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He kisses me with cruelty. “Guess what princess, he can’t have you.” He squeezes my breast and then pushes his fingers into my thighs, spreading my legs and grabs my sex so hard I cry out. He gets within inches of my face and growls, “This is mine. Do you understand me?”
Something snaps inside me and instead of appeasing him like I normally do, I spit in his face. This time he balls up his fist and swings, striking my eye. He drags me up out of the bed and throws me into my vanity. My head slams into the mirror and glass shards fly everywhere. I feel something warm start to trickle down my face. I reach up and touch it, and I see blood on my hand—lots of it.
I stay down instead of trying anything else. He’s never gone this far. He hasn’t tried to force himself on me before and he hasn’t ever hit my face. He prefers his handiwork to stay hidden. I can feel my eye swelling and the blood dripping. I’m afraid to see the damage.
“Shit, Lucy. See what you made me do?” I turn in his direction without looking at him full on. He’s panicked and seems to be sobering up. He’s pulling at his blond hair, squeezing his eyes shut as if realizing his monumental mistake. I tuck my chin back down to see myself—to the blood now running down my chest and bare breasts from wherever I’m bleeding profusely on my head and face.
He approaches and kneels in front of me assessing the damage. “Lucy, look at me.” I don’t, but he tips my chin up and makes me. He closes his eyes and lets his hand drop. He goes into my bathroom, grabbing a towel before kneeling again and starts to wipe away the blood.
“Don’t,” I hiss at him. “Get away from me.”
He appears shocked and for once, remorseful. “Lucy. I’m so…” I gaze up at him with what feels like hollow eyes as I accept what he’s done. This time I meet his eyes making sure he’ll hear what I’m about to say.
“Get out of my house, Taylor. I don’t want anything to do with you ever again,” I say with deadly calm. To my surprise, he stands up and walks out, shutting my front door behind him. I hear the roar of his truck as he drives away but I stay on the floor for a few minutes, making sure he’s gone.
Only then do I get up and slowly make my way to the bathroom, pulling what’s left of my ripped shirt off, and tossing it in the garbage while avoiding the mirror. I tip toe into my living room to the front door making sure it’s locked.
I go back in the bathroom and finally see myself.Oh shit.I have a gash above my temple in my hairline and my left eye is already bruising and swelling. Blood is all over me from the gash on my head. It’s big to be bleeding so much. I grab a washcloth and lather it with warm, soapy water. I wince as I wash around the cut. I have the blood washed off my chest and face, but I don’t have enough gauze to dress the wound on my head with. I need to go to the hospital.
I go to my closet and grab a long-sleeved white shirt and jeans. After I put on the shirt, I realize my mistake. I already got blood on it. Can’t do anything about it now. I slide on my shoes and head for the door before walking outside. After closing and locking my front door, I realize I left my keys and purse inside, I’m so disoriented—maybe I shouldn’t drive anyway.
I pull my cell out of my pocket, and then I stare at it… I don’t have anyone to call. Tears build behind my eyes, blurring my vision. My first thought is Tate. I don’t know why. I don’t even have his number, but something about him made me feel protected. I don’t even know him, it’s crazy.
I start to walk down my front steps. I live in a little cottage in town I rent from Serena Lawson. She’s the receptionist at GVPD. I could always call her. I don’t want to call Mom right now, and I don’t want to involve Ivie because that will lead to her dad,our dad.
They’ll all want answers I’m not ready to give. I open the contacts in my phone and see Serena’s number. I’m about to hit send when someone slides something over my mouth, making me drop my phone, preventing me from breathing.
When I do drag in a breath, I know I’m being drugged. Darkness tugs at my vision and I feel my body slumping. I’m vaguely aware of being dragged and put into the backseat of a car. When my abductor gets in the driver’s seat, I sense something familiar. I can’t quite place it, but I’m almost certain I know this person.
My body gives in to the pain and despair of the night, along with whatever I just breathed in and my eyes close. My mind drifts to Ivie. I wish I’d told her the truth. Then, the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, the ones I’ve been trying so hard to forget, float through my mind. If that’s my last memory, then so be it.
Rocky wakes me up with his nose. He likes to nudge me with it. I reach over and rub his head. “Hey boy, I’m up.” I can smell the coffee wafting from the kitchen since my coffee maker is on a timer.
I get up and use the bathroom, brush my teeth, and get dressed. I walk into the kitchen and grab my coffee cup and pour some. The sun is barely up. I peer out over the hills trying to make out the cattle. My cabin is not far down a little private road on the ranch, past the main house. My cabin is about the size of the main house. It looks rustic but has all the modern-day appliances and décor.
It was left to me—in my name—by Grady. Sterling and Briella know what Grady left me, and not once have they questioned it, but they don’t know the whole truth as to why. I shake my head to rid the guilt of feeling like I’m lying to them. I’m not exactly, but I’m also not telling the whole truth. Is omitting part of the truth a lie?
This isn’t even my secret, but it makes me feel dirty, like itismine. I only wish Grady had told me in person, and them too. Rocky trots over, before staring up at me and I chuckle. “Ready for your breakfast?” He lets out a woof.
I grab his dog food and fill his bowl then check to make sure he has water. He goes to town, and while he eats, I make a piece of toast, then slather my favorite homemade strawberry jam on it. This is my breakfast most mornings, simple but tasty. I finish my coffee as Rocky finishes eating, and he starts pawing the door to go out. I walk over and open it, watching him run through the yard as he sniffs all his favorite trees. He rolls around in the fallen leaves excitedly. I chuckle as I take in the sight of my gloriously happy dog.
I rinse out my cup again, leaving it in the sink before grabbing my jacket, sliding on my boots, and heading out the door. I get on the four-wheeler and head to the barn and main house to make sure the hands are here and going to work. I also need to check on Sterling again.
A few hours pass and it’s now mid-morning. Sterling hasn’t left yet. I head on up to his house and go in. “Hey bro, it’s me, you in here?”
He steps out of his office. “Yeah man, come on in. You want some more coffee?” he asks as he walks to the kitchen.
“Sure, you know I won’t turn down a good cup of coffee,” I offer up. He smirks and laughs, pouring us both a cup of fully leaded brew, unlike the decaf I was sipping last night.
I can’t help but start in with the questions after he slides my cup over. “So, have you talked to Briella or Ivie anymore?” He eyes me from over the rim of his own cup. He sits it down and pinches his eyebrows together. “Both. Briella told me they’ll be back in a couple hours. Ivie, well, that conversation wasn’t as pleasant.”
“Why, Sterling? What’s really going on? You know you can tell me.” He sits on a bar stool. I take the other one. “I know I can, but I don’t know what’s going on right now. This stalker and the secrets they keep telling… I don’t know what to think or believe. Everything has been true so far, but I still hope some of it is the truth, only twisted.” He shakes his head.
I eye him like he’s grown another head. “That’s the most confusing thing I’ve ever heard,” I tell him. He always makes sense, which makes me worry whatever’s going on is worse than I thought.
He nods. “I know it is. Let’s just say, most everything has been the truth but sometimes there’s more to it than meets the eye; a better explanation. That’s what I hope is happening. Otherwise…” He trails off.
“Otherwise, what?” I push.
