Chapter 35
CHAPTER 35
BETH
I sit down in the living room, in the same spot where the couch used to be, and lean back against the wall. My heart speeds up as I let my carefully crafted walls fall down and my lip trembles. Now that I’m alone, I can let out what happened instead of bottling it all up. And for the first time since the light left Shawn’s eyes as he died in my arms, tears fall down my face and I fucking cry.
I cry as the heartbreak of Oliver’s betrayal hits me like a bomb, followed in quick succession with another and another. My chest vibrates with the pain as I take the phone out of my pocket. I turned it back on five minutes ago just to look at the messages, but it won’t stop vibrating against my ass.
The second I see “Ollie” as the caller, I throw my phone across the room with a scream of agony close behind the offending device. I’ve been hurt, rejected, dehumanized…but I’ve never felt betrayal this deep or this all-consuming.
He didn’t just hurt me.
He fucking destroyed me.
And, he’ll never do it again. I won’t let him. If I never see Oliver Doyle again, it will be too fucking soon.
* * *
I groan as I stare at the blinds, seeing a little light poking through, announcing the start of the day. It would be a wonderful sight if it wasn’t for the pain in my hip and my shoulder from sleeping on the hard floor. Using my duffle bag as a pillow could only do so much.
It’s okay. I’ll adjust.
I have a short list of things I’ll have to get from the Chevron gas station a few streets over, like jugs of water for drinking and bathing and some food. I’ll have to settle for one of those prepackaged danishes before I get on my job hunt.
I pull myself up from the floor and dust my jeans off before grabbing the brush from my bag. I work it through my hair, but stop halfway through when the sound of loud knocking makes me jump.
What the hell?
I swear, if Martin told Nigel where he took me, I will kill him.
I peek through the blinds and see a bunch of vehicles outside the house and three men in different uniforms standing on the porch.
I move to the door and unlock it, pulling it open. “Can I help you?” I ask, beyond confused.
Now that I’m outside, I can see one of them is with the water company and another is with the electric company, but the other I’m still unsure of.
“We’re looking for Bethany Mercer,” the one in the electric company uniform says, looking entirely bored.
“That’s me. How can I help you?”
Suddenly, the water guy and the electric guy both hand me a piece of paper before walking off and my head snaps around in the direction they went.
“What is going on?” I ask the only one still standing in front of me.
He doesn’t answer me though. Instead, he hands me a clipboard and a pen. “Just sign and I can get everything brought inside.”
I’m getting pissed. Is everyone incapable of answering a simple fucking question?
I look down at the clipboard and when my eyes scan the document in my hand, my heart races.
This man is delivering furniture and appliances and…the one who paid for all of it was Martin and my name is listed as the recipient.
Then, I look at the papers the other guys handed to me and my heart clinches. He paid for the electricity and the water to be turned on.
He didn’t have to do this. He has no responsibility to me and yet he did.
I quickly sign the paper and walk inside, leaving the door open for the rude delivery man. I go in search of my phone and find it across the room from where I was sleeping, still in the spot I kicked it to. I pick up the device, swipe away all the notifications of calls and texts from any of the Bastards or my friends from Grove Hill. Then, I find Martin’s contact and send him a text.
Beth:
You know, a warning would’ve been much appreciated.
I move to tuck my phone in my pocket, but then it vibrates in my hand. I pull it back to look and see a response from him and a new text from the biggest back-stabber in Grove Hill.
Oliver:
Will you give me some kind of a response? I just want to know you’re safe.
Fuck you, asshole.
Then, I look at Martin’s message.
Martin:
Why did I expect a “thank you” from you? Silly me.
I roll my eyes and huff from the sarcastic message. Maybe I am being a little defensive. He didn’t have to do this, but he did. He helped me and I don’t think he did it for any ulterior motive.
I can’t say the same for anyone who has ever done anything for me before, except maybe my dad, but that’s to be expected of a parental figure.
Not an acquaintance.
Because that’s exactly what Martin is. He’s not my enemy, but he’s not my friend either.
Beth:
Didn’t I say that? That text did include the word “appreciated”, didn’t it?
Martin:
Is it really that difficult for you? Here, I’ll start for you: “Thank you, Martin. I am so grateful that I won’t have to sleep on the floor tonight.” Aw, shucks, little rabbit. You didn’t have to.
