“I left him on the sofa passed out and didn’t look back. I got in my car and made it as far as I could before exhaustion overtook me. The following days were bad. I couldn’t drive for more than an hour before I needed to rest, the pain too much for me to handle. When I got halfway, I knew I needed to go to the hospital, so I checked in under a girl’s name I went to school with. The doctor tried to get me to stay and report what happened, but I knew if I did he’d find me. She gave up and discharged me, giving me some leaflets that had helpline numbers. After a few more stops I ended up here. I won’t risk doing anything for him to find me.” My whole body sags with exhaustion as I cry into my hands. I can’t even look at Dean, not wanting to see his reaction. If I see disgust in his eyes, I don’t know what I’ll do. He hasn’t spoken a word yet; hell, I don’t think he’s taken a breath since I finished telling him everything that happened. I can’t help the broken sob that falls from my lips.
“I’m going to kill that fucking son of a bitch!” he roars suddenly before standing up in the boat, causing it to rock from side to side.
I jump up, startled and scared, gasping when I take in Dean’s murderous expression. His eyes are full of tears, his jaw clenched, his face pinched with pain and sorrow.
But before I can comfort him, the realisation of what he’s said hits me, and I panic. “No, Dean, no! He’ll find me! He can’t find me, Dean. I came here to be safe. Please don’t take that away from me. Please, I can’t go back there. I won’t. I’d rather kill myself than endure another second with him. You hear me? I can’t go back there. I can’t! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” I chant, falling back down on the seat. My whole body trembles as painful sobs escape, causing my chest to tighten.
I hear Dean move before I feel his presence in front of me. I look up through watery eyes, pleading with him not to do anything, as hard as it may be for him. His eyes are red and glassy. I’m unsure of what he’s going to do, but when he pulls me to his chest, I fall into his arms easily, sobbing uncontrollably. I didn’t know how much I needed to be held until this moment.
He rubs my back soothingly, kissing the top of my head. “I will keep you safe, Lola. It’s okay. Everything is okay. Shush, baby. I promise nobody is going to hurt you,” he coos, rocking me from side to side. “I’ve missed you so damn much it hurt, but the notion that you were living a good life was the only thing that helped the pain go away. Knowing you were going through this? It fucking kills me, Lola. It really fucking pains me. You didn’t deserve that life, no one does, and I promise you until my dying breath that he will never hurt you again. No one fucking will. I’d die making sure of it.”
Chapter 5
It hasn’t been long since I spilled my guts to Dean back on the boat. Once he calmed me down enough to move away, he rowed us to the docks and drove the short drive back to my cabin.
I’m exhausted, emotionally and physically. We haven’t spoken since my confession, and I’m grateful. I’m still trying to process everything going on in my head. Dean has tried asking if I’m okay a few times, but in my zombie state I’ve not been able to answer, opting to stay mute.
He drops the keys on the mahogany coffee table before turning to me with a worried expression.
“Go lie down on the sofa. I’ll make you a cuppa,” he says, but when he reaches the open kitchen, he notices I only have hot chocolate sachets. I guess he forgot I haven’t been able to go to a shop yet.
While he moves around the kitchen, I lie down on the sofa, relaxing to the sound of him opening and closing cupboards. As soon as the smell of hot chocolate hits my senses, it lures me to sleep.
*** *** ***
I wake up to the sound of my own screams. My breathing is heavy and deep as I recall the nightmare I just endured. Rick had come for me, squeezing the life out of me. The nightmare felt so real, so raw, that I can still feel the pressure of his hands around my neck.
Dean startles me when he comes rushing to my side, sitting down next to my curled-up knees. “Fuck! What’s happened? Are you okay?” His words are rushed, panicked as he looks over me for any signs of injury.
“I’m sorry. I had a bad dream,” I explain, feeling bad for scaring him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He takes a deep breath, relaxing somewhat. His expression is softer now, but concern still fills his features, and I’m beginning to wonder if that is the only way he’ll look at me from now on. For some reason, that worries me, but I’m unsure why.
