After We Fall (14 page)

He raises a brow.

“I walked very quickly.”

His lips quirk. “Still doesn't explain why you're so pissed right now.”

“I'm not.”

“Tell me another one.” He points to his chest. “Cop, remember? Lies are my specialty.”

“Fine. You didn't act like it bothered you when those guys were talking to us.” I mumble the words.

“You're mad because I didn't act jealous?” he asks, his voice incredulous.

“No…maybe.”

“Evangeline.”

“Yes. Okay? Yes!” I throw my hands into the air. “I'm mad and confused as to why you didn't go all caveman and mark your territory as soon as those guys showed up.”

“Everyone in the bar knew who you belong to, thanks to Saylor.” He grins. “I really should thank her.”

“Omigosh! Would you listen to yourself?”

“But you hated when AE acted jealous,” he says, confusing me.

“Who's AE?”

“Asshole Ex.”

“Oh.”

“Better than saying his name.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “He's not Voldemort.”

“Maybe I don't want to hear you say his name and that has nothing to do with jealousy. His name doesn't deserve your lips,” he says softly, and I get all squishy inside.

“You're not him, which is why I guess I wanted you to be jealous.”

He pulls me into his embrace. “Pee a circle around you?”

I wrinkle my nose. “That's gross.”

“Hey, you're the one who mentioned marking my territory.”

“I meant figuratively.” I know he's joking, yet at the same time, he finally sounds serious.

His head dips, his mouth brushing my temple. “I could take you home with me and mark you. Rub you down until you smell like me and every guy within a hundred miles knows to stay the fuck away.”

My knees begin to shake. “Rub me down with what?”

“Don't you know?”

I shake my head, completely at a loss. “No.”

Opening the door, he leads me inside. “Let me show you.”

The next morning, I bring Evangeline breakfast in bed. Her eyes are wide as I walk in her bedroom. She looks…shocked.

Son of a bitch.

I want to ask her when the last time was that anyone did something nice for her, but I know the answer—six years ago.

“You cooked for me?” She pushes her hair out of her face, her swollen lips parting. My chest puffs up a little at the sight. I'm the one responsible for her out-of-control hair and bee-stung lips. I'm the one responsible for the love bites on both of her breasts. The sheet falls, putting her pink nipples on display in the morning sun. The glow makes her look like the angel I call her.

Except—I frown—I can see faded bruises and faint white scars on her stomach. The one on her side is no surprise, but the one that looks like a deep cut…that's pretty fucking shocking, even to me.

“Belt buckle.”

I jerk my gaze away. “What?”

“AE hit me with a belt buckle.” Her gaze drops, but she doesn't tug the sheet back up. Instead, she stands while I become immobile. “You might as well get a good look at me.”

“I don't care.”

“But I do.”

Setting the tray down on the bed, I move to her. My gaze is the first thing to touch her scars. There are so many on her beautiful skin. She turns, allowing me to touch her back.

“Lighter burns. He tried to brand my ass after watching
Practical Magic.
”

I of all people know why women stay, but there are times when even I admit that I can't understand it.

“Fuck,” I say hoarsely, my fingers lightly running over her skin. “If I could kill him, I would.”

Jaw clenching, I take a step back and lean over. Nausea makes my stomach roil and it's all I can do to keep down the two pieces of bacon I'd eaten while cooking.

“Is it that bad to look at?” Her voice trembles.

“No, it's that bad to imagine how you felt,” I say, breathing through my nose.

Get it together. Be strong for her. She deserves a man.

“The memories are worse,” she says.

“Why?”

“Because they show me over and over how stupid it was for me to stay.”

Slowly, I turn her around and take her in my arms. “You were not stupid. You were scared, and when we're scared we do things that only make sense to
us.
”

Help me,
mijo.
Help me.

So much blood on her hands, on my hands.

“We do things so that we can survive.” I lift her chin. “Don't you
ever
forget that you survived.”

“I won't.” She touches her lips to mine and something inside me shifts. In that moment, I know that I love her. I know that she's forever for me, but I don't deserve anything in return. There's no way in hell I can tell her how I feel right now, especially with the secrets I'm keeping.

But I can show her.

