AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Thirty-Three
RORY
Ibarely remember leaving Runwood. After standing in the hallway for what must have been ten minutes of me gripping Rogan’s shirt as I cried, he effortlessly picked me up. I buried my head in his shoulder, uncaring about what others thought as he brought me outside and gently sat me on the passenger seat of his SUV before buckling me in. I was staring out of the windshield, shocked and grieving, as his warm hand cupped my cheek and dragged my eyes to his.
“Come on, Hellcat, let’s get you home,” he offered kindly before leaning in and kissing my forehead, lingering there until I felt warmth spreading through me.
Showing me I’m not alone.
Now, as the heat blasts in the car and the music plays softly as I stare out of the front window, I feel his eyes darting to me as he checks on my wellbeing. Why did he follow me? Why does he care? In his eyes, when he looked at Mitch, I saw regret and familiarity there, but the great Rogan Dixen can’t know anything about what I’m going through… Can he?
“I need to stop somewhere,” I tell him. I had planned to go after Runwood, but now that Rogan is driving me… Shit. Well, I still need to go, and I guess he will see all of my disgusting, dirty secrets in one day.
“Of course, where to?” he asks, and I give him directions. He smoothly changes lanes, not even blinking at the change of plan. My heart finally slows down from seeing Mitch. How can drugs change someone so much? When I looked into his eyes, all I saw was a stranger. Is Betty right? Am I holding on when I should be letting go?
But if I do…if I let go…he will be alone. I’m all the family he has left. Can I really cut the cord for good and walk away? Even after everything he has put me through, I still love him. He’s still the big brother who held me every night as I cried after Mom and Dad died. Who told me stories of them growing up so I wouldn’t forget.
Drugs… Fuck drugs. They remove the good in people and make them willing to do anything. The man I loved was stripped away, but he’s still in there. He just needs help, right? He’s still my family. Addiction doesn’t take away all the good he did, but it might take away his future.
Could I really leave him in there alone for the rest of his days?
My thoughts swirl as I sink into a dark place. Rogan notices of course. The meticulous Dixen brother reaches out and, softer than I thought any of them were capable of, he holds my hand. He squeezes it, just letting me know he’s here, that he sees me. Why is he offering me comfort? I must say it out loud, because he sighs and stops at a red light, looking over at me. I see his hesitation before his gentle voice fills the car.
“My parents were addicted to drugs as well, so I understand what you’re going through.” He ends it with no room for questions, but in one sentence, I have learned more about him and his brothers than ever before. I heard the hurt, the pain, the anger, and the grief—emotions I’m all too familiar with. One sentence conveyed the multitude of bad situations he’s experienced due to those drugs.
Maybe we aren’t so different after all.
But just as I think that, the light changes and we turn into the trailer park, and the hope that was budding within comes crashing down around me. Yes, we are really that different. He was born into money and power. I’m made of white trash, not gold like him.
He looks over at me, but I keep my eyes firmly on the front window, my cheeks heating in embarrassment. I snatch my hand away from his, unable to accept his touch as he sees where I really come from. When he pulls up in a space down the row, I jump out, and without a word or backward glance, I duck my head and hurry to my trailer. I hear his door shut and then his booted feet fall into place behind me, but I don’t look back as I reach the door and yank my keys from my pocket. With trembling hands, I try to insert the key into the lock, but I keep missing. Closing my eyes, I sniff back tears because I’m on the verge of crying again, and then I feel it. He wraps his hand around mine, his arm around my waist, and presses his body against my back. I feel warm and protected as he extracts the keys from my grip, and without a word, unlocks the door for me.
“Thank you,” I whisper before pushing inside and flicking on the light. The curtains are still shut from when I last left, and there are empty bread sleeves and cracker boxes still open on the counter. But I ignore all that, grab the mail off the floor, and shuffle to the kitchen area, keeping my back to him as I drop it all onto the counter. Unable to put it off any longer, I turn toward him, my face red and hands still shaking. I tilt my chin up and meet his eyes, hiding behind a little shroud of dark hair. I may be ashamed, but I need to see if he will judge me. Not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouths, after all.
Fear consumes me next. Surely he will see through the lies written on my application. He’ll know it was fabricated, that I’m not what it proclaimed I am.
Will he fire me for this?
Tell his brothers?
He arches his eyebrow and looks around at the small, dingy trailer. No one has ever stood out as much as he does. In his expensive tailored pants and blazer, and with his perfectly styled hair, meticulous beard, and the designer glasses covering those whiskey eyes, he looks like a runway model, and yet here we are. Even my carpet isn’t good enough to touch his shoes. I expect disgust and judgment, yet he simply looks back at me curiously. “May I?” he inquires and nods his head to the doors at the end of the hallway. Is he asking if he can look?
I shrug and wrap my arms around myself, unable to talk for fear my voice would crack in shame. He moves past me, and his footsteps retreat as he slips inside my bedroom. When he’s out of sight, I slump a little, rubbing my head as I turn to open the bills, when the outside door is suddenly ripped open again. I turn, my mouth dropping open.
Stupid, Rory, you know better.
Filling the frame is Donny. He crowds the space, blocking my only way out as malice fills his gaze. My panicked eyes quickly shoot to the corridor Rogan just went down before meeting Donny’s again. My heart skips a beat, and fear flows through my veins as the door bangs shut behind him and he takes a step closer.
“Get out,” I snarl, feigning confidence I don’t feel. He needs to leave before Rogan sees him or hears more about me than he should. I’m walking a fine line here between getting caught or killed.
“Not likely,” he counters with a grin. His plaid shirt is open, exposing a dirty white tank top, which has blood and food stains all over it. His belly is bare and hanging over his low-slung jeans as he moves closer. I shuffle left, trying to get out of his way, and he backs me against the wall. Cringing, I recoil into it as his hand comes up and cages me in. He lowers his head and booze scented breath wafts over me. “I’ve found something out about you, beauty,” he taunts, grabbing a strand of hair and tugging on it. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back.” He yanks on the lock before releasing it, and with a chuckle, he grips one of my breasts and squeezes. I kick out at him, trying to escape his hold without alerting Rogan, but he squeezes harder, and fear and fury flow through me.
“What do you want?” I hiss as I still, and once I do, his hand strokes down my side, making me shiver in disgust as unwanted tears spring into my eyes.
“What I’ve always wanted, this cheap little pussy,” he sneers.
“Not fucking happening, even if you were the last man on earth. Go suck a dick,” I snarl, and he grins wider.
“I was hoping you would say that.” He leans in again, licking along my face. “Want to know what I learned? I think you do,killer.”