Seeing the deep concern in his intense expression, I know he won’t rest easy until he knows, so I explain the nightmare and what happened. I tell him how Rick had turned up here looking for me, about the beating he gave me and how the second I knew I was going to die I screamed myself awake.
Throughout it all he remained there, still as a statue, but the minute I finish he tenses, his face becoming hard.
“He’s not coming here, and if he does, I’ll kill him. That’s a promise. I hate that this is happening to you,” he tells me, giving me the comfort I’ve needed for so long but never knew I wanted.
But it doesn’t matter how sincere he sounds or how much I believe him. When he says he’ll kill him, there’s still this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that tells me this is only going to end one way―badly.
A part of me wonders if coming here was a good idea. Did I get myself out just to put someone else in danger? Is this what I want, for Dean to be involved? No, it’s not! I know how strong Rick is, know it first-hand. And even though my beatings were bad, a part of me knows he held back; if he really lost control, I would have been dead a long time ago.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Dean looks at my stomach with wide eyes before a small chuckle escapes his lips.
“I need to tell you something. Mom called when you were asleep. It’s why I was outside before.” I realise that’s where he had come from when he rushed in to see if I was okay. “Dad called her last night, letting her know you were here, and she rushed back this morning to see you. I think she would have come back last night, but Dad told her not to drive tired.” He chuckles, speaking fondly of his mom. “She wants to see you, but I’ve held her off. I told her you weren’t feeling too good and were asleep. If you want, we can go round for some dinner.”
I wince, knowing I can’t handle seeing her right now. “I… I don’t think I can see anyone right now. I can’t pretend I’m okay, not after today, and I don’t think I can handle their questions. I know they’ll have plenty to ask.” I feel bad for brushing off his parents, but he seems to understand. “But if you want to go, it’s fine. I’ll be okay on my own. I think I’m just gonna go to bed anyway.”
“No, I’d rather stay with you. Mom will understand. She sounded worried on the phone, so I’ll let her know you’re okay and just want to rest. That will give us until tomorrow, but eventually you’re going to have to face her,” he warns, and I nod, understanding. “Let me go to mine and grab some food. I’ll cook us some dinner. You’re not going to bed until you’ve eaten.” I open my mouth, ready to protest and decline his offer, but he interrupts me before I can say anything. “Nope, I’m not listening to your excuses. I’m going to get some food and cook us some dinner. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, so no falling asleep.”
He grabs his coat and keys before heading to the door. As soon as it shuts behind him, the dread of being alone seeps into my bones, and I begin to shake.
A shiver runs down my spine, and I’m suddenly cold. I start rubbing my hands up and down my arms to warn off the sudden chill. When it doesn’t work, I go out to the car, grabbing my other suitcase which I know has my cashmere jumper inside.
I’m fidgeting and restless, my nerves all over the place as I wait idly for Dean to get back. I just hope he keeps his promise and doesn’t take too long.
*** *** ***
Sitting back on the sofa, I sigh, my stomach full with masala. God, just thinking about it has my mouth watering. It was the nices
t dinner I’ve ever eaten, and I’ve eaten at some fancy restaurants in my time.
Who knew Dean could cook? When he walked in fifteen minutes after leaving, I’d been surprised by the amount of food he brought over. I honestly believed he would throw a sandwich together, not cook us a five-star meal that would put Gordon Ramsey to shame. The pork tenderloin masala topped with mushrooms and onions tasted exquisite with the fried rice he made. It had a hint of spice to it, adding to the divine taste. I wish my stomach wasn’t full because I could seriously eat that all over again.
“That was amazing. Where did you learn to cook like that?” I ask him, genuinely interested.
“I don’t know. I must take after my mom because my dad still can’t cook for shit. He set the bread on fire in a toaster once when Mom was holed up in bed with the flu. Never, if he offers, eat his beans on toast―you’ll get black bread and cold beans. The man doesn’t even know how to heat them up.” We both start to laugh and when the memory of Mark cooking pasta for us when we were younger surfaces, I laugh harder.
