Chapter 33
CHAPTER 33
BETH
“I need to leave Grove Hill,” I explain as we sit on the bed in what has to be a spare bedroom. His eyes narrow in confusion.
“Why? Did something happen?”
I nod. “Yeah, a lot of something.” I roll my eyes. “Nigel knows about what happened between us,” I admit.
Still, the confusion doesn’t lift from his face. “Okay, but that doesn’t explain why you need to leave.” He places his hand over mine, squeezing my fingers with barely any pressure. “You can tell me. You know I’m good at keeping secrets.”
Yeah, I’ve seen that.
Trying to get the words out is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.
“Nigel isn’t as good of a guy as you think he is.”
His eyes widen and his fingers tighten.
“What did he do?”
I take a deep breath before I speak, “After that first fight I was at, Nigel was pissed. I tried to leave before he got back to the house. He was making me stay at his house, pretty much controlling every aspect of my life. He caught me trying to leave and dragged me back in the house. He forced me into his room and then…” I trail off before harnessing every ounce of courage in my body. After a minute, I say the words I’ve avoided, ignored, and pushed down as far as I could. “He raped me.”
Saying the words give them power, power over my truth, power over myself.
“They let him get away with doing that to you?” Martin’s voice is affected as he moves closer and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. I bury my face against his shirt as my heart races.
“They don’t know and I don’t want them to. If they find out…” I can’t even say it. I’m one of the few people who know what they do to the people who break the rules. They keep it a secret for good reason. “I don’t want anyone to know.” There’s a shame associated with what Nigel did, like maybe it really was my fault. “You’re the first person I’ve told.”
Since my conversation with Oliver in the kitchen, I knew Martin was a kindred spirit, someone who hid their pain from the world. Now, it’s more than that. We’ve bonded in the short time that I’ve been here. It’s small, but it’s there.
“Thank you,” he whispers in my ear, his voice full of tension.
“For what?” I ask as I look up at him. His eyes are truly beautiful, like looking at the Carribean waves crashing against the shore.
“For trusting me with that. I’m honored to be the first person you told. I can’t promise that I won’t hurt him the next time I see him though.”
A laugh falls from my lips as I slowly pull away.
He smirks. “Feel better?”
I shrug. “A little.” It’s the truth. Sometimes laughter is truly the best medicine.
“Good.” Then, he frowns. “Where are you planning to go?”
“Probably back to Hempstead. My mom didn’t sell the house just in case moving to Grove Hill was a bad move. I bet that would be the last place Nigel would look for me.”
Nigel knew I had nothing left for me in Hempstead. His first assumption would probably be that I’d run to Washington where Teigan and Delaney are. Hempstead is just a pit stop until everything cools down. Once I’m sure he won’t be looking for me anymore, I’ll go there. Right now, I just need a place with a roof over my head to hide.
I definitely wouldn’t ask Martin to hide me here.
“Can you give me a ride?” I ask, uneasy about asking anyone for help. I’m so used to doing everything myself. I wouldn’t ask if I had another option.
“Sure. Let’s go.”
* * *
Before leaving, Martin took me to his room which was seated in one of the furthest rooms in the house. I stood there awkwardly as he pushed open the door.
Sitting on the bed, Casey is perched like she was just waiting for him to come back.
Oh. Right. I forgot that they were dating.
Wow.
This feels awkward.
Martin left his girlfriend alone in his room to come deal with me and my drama. This is sure to give the bitch another reason to hate me. Not only was I dating her ex, but now I’m taking up her current boyfriend’s time.
Good thing I won’t ever have to see Casey again. Grove Hill is about to be behind me.
“What are you doing here?” she sneers at me, a look of disgust across her face.
“Be nice,” Martin warns in the same tone Teigan used to use when she would say “you don’t need to punch the bitch. She’s not worth it”, but I don’t think he meant it in the same way she would.
Casey’s gaze shifts from me to Martin and then back to me. “Why are you in my boyfriend’s house? I thought you were better than all of this, slumming it all over Mason Road.”
If I was as much of a bitch as she is, I might be tempted to rub in her face that Mr. Gray wants me to marry her “boyfriend”, but I’m better than that. She can throw daggers at me all she wants and my lips will remain sealed until he decides to tell her, if he ever does.
“Stop it right now,” he practically growls at her before moving to her side. “I’ve told you a hundred times. I’m not your boyfriend. Stop telling people that I am.”
Oh. Wow.
That makes no sense at all. He was carrying her around that warehouse like she was his property and even Michael said it was serious.
“Now, I need you to go home.” His voice softens enough to not be full of tension and her eyes narrow.
“Seriously? You’re kicking me out. Why? For her ?”
I don’t know where her hypersensitivity is coming from, but that’s clearly not what’s going on. I don’t know Martin that well and from my limited observation, he clearly doesn’t want to leave her here and chance something bad happening to her.
This house is dangerous and Martin is her only protection here.
“You know the rules. You can’t be here if I’m not. You need to go home tonight. I’ll walk you out,” he offers, his voice full of understanding.
I swear, he must be a saint to put up with her bullshit.
“No need,” she hisses as she grabs her bag and her shoes off the floor. “I guess she can suck your dick from now on.” She walks right over to me as she grabs the doorknob and scowls at me. If looks could kill… “I guess Nigel and Oliver got tired of tossing you around. Such a pity. Too bad you’re not The Bastard’s Whore anymore.”
I flinch from her words as Martin practically bellows her name, telling her to leave me alone.
