32. Fuck’s Sake Aspen #2
“I’m going to unhook your cuffs. You’re going to use the bathroom, undress, and get into the bed,” he said, pointing to the full-sized mattress between us.
“I’ll put you back in the cuffs when you’re done because I’m not interested in your escape plans this evening.
I think I’ve had enough of that bullshit for the rest of our lives.
Then we’ll get some sleep before our big drive home tomorrow. ”
I tried to ignore the fact that there was only one bed.
I didn’t think this was the excitement Ivy talked about when she was reading her books.
I also tried not to think about the fact that he’d said undress.
I had no desire to undress in front of this man ever again, but it didn’t appear like I had much of a choice right now either.
So instead of picking a fight, I nodded and walked toward him so he could temporarily free me.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a key, and unlatched the cuffs, but when I went to pull my wrists free, he grabbed me again, his other hand by his side and shaking slightly.
I caught myself staring at it and forced my eyes back to his.
“Do not try anything, Aspen.”
“I know…I get it,” I whispered back. He let me go, and I turned quickly into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.
There were, of course, no windows and nowhere to go other than back out into the room with him.
I cautiously brought my eyes to the mirror in front of me, and it took every ounce of inner strength not to sob at the reflection staring back at me.
Both of my eyes were already turning black, and a huge lump on my forehead was rising as I watched.
My reflection stared back at me, my lip was busted, a few of my nails were broken, and that was just the top quarter of my body.
I felt as if my subconscious was flickering back and forth between the past and present—I was having a hard time differentiating between what was real and what wasn’t.
What had already happened, and what was my anxiety conjuring up bad scenarios that could happen.
I hurriedly went to the bathroom and tried not to look too closely at the blood rushing down my busted knee or the bruises forming on my side.
I took a clean cloth from the sink and wet it with warm water, using it to, at the very least, clean up my knee.
The last thing I needed was an infection from the motel parking lot gravel.
“Just like old times,” I whispered to myself, trying not to let myself fall too far into the pity party I wanted to reside in.
Instead, I tried to distract myself with what I would have been doing with Rowan right now.
We would’ve taken a bath and maybe made some dessert.
We’d been going through food blogs and trying all the craziest desserts we could find over the last week or so.
Had I gained three pounds from it? Yes. But something about being with that man made it hard to care.
A pounding at the door broke me out of my thought-induced bubble. “Hurry the fuck up, Aspen,” Sam grumbled from outside the door.
His voice just had me wondering what Rowan was thinking right now.
I didn’t have my phone, so he couldn’t have Wyatt track me down.
Would he think I just left? Bailed out? Would Ivy think it was Sam?
Would anyone even care? Or would they all just shrug it off—the new girl in town came and went.
Their lives continued on without me…I felt the tears rolling down my face, and I quickly wiped them away.
Trying to be careful of…well, my entire face really.
The pain seemed to be spreading the longer I was conscious.
Sam hit the door again. “Open the fuck up!” he screamed.
I let out a deep breath and opened the door, bracing myself for the man on the opposite side of it.
I looked up at him with my eyes only. He was only about two inches taller than me, so unlike Rowan, whom I had to lift my entire face up to see.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I was trying to clean my knee from the truck fall. I’m done, though,” I said calmly, forcing myself to bite back the comment about how I literally couldn’t escape from the cinder block bathroom with no other exit.
He stared around me and must’ve seen the washcloth in the sink because he nodded.
The gun was back out and in his hand, which wasn’t a positive note for me.
He stepped aside and motioned for me to exit the bathroom.
I walked out, stopping in the middle of the room where I found myself staring at a small plastic bag with white residue all over it.
“Sam…is that—” Before I could finish my question, I was on the floor, pain exploding down my jaw. I looked up at him, shocked, only to find that he had hit me with the butt of his gun.
“I didn’t ask for you to go snooping like a nosy bitch, Aspen. Now get the fuck up and strip. We’re going to bed,” he said, the anger clear in his voice.
I found myself nodding as I stood, pulling my shirt off and stepping out of my jeans.
I tried not to think about it. I tried not to think about the fact that it had been months since I allowed this man to touch me.
I tried to remind myself that I’d escaped him before; this wouldn’t be the end. I refused to let this be the end.
Those were the mantras I continued to repeat to myself as I stripped down, letting the insults about my body flow over me, and I climbed into the lumpy motel bed.
I tried to ignore him as he reattached the cuffs, linking my arms around the bed frame above my head.
I tried not to think about the fact that the last time I was in this position, it was with power and a man who loved me fully and completely.
I tried to ignore him as he stripped down and curled up behind me, wrapping his arms around my bare, bruised waist. I tried to ignore how the feeling of his bare skin against mine made my entire body feel dirty and as if something were crawling beneath my skin.
