No Regrets (Bomar Boys #1) (2 page)

He grabbed his keys from his pocket and headed for his truck. Already he could see the dirt billowing down the road, knew it meant another vehicle was headed his direction. He didn’t have to guess who it was. While almost all of the Bomars lived out here on the abandoned plot of land in the middle of nowhere, there was only one that would be coming home at this early hour. Decker was fast approaching but he wouldn’t arrive before Cash was gone.

He was late for work as it was. As one of the few members of the Bomar family that worked for a living, he took his job seriously. He liked his job even. It allowed him to earn the things that most people took for granted. A safe place to lay his head and food on the table, things he hadn’t always had but refused to ever go without again. He would do better, be better.

When the battered old truck passed him, he didn’t even spare the man behind the wheel a glance. It was better that way. Easier. It was always a good idea to get out of hell before the devil knew you’d been there.

Sitting on the side of a worn-out, little-used highway in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma, it was easy to see her life had gone to hell. The question of course was just when she’d gotten so off track. She knew it had happened long before her Jeep gave up on the last leg of her journey with a squelching noise even she knew couldn’t be good. The black smoke that had poured from under the hood confirmed it was a lost cause but that was only the latest in a long line of disasters.

She was broke down. She was in the middle of nowhere and she didn’t have anyone she could call because nobody knew she was coming home. Yet more proof of her bad life decisions. She rubbed her eyes then put her sunglasses back on to shield them from the harsh summer sun.

She could have cried but while Jemma Buxton might be many things, a crier wasn’t one of them.

Her options were slim but they weren’t nonexistent. Old Settlers was seventeen miles away on one long, lonely stretch of highway. It might have been a walkable distance on a good day but this had proved anything but. It was ninety plus degrees in the stifling summer sun and she didn’t have a drop of water. If her body wasn’t already aching, she might have waited the extra hour until sundown and tried it then but she didn’t think she was up to seven miles let alone seventeen. She couldn’t walk it, not right now, which meant she had to come up with someone to call.

The threat of a personal breakdown hit hard with the realization that the list of people who would drop everything to come and save her wouldn’t even require all the fingers on one hand. It took every ounce of steel in her spine to shove away the tears and swallow down her panic. She didn’t have time for a breakdown right now. Later, when she was tucked away somewhere safe, she could fall apart.

Right now, she had to think.

She peeled her flesh from the sticky leather seat and caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror. She’d decided to grow out her bangs a few weeks ago and they now hung in her eyes. Add in the heat and humidity and her hair was a frizzy mess of red waves that couldn’t be tamed. She used a rubber band she found on the gearshift to pull it into a messy ponytail more to get the weight of it off her neck than to make a style statement.

Luckily, the silver aviator sunglasses she’d purchased for three dollars at the gas station four hundred miles ago covered the black eye that had put her on the road to begin with. The accompanying bruise that graced her cheekbone was being hidden as well as her pharmacy grade concealer could manage but even still the blue and purple shone through her fair skin as a symbol to her stupidity. The swelling had started to go down but she still looked like a badly drawn cartoon character.

Her cell phone buzzed on the passenger seat and managed to pull her attention back to her more pressing problems. Her phone was letting her know the battery was dying. Problem number one hundred and three on her list of things going wrong was that she didn’t have a charger. She was running out of time to figure out her next move before her phone died and her already slim options for rescue became none.

She’d tried calling her best friend in Old Settlers as soon as she pointed her car this direction but Skylar hadn’t answered her phone. She’d tried her again and again as she got closer but she feared if she heard her childhood BFF chirp happily about leaving a message one more time that she might say something she couldn’t take back. She sent up a silent prayer as it rang once, twice, three times… and then hung up before she could curse into Skylar’s voicemail for the dozenth time.

Skylar was notorious for losing the thing. They had a running joke that she would lose her head if it wasn’t attached. Skylar was a loyal and caring friend but she had never been all that reliable. Odds were good she’d lost her phone or temporarily misplaced it and there was no way of knowing when she would find it and call her back.

Jemma expelled a harsh breath as the phone beeped in her hand again.

Calling either of her parents was a no-go. It was doubtful her father was in town and even if he was the odds he was both home and sober enough to come and get her were slim. And if she called her mother… well, that was not a conversation she felt like having right now when her face looked like it moonlighted as a punching bag. She might be running home but she wasn’t going anywhere near her parents if she could help it, at least not until her face healed and she felt up to explaining the circumstances of her return.

The panic threatened to strangle her again and she dropped her head to the steering wheel with a whimper. People always said it was times like these when you found out who your true friends were… nobody ever mentioned just how much it sucked to realize you didn’t have any. She didn’t have anyone in her life that she could call to save her.

All of her friends in Houston were actually
his
friends. Not one of them had tried to get in touch with her since she took off. She’d told herself it was better that way. She hadn’t wanted any of them to know where she was going anyway, didn’t want to risk that they would tell him for fear that he would come after her. But the realization that not one of the people she’d spent the past few years getting to know cared enough to contact her after her sudden disappearance hurt.

