Brand Me (Imagine Ink Book 2) (22 page)

It felt good to get rid of her attempted murder scene and every trace of Richard, downstairs anyway. Upstairs was a mystery, one she’d have to tackle, simply for the cleaning opportunity, but she couldn’t do it right now. Right now, she needed a run. She donned a sweat suit and plugged in her favorite “New Hits” mix, then took off. She didn’t care that it was dark and freezing. This would be the only thing to bring her to a place she needed to be. Well, not the only thing, but the only one available.

It was a blessing she had her beanie with a built-in head lamp or she would have busted her ass long before she made it through warm-ups. Deciding it was best to avoid Michael’s area all together, she did partial laps before doing an about-face and retreating—from the main cabin around the lake to about a quarter mile from Michael’s and back again. Wash, rinse, repeat. Tori only stopped after around fifteen miles and when her running mix hit her finish song. Once it started, her heart shattered all over again and she walked the rest of the way crying with it on a loop.

“Bloodfeather” by Highly Suspect was one of her top ten finish songs and now it was just a painful reminder of whispered words. She would never hear the song again and not have her heart ripped out and tossed in a blender—no matter where she went in life, who she was with, what she accomplished, nothing. It was ruined, like so much else had been these last few months.

At the door, Tori took a deep breath and hit delete. She’d never be able to listen to it again, and that just drove home the hopelessness that was taking over her spirit. She thought erasing it would somehow ease the pain, but it didn’t. With an even heavier burden on her splintered heart, she entered the cabin.

Tori decided to boil some water and take a splash bath rather than go to the bathhouse because running into Michael wasn’t worth the big tub and hot water. Plus, she knew if she went upstairs to shower, her stress-induced cleaning bug would make its demands a priority over personal hygiene.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that her presence, even here, could only hurt, not help. This far away, if he decided to harm himself, she wouldn’t be able to offer any help, however, him knowing she is right here wouldn’t be comfortable if he felt the way he seemed to about her.

Decision made and splash bath done, she went upstairs to sanitize that area, because she needed to. Right thing or not, it still hurt like a bitch and she had to scrub something.

The first trip upstairs since she left was shocking, to say the least. It looked like a natural disaster hit. Richard’s anger was palpable in every piece of broken and overturned furniture, strewn clothing, and spilled bottle.

If the blood and broken glass was any indication of how angry he was, the human-waste smell was just insult to injury. “
Fuck You Bastard, Slut, Enjoy Your Inheritance,”
were just some of the things written on the wall in what appeared to be human waste and blood.

Well, that explains the shit smell
. Some of the racial slurs were just too much for her to even digest. Apparently Michael being Native American bothered Richard more than a touch. There was nothing for her to do now but scrub, scrub, scrub. Tori most definitely didn’t want Michael to see this. She would clean and fix what she could and hope he didn’t think she was petty and broke the things she couldn’t repair.

While cleaning, she came across some stuff she could have lived without ever seeing—Richard’s wedding photo for one. Her guess was since it was in the drawer of an overturned end table, he thought she’d never see it. It made her sick to her stomach to think Richard wanted her in this bed, begged her to move in here. He planned to have sex with her with his wedding photo right there.

As she righted the table and went to arrange the picture on top, where it most likely was before he hid it, something about the woman’s pose, the angle of her chin, itched at the back of her mind. It was the same nagging recognition that whipped through her head as she watched the video, but it had been whisked away by the overwhelming betrayal.

Taking the mahogany frame photo in hand, she walked over to the window where the sun was now streaming in, having risen a few hours ago. She angled it this way and that, trying to grasp that familiar thread and follow it to the answer she sought. When the sun glinted off the woman’s wedding ring, the answer snapped into place with an almost-audible click.

The picture fell to the ground with a thud and broke. The last piece of intact glass upstairs shattered. It was her,
Romper Woman
from the mall. Instantly, the pieces fit into place, fleshing out a fucking puzzle she didn’t even know she’d been working on. Richard was there at the mall that day. Either he or his wife bought him the watch she was going to buy him.
Holy crap, he was shopping for maternity clothes with his pregnant wife the day before the trip.

Oh, my God, their marriage was never even close to over
—not years ago when they met, not months ago when she got pregnant, and not hours before he tried to get Tori back into his bed.

Tori fell back on to the floor, her ass hitting hard enough to rattle her teeth. There it was, staring up at her through shards of glass…she was the other woman, had been all along. Sure, that realization had mildly hit her when she saw the pregnancy announcement video, but everything else happened so fast, she didn’t have time to comprehend it fully.

Between Richard’s rage and her time with Michael, she had apparently, albeit subconsciously, convinced herself that he and his wife must have somehow got caught up in the moment one night and it resulted in a baby. The video and everything was just for show, for the kids. But no, it wasn’t, and the plot of her secretly constructed protection story started to unravel as she watched a fast-forwarded version of
The Adventures of Romper Woman and Breitling Man
play out in her head.

She was such a fool—a fool to ever believe him, a fool to think she could have a future with Michael, and a fool to think people like her got happily ever afters. They didn’t, and she had to accept it. If this was some cheesy romance novel, she would be the other woman, the one the readers loved to hate, that character only there to create drama for the hero and heroine of the story who fall in love and live happily ever after, while the other woman gets what she deserves…nothing.

Tori was so filled with emptiness and despair, she didn’t know what to do. Afraid she’d never feel whole again, she numbly got up and finished cleaning the cabin the best she could. It was the least she could do for Michael. Then she’d leave this place, this state, and never look back.

