Protecting Her Heart

by Chance Carter

  "Donnie..." I reached out to comfort him. He was clearly humiliated and I didn't blame him for being angry at me for what did seem to be a betrayal.

  He smacked my hand away. "Don't Donnie me, whore. You loved that tonight, didn't you? You loved watching us fight over you, and you probably would have loved it even more if he'd taken you back to whatever shithole he lives in and fucked you afterward like the little slut you are."

  I should have denied it immediately. I shouldn't have even let him finish laying out his accusations, because the second he did I know he saw it in my eyes that he was right.

  I couldn't help that I found the fight exciting, the prospect of being taken by the tall, sexy stranger enticing. I fought against it with every ounce of logic and reason that I possessed, but my body couldn't lie like my brain could and Donnie saw right through whatever words I'd been about to use to placate him.

  "I can't believe you!" He shoved me back.

  I hit the door, the handle jamming painfully against my hip, and cried out in pain.

  "I can't believe how fucking easy you are! Are you always on the lookout for a new dick to suck or was there just something about his that called to you? Huh?"

  Tears blurred my vision and I stepped forward, trying to speak. "Donnie, no! I would never—"

  "You wanted this! You wanted to see me get beat! Does that make you wet, Melissa? You get turned on by the violence, huh?" He was screaming now, spitting with rage. "How do you like this!"

  The backhand cracked me across the cheek and I went reeling back. My skull vibrated as it hit the drywall, teeth clacking together.

  The tears came first. Before the understanding of what had just happened, before my mind had time to put the pieces together, my eyes stung with tears. I splayed my palms flat against the wall, absorbing the inanimate chill into my bones in the hope of it grounding me somehow, because the fear and sadness resonating in my hollow body was too much to take.

  Donnie was still standing in front of me, hands shaking by his sides. I don't know how long we stood there—me with my back against the wall, biting back tears; him with eyes like pinpricks of iron and a rage floating on drunken fury. I brought a hand to my face, cushioning it against my bruised cheek.

  Everything that I experienced the first time he hit me came back, now compounded with the maelstrom of emotions from this second time. I was still in shock but needed to ask myself an important question—would there be a third time?

  Experience had taught me that isolated incidents are few and far between in this world, and Donnie had taught me that wishing for change leads only to pain. The terror of the moment split me apart, and it was with great effort that I stayed standing on two shaky legs.

  "Mel..." Donnie's eyes softened and he took a step toward me.

  I flattened myself against the wall. "Don't come any closer."

  "Mel, don't be like that. I barely touched you."

  I gulped and shook my head. I wasn't sure whether I was shaking it at his words, the situation, or just Donnie himself. Things that had cracked between us the first time I felt pain from his touch had shattered now, and as I stood amongst the pieces I wondered which of them he might use to rip my throat out. I had no idea what he was capable of. I used to think he wasn't even capable of this, and I should have known after the first time that things would only continue to get worse.

  "I need a minute," I croaked out, letting my hand drop beside me.

  I didn't say anything else; couldn't say anything else. I just waited for him to react.

  He looked like he wanted to stop me, and I could picture him caging me in with those strong arms I used to take comfort in, could picture him spitting poison from lips I used to love to kiss and rage from eyes I used to trust. I pictured it all in a split second and another shudder of panic passed through me, but he let me go.

  "I'll be in the lounge." Donnie backed up a few steps before turning on his heel and walking away from me.

  I took what felt like my first breath in hours, gulping it down like water in the desert. I turned and started heading for the door without thinking. I just needed some cold air on my face, which felt like someone held an open flame to it. I just needed to relax.

  "Where are you going?" Donnie called.

  I froze mid step even though I had no reason to feel guilty. "I just need some air."

  He appeared at the end of the hall, arms folded over his chest. "There's lots of air in the house."

  "I just need some air," I repeated, hoping it drove home my point.

  Donnie narrowed his eyes at me but eventually nodded. "Don't take too long. I'll worry."