I sit down on the bed, bringing her to stand between my legs. I press my cheek against her chest, listening to the beat of her heart accelerate. Her hands come to play in my hair, nails lightly scratching while I breathe her in.

Sitting tall, I catch her eye and shove the waistband of my sweatpants down to my knees. My cock hardens, the tip shiny with precum. She licks her lips, then kneels on the floor, her head bending.

“That's not what I meant,” I say, her lips inches away.

“But it
is
what I want to do,” she replied. “I'll have you for breakfast.”

“Can't tell you no,” I say gruffly. “I'll feed you later.”

Her sweet, hot mouth wraps around me and I let out a harsh breath. Her playful tongue gets in on the action, licking the entire length of my dick. Grasping both sides of her head, I push her down farther, urging her to take as much of me while attempting to go easy.

She tugs at my balls, making me curse. The combination of her wet mouth sucking at me and the gentle pull of her hands is enough to send me over the edge. But I don't want to come in her mouth.

“Wait.” I push her away and grab a condom from the drawer of my nightstand, ripping it open and rolling it on in record time.

Her legs part, her hands coming to rest on my shoulders as she straddles me. I place my hands on her waist, kissing her as my cock comes into contact with her hot pussy.

The head of my dick slides between her lips, making her moan. She arches her back, her beautiful hair falling all around her. It touches my thighs.

Slowly, she bears down on me, my erection sliding inside her with ease. As soon as I'm balls deep, she lets out the sexiest fucking sigh I've ever heard.

“Feel good?” I ask, unable to string together more than two coherent words.

“Mmm-hmm.”
Her hips start to move, a rocking motion that sets my teeth on edge. Perky breasts and tight nipples hit my chest, making me want to put one in my mouth. Letting go of her waist, I cup her breasts, bringing them together and licking both nipples at one time.

She cries out, her pussy clamping down on me.

“Fuck.” I slam my hips up and bite down on one of her nipples. Her nails dig into my shoulders, but she doesn't tell me to stop or go easy. Instead, she begins to bounce up and down on my cock.

One of her hands comes between us, rubbing her clit. I lean back on my hands to watch. “There you go. Working that pussy for me. Make yourself come all over my cock.” For whatever reason, I can't stop talking when I'm normally quiet during sex. I don't see a reason to give a play-by-play, but right now I can't seem to help myself.

“Hunter…Oh my—I'm going to come.” Her mouth opens in the most beautiful way as her skin becomes covered in goosebumps. She chants my name as she comes, works her clit, and milks my cock.

Pleasure tingles in my spine, shooting straight up to my brain. I feel my orgasm coming. Feel it making my balls tighten. I want to mark her like I did last night, come all over her tits and pussy, rub it in again.

With a curse, I pull out, rip off the condom, and grab my cock. Hot spurts cover my hand as it splashes all over Evangeline's body. My chest fucking heaves as I come, as she wrings every last bit out of me.

I jam my tongue into her mouth, without any finesse, and slam our bodies together. My hands run all over her, even down to her pussy where I want to push my sperm inside, but clarity returns at the last minute and I stop before I can do something so damn foolish. Instead I rub her clit, make her gasp, and come all over again.

After a minute or two, she slumps against me. We're sticky and wet, but I don't give a fuck. I'm pretty sure she doesn't, either.

Leaning back, she sighs again. Fucking adorable. “I think you've marked me thoroughly.”

“Enough for a shower for two?”

She nods, her eyes bright and shiny. “Yes.” However, instead of leaving, she lays her head on my shoulder.

“Something on your mind?”

“This is different for me.”

Yeah, I might have taken the marking thing a little too far. “Messy sex not your thing?”

“Oh, that part didn't bother me.” She peers up at me. “That part I liked. A lot.”

That's settled. We'll do it again. “What didn't you like?”

“None of it.” She sighs. “I'm supposed to be keeping an emotional distance from you, but I can't help myself.”

Frustration rises so quickly that I almost say something stupid. I take a deep breath. This has nothing to do with me. This has everything to do with the nude woman sitting in my lap, covered in my come and resting her head on my shoulder. That takes a great deal of courage.

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because you're exactly what the old me would have wanted in a man.”

