This Love of Mine (Raine Series #1) (3 page)

Madison

It was
almost five in the afternoon when I made it back to the main house. I knew my
grandfather was still out roundin' up all the horses when I put Rocket back
into the stable in the main barn. I wasn't really in the mood to deal with my
grandmother, but I was all but certain, my grandfather had already told her
what had happened. I let the screen door slam shut behind me, before making my
way into the empty kitchen. Grandma was nowhere that I could see, so I all but
assumed I was safe. As I reached for a glass out of the cupboard, I felt soft
cool skin connect with my elbow and I jumped in surprise.

"Grams,
you scared the holy hell out of me."

"Language
Madison, language." She half shouted. She reached into the cupboard and
pulled down two glasses before turning to the fridge to grab the pitcher of
freshly made lemonade.

"Sorry
Grams. I didn't see you when I came in, I figured you had gone to town or
something."

"Or
something." She smiled. "I saw your granddaddy having to go after
those horses after one of 'em kicked that broken latch. You know anything about
that?"

"Yes
ma'am." I blushed. I hated letting down my grandma. "I just needed
something to drink and then I was going to fix it." I lied. That wasn't my
plan at all, but it was now.

"That's
my boy." She whispered.

"Hey
Grams, Can I ask you a question?"

"Of
course son, anything." She took a sip of her lemonade and only broke eye
contact when she set her glass down on the counter.

"Why
is grandpa so mad that I'm leaving in two days? He knows I can't stay all
summer this year, why is he all uppity about it?" I took a big gulp of my
lemonade as I watched my grandma start to fidget.

"Oh
honey, you know your granddaddy just likes having you around. That's all."
She turned and started bustling around the kitchen, getting all the fixings for
dinner.

I walked
up beside her and grasped her small fragile hands in mine. "Grams, you
know I can't stay right?"

"I
know love, you have your own life. I understand you have other obligations this
summer, but your granddaddy is just gonna miss his time with you. Usually he
gets ya for three months and now that you're graduated and such, he just was
hoping for a little more time before you stopped coming around."

A stray
tear fell from the corner of Grams' eyes, and my heart broke just a little more
knowing that she would miss me too. "Grams, its not for good. It's just
this summer. We have too many gigs to play for me to be away for a whole three
months. I'm sorry, I know this cuts our time short." I placed a soft kiss
to my grandma's cheek before heading back out into the early summer heat.

I didn't
want to leave. Granted, I wouldn't miss having to get up at the ass crack of
dawn and work my ass off all damn day, but I would miss being with the only
family I had left. I glanced back and caught my grams wiping away another tear.
I wish I could take her pain away. I wish I could stay and make it all better,
but I was eighteen now and I needed to start building a life for myself. Lord
knows I had no parent to help me out along the way.

After I
gathered my tools and made it to the broken latch, I caught a glimpse of my
grandfather riding up on Rawhide. My grandfather was already an intimidating
man, but as he sat high on his Arabian, he was terrifying.

"You
fixin' that latch, son?"

"Yes
Sir. Just got out here after chatting with Grams. She's inside startin'
dinner." I replied, but never looked up at him. Lately, all I saw in his
face was sheer disappointment.

"I
reckon I will come and get ya when dinner is ready then." His voice was
clipped and I instantly felt bad for slacking.

"Thank
you, Sir." I looked up from below the rim of my hat and tilted my head. My
grandfather did the same and then rode up to the barn.

It was
funny seein' my grandpa as a farmer. He didn’t fit the bill at all. He didn't
wear Wranglers or a cowboy hat, or any of that other typical cowboy gear. No,
he wore his Yankees baseball hat, that his father had gotten him when he was
just five years old, an old ratty t-shirt and an old pair of jeans. The only
thing that even tipped ya off that he owned a farm was the fact that he did
wear cowboy boots. They had been his father's and when he passed on, he
inherited them along with this farm.

I
remember when Grams had told me the story about how they got this land.
Apparently my great grandfather had struck it pretty rich in oil when he was
younger. Back then it was a struggle to make ends meet, until he met his buddy
Jenkins. Jenkins brought him in on his oil idea, and six months later they were
two of the richest men in Texas. Needless to say, my great grandfather was
smart with his money. He put most of it away in an account for my grandfather,
but the rest he put into this land.

He
bought it for dirt-cheap and built the main house with his bare hands. He was
only married to my great grandmother for a short time and back then rarely
anyone got divorced. So my great grandfather stayed married to her, but she
left and made a life with a new man. It's funny how things used to be. I always
found myself admiring just how much my grandparents dealt with, to make things
work. Nobody ever tried that hard at anything anymore.

I guess
when my great grandfather died; he left every single thing he owned to his only
son, my grandfather. All the money he had in an account had practically
quadrupled in amount because he never touched it, and the land was paid free
and clear. It wasn't until my grandfather took over, that he started adding
livestock to the land. Apparently my great grandfather was deathly afraid of
any sort of animal, he just wanted the land. I wish I would have been able to
meet him, but unfortunately he died of a heart attack before I was even born.

When my
great grandfather passed, my grandparents were living in New York, but they
were faced with either selling the land or moving back to Texas. Luckily for
me, they chose to come here. I was all but raised out at this farm and I loved
every minute of it. I may be moving to a big city now, but I am damn sure a
country boy through and through.

I got
the last piece of the metal latch fixed, just as I heard tires against the
gravel beside me. I didn't know how long I had been out here, but it must've
been quite a while. The sun was steadily dipping below the horizon and the
shadows of the day were slowly disappearing. I wiped my brow with the back of
my arm before glancing up at the old Chevy pickup next to me.

"Hop
in son." My grandfather had showered and looked surprisingly presentable
at the moment. Of course he still had his hat snug upon his head, but he had
changed into a nice button up shirt and his nicest pair of jeans.

