I am not sure if I blacked out, but my next coherent thought is that I want—no, I need—Taylor inside of me. The cold door on my front is now a welcome relief against my overheated skin. I lay my forehead against it, trying to summon the words to beg Taylor to take me, but before I have the chance to, I feel the tip of his cock at my entrance, his hands on my hips. I am so slick with juices that all it takes is a slight thrust backwards and Taylor is filling me to the hilt.
“You are so tight, baby,” Taylor murmurs into my ear. “Fuck, Abs, you have no idea how hot you look in those heels, all tied up and at my mercy like this.” I let out a low groan as Taylor starts moving in and out of me slowly and deliberately. I can feel the muscles in my pelvis starting to tighten and I know it won’t be long.
“Please, Taylor, I need more,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I can do that, baby.” Taylor responds by wrapping one arm around my chest, his fingers pulling at my nipples sharply, and the other round my waist. With that, he starts slamming into me and I find myself screaming his name as each thrust hits that sweet spot buried deep within me. My orgasm hits me like a bolt of lightning; my body fizzles and crackles with a current that feels like it might stop my heart at any moment.
I am not sure how much more I can take, when I hear Taylor utter a hiss of satisfaction and feel him spilling into me, sending me completely over the edge. I feel like I am floating above my body as Taylor covers my neck in gentle kisses while releasing my wrists. He carries my limp and sated form across to the bed, where he places kisses all over my body. I wrap my arms around Taylor and nuzzle into his neck as his hands caress every inch of me, lulling me into a dreamless slumber.
The Eighth
Shit. Shit. Shit. I am late. Somehow everything went pear-shaped this morning, starting with sleeping through my alarm, and now I am ten minutes late for my appointment with Dr Grohl. The receptionist waves me straight through when I come jogging in, and I find myself collapsing into my favourite squishy armchair whilst simultaneously trying to apologise for my tardiness and catch my breath.
David hands me a glass of water and gives me a couple of minutes to collect myself before announcing that we ought to start the session. I feel so embarrassed about being late that I am particularly grouchy today. When David starts probing me about my freak-out in the bath—typical, Taylor must have called him—I find myself shutting down, unable to answer his questions as the images flood back. I don’t even realise that I am hyperventilating and in the middle of a panic attack until David is standing in front of me with a paper bag.
As I struggle to get my breathing under control, David offers a calm and guiding voice. At last, the panic subsides and I am left shaking and cold in the chair. I wipe away a stray tear with a trembling hand and try to find some words. Taking a step back, David begins with some gentle probing as we work together to try and understand what is triggering the panic. By the end of the session, I am exhausted. I feel somewhat better but still emotionally battered and bruised. Reminding me that avoidance won’t solve anything, David suggests that I try and write down my feelings about what happened. Accepting my ‘homework’, I grab my bag and head out of David’s office.
Not ready to go home or back to work, I find myself heading to the bandstand on the promenade. The sun is out for a change, and as I stand overlooking the beach, I feel its warmth on my skin. I am so lost in my thoughts I don’t hear the footsteps until I feel a presence right behind me.
“I hear congratulations are in order?” I whip my head around to find Richard looming over me. I twist my body to try and get away, but he traps me between his arms, the railing at my back imprisoning me completely. I take a gulp of air and try to calm the nerves in my stomach.
“What do you want, Richard?” I spit out.
A humourless smile crosses Richard’s face, but for the first time the menace I usually associate with him seems to be mostly absent. “So when is the baby due?” Richard continues, his voice low and subdued.
“It’s none of your business, Richard. Do you think after everything you have done to me, to your brother even, I would actually let you anywhere near this baby?” My hand has found its way across my belly in an unconscious gesture of defence. To anyone passing by, we probably look like a couple having an intensely private conversation, but I wish someone would interrupt so that I can at least get Richard out of my personal space.
“It will be family, so I have a right,” Richard spits out, malice making a swift return.
“You have no rights, Richard. Just who the hell do you think you are? You may be Taylor’s twin, but that means nothing to me. You have some real issues, so maybe you should put some time and effort into sorting yourself out instead of harassing me.”
