by Thianna D
Lying on the floor, he started to laugh. It wasn’t a nice laugh – there was a lot pain and anger in each spasm of his chest – but it rang like a bell toll through the small room. He had been fighting for something that never existed in the first place. Lena never loved him. Never. She used him to get the high life. Seeing how much money she invested, he now understood why they were broke all the time. At the time, he had stuck his head in his business affairs and ignored most of what was happening at home in the hopes he could stay away from an ulcer or some other horrible malady. But all that money he had brought home… Lena had stolen from him, from them. He could only assume she was planning on leaving him at some point. Which just made her refusals of a divorce that much more infuriating.
“Bitch,” he growled, slamming his hand down on the tile. Why had she never agreed to his requests for divorce? In fact, why had she thrown a fit when he asked for one with the intent of moving to Colorado? Yelling, he slammed his hand down hard, hissing as he heard and felt the bones on the outer edge fracture.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Brent asked in a calm tone, pushing the door open and coming to his side. He lifted up Corbin’s hand and looked at it. “She’s not worth it, Corbin.”
Turning and looking into his friend’s kind eyes, all the anger that simmered just above his chest withered and Corbin slumped back onto the floor, his strong emotions gone, leaving him limp and unable to move. “I know. She hated me. Lena only married me for the money I was bound to make. I fought for something that didn’t even exist, Brent.”
After Brent helped him to his feet, they made it out of the house and hailed a cab.
Throughout the entire hospital run, Corbin watched everything as if at a distance. As the tech x-rayed his hand, he scanned his relationship. What he found was too ludicrous to even try to defend. Corbin knew in his heart that he had let himself be blinded. He had been in love with love when he was twenty-four. And Lena Matthews had bowled him over. Six months after their first date they were married. He had been so busy building his business that he had refused to see the signs. For they were there. Fractures of their relationship that he had refused to see; fissures that just gotten larger every year.
As the nurse and doctor wrapped his hand, he could also see that as synonymous with his life right now. He was broken in a way; he was self-aware enough to recognize that. For one thing, Corbin was sure he would never trust another woman with his heart. Ever. He could use them for sex, in a consensual friendly way where they both knew there was nothing more. Maybe even find a few asses to smack on the occasions when he needed to. He just wished there were more curvy women in this city. They were all stick figures, just as skinny as his deceased wife.
Of course he knew of the BDSM clubs in town. Who didn’t? But they had never truly fit in with his desires. Now, however, they would have to fill the void. Someplace he could finally let out his need to spank a nice, round bottom. He could do this, he thought as the cast hardened. He could be cynical and close off his heart, just going to a club on Friday and Saturday nights to get his physical needs met. A movement just out of his sight drew his attention and Corbin turned to see his friend texting on his phone.
“Char?” he guessed.
Brent looked up, his eyes twinkling. “No, Jonathon. He’s regaling me with the fight Char and Benjamin had this morning. Sounds like a doozy.”
The pure happiness on his friend’s face crashed into Corbin. He hadn’t seen Brent this happy since Elizabeth fell ill. “I’m surprised Char didn’t contact you.”
He barked a laugh. “She’s in the wrong. Charmagne broke one of our rules and was trying to justify it to Benjamin. It didn’t work.”
Snorting, Corbin shook his head. “So now she’s going to worry about it until you get home?” Now that he was thinking a little more clearly, Corbin felt sad he had missed his friend’s wedding. Instead, he had been at the bedside of a bitch who had used him.
“Yep.” His phone buzzed and Brent looked down at it, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “Jonathon says Benjamin took Kayla to their home after Char let her temper loose on him. He told her that he was doing it to get the little girl away from her ‘bratty mom’ and that’s in quotes.” He paused as his eyebrows rose. “Ah,” he said, his voice deepening. “Looks like I’ll have to go home soon.”