She didn’t have any friends of her own. He’d made sure of that when he kept her from the people that mattered to her, convincing her that it was better that way, just the two of them. Her friends had never understood their relationship and so one-by-one they’d been shut out and disconnected from her life. Until she woke up one day and realized that she was in a foreign state, surrounded by strangers, with a man that cared about nothing but himself.

She didn’t have anything that was her own. Nothing in her name. Not her apartment. Not her car. Not her bank account. Not even a single, solitary friend save the one childhood girlfriend that she had refused to give up no matter what he had promised or threatened, but now she couldn’t even reach Skylar which meant she was all alone.

It felt like it had always been that way but she knew that wasn’t true. Once upon a time Jemma had been one of a very tight knit group of girl in Old Settlers, Oklahoma. She and Skylar and Billie had done everything together before they grew up and drifted apart. Thinking about it now, it felt like a lifetime ago. Like the memories of homecoming dances and stolen kisses under the bleachers and sleepovers talking about boys had happened to somebody else entirely.

In a way, it had. She wasn’t that naïve little girl anymore. She didn’t believe the world was a big, magical place full of possibilities anymore. That girl, that dreamer, had died a horrible, painful death long before her Jeep had crapped out on the side of the road.

That girl had been destroyed, little by little, piece by piece, by the callous actions of a terrible man because she’d been too stupid to see the truth before today.

She was a smart girl. People had told her that all of her life. She’d been a good student and she’d used her brain to get her out of her tiny hometown. She’d gotten a scholarship to a college out of state and she’d earned her degree with honors. She was business savvy and intelligent. She had a good head on her shoulders.

Her head wasn’t her problem. Her body was. Her troubles began and ended when her body decided to ignore her perfectly logical, rational brain and start making decisions on its own. Her heart was a silly, stupid thing, that she had to stop letting rule her.

She should have learned after the horrible debacle that was the loss of her virginity not to let it make decisions for her. Hell, after that nightmare she should have sworn off men altogether. But she’d still been a dreamer then, still believed that love was a great and powerful thing even though it could also hurt. She just hadn’t realized how much it could hurt at the time but she did now.

She’d been asking herself the same questions all day. Like, why had she stayed so long? Why had she ignored the warning signs? Why had she let it get this bad? Why hadn’t she left last night instead of waiting for morning? Why had she thought things would look better in daylight? The answers didn’t come easily and they hurt nearly as badly as the bruises.

She’d stayed because she thought she loved him, at least at first, and because he had sworn that he loved her. She had stayed because, by the time she realized she needed help, there wasn’t anyone left around her to ask for it. She’d stayed because it was the only thing she’d known and most horribly, she’d stayed because she had somehow convinced herself that as bad as it was that it was still better than this, this running away, starting over, coming home. Coming back was admitting defeat and she hadn’t been ready to fold on her life yet.

The first time he’d hit her, she’d sworn that she would leave. She wasn’t like those other women, the ones she’d heard of, even the ones she’d known back in her small hometown. She wasn’t weak. She was strong and independent and she wouldn’t put up with abuse. But he’d told her he loved her, apologized profusely, promised it would never happen again and she had been stupid enough to believe him.

The truth was, she wasn’t better than anyone. She knew that now. She wasn’t strong or independent, not really. She’d spent most of her life running from something. From her parents, from her small hometown, from the first boy she’d ever loved, from the person she would have been if she stayed and now she was running again, running from the disaster of the perfect little life she’d created in her head, the one that had no basis in reality.

She’d gotten out of Old Settlers. She’d done the impossible. She’d escaped and she’d made something of herself, whatever that meant. She’d finished college and gotten a good job, at least before he told her she didn’t have to work, that he would take care of her. She’d been in a relationship, gotten engaged and been planning for the future with a man that not only promised her the world but had the ability to provide for it.

To anyone looking at her life through a telescope, it would have appeared perfect. She was living the dream. They would have needed to get close to see the cracks, to see the bruises, and nobody was allowed to get close. He’d taught her that.

Even still, there was always the one person that asked the hard questions. For her, that had always been Skylar. Maybe that was why she’d never been able to cut her loose, even though Hoyt hated Skylar and Skylar hated Hoyt. She had needed her as a voice of reason, even when Jemma managed to shut out her own conscience, she’d never been able to shut up Skylar.

They didn’t see one another often. Mostly spoke via text. But Skylar knew. She’d always known. Her disappointment in Jemma staying had felt like the voice of her own disappointment in herself, but it still hadn’t motivated her to leave.

Nothing had. Not until this morning. Not until he’d crossed the line that she’d somehow convinced herself even he couldn’t cross.

When her bottom lip started to tremble she bit into it and blinked away a flash of tears because she’d forgotten for just a second there that it was split-open. Still, the memory of what had happened was far more painful. She’d been suppressing it for hundreds of miles. She’d told herself, repeatedly, that she couldn’t think about it, not until she was done driving. She couldn’t risk falling apart until she was somewhere safe and the side of the road was not safe.

Seventeen more miles. That’s what she told herself to beat back the worst of it. She had to make it seventeen more miles and then she would track down Skylar, take a long, hot shower and tuck herself into bed to cry herself to sleep. She had to keep it together just a little while longer.