Julia Roberts’s character is racing around an old house, being chased by some psycho guy.
“I hate this movie.” She flips the channel again.
“What was it?”
“Sleeping with the Enemy.” Her voice sounds hollow. “It’s about a woman who fakes her own death to escape her abusive husband.” She laughs, but there isn’t a drop of humor in the sound. “Art imitating life.”
I’m so curious, but not completely comfortable talking about her past. I suppose this is what a boyfriend is supposed to do though. His woman is hurting, he asks, listens, and then fixes. Right?
“How long ago did you leave?” Seems like a good place to start.
She drops her head to my thigh, rolls to her back, and looks up at me. “Hard to say. Mentally, I checked out about twelve years ago. Physically, it’s been forty-seven days.”
I lean back and spread my arms against the back of the couch, my muscles beginning to twitch at the very mention of her past. “How’d you get out? I mean, you didn’t fake your own death, or—”
A sweet smile curves her lips. “Nope, didn’t have to go that far.” The familiar dark shadows in her eyes move in. “But I would’ve if that’s what it took.”
“What happened?” I want her to continue because I know it’s good for her, but I’m terrified of how I’ll react if she opens up more. It’s taking everything in me not to put my fist through my coffee table as it is.
“I stopped… feeling.” She pulls at the ends of her hair and twirls a strand around her finger. “He was pissed at me for something stupid I can’t even remember. It was raining. He dragged me from my room in my pajamas and threw me into the backyard. Locked me out. I remember being wet, hearing my teeth chatter, seeing my bare legs tremble, but I couldn’t feel anything.”
I school my features so that she doesn’t see the rage boiling just beneath the surface. My hands fist into the couch, and I welcome the burn in my joints.
She shrugs. “I knew then that I had to get out. That if I was numb, it was only a matter of time before Axelle would go numb too.” She blows out a deep breath. “I filled out an online application on a career site the very next day, told myself I’d take the first job I was offered. Taylor contacted me three days later, hired me a few weeks after that.”
“Hm.” I nod and hope I’m succeeding in my SNL Church Lady “Well, isn’t that special” tone.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“I’d been saving money for years, hoping that one day I could take my daughter to start a new life somewhere warm. A place where it never rained.” Her thoughtful silence is heavy. “I filed for divorce, told Stewart we were leaving and, you know?” Her face crinkles up. “He wasn’t as upset as I thought he’d be. He must’ve seen that I was done. He let us go, no questions asked.”
My fury is overshadowed by my curiosity. Seems he let her go a little too easily. Dick like him goes to all that trouble to get the girl that doesn’t want him, and one day he just cuts her loose? Fishy.
She rolls to her side, pressing her cheek into my thigh, and resumes channel surfing. “Oh, I love this show. It’s Dog the Bounty Hunter. He’s so badass.”
Badass? So fuckin’ cute. I relax and take in the comfort of knowing she’s safe now, under my roof, and in my arms.
I don’t know what Stew’s motives were for letting go of his wife and daughter. Maybe an attack of conscience, possibly some slut on the side he didn’t have to hold down to get into. Don’t know, don’t care. But I’d like to thank the pecker-head for gifting his girls to me.
After I beat the living shit out of him.
Twenty-one
Layla
I’m warm. Wrapped tightly, but not smothered. Content.
When was the last time I felt this at ease?
Must be a dream. I allow myself the comfort, knowing that waking up will destroy my peace with reality. Just a few more minutes—a deep moan vibrates at my back and I’m shifted in position, my confines growing tighter.
I blink open my eyes. Where am I? The dark blue walls and mahogany furniture reek of masculinity. Just like the strong arms that cage me from behind.
I grin. Blake.
The last thing I remember is watching TV, my head resting on Blake’s lap while his fingers sifted through my hair. It felt so good to be caressed by his tender touch. I thought I could close my eyes for a second. So much for that.
The early morning sun casts the room in a yellow glow. The sound of his breathing at my ear is like a symphony of contentment that pulls my eyelids closed.