“About time, anyway,” Corbin said, purposefully keeping his voice neutral. He actually had a momentary feeling of panic at losing his friend again but quickly squashed it. He would be back to work on Monday, anyway. Corbin would bury himself in the grind and everything would go back to a dull ache, just as it should be.
Yes, it was about time for Corbin Nelson to get back to life. For the last five weeks, he hadn’t lived much at all. Between spending every day at the hospital and every night going over things for his company, it was all a blur. Lena’s funeral would be Saturday. He could say a final goodbye and then move on. That sounded like a perfect plan. So why did it sound so empty?
“All right. The cast should stay on for several weeks,” the doctor said without looking at him. “Get an appointment with your own doctor to get it removed.”
A nurse began to read off all the things he should be aware of, from his pain pills to being continually aware of the heavy hand he now had. After covering his shoulder with a brace, she gently moved his hand into it and he hopped off the table. “Let’s go,” he said to Brent who was looking at his phone.
Looking up, Brent’s eyebrows furrowed. “So what does this mean?” he asked and something about his tone told Corbin that what he was asking had nothing to do with the cast and everything to do with his life.
All of the flippant answers Corbin could have given anyone else died on his tongue and they stared at one another for a full three minutes before he was able to speak. When his mouth moved, the words that tripped from his tongue shocked him. “I’m moving to Corbin’s Bend.”
The problem was, as shocking as the phrase was, it also filled him with a sense of hope. Maybe out west he could find a sense of calm, a tranquil life he needed more than he needed air at the moment. A small chuckle from Brent made him look up, realizing he had been staring into thin air. His friend had a grin spread across his face. “Jonathon just sent a whole mess of smiley faces over text and the following line: ‘Tell Corbin I’ll have his house ready by the time he arrives. Also, please come home and do something before my man and your woman declare a full out war. Kayla and I are hiding at my desk.’”
* * * * *
Boom! Zinnia Loraine barely winced as her car backfired. Again. The poor thing was truly on its last legs. Actually, it was probably past its last legs. Legless. It was crawling at a bare thirty-five miles per hour and that was only because she had promised every external power that existed that if they would just get her to her destination before having her car die, that she would finally live a calm, quiet life.
Away from the cameras.
Away from her adoring fans.
Away from the paparazzi, stalkers, and scandal.
At the last thoughts, her body shuddered. Who knew that as a second-rate opera singer, one could become the target for such scum? She hadn’t. And she was pretty sure her parents hadn’t when they handed her over to her agent at the age of three. Now, twenty-five years later with a full career behind her, all she wanted to do was hide.
Which was why she had a fake name, identity, and if she was honest with the piece of junk she was driving, a sham of a car. There was simply no way a car should be in this bad of shape. But buying a practically dead car had seemed like a good idea. For one thing, she hadn’t wanted to leave a trail. Ken and the agents from the FBI who were in charge of her case had insisted she not leave a trail. Paying cash for a car from someone besides a car dealer had been the only way she knew to do that. Also nobody would expect opera diva Alizine Layton to be driving this piece of scrap. Actually, they wouldn’t be expecting her to drive at all.
And they might be righ
t. While she held a driver’s license, the only car Zinnia had ever driven had been the one for her driver’s test. Other than that, she was used to chauffeur-driven limos. Vehicles that were in much better shape than the one she currently was in.
Looking out the window at what little she could see, she turned the wipers on high to clear off the snow that was accumulating, swearing as they stopped, mid-wipe. Screeching, she pounded on the steering wheel, letting out every swear word she knew in Italian, French, German, and Spanish which alleviated some of her temper. Once her irritation stalled, she practically shrunk as she once again prayed to any deity that might be listening to get her to Corbin’s Bend, Colorado without dying first.
