Keep Me (31 page)

“You good for nothing bitch! I saw what you did.” His breath stunk of vodka, the spit flying from his mouth as he scolded me for—for what? I didn’t even know this time.

“You’re hurting me, Zack. Please, can’t you just let go?”

“Let go?” he cackled like a deranged lunatic. “I’ll never let you go. You belong to me! ME! You hear me?”

It was impossible not to hear him. His face was red with fury and he was screaming so loud I feared—no, I prayed—the neighbors would finally hear the commotion and call the cops. Or maybe just come to my rescue and reveal the secrets kept hidden behind our white picket fence. He was heated tonight—date night was a disaster because I happened to know the waiter from high school. I was leery of my behavior around Aidan because I was so used to the warning signs by now—smile too happily, hold eye contact just a little too long, touch in any way, no matter how insignificant—those were the things that put Zack on high alert. I didn’t do any of that tonight, so I still couldn’t understand why I was being punished.

“You’re hurting me,” I pleaded again. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

“Good! It’s what you deserve—an eye for an eye. You don’t think it hurts when you betray me the way you did tonight?”

I stared into his eyes. When he was like this he truly became a different person—not the Zack who could be loving and tender. No, this man was possessed by something evil. Something I had no strength to compete with. But I tried nonetheless, because I wanted to believe I was a fighter, a survivor. “What exactly did I do this time, Zack? Please at least explain.” I wanted to finish that phrase with “so I won’t do it again,” but that would be submitting. I was getting tired of submitting, tired of this whole charade. He needed help—we both did.

“I shouldn’t have to explain myself to a whore, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” His grip loosened a bit, but his gaze never faltered. He was not only furious, but intoxicated and the mix was never a good thing. “Your little friend left this for you.”

He pulled out the dinner receipt from his back pocket and shoved it in my face.

I peeled it from my nose, my eyes focusing on the handwriting at the bottom.

It was great to see you, Tess. I’d love to catch up sometime with some of the old high school crew. My number is 347-555-9898. Aidan :)

Perfect disastrous ending to a perfectly disastrous dinner. But it still wasn’t my fault. It’s not like I slipped him my number under the table. “This is what has you so worked up?” In a bold move, I ripped up the check, hoping to prove a point. “Done. Aidan’s an old friend from school. There was never anything between us and there never will be. Okay?”

“You’re damn right, bitch! But it’s still not okay. You’re too sweet and naïve, Tessa. People flock to you, men want you.” He traced his rough finger along my jawline, landing on my bottom lip and pressing down hard. “They can’t have you. You’re mine!” His hand dropped from my face, fisting chunks of hair at the base of my neck. Forcefully, he pushed me toward him, his mouth crashing against mine. I hated kissing him when he was like this—drunk, possessive, angry.

“Stop.” I resisted, not allowing his tongue entrance to my mouth. “You’re drunk. Please, just stop.”

“Stop?” he growled through gritted teeth. “I told you. You’re mine. I can do whatever I want with what belongs to me and right now, you’re going to kiss me…
and like it.”

His hands gripped the sensitive flesh below my shoulders, digging his fingers into my skin. I whimpered as he anchored me to him, my head jerking back from the force of him yanking me. As he kissed me, I cried silently. I’d learned that my fear and sadness only fueled him. Eventually my arms would go numb, just like the rest of my body, underneath his touch. I would give in, because I always gave in. Too afraid to do anything else because I loved him. And the sickest, darkest part of me believed this was how he showed me he loved me, too.

I shook off the painfully vivid memory, trying to focus on the road. Okay, so maybe driving home this way wasn’t the smartest idea. Luca was passed out in his seat, but I couldn’t help feeling it was unsafe to weave in and out of Fourth of July traffic, trying to see through a stream of unremitting tears. The tears started out for Marcus, then for Zack, but they continued for me. I was lost, once again. A victim, once again. This time it wasn’t abuse, but betrayal hurt just the same.

The ring tone I assigned to Marcus—an Airborne Toxic Event song of fucking course—blared from the passenger seat. “Shut up!” I cursed at the phone for the millionth time, finally turning it off and tossing it in the back seat where I wouldn’t be tempted to answer it. Call me stubborn, but I knew what I saw and no amount of groveling would make it go away. He could text me, call me, hunt me down—I’d never get that image out of my head. His hands on someone else, not even hours after they were all over me.

Good!
I forced myself to believe it. I needed that image to remind me of what an asshole Marcus was. To stop me from forgiving him, to help push him out of my head, out of my life. I might have fallen for his act, but I was strong enough to move on. I had to be—I did it once already.

After hours of driving, I walked into my lonely house, transferred Luca from his car seat to the crib, and collapsed on the couch downstairs. I needed a break—from this place, from my head, from reality. The first thing that came to my mind was Arizona. I hadn’t seen my parents in a long time and all I wanted was one comforting hug from the woman who’d brought me into this crazy world. Maybe she’d have the answers, or maybe she’d just be able to wipe away some of the hurt—temporarily. Either way, I needed to see her and to get far from here where Marcus could find me.