“You bitch!” Richard hisses. And the king of crazy is back, I think to myself. “You think you can come in here and take my brother away, you have another thing coming.”
“Oh, grow up, Richard. I have done nothing of the sort. You have done this to yourself. If you hadn’t spent your life abusing Taylor and Nicola, making their lives a living hell, you might find you have people who want you in their lives. But instead, you are a complete psycho and so no one wants you, well, apart from your crazy bitch mother maybe!” My chest is heaving, and I can’t quite believe I have had the audacity to say all that out loud.
Richards’s eyes have taken on a slightly feral look, and his hands are now on my shoulders, gripping them tightly. “You are nothing but a crazy little whore who tried to commit suicide. Some mother you’ll be,” Richard says, shaking me.
Finding the courage deep within, I plant my hands firmly on Richard’s chest, giving him a big shove to push him away. In a low voice, I say firmly, “Just fuck off, Richard. If you don’t leave me alone right now, I am going to start screaming. And then you can explain to the police why you are harassing me.”
“I will end you, you bitch,” Richard shouts at me before stalking off.
My legs are shaking so badly I find myself sinking down onto the cold concrete. I put my hands over my face and try to concentrate on slowing my anxious breathing. A few minutes pass and I finally feel ready to get back on my feet, physically and metaphorically. Eager to get out of here, I quickly walk off, heading towards home, where at least I know I am safe.
.........................
I spend the rest of the day curled up on the couch, dozing. When I walked into the bakery after my confrontation with Richard, Bea immediately knew something was up. She told me I was looking pale and insisted that, as everything was quiet, I needed to rest. Grateful that I didn’t have to explain anything, I have used the time to get some much-needed sleep and to try and work out how to tell Taylor about my confrontation with Richard. I know he will go ballistic if I tell him that Richard threatened me.
Urgh. Everything is just too complicated to contemplate, so instead I dig out my Grey’s Anatomy box sets and distract myself with Meredith and Dr McDreamy’s problems instead. Yeah, yeah! So I know David told me avoidance won’t solve my problems, but hey, I am just pushing the pause button for a while…
.........................
I wake to the sound of a door slamming and footsteps running up my stairs. “Abby?” Taylor calls out.
“In here,” I reply sleepily, wondering why Taylor sounds all panicky. Taylor rushes in and sinks down in front of the couch, running his hands over me, smoothing my hair back.
“Are you okay, Abs?” I notice the dark circles under Taylor’s eyes and the worry written all over his face.
“I am fine. What’s up, Taylor? Why are you back so early?” I ask.
“Henry told me you had a run-in with Richard after your session this morning…”
“What the hell, Taylor? How do you know about any of this?” Realisation dawns and with it comes white-hot rage. “You still have Henry following me, Taylor? What the fuck? How dare you do this and not tell me.” Taylor looks startled at my anger and goes to interrupt, but
I refuse to give him the chance. “And therapy, Taylor? Do you have David telling you all about my sessions? Is that why you insist on paying for them, huh? So you can demand to know the inner workings of my soul? I can’t believe you have done this…” I peter out, at a complete loss of what to say next.
“I am just looking out for you Abs,” Taylor says seriously. I can see that Taylor feels perfectly justified in his actions. I am so angry I could scream.
“No, you are just trying to control me. For fuck’s sake, Taylor, you don’t own me. And I am not a child. I am not your responsibility.”
“Well, maybe you should stop behaving like one!” Taylor snaps back at me.
That’s it. I have had enough. “Get out, Taylor! Just get out!” I scream, pointing at the door.
“Fine.” With one word Taylor calmly walks out of the room. I wait until I hear the front door slam before bursting into gut-wrenching sobs. My thoughts whirl round and round in my head, all the things I wish I had said suddenly popping out from my subconscious.