  I left, stepping out into balmy evening. The air was dry and warm, and it carried the perfume of acacia and dust. I sat on the front step, running my fingers over my fresh bruise.

  How had this happened? How had I gotten here?

  The whole point of being with Donnie was that he represented such a strong departure from my childhood. I'd grown up as a nobody, not even knowing who my real parents were or why they'd left me in the hands of a state that had no idea what to do with me. Donnie had grown up the most privileged boy in our town, so when he took an interest in me—nobody, misfit Melissa—I knew it had to mean something. Being with him was supposed to give me a purpose. It was supposed to help me grow new roots to supplant the ones that had been nipped off before my first steps. I wanted to build a life and a family with Donnie, something stable and good, but the idea tasted stale in my mouth and the thought of being with Donnie even staler.

  I was tempted to wander off into the night and never return. It would have been the easiest option, at least in the way that I could go without having to say a word of goodbye to anybody—especially Donnie. Unfortunately there was such a thing as ID and material possessions. I didn't have many, but I had enough that I knew I couldn't leave this very second. But was I strong enough to leave at all?

  The door creaked open and I closed my eyes. I waited too long. I waited too long and now I was going to get it for making Donnie "worry". My heart raced and palms began to sweat, and I braced myself as his footsteps approached and stopped just beside me.

  Donnie took the spot next to me, sprawling out his long legs and staring into the night.

  "I didn't mean to hit you," he murmured.

  I was silent. I couldn't tell whether I was too afraid to speak or just too upset, but either way Donnie didn't wait for my response.

  "You know how I get, baby. I'm just a hothead where you're concerned."

  He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I froze but he barely seemed to notice. "It's just 'cause I love you so much. You can't blame me for that, can you?"

  I could blame him for a helluva lot more than he seemed to think I could. And I did. The only problem was I didn't know how to say any of this, nor did I know if I could. Or if I would survive if I did.

  "I just want to go to bed." I extricated myself from his embrace and rose.

  Donnie stood as well, and I looked away so I wouldn't have to see what appeared to be genuine compassion in his eyes, but couldn't be. If he had any genuine compassion, things between us would be going very differently.

  "Baby, let me make it up to you." He grabbed my arm, as gently as he could, and stroked his fingers down to my elbow. "It'll be all about you. I'll make you feel so good we'll forget this whole thing even happened."

  The fact that he thought any of this was forgettable was laughable.

  "Not tonight." I offered up a weak smile. A fake smile. "I'm tired."

  Donnie let me go to bed without further complaint, which was almost surprising. This was how he got me the last time though. He was so sweet and caring and understanding that he almost did make me forget what he'd done, but that was when I wanted to forget. Now I didn't know what I wanted.

  As I lay in bed, the sound of the TV blaring from the living room, my thoughts drifted to my fighter. I hoped he was okay. Guilt gnawed at my insides for leaving him. But what was I supposed t
o do? I only hoped I would have a chance to make things right.

  Chapter 9

  Jack

  The first thing I felt was a throbbing in my skull that refused to quit. It felt both like my skull had expanded and shrunk while I was passed out, and I couldn't tell where the pain was coming from but knew I was damaged somewhere.

  Something cold nestled against my head. I flinched, groaning.

  "Well that's a relief," said a husky female voice.

  The cold came again, but this time I settled into the icy relief it brought.

  What was the last thing I remembered before waking up? A pair of ice blue eyes, wide and expressive. A deep, furling lust. A stabbing pain on the back of my head.

  It all came back, and my eyes darted open. Where was I? Gravel bit into the flesh of my arms, which placed me in the parking lot still. The woman above me was wearing the same white shirt and black shorts that seemed to be the Alibi's uniform and looked to be in her late thirties. Her hair was dyed jet black, and it hung over her generous rack, sleek and straight. Her makeup was heavily done, but not necessarily caked on, and tattoos covered almost every inch of her but her face. She was the last person I'd expect to wake up to taking care of me.