I tried to ignore him as he pressed the cold metal of the gun against my skin and muttered a reminder that he’d kill me if I tried anything.
I told myself the likelihood of the gun going off in his sleep was slim…
ish. I wasn’t sure if the drugs made it more or less likely.
I lied to myself over and over again.
I had no idea how much time had passed.
Seconds.
Minutes.
Hours.
I swallowed back the tears that kept trying to make their way down my face. I tried to find sleep. I tried to find any sort of way to escape this reality—even if only temporarily.
I started thinking about the apartment Sam and I shared back in Vegas. I wondered briefly if that was where he was taking me. There wouldn’t be any more brisk chilly nights. No more snow either. No more art, or school, or friends. No more Ivy.
No more Rowan.
The tears streamed down my cheeks after that, and I let them.
I let myself mourn the dreams I’d just started conjuring up.
I let myself mourn the ability to smile and feel free to just exist. I let myself mourn the future I would’ve had if I’d been stronger.
Strong enough to get away from him, strong enough to stay away.
I must’ve fallen into something resembling sleep because I felt startled when a loud thud hit the door of our motel room.
I jumped, but Sam just shifted slightly, pressing himself against my legs, forcing me into the headspace of wanting to puke on him.
I stared around the room, trying to listen, but all I could hear were the motor grumbles from the air conditioning unit in the window.
I let out a deep sigh and tried to focus on my breathing instead, willing my brain to shut down again into whatever small burst of sleep it had been in before that noise. I shut my eyes, but another thud had my eyes wide open again. This one actually woke Sam up.
“What the fuck was that?” he grumbled and looked up at me, as if I could do anything while I was literally chained to the bed frame beneath his body.
“A thud from outside,” I replied.
Sam rolled his eyes and got up. Shoving his feet into his pants, he picked his gun back up and walked toward the door.
However, before he could get there, another thud hit it, but this time the door broke beneath the weight, and I let out a shocked scream.
But I didn’t panic for long because in came a tall man, whom I’d know anywhere, even blindfolded.
My cowboy. His fists were flying. He didn’t speak a single word.
He just knocked Sam on his ass before Sam could even raise the gun in his hand.
“Rowan! The key is in his pocket!” I said quickly as he looked up at me, the rage clear in his eyes.
He looked down at the now unconscious Sam and dug through his pockets, pulling out a key for the cuffs, and walked over.
That was when I realized Oliver was there with him, a grim look on his face, and I wanted to be embarrassed that he was seeing me broken and bruised.
I wanted to cry, but all I felt was relief—pure and unfiltered relief that I wasn’t alone right now.
He’d come for me.
Rowan unlocked the cuffs and pulled them from my wrists, gently massaging my arms as they came down to my sides. He looked up into my eyes, and I could feel the tears streaming down my face again. “You’re okay, little angel. You’re okay,” he muttered and wrapped his arms around me quickly.
“Here, hold on, okay?” he asked as he let me go and pulled his shirt off, sliding it over my head quickly. I hadn’t even registered that I was naked beneath this sheet, and his brother was here. I didn’t care, honestly.
A groan sounded from the floor, but Oliver kicked him again before he could go anywhere. “Fuck you,” Sam grumbled as he curled up in the fetal position, gasping for air.
I slowly pushed myself off the bed and looked up at Rowan.
“I want to go home, Rowan, please,” I whispered.
He nodded and wrapped an arm around me. As I walked past Sam on the floor, I noticed his gun lying off to the side of him.
It was between him and the dresser he’d fallen beside.
I didn’t even think, I just launched myself toward it, picked it up, closed my eyes, and pulled the trigger.
There was a scream like I’d never heard before, but it brought so much happiness to my soul. I’d never heard him scream. Years of him listening to my screams. My cries. I’d never heard this sound from his lips before.
“Fuck, angel!” Rowan yelled—more shocked than angry. “Shit, Oliver, throw his dumb ass in the back of his truck and take it back to the ranch. I’ll call Wyatt and get him to send people over to clean this shit up. Aspen, I’m going to get you in the truck and take you to Payton, okay?”
I heard him speaking, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of Sam’s body and the blood spilling into the shaggy maroon carpet. I wondered if it would stain brown or just stay the gross maroon color it was now. I hadn’t noticed before that it just looked like a red carpet with dirt ground up into it.
My body was shaking, I realized, and someone was carrying me.
I looked over at Rowan as he buckled me into the truck and went around to the driver’s side door.
He reached over and took my hand in his.
“It’ll be okay, angel. I’ll take care of everything,” he said.
His voice was so gentle and reassuring that I just nodded in response. I didn’t know what else to do.
I’d shot someone.
No—not someone. Sam.
I’d shot Sam. He couldn’t hurt me anymore. He couldn’t hurt us. I shot him.
I was free .
I was free.
I was free.