Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Dear Journal (NOT a fucking diary!),
I never expected to catch feelings for anyone here in Mystic Hollow.
Shit, I didn’t think it would ever happen at all.
But who wouldn’t fall for Hal? It’s a miracle he’s single in the first place.
The guy’s a real catch. Kind, sweet, caring, and so passionate about this town.
Every day he’s living his best life. Nothing fancy or complicated, just volunteering in the community and running his B&B.
And he’s so peaceful and satisfied in his world.
I’m so fortunate that I get to be a part of it.
I’ve been through the messy and chaotic side of life, and I don’t want to return to any of that.
Maybe I’m turning old before my time, but I just want to slow down and honor the fact that I’m fucking alive.
I came way too close to death far too soon.
Here in Mystic Hollow I’m learning to appreciate the little things.
A daily routine, friends I can trust, a room of my own, good food, a warm bed to sleep in—and at the center of it all, I’ve realized, is Hal.
He’s like a shining beacon of belonging drawing me in.
He’s ignited hope in me and made me start thinking about the future in ways I’ve avoided for a long time.
All without even trying, that’s just how fucking amazing he is, Hal’s worked his way into my bruised and battered heart.
So he needs to take some responsibility, dammit!
—Skylar Wright’s Personal Journal
Skylar
After sweeping me off my feet—in more ways than one—Hal just can’t help being… Hal. I don’t even try to hold back a big-ass grin when he decides to make us some hot chocolate for our little chat. It’s so… him, all the way.
He hums happily at the stove as he makes our drinks and then we carry them into the living room and sit together on the couch.
It took every ounce of courage in me to tell Hal how I feel. In all honesty, I couldn’t tell how it landed at first. He seemed dazed and confused, and I started wondering if I’d made a huge mistake.
But when we hugged, all the worry faded away.
Damn if that hug wasn’t fucking perfect.
I didn’t want to let go. None of my exes were ever much into holding each other like that.
For them, it was always about getting to the main course, whereas I wanted to cuddle and kiss, and I’m beginning to understand that I would have been happy with only that.
With Hal, I think that might actually be possible, but I need to be honest with him about a lot of stuff from the get-go.
He’s mentioned some difficult times being an outsider in his own family and among other sasquatches, but I’m pretty sure Hal hasn’t seen some of the darker shit that I have.
And part of me wants to keep it that way.
So long as he stays here in Mystic Hollow, he’s sheltered and protected from harm. It’s also one of the reasons I want to stay here. I’ve seen enough bad shit to last me a lifetime. In Mystic Hollow, I can breathe without looking over my shoulder all the time.
I set my empty mug on the coffee table and steady my nerves. I need to tell Hal at least some of the truth about the last year and how I ended up in this town.
I swallow hard.
You can do this, Skylar.
I turn to him. “Can I tell you a bit more about what happened to me with Damien?”
“Only if you want to. If you’re not ready, that’s okay. But I’m always here to listen anytime you need to talk about anything.”
I smile sadly. “Fuck, man. I wish I could’ve met you sooner, Hal.”
“Me too,” he murmurs.
After a couple of deep breaths, I begin to talk.
“I left home when I was sixteen. The only person in my family who ever gave a damn about me was my grandma, but she got cancer, and after she passed, I didn’t really see any point in staying with my parents.
They weren’t around much anyway, and they definitely weren’t taking care of their only kid.
Hell, they were basically kids when I was born, so no surprise, right?
I was just a young, dumb mistake to them, and they preferred to pretend I didn’t exist. You know what I mean? ”
Hal stays silent but pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, and I lean into him for support.
“Anyway, life on the streets was fucking hell. I’d occasionally get some odd jobs here and there, then usually ended up couch-surfing or staying in youth shelters until I aged out.
After that, I kind of moved from boyfriend to boyfriend, anyone who offered me a place to stay.
Always came with fucking strings attached.
