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Her laugh was bitter. “Brushed it under the rug. Said he must have been high and not acting rationally, but it was so much more than that. I think they were just relieved when he vanished again. The next time he came back, I was sixteen and terrified of him. My parents let him stay for a month and I hid from him as much as possible. He was always watching me with this distrustful gaze. A few times he made comments about the devil, but I never stuck around long enough to hear him out. He cornered me once, but I got away. After that month, he was gone for another year. The pattern continued, where he’d show up then disappear. He cut me a few more times, nothing that required medical attention, but it was always so painful.”
She shrugged as though it was no big deal, but Gumby thought he was going to be sick. Her family hadn’t protected her. Just let some strung out head case torture her. There had to be more she wasn’t telling them. Her recounting was growing too…clinical. What about the daily fear? What about all the nights she had to go to sleep wondering if and when Paul would show up and what state he’d be in.
“The last time I saw him was Memorial Day weekend in twenty-eighteen.”
Gumby froze, unable to draw in a breath. Memorial Day weekend. Jesus Christ, the Saturday he’d canceled their date had been two days before Memorial Day.
She flicked a glance in his direction but that was all the indication she gave that the specific date held any other meaning.
Clueless as to the added tension, Screw reached out and grasped Jazz’s hands, stopping her from ripping off her thumb nail. “You’re going to ruin your nails.”
She didn’t seem to notice, just barreled on with her story. “I was in my apartment, alone. I didn’t even think he knew where I lived. After I moved out of our parents’ house at twenty, I made sure I never saw him again, at least not if I was alone. Anyway, that night, there was a knock on my door. I answered without checking the peephole. I thought it was…” Her gaze flicked in his direction before she shook her head. “I thought it was someone else, so I answered without looking. Didn’t matter what I thought. I should have checked. I always checked. But that night I made a decision I will forever regret.”
She’d thought it was him. Had she thought he’d finished his club business early and decided to surprise her? He’d had the shit beaten out of him countless times as a kid, but nothing compared to the internal pain of her admission.
She took a shuddering breath.
“Do you need to stop?” Screw asked.
Thank God for him. Gumby couldn’t speak to save his life.
“No. I just…it’s hard to relive. And I’ve never told the story to anyone. But I need to finish now that I’ve started.” She trembled. “I need to get it out.”
As though he could no longer stand the separation, Screw drew her off the coffee table and onto his lap. She struggled for all of two seconds before relaxing against his broad chest.
Gumby turned so he was facing the two of them. They made a beautiful picture. Jazz with her short dark hair, creamy skin. Screw with his longer, brown hair, scruffy face, and tanned skin.
Gorgeous.
Instead of feeling jealous, feeling like Screw was poaching his woman, he felt satisfied seeing them together. It seemed right, but because he was present too. He wrapped his hand around her calf, giving a squeeze in support.
“P-Paul pushed his way into my h-house and just…attacked.” She choked out a sob. “S-same thing as always, I was p-possessed. He was the only one who could save me. He shoved me, and I fell. For a moment, I was stunned, and he managed to drag me into my kitchen. As he started to yank my clothes off, I really did think he was going to rape me, but he wasn’t remotely interested in that.” The words tumbled out one right after another, so fast he almost couldn’t make them out.
She blinked, tears coursing down her face. “H-he pulled out a knife, same one he’d used in the past. As soon as I saw it, I nearly passed out, I was so t-terrified. I’ll never forget the feeling of being truly paralyzed by my fear. He o-ordered me to get up and sit in one of my kitchen chairs.”
Screw’s big hand coasted up and down her back. Gumby met his gaze. Rage simmered in his eyes, much the same emotion Gumby was experiencing. Paul was a dead man. Somehow, someway, the man would pay for every mark he put on Jazmine.
“I didn’t get off the ground. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. My hair was a little longer then, and Paul yanked me up by it, dropping me onto a chair. Before I had a chance to process what was happening, he had my arms and legs tied to the chair with…with this gold ribbon I’d used to decorate Fia and Acer’s wedding gift.”