She’ll never know how deeply those words cut. It’s not the bit about Nigel that got to me. No, it’s that Oliver got tired of me to the point of telling everyone I was easy.
Easy.
Maybe I was, but there’s a difference between being easy and someone seeing you as only that. The pain from that burns deep in my chest. It was a deep betrayal of my heart, but then he told Nigel about me and Martin. That was a betrayal to every ounce of trust I had in him.
I would have more faith in him if I walked in on him screwing someone else.
“Sorry,” Martin mutters as he drags a hand down his face.
“I probably should’ve warned you that she clearly hates my guts.” I rub my arms, trying to keep my shit together. It’s bad enough that he already saw me semi-break. A full-on mental breakdown would be too embarrassing.
“That wasn’t your fault. Don’t shoulder the blame for her shitty attitude. It’s no excuse, but she has a really bad home life and always wants to hang out here to escape it. Her dad is a piece of shit and her stepmom isn’t any better.”
I shrug. “I get that.” I don’t understand how bad her home life would have to be for her to treat everyone like shit, but I have enough experience to say that it’s not an excuse for being a shithead. “My mom was really horrible before she went to rehab,” I confess.
His oceanic eyes rise to mine and I catch empathy in them.
“How bad?” he asks.
“I had to use double the amount of makeup I used to.” That’s enough information to paint a picture. There’s nothing else to say.
We’ll see how she is after treatment.
Martin stands there for a moment, staring at me, not saying a damn word. He just watches me and it’s a bit disarming. I’m not used to people staring. The only other people that have stared at me at all in recent times are Oliver and Martin’s father.
Martin’s stare doesn’t feel like his father’s. It’s not snakes slithering across my skin, but like a gentle hug, an acknowledgement that I’m not alone.
It’s comforting.
Did I really misjudge Martin Gray so horrifically?
I guess my ability to tell the good ones from the bad ones isn’t as on point as it used to be.
“Come on,” he utters as he walks back over to me, swinging his car keys around his finger. “Let’s get you out of here before they figure out where you ran off to.”
* * *
I don’t have to direct Martin to where the old house is. He takes the correct turns and doesn’t ask once for assistance. He pulls into the short driveway and parks next to the walkway that leads to the porch.
It’s been so long since I’ve been here it feels like a stranger’s house.
“How did you know where my house was?” I ask, turning slightly to face him.
He smirks. “Because I drove you home the night we met.”
Oh.
I didn’t know that.
I never asked Teigan or Delaney how I got home. I just figured they dropped me off after Martin and I finished up. I may not know him very well, but I do know myself. I wouldn’t let some stranger drive me home unless I had a reason to.
Then, there’s how easily he touched me with such affection earlier.
We sit in silence for a moment as I dig my teeth into my lip, contemplating if I really want to know the answer to my question.
“It…wasn’t just sex that night…was it?”
That’s the only conclusion I can come to. Something happened that night besides the sex.
His eyes narrow, his expression pensive, before he mutters, “Yeah. It was more than that.”
It’s something I knew the second I realized Martin was the guy I hooked up with that night. I don’t know how I knew, but I just did . I knew it was more than just a random hook up and part of that scared the fuck out of me.
He looks out the windshield before he continues, “We were supposed to meet up the next day, but…you never showed up.”
I stood him up and I didn’t even know it.
“Sorry.” I’ve never been stood up before, but I bet it sucks.
“I came to check on you and make sure you were okay, but your mom answered the door. She said you weren’t around so I went back to Grove Hill.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal, though his expression tells a different story.
He was hurt. He might not be anymore, but he was when it happened.
I don’t know what more to say than how sorry I am and I’ve already done that, so I take off my seat belt. “Thank you for the ride. I really appreciate it.” I give him a soft smile before a truly evil idea hits me. “Wait here for a second.”
Martin stares at me with confusion as I get out of the car, grab my duffle bag from the backseat, and close the door behind me. I walk up to the front door, pull my keys out of my back pocket, and unlock the door. Slipping inside the house that used to smell like clean laundry and rose water but just smells stale now, I drop my bag and quickly take off my jeans, stripping away my panties. I re-dress before walking out the door, the panties balled up in my palm. As I approach Martin’s sleek gray car, he rolls down the window, looking at me with the same confusion as he had before I went inside.
I lean down before saying, “The next time you see Nigel or Oliver, can you give these to them?” I hold out my underwear and his gaze shifts between my face and the fabric in my hand.
“You do realize that they’ll think we hooked up if I do that?”
I shrug. “Let them think what they want. That’s kind of the point.” Teigan didn’t just name me The Queen of Petty for no reason. I will hit any motherfucker where it hurts if they give me a reason to. Exhibit A: Screwing Nigel’s best friend while he was screwing around on me.
After all, Oliver already thinks I’m easy. What’s wrong with enforcing that belief?
The confusion melts from Martin’s face and a look of devious intentions cover his face before he tucks the underwear into his pocket.
“Thanks,” I say before standing up.
“No problem. Listen, if you need anything, just let me know and I’ll do what I can to help.”
I really appreciate the sentiment, but I have a hundred bucks in my wallet, which should last me until I get a job and get my first paycheck as long as I’m smart. Granted, I’ll be without electricity and running water until then as well, but I’ll survive.
“Thanks,” I mutter, knowing I won’t ask him for anything. This will probably be the last time I ever see him and that leaves a bitter taste on my tongue.