Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
River
Standing at the sink in the kitchen, I fiddle with the pill package, my nails scraping uselessly against the corner before I finally peel it back.
The white pill drops into my palm, and I stare at it for a second before I hear the door open.
I smile to myself, warmth blooming throughout my chest knowing Carter is here to pick me up for our date.
The man has the patience of a saint to have waited this long.
And it’s a good thing he does because he’s gonna have to wait a little bit longer.
I just walked through the door, and I’m not ready yet.
Filling my glass with water from the tap, I call out with a smirk, “I had to go buy a Plan B pill because your no-pulling-out-ass is obviously trying to knock me up. By the way, I called to get on birth control, so condoms for the next couple months.”
“Rivie?”
It’s one word. One single word. And it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end. The pill slips from my palm. The glass crashes to the ground and water spills all over my feet. I whip around, all the blood rushing to my head.
“What are you doing here? You need to leave.”
Jaxon leans back against the countertop, with his arms folded against his chest.
“I’ve tried calling, but you don’t answer. I’ve tried texting too, but they go unread.”
“Because I blocked your number, Jax. Now, leave.”
My feet shift as I try to map out an escape. I have nowhere to go. He takes a step closer, and my ass presses harder against the counter.
Carter will be here any minute. Maybe if I keep talking . . .
“How did you get in here?”
“I have my ways.”
I lift my hand, swiping the hair back from my face. His eyes narrow in on my wedding ring, and he closes the distance, his face red with anger. His eyes dilate and turn completely black. I see it coming and dash to the left, but he grabs my hair and violently jerks me back.
“I heard you got remarried, but I wanted to see it with my own eyes and hear it from your whore mouth.”
My blood turns to ice as his other hand coils around my throat. I freeze, momentarily paralyzed. My pulse thunders in my ears, and panic sets in as he drags me backwards. My feet shuffle with him. I can’t lose my footing. He can’t get me on the ground.
Think, River. Fucking think.
Instincts kick in. I slam my elbow into his ribs. He grunts out.
The room spins.
Pain explodes across my face, and sparks ignite behind my eyelids.
The taste of blood fills my mouth as I crumple onto the floor.
I scramble to get up and run, but he grabs my ankle.
My nails bend and scrape across the floor as he pulls me to him.
Kicking upward, I miss his face, clipping his shoulder instead.
It’s not enough to stop him. I roll onto my back.
He drops his weight on top of me, his hands wrapping around my throat again.
I can’t breathe. Black spots dance across my vision. I claw at his face.
Goddammit, River. Fucking do something.
“Jax. Please. Stop,” I cry, struggling to speak.
“Look at what you’re making me do!” He yells in my face, his nose pressing to mine, and spittle hitting my lips. “You’re using him to make me jealous. It’s time to stop this shit and come home!”
My entire body becomes hot as rage takes over.
“Fuck you!” I grit out, pulling on his left arm and rolling him onto his back.
I clamber to my feet and stomp on his balls.
“Fuck. You!” I yell again.
He rolls onto his side, groaning in pain. I round his body, and rear back my leg, kicking him in the gut. “I’m so fucking tired of your goddamn shit!”
I stand there, frozen, realizing what I’ve just done and watching him groan in agony. Then I hear Carter’s voice in my head.
“Run.”
Adrenaline courses through my body as I pump my legs as fast as I can.
Running past the elevators, I head for the stairwell.
I don’t even know how many flights of stairs I run down, all I know is I can’t waste time waiting on an elevator.
My palms slam into the bar on the emergency door, and it bangs against the wall as I pass, running into a hallway.
“Please. I need help,” I cry out, pounding the side of my fist on every door.
No one is going to answer. I look like a crazy person—hair and clothes disheveled, busted lip, and yelling. Tremors wrack my body as the shock and adrenaline begin to wane. I look back. He didn’t follow me, but no one is answering their door either, and he could be on me any second.
“Please!” I call out. “Someone help me!”
The elevator dings, and my heart races as I calculate my next move. A black boot steps into the hallway, and I take my fighting stance, lifting my eyes. Brian, a security guard for the property, steps out into the hallway, and my hands lower to my side.
“My ex-husband. I don’t know how he got in, but he was in my penthouse. 9607. My husband is on his way home. Can you call down to Nigel and make sure Carter doesn’t go up there?”
“Yeah. I’ll head up there to check things out.”
Brian takes me downstairs to the lobby, where Carter is waiting for me.
