She grabs my arm and digs her nails into my skin. “Don’t you dare tell me how to be a mother. You have no right.”
“The thing is, I think I do.” I shove her hand off me, her nails cutting into me along the way. “Now if you don't mind, I need to go climb your ex-husband like a tree and wash away the nasty things you did to him.”
I shove her away from my door and hop in, leaving Peyton stewing. I peel out of the parking lot, the pictures of her and Dean swirling in my mind like a movie reel.
He wouldn't.
He wouldn't.
He wouldn't.
But then why has he been avoiding my calls? Could it have been a lapse in judgment?
When I get home, I spot Dean’s Mustang in his driveway. Now I’m boiling that he didn’t have the nerve to even text me or answer me. There’s no way he could expect not to see me. Not tell me what is going on.
But there’s no way Peyton is telling the truth either.
Is there?
Wasting no time, I park my car and make my way across the yards to his house to figure this all out. I don't knock, choosing to use my key to enter the house. I find him sitting on the couch with his phone in his hand, typing. “I see your fucking phone works,” I growl making Dean’s head pop up at me. His eyebrows twist with worry, I’m sure seeing the angry scowl on my face.
Hell, I can feel the wrinkles in my forehead, and a vein pulsating in the side of my neck. There’s no way he could miss it.
He stands from the couch and walks towards me, but I hold up my hand, telling him to stop. He doesn’t, which just makes me snap again. “Where have you been?” I yell, my voice ricochets off the walls, finally making him stop. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day. Your phone tells me I’ve been blocked.”
“Blocked? I didn’t—” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “There’s a fucking lot to explain, Lo.”
I hesitate momentarily knowing I could get sucked into a web of lies. Though who am I to say anything when I’m still hiding my own. Before I can over think any further Dean is grabbing my hand roughly and pulling me into his hard body. “Lo, I need you to trust me. More than ever, I need you. I might not deserve it, especially after what happened last week, but I need you on my side. Please. With what I'm about to reveal, I just need you to trust me and know that I would never do anything to hurt you.”
Maybe I didn't get that same trust in return a week ago, but it doesn't matter because there's something uncanny going on. And just by the broken look in his blue eyes, begging me to believe him, it’s hard not to put my faith in him.
I nod. “Yes, yes, I trust you.”
“Thank fuck.” His lips mesh with mine, ravishing me. I can feel his desperation, along with his love for me as his tongue massages mine, but before I get too lost in the way he tastes and feels, I push him back.
“First, we need to talk.”
“You're right. I just needed to show you how much I love you. How much you mean to me.” His eyes plead with me to understand.
“It’s bad, isn't it?” I’m hit with a sudden chill down my spine.
“You might want to sit down. This is all gonna sound insane.”
“Maybe not. I already had a run in with Peyton before I came here. Though, I'd like to hear your side first.” I plop on the couch and take a large breath, ready for him to lay it on me.
“Are you shitting me? She accosted you. Where?”
“At school. But I'd like to know why you didn’t come back home last night, Dean.”
“The fucking bitch,” he mumbles under his breath and sits beside me on the couch. “After I managed to get Georgia to sleep, she wanted to talk. I figured it was the perfect time to tell her about us. As I figured, she didn't take it well.” He rubs the back of his neck and looks up at me. “She was upset, and then I don't know what happened. We were going back and forth and then next thing I knew I woke up on the couch this morning, her couch. My shirt and pants were missing.”
My eyes close and my breath hitches, the pictures from Peyton's phone coming alive again in my mind like a movie reel. Them naked, her on top of him. I’m sick all over again, and my body shakes as the continued nausea rises to my throat.
At least he isn't denying it.
Dean grabs my hand. “Lo, I swear, I didn't do anything with her…at least not consciously. But she has pictures. She's doing things in them, and I guess I look like I'm also doing stuff. But I swear to god, I didn't do anything with her.”
“I saw them,” my voice croaks.
“God damn it. Lo…I'm…I didn't.” He squeezes my hand so tight, I can hear his teeth sawing back and forth as he clenches them.
“Dean, you're hurting my hand.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He releases my hand and stands to his feet. His hands tug at his hair as he paces and his jaw still ticks. “Listen, I know how I acted after what happened to you at that frat party, but shit Lo, now I think it's possible Peyton might have had something to do with that as well.”
“How?”
“I don't know, but I've been thinking about it for most of the day, trying to piece this all together. There are so many similarities between the two events. Taking pictures, the memory loss. It's all too much. Plus, the way she took the news at first, it feels so set up—I don't know. I don't have any proof, but at this moment nothing surprises me. It doesn’t all seem like a coincidence.”
I rub my hand over my stomach, letting his words sink in. Peyton had me drugged?
“So, you think she always knew about us?”
“I do.”
How could we’ve been so blind? All the signs were there, yet we both ignored them. She might be crazy, but she’s a good actress to boot.
“Okay, but it doesn’t explain why you didn’t call me or text me.”
“I did.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“That’s bullshit.” Dean pulls out his phone and moves to his screen. “I texted you about fifteen times and called you and left you a message. I was worried about you. You never answered them.” He hands me the phone showing me the messages.