Her reason doesn't make me feel any better. “What about the new you?”

“She's confused.”

“Showers for two usually help me clear my head,” I say, wanting to get back to where we were before. Yeah, it's selfish, but right now my head's going to places that can do her no good. I'm fucking jealous of…
myself
of all people, for being attractive to the old her.

It makes no sense. Which is probably why she is feeling confused, too.

“I'm willing to give it a try.” Sitting up, she gently kisses me and then stands, holding out her hand.

Taking it, I allow her to lead me to the bathroom, unsure of what's next with us relationship-wise but damn certain that I'm going to give her another orgasm.

As September flies by, Evangeline and I fall into a ritual of sorts. Either I stay at her place or she stays at mine, even if I don't get home from work until two a.m. On those nights, I go to her apartment, so I wake her, but we end up having sex anyway.

Tonight I got home early, but since she is in the middle of cooking dinner, I come to her place instead. We're eating roasted veggies and baked salmon. I will say that it's a healthy dinner, except for the basket of yeast rolls that I've already eaten.

Running an extra mile or two will most definitely be on the plan for training tomorrow. Flab can't hit worth shit, as Hayden likes to say.

I nod at the guitar propped up in the corner. It's the first time I've ever seen it. Evangeline's not the type to go shopping for things she doesn't need, something I learned when we spent one Saturday at a flea market.

Nodding at the guitar, I ask, “Is that for show or can you play it?” I suspect it's the latter but want to hear it from her.

“Right now it's only for show,” she says with a sad smile.

“But you can play it?”

“The old me used to play it all the time. I even made money off it.”

“I'm dating a musician—sweet. Maybe you can dedicate your next song to the hot cop across the hallway? That would be me in case you've forgotten what I do for a living.”

She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, I have a YouTube channel. Used to upload videos all the time.”

“There's money in that?” I ask skeptically.

“One of the top-earning YouTubers ever. Or I used to be.”

“What happened?”

“Couldn't make videos with bruises and Pe—AE wouldn't allow me to wear makeup, so I stopped altogether.”

“Do you still get paid?”

She nods. “Not as much as I used to, but AE stole and spent every bit of the money I had in savings, so…I have to be very careful with my money now.”

That's the thing with abusers. They take every system of support, every venue of leaving, away from their victims.

“Do you want to do it again?” If she does, I'll find a way to make it happen. I'll find a way to support her. Doesn't matter that I know less than nothing about the entire thing.

She places her fork beside her plate, her gaze steady. “I'm not sure. It seems like a different girl made those…I don't want that kind of attention anymore.”

“What kind do you want?” I ask.

A shy smile curves the corners of her mouth. “I like the kind you're giving me.”

I feel like something bad is about to happen. Since I moved to Forrestville, one good thing after another has happened. I know that can't last. The law of averages and bad things happening to good people prove it.

However, I can't let that get me down. I can't let it control me. Yet, that stupid feeling won't leave me alone.

At work I throw myself into cleaning and feeding all the animals. It's yoga day, so I know that Mr. Rigglesworth had a blowout and his entire kennel will need to be hosed out. To confirm it, Saylor walks by, holding Mr. R at a distance, her nose wrinkled.

“We have a fucking new girl, so no poop duty for you,” she says.

Instead of being happy at the news, the dread inside me grows. “That's good.”

“Totally. I'll introduce you to her after this poopy head gets a bath. She's getting some gloves.” Saylor marches away.

Suddenly, I hear Saylor's panicked voice pleading with the dog. “Don't shake, Mr. R. Please don't shake.”

“Shit.”

It's all I can do to keep from laughing, but on the inside I'm dying. I take off for Saylor, fully intending to help, but the smell overwhelms me and I skid to a stop.

Saylor is covered in dog poop. So are the walls and floor of the hallway. Mr. Rigglesworth looks happy, though.

“He had one more in him,” she says, then huffs. “I should have known.”

“Want me to take him?”

“No, he can shower with me.” Still holding him at arm's length, she begins to trudge toward the back of the shelter. “By the way, your lawyer's secretary called and asked for your new number. Said she needed to get ahold of you for some final paperwork.”

