She grabbed as many boxes as she could carry and walked inside. The house felt empty.
“Hello?”
No answer. She stomped to the bedroom, yanking open dressers and ripping hangers out of the closet. At least she had a decent wardrobe. She could probably get a position with a temp agency, working in an office. The ring on her left hand flashed in the light and she stared at it, sitting on their bed and crying.
Why did they do this to her? Why fuck with her heart? They didn’t have to play games to win her love. Didn’t they know that? Didn’t they know how much she loved them, even before all this started? All they had to do was tell her how they felt. She would have jumped at a chance to be with them. Okay, so a little weird, yes, but to have two men who made her feel the way they made her feel…
Nothing hurt as bad as this. Couldn’t she turn back time—Jesus, only an hour, not even that—and have her life back?
She hesitated. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe she should talk to them, wait for an explanation.
But how could she trust herself? How could she trust them, be sure they weren’t playing yet another mind game?
The garage door opener kicked on, startling her. She never heard them drive up. Crap. She tensed when the door from the garage into the house opened. Which one would try first? Probably Thomas. He looked as pissed at Tyler as she felt.
No. She needed to leave, at least for now. There was plenty of time to hate herself later, but there was no way she could ever think straight around the two of them. They’d melt her reserve, and once again she’d do whatever they wanted. Her problem was she’d never lived by herself as an adult. She needed to get away from them, get her head on straight. Then, and only then, would she talk to them and hear what they had to say. Maybe then she could sort fact from fantasy.
One of these fucking days, she had to learn how to stand on her own two feet, quit waiting for some white knight to swoop in and rescue her.
Today was that day.
She took a deep breath and started packing again. She sensed one of them standing in the bedroom doorway. After a few long minutes, she turned.
Alex leered. “Well, bitch, I see you found yourself a happy little whorehouse to live in. Shoulda known you would.”
She dove for the phone and he was on her in a flash, ripping it from her hands and pulling the cord from the wall. He hit her with it. She managed to push him off and stumbled for the door, screaming for help.
“Quit screaming. Your little fag buddies aren’t here to save you. What the hell you doing with them anyway? They fuckin’ you up the ass? That what I shoulda done to keep you in line, treated you like a fuckin’ whore?” He grabbed her arm and slammed her into the wall, stunning her. When he threw her to the bed she bounced and rolled off the other side, on her feet and bolting for the bedroom door.
Alex tripped over one of the boxes but didn’t fall. He caught her in the hallway, pinning her face down on the floor. “Just hold still and take it up the ass, why don’t you? I bet you do for them and love it.”
He punched her in the head, and for a moment she feared she’d black out. When he changed position she scrambled up and he fell backwards. She kicked him in the thigh when aiming for his crotch, and managed to break his grip. She stumbled into the kitchen, still screaming.
Tyler couldn’t look at Thomas, unable to bear the weight of his angry glare. Thomas was right that they never should have played with Nevvie the way they did. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but don’t all horrifically awful ideas start out that way?
“What the fuck?” Thomas swore.
They’d rounded the final corner to the house and Tyler looked up to see Alex’s battered Escort parked across the end of their driveway.
Tyler’s instincts screamed. “Oh, no. Call 911!” Before Thomas had the truck completely stopped, Tyler flung the passenger door open and raced for the house.
Nevvie tried to grab the cordless phone from the counter but Alex tackled her again. He smelled like sweat and beer and rank body odor. He was drunk, and that made him even more dangerous. She pulled free but he caught her leg. As she turned to kick he grabbed something from the counter. She barely registered the silver flash in his hand before the knife sank into her stomach.
Hot, searing pain flooded her body. She screamed in agony.
“Like that, bitch?” He punched her with his other hand, splitting her lip. He pulled the knife out and sliced her shirt up the front, cutting her flesh several more times. “Gonna git a little action out of you whether you like it or not, fuckin’ cunt.”
She couldn’t speak, tried to put her hands to the wound. Nevvie saw the front door open behind Alex and she reached out.
Tyler flung the door open. “Nevvie!” He immediately saw Alex on top of her. Tyler charged, grabbing Alex by the shirt and pulling him off of her. The knife fell from Alex’s hand, clattering to the floor and sliding under the fridge.
That’s when Tyler saw the blood.
“Oh, Nevvie, sweet Jesus!”
Alex roared and slammed Tyler against the counter, knocking the wind out of him.
Tyler turned to take a swing at him when a chair flew at his head, dropping him to the floor. As Tyler lost consciousness, he looked at Nevvie and heard Thomas’ enraged scream.
Thomas parked on the lawn and was seconds behind Tyler, already on his cell to 911 and asking for a deputy. He raced through the open front door in time to see Alex swing the chair at Tyler, knocking him out. Alex had his back to the front door and Thomas dropped his cell, the operator still asking him questions. He tackled Alex, pummeling him with his fists, finally knocking him out.
His legs shaky, Thomas grabbed his cell, and that’s when he saw Nevvie lying on the floor behind the counter.
She was barely conscious. He screamed her name when he saw the blood. She looked at him, her eyes unfocused, trying to talk.
He cried, dropped to his knees next to her. “Oh God, he stabbed her! Please, send an ambulance! Oh, God, she’s bleeding everywhere!”
The operator tried to calm him. “Who was stabbed, sir?”
“He stabbed my wife!”
“Sir, please calm down—”
“God fucking dammit, send a fucking ambulance! She’s dying!” He looked at Tyler. “He hit Tyler, he’s out cold, but she’s dying, you’ve got to save her!”
“Who is Tyler? Is he okay?”
“He’s my partner—I don’t know, he’s on the floor unconscious, he got hit with a chair when he tried to help Nevvie. Please, you’ve got to send an ambulance!” Thomas heard sirens down their street and dropped the phone, cradling Nevvie in his arms, sobbing, caressing her face.
Her eyes focused on him, and he touched his forehead to hers. “Nevvie, please baby, hold on, they’re coming, you’re going to be okay.”
She tried to touch him and he grabbed her hand, squeezing it.
“Tom,” she whispered, “I love you.”
“I love you too, Nevvie, honey. I love you so much. I’m so sorry. You’re gonna be fine.”
“Where’s Ty?”
“He’ll be fine, he’s knocked out.”
“Tell Tyler I love him too, okay?”
“You’ll be able to tell him yourself, sugar.”
“Sheriff’s office!” The deputy in the doorway had his gun drawn.
“Over here!” Thomas screamed. “He stabbed her! Please, help her!”
The deputy holstered his gun and called into his radio, racing to their side. “What happened?”
Thomas pointed at Alex. “He attacked them.”