Chapter Seventeen #2
She thought she was fast enough to try to peek out of the window, but our eyes met.
That one good eye locks on mine through the glass beside the door.
It’s wet. Shiny with tears. Her bruised throat bobs.
“Juni… what the fuck… can you open the door… please?” I ask pleadingly, my forehead nearly touching the door now.
My heart is hammering so hard it feels like it’s trying to break a way out of my chest.
There’s a pause. The kind that stretches and stretches until it feels like it might snap. “No…” Her voice is quiet, strained, slipping through the thin door like smoke. “Gavin, please leave.”
The words hit harder than they should, like a slap that isn’t meant for me but lands anyway.
I close my eyes for a second. “I can’t just leave, Juni.
Open the door, please.” At this point, I’m not above being a begging man.
Pride is useless when she looks like that.
Pride doesn’t mean shit when someone you love is hurting.
“You’re only going to make this worse for me, Gavin… please.” She says it with so much defeat that my chest aches. Her emotions crack her voice, and I can hear her sniff.
“What are you talking about, Juni… how am I making it worse…?” The words scrape out of me, frustration and fear tangling up.
“He saw you on our doorbell camera, Gavin,” she whispers. “It sent him into a rage…”
I cut her off before she could continue. I don’t need her to paint me a picture. I already see it, too clearly. His pacing, yelling, and throwing things. His hands on her.
“Juni, open the fucking door.” The calm in my voice shatters. “Don’t make me break it in…”
My hands curl into fists against the wood.
Another second and I will kick it in. I know how flimsy these doors are.
Against my better judgment, I reach up and rip the doorbell camera from the doorframe.
The cheap plastic gives with a crack, the wires snapping like tendons.
It falls to the ground at my feet, bouncing once.
I don’t even hesitate. I slam my boot down on it.
Steel toe meets plastic, and it shatters, pieces skittering across the warped porch boards.
“Now he can’t see anything…” I growl, breath loud in my ears.
“Моя Любовь…my love…,” I add, the Russian slipping out without permission. “…please just open the door.”
The nickname hangs between us. I shouldn’t call her that.
I know that. But right now, there isn’t another word big enough for what’s ripping through me.
A whole eternity seems to pass as I begin to think she’s not going to open the door.
The only sounds are Charlie whining softly in the back seat of my truck and the faint buzzing of some shitty street light.
Then I hear it. The quiet sound of the lock disengaging.
My breath catches. “Блять… Fuck…” I mutter under my breath.
The handle turns slowly, as if it weighed a hundred pounds.
The door opens just enough for me to see her.
And the world tilts. Her left eye is completely swollen shut now that I’m up close, the skin stretched shiny and angry.
The purple is darker, edged in yellow and green, spreading like spilled ink under her eye.
A split runs along her bottom lip, the dried blood cracked where she’s probably been worrying it with her teeth.
The discoloration around her neck is worse than I thought, dark, ugly bruises in the shape of fingers, wrapping almost all the way around.
Juni grips the door, knuckles turning white, holding it like it’s the only thing protecting her, fearing that if she lets go, everything will go up in flames.
Her good eye flicks over my face. Instantly, she sees the anger on my face.
The worry. Every fucking emotion. “Where is he?” My voice is low, dangerous, nothing like the patient tone I use with customers.
Nothing like the guy I am at the shop. “Where is this ублюдок…this motherfucker…?” I ask angrily, each word ground out between my teeth.
She flinches at my words. She knows my Russian only comes out when I'm emotional, either angry or the opposite. Right now, I can’t fucking control it.
She just stands there. “He’s not here,” she says quietly.
“He… left last night.” She clears her throat, then swallows, wincing at the movement of her throat.
“Блять… Fuck…I’m sorry…” I don’t know what I’m apologizing for.
My words are getting caught in my throat…
Sorry for helping her?… Sorry for going overboard and fixing her car.
I’m not sorry for breaking the doorbell camera, fuck you, Reece.
Sorry for walking away when she was mine.
Sorry for all the bruises she has received.
I take a few steps back, not because I’m leaving.
But because red is slowly seeping into my vision, and if I don’t move, I’m going to put my fist through something.
