A Better Place
Jennifer Van Wyk
Blue Tulip Publishing
www.bluetulippublishing.com
Copyright © 2017 Jennifer Van Wyk
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
A BETTER PLACE
Copyright © 2017 JENNIFER VAN WYK
ISBN-10: 1-946061-17-4
ISBN-13: 978-1-946061-17-1
Cover Art by Jena Brignola
Formatting by Jill Sava, Love Affair With Fiction
After James Cole’s wife walked out on him, he put his dreams aside to raise his daughter. But now she’s grown and he’s ready for more.
When the opportunity arises to own a restaurant, his lifelong dream, he can’t deny that it’s meant to be. And for more reasons than one.
He’s kept his heart closed off since the day his wife walked away. He’s never found someone who he thought was worth opening himself up to. But one look at her, and he knew she was everything.
Carly Hanson has a secret. A secret only she and her teenage son Jack know about. She’s built a new life but kept herself carefully guarded.
The day Carly stumbled, literally, into James, her world was turned upside down. She tries to keep him strictly as a friend, but he’s relentless in his pursuit. Can he break down the walls she’s so firmly built? Can he get her to join him in… A Better Place?
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
About the Author
From the Ground Up
Also From Blue Tulip Publishing
DEDICATION
To every man who has stepped up and every woman who deserves more.
PROLOGUE
Carly
“You’re worthless. You know that?”
I stand motionless, the venom in his words used to cut me deeply, but sadly it’s something I’ve gotten used to. My hands are hanging at my sides, my fingers twisting the string hanging from my cutoff shorts. My hair is in a messy bun on top of my head. It’s so long and thick, and the summer heat and humidity is driving me insane, but he won’t let me cut it like I want to. It’s almost down to my waist so, unless I want to die from heat stroke, I put it up almost every day.
“What? You can’t even reply?” he sneers at me, looking me up and down disapprovingly.
I close my eyes, knowing the toxic poison he will be spewing at me won’t end there. It wasn’t always this way. As with most situations like mine, no one enters into it knowing what a spouse is going to turn out like. No. In the beginning, it’s blissful. He said all the right things. Did all the right things. Made me feel like I was living on a cloud. Told me I was beautiful on my worst days, and I had a lot of bad days. When I left my home for college, I thought everything would finally fall into place. Growing up without a father, I never thought of myself as having daddy issues. But having a mother who turned to alcohol at every turn, showing up to school events wasted, couldn’t even sit through my high school graduation without sucking down alcohol first, really messed with me. Always made me wonder what I couldn’t give her that she needed alcohol to fill. Her constant neediness, paired with her violent words she would shout at me, eventually blaming me for her life she lived alone, was a blow to my already-diminished self-confidence.
When I met Vince, he was always amazing and wonderful. I thought I had found one of the most chivalrous gentlemen in the world. He built me back up, told me things I hadn’t heard from anyone, maybe my entire life. And it wasn’t just his words; his actions told me he was just as smitten as I was. Always showed me affection whether we were in public or alone, cheered the loudest for me during my intramural sports — even our engagement was in front of hundreds of people. I look back now and realize that it was always a show. He was charming, kind, generous, and loving. I couldn’t believe I had found a man who could love me like he did. Until I couldn’t believe I found someone who loved me the way he did.
“You think being a teacher means you don’t have to do shit all summer long? What did you even do today?”
I don’t answer him because, no matter what I say, it won’t be good enough. I don’t tell him that I cleaned the kitchen floor, did three loads of laundry, played with Jack, balanced the checkbook (and ignored the charges to the strip joint on the credit card) and had a homemade supper on the table waiting for him, but because I didn’t get a chance to pick up the dry cleaning, I’ll not mention any of the chores I did. He doesn’t want an answer anyway — it will only engage him more and cause him to belittle me further.
This wasn’t our first dance.
“Did you even shower today?” He curls his lip at me in disgust.
Again, I don’t answer. It won’t matter. If I shower, he yells at me for wasting water on a day that I’m not even leaving the house. Or he’ll ask who I need to look good for since he isn’t home all day. And the fact is, I didn’t shower today. I was outside playing basketball with Jack after going for a run and hadn’t gotten to it yet.
“Look at you. You’re so fucking pathetic.” I flinch at the word he rarely used, at least in front of me. “You disgust me. How do you expect me to want to screw someone who looks like you?” he asks as he reaches over and pinches my stomach, as if it’s fat.
I’m 5’2” and barely weigh one hundred pounds. I run at least five miles every day. I play tennis, do yoga. He knows this. It was what he practically demanded of me. Not that it matters to him, anyway. I could look like a supermodel, and it wouldn’t be good enough for the great Vince Taylor. And if I’m honest, I hope I disgust him enough to not have sex with me. I sure as hell don’t care about having sex with him.
