Chapter 8 #3
My breath hitches slightly as our fingers touch. He’s near enough that I can feel his heat. Everything in me is screaming that this is a bad idea—he is a bad idea. So why do I sit and relax on the bench seat as we take off across the dark water?
My eyes quickly adjust to the low light of the evening, watching as the stars start to spot the sky.
The rocking of the boat, the small splash of the water, the warmth spreading through me as the alcohol hits my empty stomach, all calming me for the first time in a long time.
We fall into a peaceful silence. I look up and he’s staring at me.
His blue eyes watching me like a hawk. The intensity makes me squirm.
“You must be cold. Shit,” he curses as he swiftly unzips his hoodie.
“Oh, no—” I start, but before I can finish, he tosses the hooded sweatshirt over to where I’m sitting.
The cotton is soft and warm beneath my fingers, and despite myself, I slip it on.
It smells like him—smoky and rich. I can’t stop myself from snuggling into the fabric.
With his arms now exposed, I can see the intricate sleeves of ink covering his muscles.
They’re detailed and almost delicate in some areas, yet from afar, they depict assertive, masculine scenes.
Mostly nature images, forests, and animals.
“Your tattoos are beautiful,” I say before I can stop myself.
He casts a glance over his shoulder and smirks.
“I once noticed a girl I liked admiring someone’s tattoo.
As soon as I was old enough, I got a tattoo to be that type of guy.
And then I got another and another and now, well…
” He shrugs and nods at his ink-covered arms. “They become pretty addicting.”
The story pulls at another loose thread of a lost memory. A time long ago and a man with a tattoo of a bird, but before I can place the fleeting image with a time or place, the memory slips through my fingers, lost back into the recesses of my mind.
“I think I’d like to get a tattoo sometime,” I remark.
“What would you get?” he asks while maneuvering the small boat through the water with ease.
“I’m not really sure,” I admit to him, and despite myself, the words just seem to spill out. “I’m not sure I really know who I am anymore, honestly.”
He sits for a moment, chewing over my admission. “Maybe you’re just getting back to who you were meant to be, Allison.”
I’m about to ask what he means when we turn a corner and the lights of the house come into view, a beacon through the dark cold gloom of the winter evening.
But instead of filling me with relief, my insides knot and coil with anxious dread.
The truth is, I don’t want to go back inside.
I don’t want to play nice while my mother-in-law is passive aggressive and my husband flirts with waitresses right in front of me.
I want him to steer the boat far away. I haven’t felt the urge to run in a long time. I thought that part of me had died.
“Want me to just drop you at the dock?” Gabriel asks.
Is it just in my head or does he sound disappointed?
“Sure,” I tell him as I catch a glimpse of a man walking down the dock, the outline of his body lit by the lights of the house beyond. “That’d be great.”
Unease tightens inside me, constricting tighter and tighter as we get closer to the landing. Until we get close enough that I can see Brody standing on the dock. I swiftly deposit my empty bottle in the trash and slide out of Gabriel’s sweatshirt, tucking it neatly on the seat next to me.
“You good?” Gabriel growls as we approach the dock.
“That’s my husband,” I reply. My eyes don’t leave Brody’s. He looks fuming.
“That’s not what I asked.” The instance in Gabriel’s tone has my eyes snapping to his.
The blue of his irises is alight with something dark I haven’t seen before. He looks angry, but not with me.
“I don’t have to leave you here, Allison.” He nods reassuringly, his gaze boring into me as if he can see past my carefully constructed facade. “Say the word and I’ll turn this boat around.”
I swallow down my words before they can leave my mouth. As much as I’d like to run, that’s not who I am anymore.
I am not weak. I am in control.
I plaster on the fakest smile I can muster and throw my shoulders back. “I’m fine. My husband is waiting for me.”
For a beat, he stares at me. His eyes piercing through me. He seems to be debating something. Then he turns away and steers the boat to the dock.
I stand on unsteady legs and maneuver to the side of the boat. Brody doesn’t meet me. He stands stock still in the middle of the dock, hands on his hips, eyes looking down at me. When he doesn’t move to help me, I begin to hoist myself out of the boat.
“For fucks sake,” Gabriel mutters under his breath before jumping the edge and landing on the deck. He offers me an outstretched hand which I gladly accept.
“That’s my wife’s hand you’re holding.” Brody’s angry voice cuts through the cold air. The sun has all but set now and the night is quickly closing in around us. “Who the hell are you, friend?”
Gabriel doesn’t take his eyes off of me, making sure I land safely on the dock and am settled before releasing my hand.
