Chapter 28 #4
His gaze darkens, a hint of mischief curling at the corner of his mouth. “You sore?”
The question hits low. My fork pauses halfway to my lips. Heat flares in my cheeks, memories flickering behind my eyes—his breath on my skin, the way he whispered my name. His expression shifts, something tender flickering beneath the wickedness.
“Good,” he murmurs, voice low enough only I can hear. “Means I didn’t dream it.” He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing the inside of my wrist—a gentle stroke that sends warmth spiraling through me. I try to hide my smile behind my coffee cup, but he sees it—of course he does.
“Eat, baby. You’ll need your strength.”
“For what?”
He winks. “You’ll see.”
We eat in easy silence for a while, the soft murmur of the café filling the air—clinking cups, laughter, the hiss of steam from the machine behind the counter. Outside, sunlight spills through the window, warming the table and turning his tattoos gold. After a few minutes, I can’t help but ask,
“So, what’s next? For you. For the band.”
He swirls his coffee before answering.
“Christmas in L.A. I think. Studio stuff. Interviews. Press. Then back on the road.”
The words settle heavy between us.
Back on the road.
He must notice the flicker in my expression, because his voice softens.
“Hey.” He reaches out, sliding his thumb across my knuckles. “You’re going to be with me, right? Don’t overthink it. You and Mac will be together. Security is tight. I’ll be in your bed every night.”
I nod, the reassurance grounding me more than I expect.
His grin returns—devastating. Dimples making an appearance. “Finish your coffee, wife. I’ve got somewhere to show you.”
“Where?”
He pushes his chair back, standing and tossing a few bills on the table. “C’mon. L.A.’s got a few secrets worth knowing.”
Trey drives. The further we go, the quieter it gets. The palm trees thin out, replaced by open stretches of road and cliffs that tumble down to the Pacific. The ocean appears like a secret.
Trey parks the truck at the edge of a dusty turnout and kills the engine. The sound of waves rushes up from below. For a moment, neither of us moves. He just sits there, arm draped over the back of my seat, staring out through the windshield.
“C’mon, Dove,” he says finally, pushing his door open. “You’ve gotta see this.”
The wind catches my hair as soon as I step out. It smells like salt and sunshine. Trey circles around the truck, lacing his fingers through mine as he leads me toward the edge of the bluff. The sea stretches out forever, sunlight breaking over the surface like glass.
“Not bad, huh?” he murmurs, slipping off his cap and running a hand through his messy hair.
“Not bad at all,” I say softly, watching the waves crash against the rocks far below. “It’s beautiful.”
He glances sideways at me, his lips curving.
“You’re beautiful.”
My heart stutters. He’s not even trying—he just is.
We stand in silence for a while, the wind tugging at our clothes, the horizon blurring into sky. Then he crouches down, picks up a small rock, and tosses it over the edge.
“I used to come to places like this when I was a kid,” he says quietly. “Anywhere I could get high enough to breathe. Home wasn’t exactly peaceful, you know?”
I nod, remembering what he told me about his father. “You said he hurt you.”
He hums in agreement, gaze still fixed on the water.
“Yeah. Guess pain is always easier to remember. It sticks. The good stuff fades too fast.”
I want to reach for him, but before I can, he turns—eyes soft now, almost boyish under the sunlight. “Your turn, Dove.”
“My turn?”
He nods once. “Tell me about Gideon.”
The name alone is enough to make my stomach twist. It also makes my heart ache a little to hear his name coming from Trey’s lips.
“Chace mentioned him,” he says, jaw tightening. “Said he’s some kind of cult leader. You think he’s gonna give you up quietly? Or is he the kind of man who comes lookin’ when someone walks away?”
The question steals my breath. The ocean roars below us, loud enough to fill the silence I can’t. Trey steps closer, the wind pushing his hair back as his eyes search mine. “You don’t have to protect me, Sera. If there’s something I should know, you tell me.”
My throat feels tight.
“He won’t stop,” I whisper. “He doesn’t let anyone leave. Especially not me. I wasn’t just a follower, Trey. I was supposed to—” I shake my head, unable to finish.
