, screeching to a halt at the curb. I toss my bag out the window as my bedroom door splits down the middle, the crack splintering in on itself.
I gasp before hauling myself over the windowsill. Nigel makes this look so easy, but it's the furthest thing from that. My hips are stiff from all the strain my body went through yesterday, especially for this maneuver, but I climb out the window, carefully making my way down the lattice that I know Nigel uses to sneak in. It's wonky, but I manage not to kill myself. Barely landing on my feet, my legs ache from the drop. I move to my feet just as my mom makes it through the door.
“Bethany!” My mom yells again, and I run for Nigel’s truck, where he’s waiting for me. His seat belt is off, and the tension in his aura is palpable.
“Drive!” I demand, full of anxiety, as my highly intoxicated mother attempts to crawl out the window, but there’s no ledge for her to grab onto. She’ll just fall, and she quickly realizes that, too.
Nigel doesn’t need any other coaxing. He takes off at full speed, and I glance out the back window as my mother runs out into the street, waving her arms like she thinks that'll make him turn around.
“What happened?” he demands as he takes a sharp turn around the corner, and I release the long breath I was holding.
“Nothing,” I lie, knowing he wouldn't buy it. He never does.