I immediately miss the warm strength of his calloused fingers beneath mine.
His eyes narrow and a flash of something dark flits across his features before it’s replaced with a smile.
“Your wife was lost. I just gave her a lift back to the dock,” he says in a cool tone as he turns to face Brody. He places himself between me and my husband.
“Ali,” Brody’s cold eyes narrow in on me, “get the fuck over here.” His tone leaves no room for argument.
I let out a long sigh before taking a step down the dock.
Then another. A warm hand wraps around my wrist, squeezing slightly before letting go.
Gabriel’s reassuring gesture doesn’t go unnoticed, even through the darkness I can see my husband’s gaze flare with fury.
He’s possessive, but only when it suits him.
As soon as I’m within reach, he strikes out.
“Ow!” I shriek as his hand clamps around my upper arm. His grip is bruisingly tight. “Brody, you’re hurting me.”
He drags me to his face, so close I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “And you hurt me when you act like a bitch, Ali.”
I feel his presence at my back before he speaks. Brody is too busy seething with rage in my face to notice the figure looming above us.
“Let her go,” Gabriel growls. “Now.”
The water beats against the dock, the sound echoing through the darkness surrounding us. There’s a slow pause as the world seems to still momentarily. And then chaos erupts.
“How dare you embarrass me like this in front of my family,” Brody balks as he lets go of my arm.
I’m so momentarily relieved to be free of his bruising grip that I don’t notice his hand reeling back until it’s too late.
I don’t have time to block the blow. The back of his hand and fingers strike my cheek fast and hard, sending me falling backward in shock.
The pain isn’t immediate, its blossoms slowly into a blinding throb as I fall, my body tumbling as pain and shock propel me back.
I stick out my hand to catch myself but it’s too late.
My elbow collides with the wooden planks of the dock.
Pain shoots down my arm and throbs in my face.
“Motherfucker,” someone seethes and I look up in time to see Gabriel closing the distance between himself and my husband.
He grabs Brody by the collar but my husband is a snake. Swifter than should be capable for someone as drunk as he is, my husband’s fist flies out, striking my new coworker in the jaw. When Gabriel’s head snaps toward me from the blow, he no longer looks like himself.
My vision is blurred from pain, tears pricking my eyes, and yet I can still make out the Devilish grin that spreads across his face.
Blood pools against his lip, staining his teeth.
His eyes seem to glow red and I have to blink several times to try and clear my vision.
He brings a hand up to his cut lip, scooping a drop of blood with his thumb and licking it with his tongue.
Red flashes in my vision. He winks. Nausea rolls through me and the world seems to spin.
And then he laughs. A slow, sinister laugh that sends a shiver down my spine.
“Ali, get the fuck up,” Brody barks at me. “We’re going back inside.”
“You’re not going anywhere, fucker,” Gabriel whispers before pouncing.
He lands on top of Brody, pining him to the ground with a thud. I struggle to sit up while my head throbs. My body protests my movement. He hits my husband again, and again, and again.
“What’s going on down there?” a voice calls from above. The light of a flashlight moving down the stairs to the dock breaks through the darkness.
“Gabriel…” My hand flies out to grab his arm. He immediately stills under my touch, his entire body going rigid. “You have to go. Someone’s coming.”
His head snaps up, noticing the approaching visitor.
He stands slowly, spinning to face me after taking a calming breath. When he faces me again, he’s back to normal, the calm and cool mask has fallen back into place.
“I won’t leave you here with him.” He nods back to where Brody is starting to sit up, blood is seeping from his lip and there’s a cut above his eye.
“I’ll be okay, he won’t hit me in front of his family and their guests,” I say and realize as the words are spoken out loud how awful that sounds.
Maybe I’ve made excuses for far too long.
“And when you get home?” Gabriel asks as he helps me to my feet, steadying me as I sway with his strong hands.
I look up at him, into his blue eyes, and for the first time in a very long time, I don’t feel alone.
“He won’t come home. He’ll stay here to lick his wounds. Trust me,” I tell him as he wraps his arms around me, cradling me in warmth and safety. “You should go. I don’t want you to get in trouble for me.”
His eyes scan my face. He looks like he’s about to say something, but before he can, he stops himself.
“Brody!” I recognize my father-in-law’s voice as he descends onto the dock. “What the hell is going on here?”
I immediately miss the warmth and safety of Gabriel’s arms as he turns and leaves, the sound of his boat cutting across the water tells me he’s gone but I don’t turn around to look.