It seemed impossible with the fact that the snow was piling up over the window and she stretched up higher and higher to see over it as the car lessened in speed. Zinnia was sure the beast was going to die and that she would end up a frozen humancicle on the side of the road when suddenly the hill she was on wasn’t a hill. She was on a flat road. A road! Cranking down her window was difficult as the knob was broken off so she had to turn the tiny piece of metal that jutted out of the door to do so, but as soon as it was down far enough, she stuck her head into the pouring snow and squealed at the sign above her head that read Corbin’s Bend.
“I’m here!”
Now the car could die for all she cared. She had to be close to the community center where she could get her keys and go to her home. Having already signed the papers at her lawyer’s office three weeks ago, her furniture and belongings were to be delivered three days before. Her stuff wasn’t much, but the furniture was new and she really looked forward to collapsing on her new bed and sleeping. Driving from Portland, Oregon to Los Angeles, California to Kansas City, Missouri, wherein each stop she sold one car and bought another one, her final drive felt too long and she had been fighting exhaustion for the last thousand miles.
Driving slowly down the street while blinking the snow out of her eyes, she spotted the huge dome ahead of her. Knowing it had to be the Corbin’s Bend Community Center, she found what she hoped was a parking space – it was hard to tell with all the snow – and pulled in. As she went to roll the window back up, the broken knob wouldn’t budge. Annoyed, she opened the door, got out, and slammed it, knowing the seat would be piled with snow by the time she got back but not really caring. Once she was in her home, she could dump the car for parts. Her new car, purchased under her fake name, would be delivered tomorrow and it was one she was sure would be much better.
The sidewalks had obviously been dug out and from what she could tell, sanded, but the snow fell so fast that there was no way anyone could keep up with it. Spotting the front door ahead of her, she clutched her raincoat around her and ran toward it. It was obvious she would need to buy a winter coat here. Having lived in Portland for a decade, she was more used to torrential rain downpours than snow.
Stepping from the blistering winter weather outside into the warmth of the dome made her moan. The heat instantly sunk into her freezing face and hands and she unzipped her coat, pushing the hood off. As the snow that had piled on top of her head slushed off onto the floor, she looked down in surprise. “Oops.”
“We’re used to it.” The friendly male voice made her turn and look up. A tall, thin man in his early forties stood in the doorway to what appeared to be an office. “Can I help you?” he asked with a smile.
“I’m sorry about the snow,” she said, stomping her feet on the mat. “My name is Zinnia Loraine. I’m moving in today.” Before the words were even out of her mouth, his kind smile grew into a large one, as though she was a long-lost friend he hadn’t seen in a while. In a way she felt guilty as the only individual here in the community that knew her legal name was the head of the housing board, but there was too much riding on anonymity. Nobody knew the name Zinnia Loraine. Her birth name was too easily searched for and matched up with her stage name. If that happened, her quest for safety would be out the window and her stalker might find her.
“Zinnia, I’m Jonathon Travers. We’ve spoken on the phone. Come on in. I’ve got your welcome packet and your keys.” She followed him into a crowded office with mail cubicles along one wall, boxes lined up against another, and a thin steel and glass desk against another. Jonathon walked behind it and picked up a large manila envelope, sitting down on a leather chair. “Have a seat and I’ll go through everything. I’m sure you just want to get to your house and crash for a bit. Was the drive ghastly?”
Smiling despite the fact she just wanted to disappear, Zinnia nodded. “It was horrible. And my car’s a beast. The wipers stopped working as did the window. By the time I get back to it, the driver’s side’s going to be packed with snow.”
He looked startled for a moment before laughing slightly. “I used to have a car like that. Old Zep was my friend. I built him in college and thought I could keep him going forever. Benjamin wanted me to dump him. I couldn’t. One day Old Zep stranded me on the nine-oh-nine. Not only did I have to get a new car, but Benjamin left me in no doubt as to that I’d never do that again.”
Grinning, as she figured he must be talking about a spanking, she asked, “Is Benjamin your top?” She had been involved in the BDSM lifestyle back in Portland, more on the fringes than mainstream, but Corbin’s Bend being a spanking community had actually been one of its two major selling points to her. The other had been the fact it was in the middle of nowhere.
