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I hopped out of the vehicle. The weeds brushed against my knees as I stood still for a moment. Since the house was at the end of the street, maybe it was easier for the neighbors to ignore the mess. Wiggling my fingers and trying to ignore the tingles of fear, I slowly walked to the front door that was still standing. The long grass flattened with each step, and I pushed up my sunglasses, which had slipped down my nose.
Shadows gathered in my thoughts, swirling with memories of how many times I’d tried … I clenched my hands into fists, determined to not allow my past to consume me, but the cold, hard truth crushed my lungs, and I struggled to catch my breath. It should have never fucking happened. I should have been able to stop it. Tears clouded my vision, and I looked away from the home, my heart splintering into a thousand shards all over again.
My cell buzzed in my back pocket, and relief flooded me as I welcomed the distraction. I shoved the nearly debilitating heartache to the side as I glanced at the screen. Shaking my head at the timing, I answered Mom’s call, then headed to the car.
“Hey, Mom. How are you?” I slid into the driver’s seat and started the Mercedes, the Bluetooth connecting within seconds. I placed my phone into the cup holder and backed away. I’d seen enough. Walking down memory lane wasn’t going to help relieve the pain.
“Hi, honey.” Mom’s voice was laced with sadness.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as I headed down the street away from the ruined home and lot. As soon as I was finished talking to Mom, I would let Jeffrey know I was ready to fly back to Spokane. It had taken me a hell of a lot less time than I’d anticipated.
“Zayne, Chelsey’s father passed away last night. It was unexpected from what I understand—a heart attack.” Her sniffle filled the line.
Hearing her name again was a punch to my gut, and I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding “Shit.” I shoved my hand through my hair. “How’s Linda? I can’t imagine she’s doing okay.”
“I talked to her this morning. She’s numb and in shock, which is to be expected.”
“Mom, you’re probably the best person to support her since you’ve been through the loss of a spouse.”
“I’ll do what I can from here, but the distance will make it more difficult.” A hint of loneliness dotted her words.
That was one problem I could fix. “I’ll pay for your plane ticket. Go see her. Just let me know the dates.”
“Zayne, I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already paid off my house. I’m not calling to ask you for money.”
“I know, Mom. I do this because I love you.” And I did. Paying for the things she couldn’t afford was my way of showing her. “But I’m not asking. Call her and tell her you’re flying in. I’ll have a rental car set up, and I’ll transfer some extra cash into your account. Stay as long as you want to. She needs you.” A growing ache reverberated in my chest. I wasn’t offering to do this just for Mom. It was my way of soothing my own heart as well. I hadn’t kept in touch with Linda and Jacob after … I swallowed over the emotions lodged in my throat, forcing them down.
“Will you … will you call her, Zayne? I think it would mean the world to her to hear from you.”
Even though Mom couldn’t see me, I shook my head. “She doesn’t need to talk to me. It will only make things worse.” My stomach churned at the idea of hearing her voice after all this time—years after I bailed and joined the military. It was a miracle Linda and Jacob didn’t hate me. God knew I hated myself for what had happened.
“I understand. One of these days I hope you find the strength to stop blaming yourself. No one else blames you. Forgive yourself, son. I want you to be happy.”
My jaw clenched, anger rising as the lie danced on the tip of my tongue. “I am happy,” I said between gritted teeth. When would she learn to stop pushing me about my past?
“How? You’ve never dealt with her—”
“Enough, Mom. This isn’t up for discussion. Let me know about the plane ticket. If Linda needs the cost of the funeral covered or any medical bills … whatever she needs, I can help. But it’s the best I can do. I can’t talk to her.” I was a little surprised that I’d admitted that to Mom, but she would keep pushing if I didn’t say something to appease her. Every time we talked, this always happened. My eyes narrowed as silence filled the line. One of these days, Mom would finally understand why we weren’t close. It wasn’t that I didn’t love her or want to spend time with her, but she insisted on bringing up shit that I wanted to keep buried.
“Mom, I’m driving, and the traffic is brutal. I need to focus. Let me know the days and times of your flight, and I’ll book the trip for you. I love you.”
“Love you too. Take care of yourself.”
Her words rang in my head as I disconnected the call.
“I’m fucking trying to take care of myself, Mom. I’m trying.” Without hesitation, I called Jeffrey and told him I was on the way back to the penthouse and that I would be ready to return to the airport. The palms of my hands itched with the urge to get the hell out of Portland. It had been a bad idea to come back.
15
Giselle
Aweek had passed since Donovan had sold me to Ashkov. The cuts were mostly healed, but the burn on my back still hurt like a son of a bitch.
Checking myself in the bathroom mirror, I smoothed my red blouse and denim shorts. After I pulled my hair into a low ponytail, I quickly applied a coat of mascara. My eyes—so light, they almost appeared gold—were the first thing most people noticed about me, and making my long lashes look even fuller was the last step in putting on my mask for the world.
Over the last several days, I’d battled with the idea of confiding in Zayne when he returned. Each time I talked myself out it, the memories of that evening with Ashkov returned in my nightmares, wrecking me with a potent mix of terror and desperation. It was a constant reminder that I had to find a way to escape my prison with Donovan or continue to suffer at the feet of men like Ashkov. Donovan had made sure that suicide was no longer an option. Although the cuts had healed and the burn on my back was getting better, I doubted I would ever recover mentally or emotionally.
My hands trembled while weighing the pros and cons of leaving Donovan. I didn’t care that my life was at stake. I didn’t give a shit. I would gladly sacrifice myself to protect her.That’s not the only thing that makes your stomach flip-flop with nerves.