My dad was working, and Mom and Lily had gone on a spa day, which left Mark to babysit. He tried to cook us pasta, but it didn’t turn out so well. He never filled the pan with water, and it ended up on fire, the pasta burnt to a black crisp at the bottom of the pan. We laughed so hard at the poor man who was still trying to salvage the dinner, adding water, milk, and butter. It was a disaster, that’s for sure.
“That’s beautiful.” Dean sudden comment has my laugh fading to a chuckle. My eyes pinch together in confusion as I meet his eyes.
“What is?” I ask, and although I’m confused by what he means, my cheeks flush.
“Your laughter. It's more beautiful than I remember. You should do it more often. I’ve missed it.”
I jump up from the sofa avoiding his eyes as I make my way into the kitchen to swill my plate off. I’ve been told most of my life how beautiful my laugh is and how I should do it more often, but I’ve had no reason to laugh lately.
“Don’t get used to it,” I mumble under my breath, startled to find out he heard me.
“Oh, I plan on it. I’m going to make it my personal mission to make sure you’re always laughing and smiling from now on.” He grins at me, a twinkle in his eye.
For a second I’m too stunned to move. My mouth hangs open in shock, and the heaviness of what he said hits my heart. I can’t help but think how incredibly sweet he is. I know he’s only doing it because of what’s happened to me, but still, it’s really nice of him.
I don’t really have a response, so I busy myself and finish cleaning the dishes before heading back over to the sofa with a fresh glass of orange juice in my hands.
Dean switches the channel on the TV, opting for a movie they have playing on channel five. As he sits down, a phone starts ringing throughout the cabin. At first, I think it’s Dean’s, but then I see his phone on the coffee table, the screen blank. Realisation dawns on me, my eyes widening when I realise it’s mine.
“Shit! I thought I switched that off.” I panic as I rush over to my bag near the door.
Grandpa hasn’t stopped texting me since the day after I left Carlisle. We were meant to be meeting for lunch, and in the haste of everything happening, I totally forgot to cancel. Now he’s worried sick about where I am since Rick obviously hasn’t said anything to him. I texted him this morning before I left to meet Dean, telling him I was okay and was having a spa weekend with an old friend. He obviously hasn’t taken my evasive message well if he’s still ringing me.
Grandpa doesn’t like Rick, but I still can’t bring myself to tell him what’s been going on. Knowing my grandpa, he’d get fired up over it and end up blurting out where I am.
The phone stops ringing just as I grab it out of my bag. My eyes glance quickly at grandpa’s name on the screen before it disappears. An alert saying I have fifteen missed calls flashes on the screen and I sigh. I’m about to send another message when it rings again. Without thinking, I end up accepting the call instead of ending it.
“Hi Grandpa. I’m sorry I―” I start.
“Lola … Where the fuck are you?” Rick roars down the phone. All the air leaves my lungs as the phone falls limply from between my fingers, the blood draining from my face as my eyes widen in horror.
Dean, hearing the phone smash to the floor, jumps up from the sofa. His face pales when he sees me. I look at him, my mouth opening and closing as I try to tell him what’s happened, but no sound escapes, not even a gasp of breath.
My eyes widen even more, the fear of not being able to breathe making me panic, my heart racing. Oh God, what if he knows where I am? What if he’s here? Oh no, I’m going to be sick.
I run down the hall to the bathroom connected to my room. My knees hit the tiled floor with a sickening crunch, and I violently throw up the dinner Dean just cooked. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath.
“Fuck! Hold on, let me get you some water,” Dean blurts before leaving the room. I hadn’t even heard him following me. When he returns, I want to protest, not wanting him to see me more vulnerable. “Fuck, Lola. What happened? Who was on the phone? Is your grandpa okay?” he asks, the questions flying off his tongue.
“I… I…” I gasp for air, my lungs burning as I try to swallow down the rising bile. “Rick.” I manage to get his name out before heaving into the toilet once more.