” I cringe. “None of them were what Dr. P would call healthy. Shit, they barely made the bar of decent on a Tuesday. They were always about an exchange, sex on demand for a place to stay and regular meals. But at the time, I was a na?ve, lonely kid who was an easy target, and I worked real hard to convince myself they loved me. News flash, none of those assholes did.”
Hal begins to stroke my hair, and I relax into his reassuring touch.
“By the time I was twenty, I realized I couldn’t keep living that way.
I got my GED, then saved up money for cosmetology school.
Let me tell you, that was a bitch—it took me years.
By my late twenties, I had my life back on track, got my license, and found work at a local barber shop in Brooklyn to get experience.
I wasn’t making bank, but I was doing okay.
Enough to rent a room in an apartment with about five other guys and get off the boyfriend-is-home merry-go-round.
” I sigh. “After a few years of that, just when it seemed like I’d turned a corner and was making something of myself, I met Damien.
” My mood darkens at the recollection. “He was hot and charming as hell. He convinced me he loved me, swept me off my feet. I should have spotted the red flags from the start. And I’ll admit, it was real nice to be wanted in a way that didn’t seem tied to just my body.
It felt different, special. I ended up getting in deep way too fast. Damien was all attentive and caring at first—took me out on dates, bought me gifts, went hard and heavy with the love-bombing.
Three weeks in and I gave up my room in that apartment and moved in with him. ”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs as I bow my head.
“That’s when things started to change. From what I’ve worked through with my therapist, I get now that Damien was a textbook abuser.
He won me over quickly, then isolated me, made me dependent on him, and began chipping away at my self-confidence.
It started out as verbal abuse, although I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time, didn’t even know that was a thing.
He’d say terrible shit, put me down in horrible ways, but he’d apologize and swear it would never happen again, gaslight me that he was trying to help me be better.
He’d be all sweet and attentive for a while, and I’d let it go.
Part of me wanted to believe that he truly loved me, I guess, even as things went from bad to worse. ”
Hal starts rubbing my back as he continues to listen.
It’s grounding and it gives me the courage to continue my story.
“I’m not sure when it started, but Damien got involved in illegal gambling, racked up a bunch of debt.
He ended up going behind my back and getting lines of credit in my name to pay for his losses.
” I scowl. “I was stupid enough to share personal information with him, but I trusted him, and he convinced me it was what couples in love did. He must have read the word sucker on my fucking forehead every time he looked at me.”
For the first time since I started talking, Hal pipes up. “You’re not a sucker. He’s the one who betrayed your trust and took advantage of you.”
“In more ways than that,” I admit darkly. “At the same time as I discovered the whole fraud issue, I found out he was sleeping with other guys. Looking back, maybe he’d been doing that the whole time. That was the breaking point for me. I told him it was over, that I was leaving.”
My heart starts pounding, and a familiar sickening sensation fills my gut, but I try to push through.
“That was the first time he ever laid hands on me. Gave me a black eye, a busted lip, and a cracked rib. I tried to leave anyway—”
My voice cuts out for a second as nausea rises in my throat.
Hal wraps his arm around my shoulders and I lean into his side.
I swallow back bile as my mind replays the past. “But that just made him even angrier. That’s when that asshole…
forced himself on me. I tried to stop him, but he was a lot bigger and stronger than me, and I was already hurt from the beating he inflicted.
That shit-stain of a human being even tried to tell me he knew I wanted him ‘riled up.’ That I was ‘asking for it.’” I’ve told this story so many times.
To the cops, to the doctors and nurses at the hospital, to my therapist. It never gets easier.
“When Damien finally passed out, I realized he’d been hopped up on something when he attacked me, and I wasn’t gonna wait around to find out if he’d wake up or not.
I grabbed a bag, filled it with as much of my shit as I could, and got the hell out of there.
One of my former roommates took me to the hospital and sat with me while I told the police my story, but I was terrified out of my mind that Damien would come after me.
All I wanted was to get away from him and forget everything. ”
I brace myself and finally look up at Hal, who’s silently weeping. My heart twists in pain, and I reach up to wipe away some of his tears.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you. It’s a lot, I know. I just— I wanted, no needed, you to know.”