“He-he thinks he owns me, has a right to me…my father…my…”
He reaches for me then, his hand warm against the back of my neck,
“Hey. Look at me.”
I do.
“Whatever he thinks he owns,” Trey says, voice low. “He doesn’t anymore. You’re not his to find. You’re mine to protect now. You get that?”
Tears prick my eyes, but I nod.
He leans down, forehead brushing mine. “Good girl,” he whispers, thumb tracing my jaw. “You’re untouchable, Dove, to all but me.”
I hug my arms around myself, the wind whipping my curls across my face. “Where these fuckers get off treating you like that…it makes my blood boil. Your father, my dad…parents, am I right?”
We stand in silence for a few moments, watching the waves crash against the rocks. The constant rhythm of the tide, the spray of salt on my skin, and the low roar of the ocean feel oddly soothing. It eases the tight knot in my chest, letting me breathe a little easier.
“You don’t have to say any more if you don’t want to, Dove,” he says gently, voice low, almost tentative.
“I—I want to. It’s just…where to start.”
He nods, sighing, eyes distant, lost in memories.
“My dad…really used to lay into me, you know? To toughen me up, keep me in line. Belts, bottles, fists… cigarettes… a cigar once. That one stung.” He pauses, tilting his head back, eyes closed. “My mom…she just…let it happen. I’d get so mad. So, fucking…”
He doesn’t finish. His words hang heavy in the salty air, and my chest tightens. The waves keep rolling, relentless, steady, like a heartbeat I can lean on.
I shift closer, just enough to brush my shoulder against his. The warmth of him there grounds me. I want to reach out, to let him know he’s not alone—but words feel fragile, inadequate. So, I stay silent, letting the sound of the ocean and the steady press of his presence say what I can’t.
“My father...” I start to say.
Trey shifts closer, letting me lean into him, his hands steady on my shoulders.
“Go on,” he murmurs, voice soft but insistent. He slips his cap back on, backward, then tilts his head in my direction.
I take a shaky breath. “He…he was strict. Punished me for everything. Flogged me…sometimes weekly, sometimes more than once. He…he starved me too. Said it was to purify me, to make me lean, obedient, ready for God. One time…he shaved my head. Said my hair was distracting—a flag to the devil, he called it. To the congregation.”
My hands tremble, fingers twisting together. My chest feels tight, a mix of panic and old, buried shame clawing at me.
Trey stiffens beside me, jaw tightening. He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and I feel the heat of him, the safety in his touch.
“Jesus, Sera,” he mutters, voice low, heavy with something I can’t name—anger, heartbreak, disbelief.
I close my eyes for a moment, even here, with him, some of the fear still lingers—but less. Just a little.
“When I misbehaved…or even thought something he didn’t like… he’d whip me. With a belt, a flogger, whatever he could reach. Said it was to teach discipline.” Trey swallows hard, hand tightening just a fraction at my waist.
“Fucker…” Trey fumes.
I take a deep breath, voice trembling. “I had to obey everything. I couldn’t question him.
I was always hungry, always aching, always afraid.
But I had to look holy. To be holy. If I failed…
I paid for it.” He tilts my chin up with a finger, forcing me to meet his eyes.
I press my face into his chest, listening to the steady beat of him, the ocean roaring beneath us.
“I’m sorry you went through that…want me to get him tied up and shaved all over?” I shove him playfully. Somehow, he can make me smile even when I’m thinking of some of my lowest points. It’s not fair—I shouldn’t be allowed to feel so…happy.
“I knew when I met you that you were good,” I whisper, my face pressed to his chest. “I can’t explain it, but I knew I could trust you.”
His hand finds the back of my neck.
“You can,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “Anyone that tries to hurt you will have to go through me first, Dove. Anyone that touches you, fucks with me.” he vows, voice possessive. I tilt my head back to look at him, breath catching.
“I never thought I’d feel…safe like this.”
“You are safe,” he murmurs, forehead pressing against mine. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you decide otherwise.” The wind carries his words out across the ocean, but I feel them settle true, deep in my chest.