Chapter 8 Abby
Abby
The weeks turn into months, and we’ve fallen into an easy routine. Rhett comes over whenever he can, we share meals together, and he rubs my feet or my back until I fall asleep. Sometimes I wish he’d just spend the night. I like feeling his arms around me.
I’m growing ridiculously attached to the man which is such a bad idea.
Rhett: We have to talk.
His text is colder than usual, and it stresses me out.
Me: You’re spending too much time over here. You need space. I’m alone. I get it.
He doesn’t respond.
Bile creeps up my throat and I pace the living room. Rogue and Runaway watch intently from the couch. I knew this was going to happen. It would one day come to this. Maybe it’s best that it’s happening before the baby comes. If he abandons us both, I’ll be doubly devastated.
Keys jangle at the front door and I stiffen. Seconds later, Rhett storms in. He doesn’t look embarrassed or regretful or awkward.
No, he’s pissed.
I yelp when he makes it over to me in three long strides and then yanks me to him for a hug.
At first, I’m frozen, a statue of confusion.
But then I melt against his solid, comforting chest. He smells good and familiar.
His grip is tight and bordering on crushing.
When he reaches a hand up to stroke a palm over the back of my head, my eyes turn watery.
“Your text was confusing,” I admit, voice thick with emotion.
“And your responding one was stupid,” he responds with a bite. I grumble and try to push him away, but he holds me tighter. “I’m not going anywhere, honey. I told you that.”
I know he means as the father of our baby, but whenever he calls me honey, like I’m sweet and just for him, I imagine he means other ways. Like maybe there’s love deep inside him for me.
“Why the ominous text then?” I ask, finally managing to pull back so I can look at his handsome face.
“All it said was we have to talk. I could have been wanting to talk about what we needed to get next for the nursery.”
I pull away and start for the kitchen. “We both know you wouldn’t send a text like that. Be straight with me. This gives me anxiety.”
He sighs heavily as I start the coffee machine for him. I know how he likes it and that he enjoys curling up with me on the couch to sip it. Since we clearly have to talk, I may as well set the scene.
“What are these?” he asks as he opens a plastic storage container. “Cookies? Didn’t know you could bake, Abs.”
I snort out a laugh. “Nah, those are from Clara’s man, Eric. Did you know he’s her stepbrother?”
Rhett smirks. “Yeah. My best friend is the neighborhood gossip and has the loosest lips.”
Riko told me that the girl Rhett used to crush over long ago, Savvy, lives in Moonlit Gables with her two boyfriends in a throuple. Rather than bringing up what might be a touchy subject, I snag one of the cookies while his coffee brews.
“Lemon raspberry,” I say before devouring half the cookie. “Oh my God, they’re so good.”
Rhett’s eyes are laser focused on my mouth as I eat making me wonder if I’m making a big mess of crumbs. Then, he forces his gaze away to grab one of his own. “I met Eric at Riko’s wedding. Seems like a nice guy. Did you learn this from Riko or Clara herself?”
“Actually,” I say with a pleased grin, “I’ve been going on walks with Clara and Casey. They’re super nice and Clara always has sweet treats at her house.”
Rhett’s smile is soft as he regards me. “I’m glad to hear that.”
I make him his coffee with a bunch of sugar and cream like he loves, hand it off to him, and then grab myself a cold Sprite. Soda is probably terrible while pregnant, but it’s the only thing that keeps me from puking my guts out on the daily.
We settle in our usual spots on the sofa. I curl up against him, and the cats settle in between us. With my head on his shoulder, I close my eyes and drink in his closeness. I ache for it every day now. Like an addiction I can’t quit.
“I, uh, overheard something I don’t think I was supposed to hear,” Rhett says, voice low and gravelly. “I really hope it was bullshit.”
Anger simmers beneath his words. I shiver which then spurs him to grab a blanket off the back of the sofa.
“What did you hear?” I glance over at him, peeking up through my lashes. “That I’m a whore?”
His nostrils flare. Bingo. It’s the usual song and dance from my sister. No surprise there.
“For the record,” I grumble, “I’m not. I hate that I have to say it.”
“You don’t have to say it.” With Rhett’s free hand, he takes mine and squeezes it. “But there’s clearly a story there. I want to know your version.”
Bitterness roils in my stomach. Angela just can’t leave anything be. She has to pick at scabs until they turn into festering wounds. I just want to heal but she won’t let me.
“Do you remember me? Before all this?” I motion to my tattoos and piercings. “When I looked like a carbon copy of her?”
He frowns. “I remember seeing the two of you around at the country club. Everyone talked about the Serengeti sisters. Said they were hot.”
I shudder at his words. There was one guy in particular who said those exact words. “We were teenagers and some of those guys had no business thinking we were ‘hot.’”
“I agree. There are some grade-A douchebag members there.”
“Do you know Beau Masterson?”
He grimaces. “The balding thirty-year-old nepo-billionaire baby wannabe actor who drives an obnoxious lime-green Lambo?”
My skin crawls at the mention of that stupid car. “That’s him.”