I turned my phone back on to find fifty-eight notifications. Twenty-eight were missed calls from Marcus, thirteen were missed calls from Riley, and there were fifteen text messages—all from Marcus. I didn’t bother retrieving any of them. Instead I marked them all with a little red check and hit delete. I sent Riley a courtesy text to tell her I was home, but also explained that I didn’t want to talk and that I was turning off my phone for the night. Within minutes the house phone was ringing—I knew it had to be Marcus, but I didn’t even check the caller ID before switching off the ringer.

There were four phone calls I had to make. One was to call out for the week at work; I left a message with Gary explaining there was a family emergency. It would mean a week’s vacation shot to shit, but it was worth it to get away from all the reminders of Marcus surrounding me. The second call was to Luca’s daycare to inform them of his absence. I’d call again on Monday to speak with an actual live person, but this would do for now. The third was to purchase a roundtrip ticket to Yuma for first thing in the morning. I didn’t care about the cost—it was for my sanity. Sanity had no price tag.

And I saved the call to my mom for last.

“Hello?” she answered, her voice tiny over the boisterous crowd in the background.

“Hi, Mom. It’s Tessa.” I didn’t know why I felt the need to announce myself. I called her cell, surely she had me programmed in there.

“Hey, baby. What’s up? Happy Fourth. You and Luca still at the lake house with the Graysons?”

I never got around to telling her about Marcus and me, and this was certainly not the time, considering I’d have to explain the beginning and the end all in one conversation.

“Um, yeah. I actually came home a little early, Luca wasn’t feeling it. He’s asleep now and I don’t want to keep you, but…”

“What’s wrong, honey? You don’t sound right.” Even miles apart, over the phone, my mother was a comfort.

I sniffled back the tears that were ready to break, and swallowed hard. “You up for a visit? Me and Luca. Tomorrow?”

“
Tomorrow?
Really? Oh goodness, I would
love
that! What a nice surprise. I can’t wait to tell Daddy! Hold on… Mike! Michael, come here.” Her voice became distant as she yelled out to my dad. “Honey, Tessa’s flying out tomorrow with Luca. Isn’t that the most wonderful news?”

I listened to muffled laughter, the crowd behind them still loud with excitement. I was happy this impromptu trip would please my parents, but this wasn’t my normal visit with Mom and Dad. I had some soul searching to do and seeing me so distraught—again—wouldn’t be easy on them.

My mom was back on the line, barely containing her enthusiasm. “What time does your flight land? We’ll pick you up together.”

“Around noon. I can’t wait to see you, Mom. I’ve really missed you.”

“Oh, baby. Me too. I can’t wait to hold you and to see that gorgeous grandson of mine. Now go get some sleep so you’re rested for your big day. And thanks for this nice surprise, Tessa. We couldn’t be more excited.”

“‘kay, Mom. See you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She hung up and I curled up—my legs close to my chest, my arms wrapped tight, embracing my body. I knew what it was like to overcome heartache, to survive the worst, and come out on top. But this—I felt empty without him. I trusted Marcus, he promised me I could, and now that he took that way, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to trust another living soul again.

“Marcus Grayson? As in, Riley Grayson’s little brother?” My mom gawked over the picture I pulled up from Google. “This is
him
? And you’re dating?”

“
Were
dating, Mom. It’s over. Remember?”

She was still staring at the computer screen, her mouth hanging open. “Holy crap, Tess! He’s gorgeous.”

“You’re not helping, you know? I know what he looks like and yes, it’s even better in person, but he’s an ass and that’s why I’m here.” Well, it wasn’t the only reason why I was here, but still.

Mom’s eyes reluctantly left the screen and met mine. “Honey, did you give him a chance to explain?”

Did the charm of my handsome, Stetson-wearing ex already cast its spell on my mother? “Really, Mom. What’s to explain? I know what I saw and it wasn’t pretty. They were all over each other and it’s because he was mad at me. The going got tough and the tough got screwing.”

“Always such a way with words,” she tsked. “Maybe you should answer his calls. Give him a chance to tell his side. If it
was
what you saw then you can walk away like the smart, strong girl I know you are. But maybe it was all just some big misunderstanding—the stubborn girl in there might be too thick-headed to see otherwise.”

She had a point, but it didn’t erase my doubts. Marcus was a glorified man-whore; he wasn’t afraid to admit to that before we were together and now I wanted to use it against him. Besides, it wasn’t just the promiscuity and the betrayal that sent me running to Mommy. “And what about the other stuff? He was really angry with me, physical even. I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt me, but it scared me—senseless. It was too similar to all the shit I’ve finally put behind me.”

She leaned closer, her delicate, aging hand under my chin. Her eyes wore concern, wisdom. She saw things I couldn’t see on myself. “Problem is, sweetie, it’s not behind you. It’s still very much a part of you, and probably will be forever, but dealing with it and not allowing it to control you—your relationships with your friends, your son, your lovers—that takes work and time.”

She was right. I was holding on to so many of the painful memories, letting them hinder my growth as a woman, as a mother. I was stupid to think I could trust anyone so soon. There was no way to regain that until the healing was complete. But would it ever be?

I slammed the laptop shut and shot out of my seat at the kitchen table. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I need to clear my head. I came here to get away from it, not bury myself in it and consume my days analyzing the whys and hows of what went down.”

“Fine, but sooner or later, you’re going to have to face him.”

She was right again—damn, why did I have such a smart mother? “Whatever, know-it-all. Think Daddy can stay with Luca today? We can go for pedicures and a much needed mother-daughter lunch.”