“My top, my life partner, and my head of house,” he said easily, as if this was a topic he was used to discussing. “And the love of my life. Do you have someone?”
“Oh, no. Single. Very single and planning to stay that way.”
“We have several residents that are the same way,” he commented. “Not many, though. People tend to couple up here.”
“I don’t intend to really get to know too many people.” Right now, she didn’t want to get to know any. Staying safe, secure, and alone sounded like the best course.
“Well, let me show you the basics so you can go home,” he offered, pulling out a load of papers from the envelope. Her keys jingled out as well and he offered them instantly. “Your furniture arrived. I oversaw the delivery men putting everything away. You have two weeks to fill out the damage form. Nobody has ever lived in your home so any problems you find would be from settling. You have the one bedroom with a den. Your back windows look out over the mountains to the north. Do you have a pet?”
“Uh, no.” The question was unexpected and for a moment she stared at him confused.
“I just asked because your home sits a cul-de-sac away from our dog park. So if you do get a dog, you have somewhere to take it.” It took almost an hour as he went over the different pamphlets, lists, and community rules. When he finally put everything inside the envelope and handed it over, she was relieved. “To get to your new home, you’ll need to go back the other way and turn left just before the Corbin’s Bend sign. When you reach Vetner Drive, turn right. Your house is at the end on the left. The outside is painted peach and tan. Can’t miss it.”
After thanking him, she rezipped her raincoat and pulled the hood up. If it was possible, the snow had increased since she had been in there and she struggled to find the path back to the beast. Her car was a joke. There was a foot of snow in the driver’s seat and with a groan, she opened the door and used the envelope to get the snow off the seat.
A truck with a piece of steel in front of it pushed the snow as it drove down Spanking Loop and she backed out and followed it, glad when it turned left or she would have missed the turn. It was another two miles to Vetner Drive and even though the plow ahead of her had pushed a lot of snow in front of her cul-de-sac, she somehow managed to get over it without bottoming out. Her little one-story home did look cute, even with all the snow falling around it. As she pulled into the driveway and clicked the button on a remote Jonathon had given her, the garage door opened and she pulled in.
The absence of snow in the garage was such a welc
ome sight that she felt her muscles, which had been tight for months and months, relax somewhat. After turning off the car, she got out and as the garage door shut, she opened the door to the house. The entrance was to a mud/laundry room and maybe it was the cleanness or the fact that she had finally reached her destination, but she yelled and jumped up and down, feeling excited for the first time since she left Portland.
The laundry room gave way to a long galley-style kitchen with stainless-steel appliances. At the end of the kitchen was the hall closet, which was large, considering. To her right was her front door and stepping to her left was the entrance to the living room and a hallway. The living room was small, but nice. A cushy tan carpet was on the floor and the three pieces she had purchased sight-unseen from a store in Denver fit nicely within it.
Turning right she walked down the small hallway. Immediately to her left was a door to her bathroom. As she peeked in, she saw another door and hoped it was the door to her bedroom. Stepping back into the hallway she continued, finding her office to the right and her bedroom at the end on the left. Her queen-sized bed took up a large amount of space within it, but the nightstand and dresser still fit on each side. Finding the other door to the bathroom, Zinnia finally relaxed.
Home. She wasn’t sure how long Corbin’s Bend would be home. Probably until her stalker was found and her bad publicity had been forgotten. Years, probably. But right now, Zinnia felt safe, something she craved and in her haphazard life had never truly found. There was always somewhere else to go, someone new to sing for, a new production to audition for.
Here, she didn’t have to do a thing. It was a very welcome prospect. Having seen a few boxes in the living room that she knew had been from the movers, she went to retrieve them. Before she could rest, she needed to unpack and get some food. Then she planned on collapsing and not getting up for hours if not days.