"Sir,
if we're going somewhere, I reckon I should shower before." I pulled my
hat from my head, running my fingers through my unruly hair.

"It's
okay, we are just goin' to the bus station. We won't be too long. I told Jasper
I would pick up his granddaughter for him, and I thought the ride would do us
some good." He pushed open the rusty door and I quickly jumped in, as I
placed my hat back on my head. "Buckle up, son."

"Yes,
sir."

I
buckled my seatbelt and couldn't help but wonder what the big deal was about me
coming with him. He knew I was beat and all I wanted to do was eat, take a long
hot shower and climb into bed. I rested my head back against the headrest and
let my hand hang out the open window. I tugged my hat down over my eyes and
tried to catch a quick nap. The bus depot was a good forty-five minutes away, so
I knew I had some time.

Kayla

I called
a cab to come gather me up from my house, when I was upstairs getting the rest
of my belongings. I knew I most likely would never be coming back to this god
forsaken place, so I made sure to grab it all. I didn't hear any commotion
coming from downstairs at the moment, but I still proceeded with caution.
Between Wren and my momma, you never know if you're gonna get the devil or an
angel. As my toe hit the tile, just beneath the last step, I let out a sigh of
relief. It sounded like no one was home and that was an amazing thing. I didn't
need to deal with all of their bullshit, as I tried to make my great escape.

I piled
my purse and cosmetic bag on top of my rolling suitcase and threw the duffel
bag over my shoulder, as I made my way to the front door. The sun was sitting
high in the sky and I couldn't wait to feel the taste of freedom, even if it
came in the form of a dirty old Greyhound bus. I had saved up quite a bit of
money from odd jobs and babysitting, but I would definitely need to find a job
when I got to Texas. I made sure to stash half of my money in my sock, knowing
that my mother almost always went through my purse before I left.

My hand
reached out for the doorknob and just as my fingers gripped around the cool,
brass knob, I felt my head being forcefully tugged back. Every strand of hair
felt as though they were being individually pulled from my scalp. I yelled out
in pain as I tried to turn around to see who my assailant was. Clumps of long,
dark brown hair fell to the floor below me, as I felt more hands reaching out
and grabbing at my hair. I held my tears in along with my rage, knowing the
sooner I gave in, the sooner it would all be over. Boy, was I
so
wrong this time.

When I
finally got myself turned around, four hands were latched onto every tendril of
hair. It wasn't just my momma this time. It was Wren also. Wren had always been
emotionally and verbally abusive, but rarely had he ever laid a hand on me.
Maybe deep down he knew how bad my momma was, and he didn't want to put me
through anymore unnecessary pain.

Not so
much now. When they finally let go of my hair, I pulled back ready to swing at
both of them. When they both stood there, with their stoic looks sitting smugly
upon their face, I made the decision to try and run. I turned again reaching
for the doorknob and just as the door creaked open, a strong force pushed my
head into the edge of the wooden doorframe.

My hands
flew up to my forehead, catching the pool of blood now dripping down the front
of my face. I tried to think quickly, but everything was starting to get fuzzy.
I turned to yell at whichever one had done this, but fell to my knees instead.
I was getting extremely light headed and I knew if I didn't stop the bleeding
soon, I would be stuck here forever.

I yanked
my shirt up and over my head without thinking twice and balled it up as I
pushed it against my head. I was still feeling dizzy, but I needed to get out,
alive. I caught a glimpse of Wren's once beautiful face. His once lively blue
eyes were now a dull, thunderous blue, and his thin lips were pulled tight in anger.
His blonde hair must've caught some backsplash of blood, because it was now
tainted a blood red color. The amazing boy I had fallen so deeply in love with,
ceased to exist any longer. And I suddenly felt my heart yearning to go back in
time.

Just as
I opened my mouth to protest or ask why, his fist came down across my jaw, and
all I heard was a loud popping noise. I wish I could say it stopped there, but
unfortunately I would be lying. There were a few more fists thrown and just
when I thought it was over, my mom reached for the small square tin that was
now lying on the floor. Its contents scattered across the floor.

My mouth
was already swelling shut, but I tried with all that was left in me to speak.
"Momma, please don't. It's all I have." Tears flooded my face as I
protested with her to not take the only money I had. There was no way I would
be able to get to Texas without it.

When she
turned and looked at me with those burning hazel eyes, I knew there would be no
changing her mind. She wasn't even herself anymore; I didn't know this woman in
front of me.

"Momma,
please." She gave me one last piercing look and then I felt something
sharp jab into my thigh.

An
excruciatingly painful scream came roaring out of my dry throat. My salty tears
and copper tasting blood instantly melded together as they began to pour
endlessly down my face. I was quickly becoming hysterical and I didn't want to
see what she had just done. But unfortunately, I needed to survey the damage.

When my
watery, puffy eyes caught site of the black and chrome handle of one of our
steak knives, I gasped in horror. My breathing became erratic as I tried with
all of my might not to move. I knew I needed to get to my cell phone that was
in my other sock, but every time I tried to move, something new would start
hurting. I kept pressing the shirt to my head as hard as possible, but the loss
of blood was making my extremities extremely weak. As darkness quickly swept
through me, I felt myself fading away. At this point, I could only pray someone
would find me.

Doubtful!

*****

I had no
idea how long I had been out, when I eventually came to. I was still in the
exact position I had been in before, but all of my things were gone. I quickly
tried to sit up and squealed out in pain, as I remembered what had been
hindering my movements in the first place. The knife still stuck out of my leg,
almost taunting me, in that I-told-you-so kind of way. I pulled back the
t-shirt that had been pressed against my forehead and saw that the blood had at
least stopped pouring out of the open wound.