Vince is a good-looking man. I have to admit that. On the outside at least. But I know better. A man’s heart, when it’s full of malevolence, tends to seep into the outside. To me, his once beautiful green eyes now only look like that of a snake’s. His strong arms that I once found comfort in during our early years now only shake with violence as he holds back from doing to me what I know he really wants to.
I’m one of the lucky ones. I have only endured verbal abuse. So far.
He reaches for me again, and I stiffen at the thought of his touch on any part of me. He
grabs my arm and pulls me to him.
“What? I can’t touch my wife?”
My stare holds his. I know better than to break eye contact. He finds it a sign of weakness. He uses it to hold power over me. It isn’t a sign of love. It’s a sign of ownership.
“Vince…” I whisper hoarsely.
“You can’t even speak? What’s wrong with you? I don’t know what I ever saw in you. You were just a warm hole, and now look. I’m stuck with you.” His lip curls as he looks at me as if I repulse him. “I don’t know what I did in a previous life to deserve such a useless wife.”
Tears spring to my eyes, but not from his hateful words. From the pain of biting my tongue to hold back what I want to say. He always acts like I’m so lucky to have him.
“Are you crying? Seriously, Carly. Grow up.” When I stay silent, keeping my eyes locked on his, his grip on my arm tightens to the point of pain. “Answer me, dammit! What the hell is wrong with you? Did you become a mute while I was working my ass off today just to support this family? Lord knows you barely contribute. Teacher’s salary,” he scoffs and shakes his head in disgust.
I met Vince in college. While I was studying to become a teacher. I had no idea why it was such a point of loathing for him now, when he knew that was what I was going to do for a career before he married me. I used to think I knew Vince. Turns out, when the person I thought I had all figured out is actually living a lie, it’s pretty hard to know what his next step is going to be.
I blink and glance away from him. With his free hand, he grabs my neck and cups my jaw. If he’s trying to get my attention, it’s working. I gasp, but it’s cut off by the tight grip he has on my neck. I bring my hand up to move his arm away, out of pure instinct, but it only causes his grip to tighten further.
I’d never seen such hate in his eyes before. The weak part of me briefly wonders what occurred in the office today for him to be in such an awful mood. The strong part of me knows that it doesn’t matter what happened in his day. There is no rhyme or reason to his anger toward me. But if he keeps it centered on me and away from Jack, I will take it on forever.
I still have barely spoken, trying not to engage him and make his anger flare up even further. I have learned over time what makes these moments worse.
“You,” he spits, the smell of whiskey strong, causing my stomach to churn. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you. Nothing you do is right. Maybe I should just take Jack and find him a new mom. He’d be better off without you. We both would.”
I narrow my eyes on him as the hold on my neck loosens just slightly. “Yeah, I think that’s what I’ll do. Even one of my whores would be a better mom to him than you,” he says with such pride and arrogance, like it would hurt me to hear that he’d slept with other people while he was married to me. As if I didn’t already know, or assume, anyway. It is the reason why I insist he continues to use condoms. I told him my doctor didn’t want me on the pill anymore because it messed up my hormones too much and in a shocking moment of caring, he said it was fine.
I don’t know where the strength comes from, or why I choose this moment. Probably from the threat of losing Jack. Because I will do anything… anything… to keep him safe. He is the only good in my life.
“Over my dead body,” I say with as much power as my voice would carry.
“That would be a blessing,” he says with a smile that makes my stomach churn. He’s never spoken to me with this much hatred before. Shock isn’t a strong enough word for what I am feeling in this moment.
Instead of hitting the mark he obviously aimed for, having me cower and succumb to his words and tuck my tail, it’s like someone switched a light inside my head, opening my eyes and making me realize this doesn’t have to be my life. I can change my life course. I can stand against someone who gets his rocks off belittling another human being. I can demand something better for myself and my son.
I still have fight left in me. I just didn’t realize it until he pushed that final button. I am like a sail that was once falling limp against its mast, and suddenly a gust of wind blows into me, spreading my wings and giving me the strength I need to move forward.
I reach up, grab his hand that is still wrapped around my neck, and push him off me before he realizes I am not going to let him win this round. I yank my other arm free of his and spit in his face. “You bastard. You think you’re some big man? You want Jack to treat his wife like this someday? You think this is the way a man acts? You’re nothing but a coward.”
He looks stunned for a moment. Whether it is because I spat at him or I was finally finding my voice, I don’t know. But it allows me a moment to take one more step away. Too bad it isn’t far enough.
