AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But she never showed.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
CASSIE
The heavinessfrom an arm draped across me cocoons me in heat as I stir awake. It takes a moment to register the soothing, woodsy scent mixed with a hint of spice. Then it hits. Dalton slept all night in my bed. My eyes pop open, but as his features come into focus, the panic abates.
Those slightly too thick eyebrows that always seem drawn in concern are relaxed as if he hasn’t a care in the world. The jaw that is always hardened smooths as if the weight of the world that burdens him has lessened. Gone is the edginess his expression usually holds, and in its place is nothing but innocence. Or maybe it’s because all I see is the little boy inside the man that yearns to be loved even though he would deny it.
My gaze drops to the tattoos he once said don’t mean anything, but the recent addition of the school mascot must. I wonder if he finally feels as if he belongs. But then again, something had to be amiss since he’s here.
As his soft breaths fill the silence, a war brews in my mind: snuggle closer—which I admit it feels incredible waking up in his arms—or freak out because holy smokes, Dalton Boyd is in my childhood bed.
I choose to burrow deeper.
The freak out can come later. Or not at all. It’s not as if I need to worry about Dad bursting through the door. He has stepped foot in my room maybe five or six times since we moved here twelve years ago. And after last night, he wouldn’t dare come near me.
Last night.
The events replay through my mind and land like punches in a boxing match:the jab—the confidence Bobby wore when he brought me in front of the crowd,the cross—the smug look he exchanged with my dad right before dropping the bombshell,the lead hook—the look on Dalton’s face when Bobby announced our engagement,the rear hook—the argument that pursued after I told Bobby under no circumstances would I ever marry him,the lead uppercut—the even greater argument with Dad, and then there’s the rear uppercut or in this case,the knockout punch—the slap across the face.
Not once has Dad ever raised a hand to me. But then again, I’ve never given him cause. I was always the obedient daughter. Little Miss Rule Follower. But I can’t be here anymore—not after he crossed a line by trying to marry me off.
“Your body’s tensing. Are you thinking about last night?” Sleepiness coats Dalton’s voice and makes me smile. He isn’t one to mince words. He certainly doesn’t sugarcoat them. So this gentle, softer side he displays pulls at my heartstrings.
“How’d you know?”
“It doesn’t take years of growing up together for me to know what your dad did is killing you.” He begins to trace circles on my back. Even with the barrier of the T-shirt, his touch is soft and caressing. I start to relax. “Has he ever hit you before?”
“No.” My answer must appease Dalton because he lets out a relieved sigh. Then, those dark brown eyes that make me melt open. Indecision swirls in his gaze.
“Your dad regretted slapping you the moment it happened. I could see it in his entire demeanor.”
“That may be so, but he still did it.”
“I know. I’m not trying to make excuses, and your dad’s remorse doesn’t negate the act, but at least he showed regret, unlike . . .”
“Unlike your father?” I guess when his voice trails off.
He glances away as if in shame. “I don’t want to lessen your abuse by comparing it to mine.” He lifts and brings his arm around to find my hand. Lacing our fingers together, he whispers, “I can’t believe they ambushed you.”
“You and me both.” I think of my mom and wonder what she’d say about this. There isn’t any way she would go along with this scheme. She may have been the perfect preacher’s wife and dedicated her life to the church, but she wouldn’t have agreed to that.
“You’re tense again. Now, what are you thinking about?”
“My mom.” My confession seems to startle him, but he recovers quickly. “I miss her.”
“Tell me about her.”
“She was a trooper. She volunteered for every cause within a hundred-mile radius. I used to tease her that she stretched herself too thin. But she was the most caring, generous, loving mom. Where my dad was the authoritarian figure, she was lenient. She used to fight my battles. I wanted to go to the homecoming dance my senior year. Dad was dead set against it. I already told you I couldn’t date. Well, that ban extended to school dances as well. She told him since I was a responsible young lady, I deserved to be rewarded. It was his moral responsibility to trust that I knew how to act properly and decently.” I chuckle, remembering the way Dad’s face twisted with rage at how she backed him into a corner.
“Your mom sounds like a badass.”
“Every once in a while, she could be. But she mainly served Dad and the Lord. I watched Mom suffer toward the end and wondered if she had been happy. Outside of being with me, I don’t remember her acting happy.” I reach for the necklace, but my fingers come up empty. I wore the necklace religiously but took it off after Mom passed. “I haven’t been to Mom’s grave since returning home from school. I can’t make myself go.”
“Maybe you should. It may help clarify some things. I’ve heard it can be therapeutic.”
“Yeah, maybe. Do you believe in God?”