There, in black and white, are a bunch of texts asking me where I was. If I was all right, telling me we needed to talk, it was an emergency about Peyton. The time stamps prove he had been upfront from the beginning. There’s even one sent right before I got here. Unfortunately, I wasn't on the receiving end of these messages.
“I didn’t get these.” I dig out my phone from my back pocket and open our text chain. No new messages, nothing. “In fact, after my first class, the texts I sent you came back as undeliverable. And when I called, it said the person I was calling was unavailable. Which I figured meant you blocked me, which matched some of what Peyton said.” I scroll through the information under my name in Dean’s phone, and when I look at the number listed, I notice right away it isn’t mine. “This isn’t my number, Dean. The last two numbers have been switched.” I hand him back his phone to show him. “How long were you out?”
“I woke up about eight this morning, I think. I missed work, and Georgia was late for school. Though, thankfully, she did call me in a sub. I realized quickly what she had done to me, we fought, and then I got Georgia out of the house. After I dropped her off at school, I went to see my lawyer.”
“Your lawyer?”
“Yeah. Peyton has officially lost her damn mind, and I'm more worried about Georgia now than anything. I want her to stay with me from now on. I want to end Peyton's visitation. The bitch doesn't deserve it. She can’t even decorate her damn room.” He growls and his jaw ticks. “Not only has she done this to me, but she's not thinking about Georgia's wellbeing. I never wanted to fight for full custody because of how I thought it would affect Georgia, but what she's doing now isn't any better. So, I went to see my lawyer about it. Also, with those pictures, I needed to see if she has any pull with the separation to delay it further.”
“What did he say?”
“He's working on a way to
get Georgia to stay with me in the meantime. I have no idea how that’s going to play out, but that’s what I pay my lawyer for. I’m hoping if anything it will encourage her to get some help.”
“Has she ever done something like this before? Gone off the rails?”
“She did once when we were together in college. But it didn't last long and nothing, nothing like this. Then there was one other time; I wasn't around for it though, her mother told me about it. She had some sort of nervous breakdown when she was about fifteen or sixteen.” My ears perk up.
“Sixteen?”
“Yeah, young right? They had to lock her up in a hospital psych ward. Pumped her full of meds to get her to calm down.” He looks at me and pulls on his hair. “She had been raped, or that’s what her mom said.”
“Raped?” I gasp and feel dizzy. “Oh my god.” My heart twists, and I wonder if it explains so much and maybe—everything.
“Yeah. Peyton refused to talk to me about it when I did ask, and I never pushed her further afterward. I didn’t want to open old wounds that she claimed were healed, but thinking back now; maybe I should’ve.” His eyes close tightly, and I rub his back. The muscles tighten, and I can tell that he carries some blame around. “She seemed okay when we started dating. She told me back then that she was bipolar and had meds to help her, but I didn’t care about that. She was just Peyton, a bit quiet and shy at times. She had a good heart, just a little separated from life. Till she separated from me, from Georgia, trying to make a new life or whatever the fuck she was doing.”
“Wow.”
“But now, what’s she’s doing…this is beyond anything I could have ever imagined since I first met her. If this is another nervous break, I don’t want her around Georgia, and I need her to get help before they’re in the same room together again. If anything, for Georgia’s own safety. I wish I only saw it all sooner. I hate that I wasn’t paying attention.”
“It’s not your fault, Dean.”
“Isn’t it though? She was my responsibility when we were married. I should’ve tried harder, paid more attention. I don’t know. At least I should’ve checked up on her afterward when she started acting out of character this last month.”
“No. We don’t know what caused this break. You said it yourself, it could have had something to do with her new friends. Not you. And if she needs meds to be somewhat normal and she’s not taking them, like you think she’s not, then she’s doing it to herself. Trust me when I tell you, it’s not you.”
He grabs me around the waist and pulls me onto his lap. “When did you get so smart?” he chuckles.
“I’ve always been smart according to you.” I smirk and he kisses my nose.
“Touché.” He nuzzles his head into the side of my neck. “I’m sorry about this whole mess though. You don’t need this.” His hand runs over my stomach.
“It’s worth it though, for loving you, being with you, having this.” I lay my hands on top of the ones he has over my stomach, our baby. I giggle and kiss the prickles of his beard. He is worth it. Every day I’m thankful for him, though at the same time I’m terrified I’m going to lose him. He’s my everything, and I wouldn’t know what to do if he wasn’t a part of my life anymore.
His phone rings, and he tugs it out of his jeans. He glances at the caller ID and takes a deep breath. “Sorry, I need to take this. It’s my lawyer.”
“Yeah, of course.” I nod and go to stand, but he yanks me closer to him before I can get up. I relax against him and curl into his side as he answers the phone.
“Hey, Leon, what you got?” There’s a rough voice on the other end, and I can’t make out the words, but judging by the smile on Dean’s face, I’m guessing whatever is being said is good. “That’s great news. Thanks, man, I owe you.” Dean hangs up and fist pumps the air.
“What's up?”
“Peyton actually agreed to let me have Georgia for the remainder of the week, without having to threaten to press charges against her for what she did to me. Then next week we will go into mediation to work out the rest.”