The urge to track him down, to put my hands around his throat and return every mark on her skin, is almost overwhelming. “Gavin… please… don’t… don’t leave me.” Her tears make her voice crack, the words stumbling out, as if she’s scared I’ll bolt.
My steps falter for a moment, and as I go to take another step away, my body just… refuses. I turn back to her slowly. “I’m not leaving you Любовь…” The words struggle to come out, my voice feeling like it's scraping against my teeth. “Not like this. Never like this.”
Her good eye squeezes shut, a single tear slipping free and falling down her cheek, cutting through the grime there. She lets out a shuddering breath. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do, Gavin,” she whispers.
“Let me in,” I say slowly. I step toward her, but not too close; she needs space to choose.
“Just let me inside, Juni. That’s all. No cops unless you allow me to call.
If you don’t want to be seen, we won’t go.
Just… let me help.” She falters, shoulders trembling.
I can almost see the war playing inside her head.
The part of her that’s terrified of what Reece will do if he finds out I'm here, what it means to accept my help, versus the part that’s just…
scared. Finally, her fingers loosen on the edge of the door. She opens it.
The inside of the trailer hits me with a lingering stale smell.
The living room is small, barely enough room for the little furniture they have.
The couch is on its last leg. Smashed against the wall as far as it’ll go.
There’s an old dusty lamp in the corner, casting a weak yellow light that makes everything look even more washed out. And fuck, it’s cold in here.
There are signs of a fight everywhere I look—a picture frame shattered on the floor, glass glittering like ice in the thin, cheap carpet.
A dining chair was knocked over, one leg at a weird angle.
A Juni-sized dent in the drywall; I see slight bloodstains on the walls.
My stomach cramps. “Jesus Christ,” I shudder.
She shifts, pulling one sleeve of her sweatshirt to her chin.
When she moves, I see it, how stiffly she walks, the way she keeps her weight off one side.
“Charlie is in the truck,” I say, breaking the silence.
“He’s pissed. He didn’t go for his walk because his daddy was worried. ”
Her mouth twitches, the ghost of a smile; it doesn’t fully reach her eye. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.
“He’s sensitive about his walkies, but he will live...
,” I say, smirking. A weak little laugh leaves her lips; it didn’t sound so broken.
“Here, let’s sit,” I say gently, nodding towards the couch.
“You shouldn’t be up and about.” She makes a face like I offended her and starts to argue, but stops herself, moving slowly toward the couch.
I keep a safe enough distance to try to calm her nerves, but close enough that if I need to, I can catch her if she stumbles.
She starts to stumble but steadies herself enough to sit on the edge of the cushion cautiously.
Hissing in pain, slightly guarding her still casted wrist. “Can I…?” I gesture vaguely towards her face, her neck.
She swallows and shakes. “No… just leave it. He said if I cleaned up before he got home, it would end worse for me.”
My eyes turn sharp, the heat building inside me. “He fucking said what?“
“Gavin, please. Just stop.”
“I’m going to kill him.” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it.
Her fingers tighten around my wrist, the pressure... suppressing me. “No, Gavin, you’re not,” she says, panic showing. “If you go after him, he’ll… he’ll come back, and he might actually kill me.”
My chest freezes. “He won't get the chance to kill you, Juni. Over my dead fucking body, and I can’t just do nothing,” I say.
“You came here to check on me, not knowing what you’d find. That’s not nothing to me, Gavin…" She says emotions are clogging her voice. She's making me sound like her lifeline when she says that.
“I really wish you’d let me take you to the hospital, Juni,” I admit.
“NO! I can’t,” her voice pleading. “They’ll ask questions, questions I can't answer, and I can’t afford another hospital bill at this point, and he’ll…”
“Okay...” I hold up a hand where she can see it, so she doesn’t flinch. “Okay.. No hospital. But I’m at least getting you some ice, and I’m checking that nothing else is broken besides your wrist… speaking of that.. Did he make that worse?”
Her eye darts away, “It hurts just as much as everything else.”
“Can I bring Charlie in?” I ask softly, changing the subject before she curls into herself completely. “Someone might think he’s getting abused…. He cries if I leave him in the truck too long.”
Hesitantly, she nods her head. “You can. I was excited to meet him.”
“I’ll go grab him,” I softly squeeze her shoulder before I stand.