It feels like hours before the tears finally abate. Pull yourself together, I admonish myself. I have Bean to think of first and foremost, so I drag myself to the kitchen, where I half-heartedly heat some soup and cut up some chunks of Andre’s crusty loaf. I manage to force down about half before the nausea rears its ugly head, so I retreat back to the couch, where I spend the rest of the evening reliving our fight over and over.
.........................
I wake with a start, vaguely wondering why I am on my couch. Everything floods back to me and my stomach clenches in anxiety. Realising my phone is ringing, I reach for it, noticing the private number, ready to give Taylor another piece of my mind.
“What do you want?” I say brusquely.
“Um, Abby?” questions a familiar voice softly.
“Nicola?” I respond, wondering why she is calling.
“Abby, can I speak to Taylor? He isn’t picking up his phone.”
“He’s not here,” I say more harshly than intended, and I instantly feel contrite. “Sorry, Nicola. Taylor left a while ago.” I can hear soft crying and low music in the background, and I feel dreadful for talking to her like that. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah, um, no, not really…” Nicola trails off.
The hairs on my neck are standing on end, and call it women’s intuition or something, but I know something is very wrong. “Nicola, sweetie, tell me what’s going on.” The sobbing continues and a thousand scenarios run through my head, each one worse than the previous one. “Nicola, where are you? Are you at home?”
“N…no. I am at a friend’s house in Hove.”
“What’s happened?”
“I…I…” Nicola starts sobbing louder and I know in that moment that I need to go to her.
“Nicola, what is the address?” She stammers out a house number and road name that I am vaguely familiar with, and I promise I will be with her as soon as I can, adding for her to go find somewhere safe until I get there.
I fly out the door, grabbing only my coat and keys in my hurry to get to Nicola. My gut tells me to hurry, and less than twenty minutes later, I am pulling up in front of a huge Regency mansion. What on earth? It sounds like there is one hell of a party going on, which is a little bizarre for a Wednesday night.
I go to knock on the front door but find it unlatched. I push it open, stepping into a foyer heaving with people. A closer look puts most of them in their late teens, and I take a guess that they are probably uni students, which explains the Wednesday night party but doesn’t clue me in to why Nicola is here. The music is earsplittingly loud, the bass thumping like a heartbeat throughout the house.
I ask a couple of people where Nicola is and all I get are blank stares, so I set off through the house to try and find her. I have tried ringing her mobile several times, but it goes straight to answerphone, so I am guessing her battery has run out, or at least I hope that is all it is. I methodically make my way through the upstairs bedrooms, calling out Nicola’s name as I go, interrupting more than a few couples making out. Eventually, I come across a locked door.
“Nicola, are you in there?” I call. I hear a soft shuffling sound and then a click as the bolt is drawn back, and the door swings open. Nicola stands in front of me, make-up smudged, top ripped and a bruise ripening on her cheek. I am instantly furious.
“What happened, Nicola?” I ask through gritted teeth.
Nicola avoids looking at me, shame written all over her slumped posture. I pull her into a hug, “Who did this to you, sweetie?”
She starts to cry, so I gently push her back into the bathroom and lock the door behind us. “You are safe now, sweetie. Tell me what happened…” Eventually, I manage to coax the story out of her. Through the tears, she tells me about Bryan, her new, older boyfriend, who brought her to the party, promising that it was just a few of the guys from college. When she arrived, she knew something was going on, but when she asked Bryan to take her home, he refused, telling her to lighten up and have some fun. At first everything was great; she and Bryan danced for ages. But then he disappeared to the toilet, and when he came back, he was acting all weird. She thought maybe he was a bit drunk as they had both been drinking some weird punch, so when he suggested they go upstairs, she thought it was just to sober up. But he started to take things further than she wanted to, and when Nicola refused, he tried to force her. She managed to push him off and flee to the bathroom but not before he slapped her across the face, calling her a ‘prick tease’.
My heart is breaking for Nicola as I cradle her in my arms, letting her cry. When she has finally calmed down, I wipe away the tears gently. “Come on, sweetie, let’s get out of here,” I suggest. She nods and I take her hand, leading the way down through the party. We are almost at the door when I feel Nicola stiffen, and when I look around, I see her staring at some guy. Some guy who, incidentally, is making out with another girl, his hand up her skirt as she writhes against the wall.