“That's great, but do you think she'll back off so easily?”
“No. Honestly I don't, which in a way worries me, but I’ll take it for now. I’m getting Georgia. I only hope that Peyton uses the time to get some help.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
PEYTON
8 hours ago.
I brush my fingers through his long dirty-blonde locks, making him moan in his sleep and his forehead to wrinkle. The drugs are starting to wear off, and I need him to rouse before Georgia comes down.
“Rise and shine, babe,” I whisper seductively in his ear and run my fingers down his bare chest.
“Lola,” he groans and a hint of a smile perks on his face.
Dark clouds brew over my happy sunshine skies that were shinning on me only moments ago. I had him right where I wanted, and here he is, still thinking of her, dreaming of her. I snap, slapping him in the chest. My handprint leaving a nice little twinge of red in its place.
His eyes fly open, wide in surprise, looking right at me. His breathing is erratic now, and he moves to sit up. “What the fuck?”
“Good morning, sleepy head!” I say in a sing-song voice giving him my best warm smile.
His eyes shift around the room, then down at his body, his half-naked body.
I had the hardest time last night getting him out of his pants. Though seeing him in his boxers made it worth it.
“What the hell is going on, Peyton?”
“Whatever do you mean?” I flutter my eyes and reach out to touch him. When he knocks back my hand, my vision reddens.
I’m sick of being pushed away. I’m sick of being an afterthought, an annoyance in his life.
“Don’t touch me. Where are my clothes?” he grits through his teeth. “Start there.”
“I’m hurt, Dean, that you don’t remember the night we shared.”
“That’s fucking bullshit. What did you do to me, Peyton?”
“I didn’t do anything. We shared a special moment together. One that brought us together like we needed to be.” I grin, standing from the couch. “We explored each other’s bodies and remembered what it was like to be together. Now we can start all over again.”
“You’re fucking full of shit!” he roars, standing to his feet.
“I’m not the one in their underwear, Dean, on my couch the next morning. Am I?” I tilt my head, and reach for my phone in my back pocket, while he snorts and rages like an angry bull.
It’s so fucking sexy. With his hair all disheveled and his eyes dilated black. Too bad he isn’t going to put his anger towards a good punishment fucking.
Been awhile since I’ve had one of those.
“How did this happen, Peyton? I know for a fact I didn’t take my clothes off.”
“But in fact, you did. You were never really good at watching how much you had to drink. I made sure I took some pictures of our time together. That way you couldn’t say it didn’t happen.”
“You—you took pictures,” he stutters, pushing his long fingers through his hair. “You’re fucking insane.”
“Yes. You see, I told you I wanted you back. We made love, despite you being a little out of it, I didn’t want you to tell me it didn’t happen.”
“It didn’t. We didn’t have sex last night! There’s no way in hell. I would remember that. And there’s no way in hell my dick would get up for you,” he spits.
“Oh, baby, but it did. I still ache from where you rammed yourself into me.” I rub my hand over my core. With my other hand, I swipe open the screen on my phone and then face it to him. Letting the full technicolor take effect; me on top of him, kissing his face…naked as well.
His face goes pale, and he falls to the couch. “Did you fucking rape me while I was out cold? What the fuck is wrong with you? God, did you drug me with something?” He rubs his neck, and his eyes go wide. “You did, didn't you?”
“I did nothing of the sort.”
/>
“I don't believe you.” He's off the couch again and stomps behind it spotting his jeans and slips them on. “I'm getting Georgia and taking her out of here. You need fucking help, Peyton. Like psychological help. Have you stopped your meds? Because if I find out you have, I seriously will not let Georgia in your care till you’re back on them and stable again.”
My blood boils as he talks about those pills.
The pills that ruled my life for so long.
The ones that ruined my life.
“You can't do that!” I snap. “She’s my daughter. Our daughter. We should be together, taking care of her together. Then maybe I wouldn't be like this. You fix me, Dean. Not my meds. Don't you get that?”
“No. Don't give me that horseshit. Now answer me, are you or are you not taking your meds?”
“I don't have to say anything. What I do to my body, put into my body, is none of your concern.”
“The thing is you do have to tell me. If I can't trust you, I'm not trusting you with Georgia either. You never were much of a mother before. You have your moments, but if you’re not taking care of yourself, I can't have her in your care.”
“But you'll have her in the care of some twat teenager?” I seethe. How dare he think that little brat is a better mother than me.
“If I remember, you…” He stabs his finger in my direction, “picked her because you liked her. She was your favorite student.”
“Biggest mistake of my life,” I mutter.
“Actually, I think it was your best.” He grins and inside I’m stewing so much I can practically hear my blood boil. “Now, I'm grabbing my daughter and leaving. Don't call me to come over or anything. If you need anything from me regarding my daughter, go through my lawyer. You’re lucky that I'm not calling the cops to figure out what the hell you did to me, but I won’t do anything else to traumatize Georgia further.”
“We will see about that.”
“Don't fucking push it, Peyton. Just don't.”
That had been hours ago.
Everything I did backfired.
Perfect Storm Page 13