I run into his arms, and he looks me over before cradling my head against his chest. An hour later, we’re allowed back into our apartment.
Carter sits beside me on the couch with his arm wrapped around me as I remove the icepack and set it on the coffee table.
I work my jaw back and forth, feeling it move properly.
At least he didn’t dislocate it this time, but fuck that’s gonna bruise.
A couple of New York police stand in our living room with their notepad, questioning me, but their voices are lost as I stare at the shattered glass that spilled over from the kitchen into the breakfast area.
“Mrs. Graham.” The officer calls my name bringing me back to the present.
“Huh?”
“Are you sure you locked your door?”
They’ve asked me this question three different ways, and I’ve given them the same answer every time. I know they’re only doing their job, but something in me snaps.
“I don’t know how to make this any clearer. The door was locked. He walked right in as if he owned the place. I thought it was my husband at first.”
“We’re not seeing any forced entry.”
I close my eyes and roll them behind my lids because I’ve told them this already. What the fuck do they want me to say?
“We have security and cameras all over this building. Can’t you check those to see how he managed to get in?”
Carter’s eyes flick to mine. He keeps watching me like he’s trying to figure me out. Like I’m truly not okay.
I am.
I’m more than okay, surprisingly. I’m not even scared of the asshole anymore . . . I’m pissed off and inconvenienced. Once reality sets in, I’m sure things will be different, but right now, that’s how I feel.
The officer directs his attention to Carter. “Is there anywhere you two can go tonight?”
“I’ve already left an entire state. I’m not leaving my home. If he wants to come back, he can fuck around and find out. I’m done playing his games,” I clip.
Carter exhales. He hasn’t said much, but the look he’s giving me says plenty.
I know he’s worried about me, but I’m so fucking done with letting Jax control me.
Done walking on eggshells. Done playing by his rules.
I’m not rolling over anymore. I just want to live my life.
I’m not the girl he left lying in the hospital two years ago .
. . or the person I was two months ago .
. . hell, I’m not even the same as I was yesterday.
“Can we file a protective order?” Carter asks the officer.
I laugh, manically. “He has to nearly kill me before anyone will do anything. The system is flawed. Isn’t that right officer?”
The officer looks to his partner, then back to me and says, “If you have his address, we can serve him with a protective order.”
“The only address I have for him is our old address back in Oklahoma. But he’s obviously here now, and I have no idea where he’s staying.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Graham,” the other officer chimes in. “Without an address, our hands are tied.”
Story of my freaking life. After a few more questions, the officers finally leave with a promise that they’ll be in touch. I don’t believe them. Somehow Jaxon gets away with everything.
The second the door shuts, I make my way to the guest room where all my things are and swing open the closet door.
Standing on my tiptoes, I reach to the top shelf and take down the little box where I hide my pistol.
The Smith it’s dangerous . . . and second, what does it look like I’m doing?”
“You can’t have that.”
“The second amendment and state of New York say I can. I have a permit. If he wants to come back, well then, he’ll be leaving in a body bag.”
Taking the gun to our room, Carter follows behind me.
I put the gun in the top drawer of the nightstand and sit down on the edge of our bed.
He visibly swallows and sits down next to me.
I reach back for a pillow to put in my lap, then turn to him with one leg folded underneath me.
Releasing a sigh, I peer up at him and run a hand through my hair.
“I thought when I moved here, I could leave the past behind. Start a new life. He beat me until I divorced him, then stalked me until the day I left Oklahoma. I knew . . . deep down I knew he would eventually find me. With Aspen being as high profile as she is now, I should have known that he would. I guess I wanted to believe I was too insignificant for him to actually show up here.”
“I’ll never understand how someone could hurt you. The thought of what you went through and then what happened today…” He shakes his head. “It’s suffocating. I literally can’t breathe even thinking about it. What can I do? What do you need?”
I toss the pillow and move to sit on his lap, burying my nose into his neck and inhaling his woodsy scent. His arms wrap around me, and it feels like I’m home.
“I need for our lives to be normal. I need a date with you. For you to not handle me with kid gloves.” I kiss his lips. “And I want to book a trip home to see my mom and dad.”
As his body stiffens, his hold on me tightens.
“Carter, I can’t live my life like this anymore. I refuse to run away from him ever again. I have lived the past two years running and being afraid of everything and everyone. My give-a-fucks have completely run out. I just want to live my life—”
His kiss shuts me up.
“While you’re getting ready, I’ll book our flights. We can stay for the two days we’re off at Thanksgiving.”