She heard Michael drop the snowmobile off and hid upstairs, resisting the urge to look at him one last time. She almost jumped out of her own skin when he banged on the door. She wasn’t expecting him to make contact. That was his choice, not hers, last night anyway,
now
it was hers. Rocking back and forth at the top of the stairs with her arms wrapped around her knees and her tears flowing freely, she watched the door as if it was the only thing protecting the scattered fragments of her.

Every heartfelt word and plea ricocheted off her ears like a shot report, causing her to jump and cry harder. Michael was begging her forgiveness and begging her not to go, to take the snowmobile to his cabin not to the airstrip, pleading with her to love him and stay with him and help him heal, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t place her heart in his hands and she couldn’t hold his in safekeeping either. Not right now.

His words ripped at her soul and clawed at her heart. He’d done some major soul-searching, apparently, and claimed he didn’t see her that way and never would again. So many promises and declarations, none of which she was worthy of. Covering her ears failed to keep his voice out of her head. As weak as she was, she was putting one foot in front of the other to descend the stairs and fling open the door before she realized what she was doing. She stopped dead in her tracks, then turned and fled upstairs. To Richard’s room and the wedding picture, to a place and state of mind that could offer her all the reasons she couldn’t open that damned door. With that, she tuned Michael out and focused on Richard’s voice and her own telling her all the reasons not to open it.

B
eating
on the door with little urgency now, Michael leaned against the cold surface and pleaded with his unseen love to forgive him. He knew she was there, he’d watched her head lamp weave and bob back and forth around the lake before returning here, sensing it was her long before he saw her final destination. They were the only two souls out here. Besides, who else would be crazy enough to run a freaking marathon in the dead of winter, in the dark, around a frozen lake on a Tennessee mountain.

Michael had reconciled his feelings and reaction, for the most part, the moment he stepped onto the porch. It wasn’t thoughts of Wendy that kept him out there, it was the words that came out of his mouth and the damage they wrought that held him outside in the cold instead of offering comfort and apologies to Tori.

It was true, when she was riding him and her orgasm was pulling him with her, the moment in the hotel room came flooding back—the helplessness, the out of control feeling, everything. But the minute he said no and removed Tori from his body, who in the heat of the moment represented Wendy, everything started to change.

That one act was slightly redeeming in some twisted, fucked up way. It was like a second chance to say no, do what he hadn’t done that night. After that, clarity started creeping in as he paced the porch. A strength had come to him, a strength that was taken from him that night, but it came with a hefty price tag. It killed a piece of his soul that Tori had to pay that price for his strength.

Knowing everything would be all right with time and help was all well and good, but hurting her would never be worth it for anything. After Tori left and he finally came inside, he sat down and wrote out a detailed account of what happened that night. Reading over it, he knew it would never see a second in court. That wasn’t going to stop him from trying to file charges and talking to John’s sister, though. He had to stand up. For his own piece of mind, he had to. Justice for him would be in telling the story and hopefully making it okay for other men to tell theirs. If just one person didn’t end up like Troy, then his pain and suffering would be a fair price. Tori’s however, wasn’t.

The things he was saying to her were true, one hundred percent. He knew he needed help and he would get it, but he didn’t see her as his attacker, he didn’t blame her, and she wasn’t his blood feather, at least not in the way he had used it to get her to leave. It was his shame, not his anger that hurt her.

He slid down the door and continued his pleading. “Tori, please. I know I hurt you and said awful things, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m asking for it anyway because I’m a selfish bastard when it comes to you. I want you in my life. Forever. By my side through all the bullshit the world throws at us. I want to be there when you cut the ribbon on your store and I want you to be there when I go to the police and admit what happened.”

Michael heard footsteps approaching the door and hope soared. “Please come back to the cabin, don’t go to the airport. Please don’t leave me…leave us.” At that, the footsteps pounded up the stairs and away, taking hope with them. The rest of what he said was said without an audience and he knew he was talking to himself, but it didn’t stop him. It needed to be said and maybe, just maybe, she was somewhere listening.

“I’m sorry I made you come back to this place. It was cruel of me, I wasn’t thinking of anyone but myself last night. I’m not a mean person by nature and I would never hurt you. Not again, anyway. I know I have some shit to deal with, and I will, but of all the things I need to see me through it, you’re at the top of the list.”

He was so adrift in his own thoughts, he didn’t even bother to project his voice anymore; he was sure she was already lost to him. “I didn’t lie about everything though, I do love you. More than I ever thought possible.” Michael rose to his feet and leaned his forehead against the dark maple door and spread his hand out flat against it, like he could touch her through the wood.

“And you are a blood feather, just not broken or damaged. But in the sense that when I plucked you out and cast you away, hurt you, I mutilated myself. Without you, I will continue to bleed and bleed. You’re in my blood, Tori, pumping through my heart with every contraction.” His flattened hand balled into a fist and slammed against the door.

He backed off and shouted, “I’m leaving, Tori, but I love you and I’m begging you not to give up on us. I won’t, not ever. I’m going to show you the man I truly am, the man I can be, the man you need. A man you can love.” Walking away, he cast his eyes back to the top floor where he suspected she was and shouted, again, “I LOVE YOU, TORIONNA KRYSTLE-CARRINGTON REID AND I ALWAYS WILL.”

Michael felt to do more than he had already would just push her away rather than bring her closer. Knowing she needed space and time to deal didn’t make it easier. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, make love to her, prove to her she was nothing like he accused her of being, nothing like Richard accused.