“What about that fuck face? My dad hates him and once tried to get him banned from the club.”
I haven’t officially met Rhett’s dad, only seen him in passing, but now I want to.
“I like your dad,” I say, unable to suppress another shudder. “I was really insecure when I was a freshman in high school. Whenever Angela would tear me down, I’d be at the club and Beau would build me back up. At first, he was just a nice guy.”
Rhett moves the cats away and then pulls me until I’m sitting in his lap. I’m grateful for his comfort because this story isn’t easy to tell. I cling to his shirt and shiver uncontrollably.
“Go on,” Rhett urges. “Unless you can’t. But I really want you to tell me. You can trust me.”
I know I can. We’ve held this secret between us for months now, so I know he’ll hold another one of mine.
“I got sort of close to Beau. He’d always run me home in his fancy cars whenever I’d be bored out of my skull at the club. While Angela was fishing for a future husband, I just wanted to escape the rich people drama. Beau, despite being the richest man at our country club, seemed normal.”
Rhett rubs a palm up and down my thigh as if he’s anxious with nervous energy. It’s soothing and warms me, so I don’t ask him to stop.
“One night, he brought liquor.” I shrug, unable to meet Rhett’s intense stare.
“It was fun and felt rebellious. I drank with him. Being young and a lightweight, I got wasted fast.” A ripple of disgust washes over me and tears form.
“I don’t remember much aside from him pawing at my clothes, his brutally intrusive fingers, and then the sharp pain of him taking something I never said he could have. ”
“That. Motherfucker.” Rhett swipes a tear from my cheek and kisses my flesh so close to my mouth I can nearly taste him.
“Anyway,” I say through my tears, “I cried the whole time. When he finished, he held me and said one day he’d marry me. When it was legal. I was numb through the drive home. He kissed me on my porch like he owned me.”
Rhett shakes his head, eyes flaring with anger. “He had no right, honey. No fucking right.”
His reaction to my story is so visceral and protective. It’s what I’d hoped from my own family. Instead, I was met with disbelief, mockery, and disgust.
Mom, Angela, and Dad in that order.
“After he left, I called my mom crying. My parents and sister came home to find me an absolute mess. There was a lot of shouting. I was just sure Beau would go to jail for what he did.” I straddle Rhett’s lap, needing to feel closer to him.
He’s a man who actually makes me feel safe.
His hands find my hips and he grips tightly. “Guess what? He didn’t.”
“What happened?” Rhett growls.
“Since I refused to go have a rape kit done, because I was terrified it ‘didn’t count since I never actually told him no’, my parents said we didn’t have much to work with.”
“So, he got away with it?” Rhett’s nostrils flare again. “I want to fucking kill him.”
I swallow hard and stroke my fingers through his hair, loving that it’s growing out slightly and the curls can be seen.
“Dad still confronted him. Beau said it was consensual, but because of my age and how the law would see it, he could pay for our discretion, and he’d never speak to me again.
My father thought that was a reasonable offer. ”
“They took the money?” Rhett asks, disgusted. “He deserves to rot in prison.” Then, his features darken. “If your dad accepted money for your bullshit silence, why were you dining and dashing?”
Money that should have been mine was never routed to me. Dad kept it in an account until I was “mature enough” to handle it. I started spiraling after that, especially when Angela would get her jabs in about men wanting a virgin.
“He won’t give it to me,” I admit, chin quivering. “But I don’t want his hush money. They can have it.”
Rhett scowls as if this answer angers him, but it’s the truth. I don’t want anything that belonged to Beau. That man was a monster who preyed on a na?ve teen girl.
“You were my first…” And only.
“First what?” he asks, voice low.
“Lover.” I brush my nose against his and shiver. “That man didn’t count.”
Rhett’s hands slide to my ass and he squeezes. “No, it didn’t count. I wish I knew, though. I could have made it better.”
He’s hard beneath me and I grind against his cock, unable to help myself. Every day I want him so badly. His hiss of pleasure sends a zing of excitement through me.
“It was good,” I assure him, lips ghosting over his. “I wanted every single moment of that between us.”
“I didn’t make you come,” he argues.
I want to kiss him, but I can’t be the one always making moves around here.
The whore label my sister gave me will only ring true and I can’t allow that to happen.
Rhett doesn’t kiss me, but he breathes heavily against my throat and jaw, mouth open and wet.
His palms knead my ass cheeks, and he uses my body to stroke his.
Each time I grind over his cock, my pussy throbs with pleasure.
Neither of us speak. We pant loudly as we climb higher and higher on the mountain of ecstasy. When I reach the very tippy top, I cry out his name. And then I crash, my entire body trembling wildly. A sexy groan escapes him, and I can feel his cock pulsating beneath me.
“Fuck,” Rhett murmurs, wet lips dragging over my neck. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“I’ll say it for you,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes. “We shouldn’t have done that.”
He doesn’t agree or disagree. The silence is the answer.
“I need to go home,” he says, voice gritty. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“Me too.”
His lips press to my neck in the softest, sweetest kiss, and then he leaves me.
My heart breaks. Again.
I stupidly keep giving it to him.