  "What happened?" I asked.

  She pressed something down above me and fresh splinters of cold sawed through me. An ice pack, I realized as I hissed in pain. She merely smiled.

  "One of the royal dickhead crew bottled you," she said. "Which normally I'd say was your fault for being stupid enough to fuck with them, but in this case it sounds like you almost knew what you were doing."

  "Almost." I snorted. "Too fucking right, apparently."

  How was I supposed to know Donnie and his apes played dirty? And not in the nice way. Not even in the fun way. Just the sad, pathetic way.

  "I'm Naomi." She was sitting on the ground next to me, legs sprawled out ahead of her and one hand supporting her while she held the ice pack to my head, but she balanced her torso long enough to shake my hand. "Melissa told me what happened and I came out here to help."

  Melissa... Fuck, I hoped she was alright. I'd been so close to having her tonight. I could tell just from the look in her eyes that she knew exactly what the stakes were in our little wager and was ready to submit, and I would have made it worth her while a thousand times over.

  A bit of a moot point now, I supposed. At least she'd cared enough to get someone to come out and make sure I wasn't dead.

  I groaned and pushed myself up to a seated position, and Naomi followed with the ice. I grabbed the bag myself until she let go and then pulled it off my head entirely. When Naomi gave me a disapproving look, I laughed.

  "I'll be fine. I've had worse."

  "Even more of a reason for you to go get checked out."

  I shook my head. "I'm fine. I'm more worried about your friend, to be honest. Is she okay?"

  "Melissa?" Naomi frowned and looked at me like I'd just asked her if fish fell from the sky on Wednesdays. "She's fine, why?"

  "Like you didn't see the big shiner she was sporting today."

  Naomi nodded in understanding. "Oh, you mean that," she said. "Yeah, she'll be okay. It might not seem like it, but Mel can fend for herself." As a sour afterthought, she muttered, "At least that's what she keeps telling me."

  I swung my legs round, glad that they hadn't taken to kicking me while I was down. Donnie hadn't landed many hits on me so I wasn't much worse off than I was after the first fight. A minor miracle.

  "Why's she with him?" When Naomi gave me a guarded look, I rolled my eyes. "I just got bottled by one of her boyfriend's friends after picking a fight with Douchebag Donnie himself because he couldn't stop laying his hands on her. I think I've at least earned a little background information."

  Naomi chuckled at this and tossed the bag of ice toward the big green garbage bin backed up against the far wall. It bounced off just under the lid and landed on the ground with a wet smack.

  "They've been together for years," she said. "His family owns half the town and I guess Donnie wanted to add the prettiest girl in Cannon to his list of possessions. Donnie always gets what he wants."

  I gritted my teeth. "You're not making a strong case for me to leave her alone. It sounds to me like the town golden boy could use being knocked down a few pegs."

  Naomi ran a hand through her hair, eyes distant as she spoke. "I don't know what it's like where you're from, but around here we stick to the status quo. One of the things you just don't do is pick fights with the Beringers."

  "Where I'm from, you don't just stand by while a nice girl gets brutalized by a stupid rich kid," I shot back. "Why hasn't anybody done anything?"

  Naomi pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Her expression turned thoughtful.

  "You know, that's the question, isn't it? Because right and wrong still exist in the world, we're all technically playing by the same rules. I think it's this town, you know? Nobody wants saving and nobody is willing to save anybody else. It's just the way it's always been. People mind their own business and drink away their problems when it all gets too much to handle." She shrugged and met my gaze. "If you know what's good for you, I'd suggest minding your own business and getting out of here while you can. Donnie's not the type to let something like this go."

  I laughed and considered her advice. What if I did let this go? I could go home, back to where things made a little more sense and where I could have a little rest for what felt like the first time in days. I just wanted to go to bed and not wake up for at least sixteen hours, maybe more. Then I'd have a smoke and go back to sleep for another sixteen hours. It was an enticing prospect, but I still couldn't drop the knot of worry in my gut.