“You bitch!” he shouts at me, and before I can process what is about to happen, he backhands me with such force my head jerks sideways, and I see stars. The pain radiates through my head and down my arms.
When I turn my head to face him once more, the anger I had seen in his eyes earlier that I didn’t think could be matched is only burning hotter.
“See what you made me do?! You know, I didn’t think you could be more pathetic than you already were, but now you’re proving me wrong!” he shouts in my face.
My heart pounds, my head throbbing in pain, but the fear that I feel down to my bones in this moment was something I have never experienced. Not even when my mom picked me up from school when I was fifteen years old, completely wasted. I pleaded with her to let me drive us home, but she kept driving as if she didn’t even hear me. I almost kissed the garage floor when she pulled us in safely.
But the rage I see in Vince petrifies me, not only for my own safety. Because when I move my eyes from his face just slightly, what I see makes my heart stop and bile rise in my throat.
My precious boy, my Jack, at thirteen years old, is standing on the other side of the room with shock and fear and a little bit of confusion in his eyes. Jack is an early bloomer, already a few inches taller than I, and a good twenty pounds heavier, but right now, he looks far younger, far smaller, than he is. I have no idea how long he’s been there, what he has heard or seen.
Everything happens so fast. Before I can reassure Jack, or tell Vince that Jack is there to get him to stop, he grabs me by the neck once more, but this time with more purpose. He lifts my body off the ground and with more strength than I realize he possesses, he presses my back up against the wall, my legs hanging lifelessly. I scratch at his arms, only causing him to become angrier with me, to use more force. He swiftly moves, and the next thing I know, I’m landing with a thud, the pain that I felt earlier not a match for what I am feeling now. He threw me halfway across the room, my head barely missing the corner of the brick surrounding the base of the fireplace.
Three thoughts cross my mind. First, Jack and I have to get out. Second is Jack just witnessed that. The third? Never. Again.
“Mom!” Jack screams, coming to my side and touching me with gentle hands. I can hear terror in his voice as he holds my limp body against his trembling one, whispering and mumbling words close to my ear. I try in vain to sit up, but the pain is radiating through my entire body. I had never imagined the one to make me feel safe would be my teenage son but, I have never felt safer.
Still I know, deep down, that if I stay, if I don’t fight for us, it will never end, and eventually it will turn on Jack. Part of me, the nasty part, feels a little grateful Jack had seen it. It makes me feel stronger, that much more determined, and honestly, I don’t know if I would have found the strength otherwise. I fear I would have endured anything in order to keep Jack safe, to keep his life normal.
Still crouched beside me, Jack turns his body toward Vince. He holds up his hand when he sees Vince advancing in our direction.
“Get away from her,” Jack says in a voice much stronger, deeper, louder than I have ever heard from him. “Get the hell away from her!” he repeats louder. “You don’t touch her again. Ever!”
“Jack, we were just messing around,�
� my idiot of a husband says with a wave of his hand and roll of his eyes, trying to explain away his actions.
“Really? That’s the excuse you’re going with right now? I don’t see you crumpled in a heap after being beaten by someone over twice the size of you!”
“Boy…” Vince starts toward my son, and that is when I know. Like a wrecking ball had toppled over every last bit of hope that I have for my marriage, with Jack’s help, I stand on shaky legs and turn to face the man I once pledged my life to.
“You touch him… I’ll kill you. I won’t hesitate. You bastard,” I say with a shaky voice that I try to will away, but my body’s reaction to everything that just happened can’t be helped. “We’re done. Never again. You won’t touch me again. You won’t speak to me again. You won’t speak to Jack…”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Vince sneers.
“Dramatic? You think that…” I point to the wall he pinned me against, to the fireplace he nearly threw me into. “…is dramatic?”
He scoffs and rolls his eyes at me, like I am the ridiculous one, but my stare never strays from his.
“Get your shoes on, Jack. Go to the car.”
His eyes shift quickly over to our son but return to me. “Don’t you leave, Jack,” Vince says in what he obviously thinks is a commanding voice, but in reality, Jack has, no doubt, lost all respect for his father.
“I’m not leaving you alone with him,” Jack says to me, his arm going under my arms to hold me up when my legs start to go weak.
“You aren’t taking my son.”
“I am,” I say as Jack and I start to back away toward the front door. I am grateful I still had on my tennis shoes from my busy day, and one quick glance down shows me that Jack has his on as well.
“You can’t do this. I’ll call the police. They’ll arrest you for kidnapping,” he says.
“Vince.” The sound of Jack calling his father by his given name causes me to blink hard. It brings everything that is happening to a screeching halt.
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