I can’t help laughing at his antics and a flush rises up my cheeks as the movers move in and out of the house, but my focus is completely on my phone.
Beth:
Who says I slept on the floor?
Martin:
Logic would dictate such a conclusion since people empty out a house when they move out. I doubt there was an air mattress hiding in a closet. The stuff would’ve arrived yesterday, but O’Reilly and Oliver made a very rude interruption to interrogate me about your location.
My heart skips a beat. I really wish it was because he tried to make it so I wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor, but it’s not.
Nigel and Oliver are searching for me. I told Nigel not to, but I knew even then that he would. He has a sick obsession that’s for sure and clearly Oliver is only going along with it because of the person searching being Nigel, nothing more.
He wants to make sure I’m safe? Bullshit. I mean nothing to that psychopath except what I could give him. He had a steady flow of stress-free sex and that was all it was.
Beth:
One, that was very rude of them. :/ Two, you didn’t tell them where I am, did you?
Martin:
I told you I’m good at keeping secrets. However, Nigel may have left bleeding and with a few broken bones.
That worries me, but it’s not Nigel I’m concerned about. I know Martin said he might kick Nigel’s ass, but I thought he was joking to break up some of the tension.
Beth:
Are you okay?
I’ve seen Nigel beat up Martin too many times to blindly think he kicked Nigel’s ass without getting a scratch on him. My intestines twist from the anxious energy swelling around me.
Martin:
Are you worried about me, little rabbit? I’m touched.
I roll my eyes at his antics.
Beth:
Answer the question.
Martin:
Retract your claws. I’m fine. He didn’t get a swing in. Seeing your panties was enough to make all of his fighter training go out the window. I’ve never seen him look so pissed off.
I smile. I’m glad it made Nigel uncomfortable, but there’s still one person’s reaction I have not gotten. I need all the deets.
Beth:
What did Oliver do?
Martin:
Nothing really. He mostly just stood by. He seemed more pissed that I wouldn’t tell him where you were than about your underwear. Why do I get the feeling there should’ve been a more visceral reaction from him?
He didn’t react because he didn’t fucking care. He only acts like he does when he has something to gain.
Beth:
Maybe I’ll tell you that story over a drink while I lick my wounds one day.
Granted, Oliver is his cousin. They’re family. I don’t know how close they are, but they’re on good enough terms that Oliver said he never doubted Martin’s innocence about what happened to those girls that got hurt while around him.
I don’t want to cause any issues for Martin with his cousin.
No response comes through so, I put my phone back in my pocket and hope the day continues to have a positive outlook.
* * *
I walk back to the house, dripping in sweat and carrying a handful of job applications. The sun is starting to set, which is a major blessing. I swear, I need air conditioning and a large glass of water before I jump into a cold shower.
I turn the corner to my house and pause when I see Martin’s slate gray car in the driveway. He sits on the hood, looking down at his phone. What the hell is he doing here?
“Hey,” I say as I approach and he looks up, a smile on his face.
“It’s about time you showed up. I was about to start organizing a search party,” he jokes with a teasing look in his eyes.
I roll mine in response. “You could’ve told me you were coming.”
“I did. I texted you hours ago before I headed out.”
Dag nabbit!
“Sorry. I had my phone on silent. Those two idiots won’t stop calling or texting me.” At this rate, they’ll use up all the texts on my mom’s phone plan. I would just block them, but I can’t walk into the phone store and have them blocked without my mom since she’s the account holder. I really hope they come up with a way someday to just block someone from the device without all the hassle involved. Wouldn’t that be something?
“Well, you requested to spill your guts over a drink and I thought you would be hungry so, I really hope you like Chinese food. Grand Hunan makes the best lo mein outside of ChinaTown.”
What? I didn’t say that.
“I said one day. I didn’t say today.”
“That’s not how I interpreted it. Plus, what are you going to do? Sit around and wallow in self-pity into an invisible pint of H?agen-Dazs?” He tilts his head, waiting for my answer. Then, he adds, “No one should be alone and sometimes, you need people. There’s nothing wrong with that. It doesn’t make you any less strong to depend on other people whether that’s for emotional support or otherwise. Plus, the lo mein is to die for.”
Damn him.
I roll my eyes. “Fine, but I need a shower first.”
He grins. “Good. You need one. You stink.”
I laugh as we walk up the porch and into the house.