“Tell me you don’t feel that,” he had said.
I had shoved him off with both hands.
At one time, I’d felt every touch, every kiss from Cole, but not anymore.
“No,” I had replied, only disgusted by his behavior.
Cole was immortal. I had put him on a pedestal, enamored at the fact that he’d picked me. But that night, all I could see was Clary and him together every time I closed my eyes, and I knew I would never get over that.
“Bye, Cole.” I had turned to leave, finally done with him and ready to move past my heartache.
He’d reached for me, tugged me toward him, and kissed me hard again. Then he reached to cup the front of my pants with his hand. Pulling back, I saw anger and darkness in his eyes. Chills shook my body and dread filled my veins.
“This is fucking mine,” he’d growled. “No one else’s.”
My throat closed up as my mind regressed back to the day he’d raped me. The restraint, the suffocation, and the overall feeling of being powerless to someone I had once loved and trusted. I’d seen his violent side when he’d been in fights before, but never once had he unleashed it on me. . . . until that night.
That night, I had fought like my life depended on it as he forced himself inside me, taking away my power to choose. He’d broken me that night. Seven years later, I was still broken. Just a shell of my former self, unable to hold a real relationship, unable to feel anything other than the sensation of sex when I was physically with any man.
Then came Brian. He was everywhere, bringing back memories of Cole, because I felt everything with Brian. Somehow he had torn through the barriers I’d spent years building up. When I was with him, I felt every single touch, every kiss . . . everything. As if, when Brian touched me, he was reaching into my soul, breaking away all my insecurities, making me feel somewhat whole.
These past few weeks, I’d caught a glimpse of how it could be with Brian. My future, free from my past. But tonight, the dream vanished after hearing of my mother’s engagement. It was as if I was predestined to follow a path, and if I veered from this path, the consequence would be my happiness.
My comfort had always been in this future, which had been foretold to me. That had been my semblance of control since I was sixteen, since Evangeline had given me the reality to stop wishing for my father to come home and what she had predicted about me . . . about my future and about my happiness.
And then came Brian, and I felt okay just by being with him, but being with him meant I had to let go of my past and let go of the predictions. Just let go.
Tremors shook my body, and I couldn’t. I just couldn’t because I was afraid, so very afraid of the unknown, of letting go. Being in love meant you let someone else take the driver’s seat, and the only time I’d been in love, the driver drove us off the cliff, crashed us, and obliterated the carefree girl that I once knew.
I swiped at my face, threw the comforter to the side, and cried a goddamn river into the sleeve of my shirt. “Stop!” I screamed at myself, pushing my palms against my eyelids. But the more I willed myself not to cry, the more tears fell down my cheeks.
I shook my head and stood, biting my cheek and loving the pain. Maybe the physical pain would make the tears go away, or at least change their purpose. “Stop!” I said, pinching the inside of my wrist. “Stop crying over that fucker!”
He’d taken so much from me that night. My free will, how I saw men, and my ‘glass half full’ mentality. Now, at any moment, I was fearful that someone might tip the glass over, causing it to empty.
I turned the TV on, volume on loud to drive these thoughts deep down into places inside of me that I didn’t touch anymore. The ones of my dad and his new family. The ones where Cole was on top of me, hurting me, restraining me against my will, and using force to have his way.
When it didn’t work, I turned the volume up higher. When that didn’t work, I cupped both ears with my hands, but it was no use. The memory was taking me under.
Finally, I threw the remote and heard it thud against the television, then I dropped to my knees on the floor. That thud was a comforting sound compared to hearing myself plead with him over and over. My cries, my begging, and my screaming had not stopped him from violating me in the worst possible way. He had only wrapped his hand around my throat, suffocating me and restraining my cries.
And once it was over, he’d left me to clean myself up and leave.
I let my head fall into my hands, my shoulders shaking with sobs. I couldn’t. Not with Brian. Not when our relationship was unpredictable and all-consuming. If I let go with him, I wouldn’t be in control of my life anymore. This had not been our arrangement, our plan. I needed to take charge of my life from this day forward or I’d never be fixed. I’d forever be broken.
***
BRIAN
I reached over to the side of my bed, feeling around for the warmth of her body. When my hand patted against the empty sheet, I jolted up and searched my room for Kendy.
My stomach churned with dread as I leapt out of bed, put my boxers on, and rushed to the living room. “Kendy!” I yelled, searching every corner of mine and Trey’s tiny place. But she wasn’t in the living room, and she wasn’t in the bathroom.
“Kendy . . .” I stopped in the kitchen as realization hit me.
She left.
My hands gripped the kitchen counter, and I let my head hang as my eyes fell shut. Tonight, I’d seen the same emotion I felt mirrored in her eyes. I knew she loved me; these feelings didn’t only go one way. But maybe I’d rushed her. Maybe I should’ve given her more time.
“Fuck!” I growled, slamming my palms against the marble. At the sound of heavy footsteps, I peered up.
Trey slipped a shirt over his head as he strolled into the kitchen. “What happened?” His voice was low with concern as he advanced toward me.
“She left.” I rushed back to my room in search of my phone then pulled it from the back pocket of my jeans, which were on the floor, and dialed her number. It went straight to voicemail.
With a frustrated growl, I glanced at the digital clock on my nightstand. It was six-thirty. In a few hours, I’d be in the boardroom, trying to land the biggest client of my career, with every important board member from the company in attendance. This would make or break my hopes of getting a promotion . . . yet all I could think about was Kendy. Had she made it home safely? Were we okay?
I tilted my head from side to side, trying to ease the tension building in my muscles. I focused on the clock again, doubting my ability to get to work on time if I went after her. At this point, though, I didn’t fucking care. I wanted to talk to her, make sure we were okay. Make sure she was okay.
With my mind set, I pulled my jeans up and reached for my oversized shirt folded neatly at the edge of the bed, the one she’d worn to sleep. Slipping it on, I inhaled deeply, taking in her scent, which lingered on the cotton, and relived last night.
Yes, this was the right decision.
I marched to my closet, placing a pair of grey dress pants, a white crisp shirt, a tie, and a suit jacket into a garment bag. Then I picked up the keys I had dropped on the floor and rushed to the living room.
“Where’re you going?” Trey blocked my path to the door. “Don’t you have that big meeting this morning?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, not wanting the reminder. “I need to talk to Kendy first.”
I maneuvered past him, but he grabbed my arm. “Whoa! Listen, calm down. What happened last night, bro? What’s going on between you guys?”
I swallowed hard. “I love her,” I said, my voice breaking. “I want to make sure we’re okay.”
He nodded slowly then placed one hand on my shoulder and stepped out of my path. “Go then. Go get your girl.”
My girl . . .
Was she? I didn’t know.