23. Summer
Summer
D ark shadows colored the bags under his bloodshot eyes, and his normally gelled hair was sticking up in a mess on one side.
“What—” I glanced at the open door and swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”
“You think you’re the only one who can be a detective?” He cocked his head, his red-rimmed eyes narrowing. “How do you think, Summer? I followed you. I saw you leave work and figured we could have this conversation at your place. But, no. You came here to, what, whore yourself out to whatever man will take you?”
“Fuck you,” I spat. “You don’t know anything about me or Van.”
“Oh, I know plenty. After your little stunt at The Boathouse, I started doing some digging. It took me a little while to connect everything. Do the math. My free time, my reputation in my neighborhood, that was an annoyance. My friends making fun of me because of the embarrassing pictures I somehow posted. Frustrating. I had to change my number because of all the calls I was getting. Whatever. But then my fiancée tells me she has proof I’m cheating on her.”
“You were cheating on her.”
“She didn’t need to know that? Why couldn’t you let it go? Why did you have to ruin my life?”
“Your life isn’t ruined. Take some responsibility for your actions. There was nothing I did to you that you didn’t have coming.”
“You’re a heinous bitch.”
I shrugged. “I prefer tempestuous .”
“They fired me this morning. I moved here for that job. Security had to escort me off base. They’re opening a case against me.”
I raised a brow, not even trying to school my features. “How would they know if you didn’t tell them, Summer? Why couldn’t you leave me alone?”
Losing my temper was the wrong call, but I couldn’t contain it.
“Why should I? You made your choices. You think you can go around hurting people, and no one would want to fight back? Was I supposed to lie down and take your deception? The invasion of showing off pictures of my body and not fight back?”
“Yes.” He screamed. “It’s not my fault you were a slut who sent me those photos. It’s not my fault you fucked me without asking me if I had a girlfriend. And it’s not my fault you wanted a relationship out of me.”
“All I want from you is for you to get out of my boyfriend’s home.”
He stepped toward me, then another, his pace languid as if he were a large cat stalking his prey. “No. I’ve got you, and you’re going to pay for what you did to me.”
“This is Van’s house. He’s going to be here any minute now.”
I hated using another man to get him to back off, but the closer Cory got to me, the more obvious his gaze was too frantic to hear reason, his body too tense.
“No, I don’t think he will.”
“He will. He gets off work at five, and I asked him to meet me here.”
Cory tsked at me. “No. He’s still at work. I put a location tag on his car.” Cory brought out his phone, checked the screen, and turned it to face me. “See, still fifteen minutes away. His car hasn’t moved in five hours.”
He advanced closer to me, and my shoulder hit the shelf of Glyndon’s teacups, rattling them against their saucers.
“I’ll have plenty of time with you.”
“What do you want from me, Cory? An apology? I’m sorry you were found out.”
“It’s too late for an apology, and we both know that wasn’t one.” He shuffled his foot between mine and yanked a chunk of my hair, jerking my face to his.
“I want to know what makes you think you have to right to fuck me over like this? Huh? A little fucking nobody. Barely graduated high school, still works in service, has done nothing with her life. Who the fuck do you think you are.”
My scalp screamed, and despite trying to keep myself together, I couldn’t stifle my reflexive tears.
“That’s right. Cry for me. Let me see those alligator tears. Not feeling strong now, are you?”
Panic rushed through me as he wrapped a hand around my throat and pressed down on my trachea.
“No, you’re not tough at all. Just a dumb bitch trying to take away what I’m owed.” His vise grip made my vision swim.
Scrambling against his chest, I pushed, scratched, punched for him to let me go, but my fight brought out a new strength in him. I clawed at his arms, but my nails couldn’t dig hard enough to get him to relent.
A vicious glint formed in his eyes as he squeezed, and my ears began to ring.
Is this terrible man’s face the last thing I will see? It can’t be.
I had Van. We were going to be together, and all of that was fading away as quickly as my sight as Cory crushed farther in.
I said a quick vow to whoever was listening, Please let me fight my way out. Please give me another chance. One more day with Van. One more.
I love him. I love him. I love him, and I need to find my way back to him.
Blood pulsed under my skin as I flailed around, looking for something—anything—to hit him with.
A teacup.
Holding it by the handle, I slammed it against his face where the china shattered, cutting his cheek open.
His grip loosened enough for me to drag a single breath of air in before he forced his weight on me again.
Black edged my vision.
Grasping what was left of the handle, I jammed the jagged edge into his face.
I couldn’t see where I was hitting, but I did it again and again.
At the sound of tearing flesh, something gave way, and hot, sticky blood poured down my hand.
He let go of me, and as I breathed in big jagged gasps of air, I stumbled to get to the front door. To get to the street, find a neighbor, something—anything but be in that house with him.
I took three steps down the hall as my sight returned, and I was almost to the door when I’m wrenched back by my hair.
As I kicked out behind me, my bare feet brushed off him a few times before I could make contact.
I opened my mouth to shout, but the sound was strained by my neck being pulled taut as he yanked my head back again, the act burning my throat.
As I fell onto my stomach, his heavy body landed on top of me.
Why didn’t I pay attention to action movies?
I bucked and flailed under him as he took my head in his hand and bashed my face into the floor. Blood poured as my nose cracked.
He screamed obscenities, calling me names, as he pulled my head back again.
A painting plummeted to the floor, shattering glass all over, and as he brought my head down, a piece sliced my neck.
The searing hot pain of being sliced paired with my weakening screams.
I used my remaining energy to roll to the side, kicking him in what I hoped was the groin. My foot made contact with something, but I didn’t look back to see what it was.
Scrambling to my knees, I crawled onto the front porch. Blood poured out of my nose and onto my white button-down as I dragged my body as fast as I could.
Cory grasped at my ankle, trying to snag it again, but I kicked at him, not caring what I hit.
Finally on my feet, I ran down the path.
A big truck turned onto the street, and I waved to get it to stop.
To my right, Cory stumbled to his car. He reversed onto the road and knocked me to my knees.
I wondered if he was going to run me over, but he sped away.
The truck parked in the middle of the road, and Van climbed down.
My body collapsed, the concrete digging into my flesh.
I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive, and no pain has ever felt so good.