“Is that Bryan?” I ask Nicola softly. She gives me a short nod, and the anger that has been present in me since she told me what happened gives me courage, despite the fact that the guy is a good foot taller than I am and built like a rugby player. I march up to Bryan and tap him on the shoulder, saying his name. He whirls round, growling at the interruption, but before he can say anything, my fist is swinging and connecting squarely with his nose. “You ever go near Nicola again, you bastard, and you will answer to me. You understand?”
“You bitch!” he roars, blood dripping from his nose.
I grab his shirt and pull his face down closer to mine. “You understand?” I growl, my tone and aggression brooking no argument.
“Yeah, fine. Whatever!” Bryan stutters. With a final glare at him, I turn around, grab Nicola’s hand and stalk out of the house. By the time we get into the car, the adrenaline has started to subside and my body starts shaking.
“Wow, Abby, you are amazing,” Nicola exclaims softly.
“Not really, honey. Are you okay?” I ask, needing to make sure that Nicola really is fine.
“Thanks for rescuing me, Abby. Really, thank you.”
“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll always be here for you.” And I know that that is the truth. No matter what happens between Taylor and me, I will always be there for Nicola. She is the little sister I never had.
“Right, where are you supposed to be tonight?” I ask as I start the engine and pull out of the drive.
The blush that sweeps across Nicola’s face confirms what I know already; she was playing hooky. “Um, I told my parents that I was at Lisa’s tonight. Bryan was supposed to drop me there later.”
“Okay, well, you better call Lisa and let her know you are staying at mine tonight,” I say, offering her my phone.
“Um, you can just drop me there,” Nicola says timidly.
“I think her parents might have a few questions about that bruise on your cheek,” I point out. “Tell her I’ll pick her up first thing and wi
ll drop you both at school. I am assuming she has a bag of clothes and stuff?”
“Yeah, she has my uniform,” Nicola answers softly.
“Okay, that’s settled, then,” I say, my tone light but tolerating no argument. Nicola makes the call to Lisa, and within a few minutes we have arrived back at my flat. I think the enormity of what may have happened has sunk into both of us, and we make our way into the flat wearily. I make us both a cup of tea and insist on ice packs for both Nicola’s face and my hand. I can’t believe I actually punched someone. I don’t think my hand is broken, but it is definitely bruised and is going to hurt like hell in the morning.
I glance at the clock and realise it is gone midnight. I make up the sofa bed for Nicola before grabbing a T-shirt and leggings for her to sleep in. I may have lost weight, but I am still a couple sizes bigger than Nicola’s willowy frame, so the clothes swamp her, making her look so young and lost. I give her a big hug and make sure she is comfortable before heading off to my own bed.
I lie awake contemplating the disaster that has been my day. I don’t know where Taylor is and why Nicola hadn’t been able to reach him. With a sigh, I roll over and close my eyes, glad the day is finally at an end.
The Ninth
I wake to find myself looking into Taylor’s eyes as he lies fully clothed beside me. “Why is my baby sister sleeping on the couch?” he asks softly.
“What time is it?” I whisper, not wanting to wake Nicola up.
“Just after five,” Taylor responds. Great, I have had less than five hours’ sleep. I am definitely going to be grumpy today, I think to myself.
“Long story. But the short version is that she couldn’t reach you, so she called me instead!” I can’t quite keep all the venom out of my voice. “What are you doing here anyway?” I ask, wrinkling my nose at the smell of stale alcohol that is wafting off Taylor.
Taylor closes his eyes briefly, as if he is contemplating what to say next. “Abby, Henry wasn’t following you. He was following Richard.” Oh. “And I am not keeping tabs on you through Dr Grohl. He just called to say you had had a difficult session and would need some extra support, something I asked him to do so that I can make sure I am there for you when you need me.”
Book Two: Thirty Days, Book 2 Page 7