The air in the small bathroom shrinks, the anger radiating off Dean in waves making the room seem much smaller.
His face hardens before he rushes out the room with a determined expression on his face. It scares me, and I begin to worry about what he’s going to do.
Wiping my face with the towel, I take a sip of water, swishing it around my mouth before spitting it back out. Once I feel sure I’m not going to spew again, I make my way back down the hall, my breathing evening out.
Back in the main room, Dean is fixing my phone back together, and a surge of panic hits me. I run over, snatching the phone from him.
“Please, don’t do this. I can’t let him find me,” I plead, looking back down at the phone, sagging a little when I see it’s still turned off. “I thought I turned it off this morning after I texted Grandpa,” I explain. Dean is standing stock still, his anger palpable. “How did he even get my grandpa’s phone? He doesn’t go to the bloody loo without it.” I’m rambling, panic rising again as I wonder if he’s done something to hurt my grandpa. And he could have. I wouldn’t even know if he did because he’s the only family or friend I have in Carlisle. There’d be no one to contact me, not really.
Snapping out of whatever trance he was in, Dean moves forwards, pulling me into his arms and holding me tightly.
“It’s going to be fine. I will fix this. I wasn’t going to pressure you, not today because you’ve already been through enough,” he says, running a hand down my back. “But Lola, you have to go to the police station. You need to report him. You need to tell them what you told me. And before you tell me no, just think about it, for me, please. They have medical records now, and we can take pictures of the welts on your back.”
My breath hitches painfully when he mentions them. How the hell did he see them? My mind races and I begin to feel dizzy, my mind not able to process all of this.
As if he can read my thoughts, Dean bends down, his eyes level with mine. “I didn’t touch you. I promise. Your top rose up when you were sleeping, and I saw them. Fuck, Lola, you should still be in hospital with injuries like that,” he hisses, his breathing coming in deep pants as he tries to control his anger.
“Dean―” I start, shaking my head but he squeezes me tighter, stopping the next words from flowing out.
“No! Please just think about it. He could have done this before or do it again. He needs to be stopped, but most importantly you deserve justice. He should be behind bars for what he’s done to you. You know I’m right.” He sighs, and I drop my head to his chest, closing my eyes tightly. “I’ve got a friend who can help you. He’s one of th
e best men I know, and he deals with these cases all the time. He’s brilliant at what he does. You don’t deserve this life, Lo. You shouldn’t have to hide away in fear. Not you. Not someone so pure, so kind.”
He lifts my chin with his fist so I have to look at him. “You have a light inside you that shines so bright it lights up the lives of those closest to you. I think that’s why I didn’t recognise you yesterday. The girl I remembered wasn’t in there. Her eyes were dead, void of emotion, but then today… today I saw it in you at times, and it took my breath away. You’re better than this. My Lola would take her life back. She would get back up on her feet fighting, and today you did that. You took that first step by telling me everything. Now you need to take the next one.”
I can do nothing but stare at him in awe, completely struck by his statement of, my Lola. I can see in his eyes that he isn’t trying to manipulate me into doing something he wants. He has no reason to, not really. Plus, what he’s saying is true. I do need to step up and take my life back. I need to fight for it.
“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I whisper, knowing that’s all I can give him right now.
His lips tilt up at the corners as he squeezes me against him. “I’m so fucking proud of you,” he tells me, and my heart lurches, a small smile on my lips as a thank you.
His fingers run smoothly down my arm and my breath hitches, completely freezing as a tingling sensation runs down my arm. Lost in that feeling, I don’t notice his hand close around my phone until it’s too late. Snatching it away, he gives me a look as if to say ‘trust me’―and for some reason, I do. It’s why I don’t argue for him to give me the phone back.
I’m surprised when he takes the back of the phone off, slipping the SIM card out before putting it back together. He throws the phone, and I watch as it goes sailing through the air, landing softly and intact on the sofa.
If I Could I'd Wish It All Away (I Wish Book 1) Page 6