I nod. “Yeah, I'm changing my name back—officially, that is.” But I'd already given it to her a while back. It is possible she lost it, since she rarely has to deal with my case.

“I gave it to her. Hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all.”

Saylor disappears around a corner, and I finish up a few last-minute things before heading home. Tonight, Hunter has plans for us to go to a local lounge to listen to an up-and-coming band. It's like he's reading the lines of music that still live in my heart.

I turn the radio up, giving myself permission to belt out songs like I used to. Maybe I should update my YouTube channel. I bet I could do a special video for the shelter to raise awareness and donate the ad money generated from it to the shelter as well.

It would be a win-win.

My phone rings. It's my lawyer.

Turning down the music, I answer it with a curious hello.

“Hi, Evangeline. Sorry to call you so late in the day, but Penn is accusing you of harassment.”

“What?” I almost slam on the brakes in the middle of traffic. “But I haven't spoken to him since the last time you and I discussed it.”

“Oh, it's not you personally talking to him. He's claiming emotional distress and virtual harassment from your social media accounts.”

“I don't go on social media anymore, except to check on my family.”

“He says that the old pictures you still have up, along with the lack of name change on your profile, is preventing him from moving forward with his life.”

“I'm preventing him?” Outrage and fury fill me, twining together to burn a hole in my stomach. “Tell me the judge will dismiss this.”

“There are cyber bullying and harassment laws on the books now.”

“The only thing I'm remotely guilty of doing is having an account. So sorry I didn't think to change my stupid name.”

“I know, and I'm sure that we would prevail in court, but in the meantime, we'll have to—”

As she lists all the thing that would need to happen, all I can imagine is my bank account balance growing smaller and smaller. It's like Penn's stealing from me all over again. Like he's trying to prevent me from moving on, from having a life without him.

“Asshole.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not you. Penn.” I adjust my grip on the steering wheel. There is no way I'm going to allow him to do this. Not anymore. I'm done. “Lucy, I'll need to call you back.”

I end our call and dial Penn's number. Of course, he never bothered to change his. I'm the only one who had to change everything, including my name, my numbers, my residence…everything.

“You bastard,” I growl into the phone as soon as he answers.

“Isn't this a special surprise,” he drawls.

“The bullshit is over,” I say, launching right into my tirade. “I'm done playing your games. It's over. You will give me a drama-free divorce. You will pay for all future legal fees until our divorce is finalized.” Never in our six years of marriage did I demand anything of Penn. But that was the old Eva.

Penn chuckles, a sound that both scares me and enrages me. “Do tell me, you little bitch, how you're going to accomplish that. You're nothing but a washed-up video girl. Surprised you haven't gone into porn by now.”

Washed-up video girl?
Something in my brain clicks. I know how to get Penn to stop, or at least make it so that his parents will stop paying for his legal fees and therapeutic vacations. “No, not porn. But I do have the means to make a video—about what you did to me. I'm sure everyone would love to know exactly why some little nobody from a Podunk town is divorcing an American hero from a prominent family. All those scars and bruises will finally be explained, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Won't your parents be thrilled? So you have one option, agree to my terms or I go viral.”

“I will fucking kill you,” he threatens.

My body shakes. It remembers all the other threats he gave me, all the other promises he made good on. “Is that your final, recorded answer?” I ask, refusing to cower.

“This call is over.”

“Agree to my terms or else,” I counter.

“Make the video, Eva, I dare you. No one will believe you anyway,” he taunts, getting one last shot in.

It hits near the center of my biggest fears, but I'm not going to let him win this time. I am not that girl anymore.

“How about we let the two million followers of my washed-up YouTube channel decide?” Then I end our call before he can say anything more.

I force myself to take deep breaths to relax. While I do have the means to make a video, I don't know if I can. There would be no turning back from that. No way of excusing or explaining away my past.

My marriage and the reasons for our divorce would be front and center. People would talk, and my parents—I swallow—my parents would finally know the truth.

You can do this,
I tell myself.
You're not alone anymore. I have Saylor and Hunter now. I can count on them for anything.

But I know who I want to talk to first, the one I want to share this phone call with.

Hunter, the man I— Oh God.

I love Hunter.