  "What's gonna happen to her?" I asked.

  Naomi raised a dark brow. "Melissa?"

  "Yeah."

  She shrugged again. She did that a lot. "She'll either figure it out or she won't. She's not the kind of girl you can save, cowboy. She's been through more than most people realize and when she's good and ready—not a second before—she'll do what she needs to do to free herself from him. If she doesn't, on the other hand..." Naomi let out a pained sigh. "She'll wind up married and pregnant, and the only pleasure she'll get from life is what she can scrape out of being a mother."

  "You're her friend?"

  Naomi nodded. "One of her only ones. She doesn't let anyone get too close."

  "Are you close enough to convince her to leave him?"

  Naomi laughed. "Nobody convinces Melissa to do anything, honey."

  "Can't you try?"

  I was starting to get irritated with her airy replies, and it came out in my biting tone. Naomi's lips broke into a grin and her eyes filled with warmth.

  "I think it's very sweet that you care so much about her even though you don't know her," she said. "I spend more time than anyone worrying about that girl. It's strange to see an outsider come in and take such an immediate shine to her."

  "Can you blame me?"

  I sat back on my hands and recalled how easy it was to talk to her, how enjoyable I found her company. She rode the line between innocent and seductive like she’d been born there and it was intoxicating. Then there was the evident goodness in her. She might be from the rough side of the tracks, but there was a light in her that I worried her asshole boyfriend wasn't far from putting out.

  "This isn't your fight," Naomi said, placing a gentle hand on my arm. "People are looking out for Melissa, don't you worry. Better yet, she's looking out for herself. I really believe that she'll come out of this in time, and she'll be stronger. You should go back home and fight whatever dragons you've got there."

  She read the hesitance in my eyes and she grew serious.

  "If you really want to help Melissa, you'll go," she said. "Donnie will only get more pissed off if he sees you again. Things will be better if he thinks you've turned tail. They'll be better for her."

  I still didn't like it, but I had to admit that Nao
mi knew what was going on better than I did and, at the end of the day, it was Melissa's life. I didn't belong here. I barely knew the girl and I'd been in this town for all of about two hours. It was time for me to go home.

  "Do you want to come in with me while I close up for the night?" Naomi rose to her feet and offered a hand to help me up. "I'll take you to the bus station after."

  I accepted her hand and we walked in together. I sat at an empty booth with a fresh beer while Naomi saw to the last few patrons and locked the doors. I could've walked back to the station, but I ached to high hell and I was thirsty too.

  Naomi dropped me off at the station a little while later, coaxing a promise not to get into any more fights in Cannon from me before letting me out of her car. I liked the girl, even if I did find her a little overbearing. A place as rough as the Alibi needed a strong personality with a big heart like hers. It made me feel better about leaving Cannon knowing that Melissa would have someone like Naomi to help her when she decided to end things with Donnie. I just hoped it was soon.

  As I bought my ticket, I couldn't shake the feeling that I should be doing more. But what could I do? Naomi was right—I didn't belong here.

  Much as I wanted it to be, this wasn't my fight.

  Chapter 10

  Melissa

  The ceiling fan whirred. Round and round and round, blades blending together until they formed one continuous circle. I watched, my eyes trying to track the movement in the dark while Donnie's snoring form twitched beside me. He was having a dream, I supposed. He'd been asleep for at least half an hour now, yet I'd been in bed for over two hours and still couldn't drift away.

  I should have been exhausted. Dealing with Donnie was exhausting, and crying always made me sleepy, but something like electricity coursed through my veins. I knew exactly why, too.

  Jack.

  It was a simple, unassuming name, but he was far from a simple, unassuming guy. He embodied strength and dignity. He was good and righteous. He was a little cheeky, too. Probably more than a little, though I didn't know him well enough to really say. I found myself wishing I did.