Why I'm Yours

by S. Moose

  I look at Drew for help.

  “Keeping a man happy in the bedroom is very important, and with a body like yours, I have no doubt, my Drew is fully engaged.”

  Oh my word. Is she honestly talking of our sex life as if it were a dinner date? Not to mention, it’s in the presence of Miranda, too. I am mortified, and I refuse to look to my left where I know Miranda’s standing.

  “I remember being their age once.”

  I close my eyes at the sound of Miranda’s voice.

  “Being able to stay up all night and still function the next day.”

  “Oh, me, too,” Nora says as she closes her eyes for a moment. It appears as if she is lost in her memories.

  The only thing I can think is, Kill me now if they break out the details of any of those late-night rendezvous.

  “I think we might be embarrassing my soon-to-be daughter-in-law,” Miranda adds with a laugh.

  “Yep,” I say before I can think twice about it, which only makes everyone around me laugh. I am so glad to see my mortification is entertaining to them all.

  “Well”—Nora leans in and pulls me closer, her mouth hovering near my ear—“remind me later to share a few of my stories with you. I think you could benefit from them. How flexible are you?”

  I look up at Drew once again. I have no doubt I am wearing a look of panic as Grandma Nora floors me even further with her closing statement.

  And I am done. D-o-n-e done.

  “Ah, this feels amazing,” I coo as I relax against the massage table.

  The tension in my shoulders from a day of dodging Nora and her need to demonstrate moves she insisted I try with her grandson slowly fades.

  I mean, Nora is great, as in a riot. But I think I would have loved her more had she been offering those tips to someone other than myself. Drew was absolutely no help whatsoever. He looked as if he enjoyed every moment of my torture.

  It makes me think of torturing him later when I show up in the dress I bought especially for this evening. By the end of the night, he would for sure be regretting not rushing to my aid and swooping me away from Granny’s embarrassing displays.

  “Amazing is such an understatement,” Aimee says, her voice sounding muffled from the placement of her face pressing against the table beneath her. “Ecstasy,” she mumbles. “Pure ecstasy.”

  I don’t argue as Armando moves to my lower back, making my eyes roll back in my head.

  Had someone offered me a massage a year ago, I would have nut-punched the man for thinking of placing his hands on me. But my newfound freedom can be placed in the hands of the greatest man I’ve ever met. Drew has made me feel safe again. Safe to trust that not everyone is like the monster Zane. Drew has given me back myself, and I will forever be indebted to the man I will soon call my husband.

  My husband. Just thinking it gives me chills of excitement.

  “I still can’t believe I’m getting married,” I say as I turn to my left and focus on Aimee.

  She, too, turns to face me.

  “I never thought I’d be where I am now. Happy, in love,” I say, unable to hold back my smile.

  “Drew’s a good man,” Aimee says, her smile matching mine. “Great,” she corrects herself. “I love seeing you this happy.”

  I don’t say it, but I think to myself that, one day, she, too, will have this kind of love. I’ll make sure of it. Aimee deserves a good man who treats her right. Whether that man is Remy or someone else, I will do what I have to, to make sure she gets it.

  “Remy isn’t the same as Drew. He’s not protective and reassuring. He’s distant, and I don’t know if anything will ever come from the time we’ve spent together.” She seems almost sad. “Every time I want to talk, he does something to make me forget and we end up having sex until I pass out.”

  “Drew wasn’t always the way he is now. At first, we despised one another.”

  “Did Drew have another girl on the side?”

  I give her a look of surprise, wide eyes and mouth agape—the whole shebang.

  “Yeah, imagine my surprise to the constant messages and calls from his girl, Zoey.”

  “Wait, Zoey is his and Drew’s best friend,” I assure her. Then I realize Aimee's never met Zoey and doesn't know their history. "Honestly, I wouldn't worry about Zoey texting Remy. The three of them have been best friends since they were little."

  She doesn’t look convinced. “Believe me, I’ve seen a few of those text messages, and I’ve never had a ‘so-called friend’”—she uses air quotes to lay emphasis on the word—“say anything close to the things this girl is saying to Remy.”

  I’m shocked to hear this about Remy and Zoey. I wonder if Drew knows. Silence settles over us as she stares off, and I’m left puzzled and confused.

  Once our exquisite massages are over, we move on to facials, followed by a manicure and pedicure. In the end, I feel like a pampered goddess. I know that was Drew’s goal, and I’ll have to assure him he reached that and exceeded it without a doubt.

  Aimee and I revisit the salon we went to once before and allow Malik, my stylist, to work his magic. When we leave, we are perfected, in his words, and the only thing left is to slip into my cocktail dress and strappy heels.

  Maybe it’s a little over the top for what most might think an outdoor gathering would consist of, but I know different. The Powers don’t do anything simple. This evening will be nothing less than fancy with wine and hors d’oeuvres. A staff circulating the crowd refilling tall glasses while everyone mingles and laughs. So, the dress I chose is perfect. Not to mention, it will definitely get a rise out of Drew. Pun intended.

  I want him eating out of my hands by the end of the evening, so then I can torture him a bit. Ya know, a little payback for leaving me to face Nora on my own.

  Miranda sent their personal driver after us around seven, and the entire drive to the Powers’ home, I have nervous energy. The day away from Drew has only given me time to work myself up. The object of the game was for me to torture him, but I’ve honestly only managed to torture myself in the process. I do believe my plan backfired.

  “Why are your cheeks flush?” Aimee asks as she steps up to my side. “Are you hot?”

  Oh, she has no idea.

  “I do feel a little warm,” I say as I begin moving toward the front door.

  As we move throughout the house, I’m greeted by a few people I recognize from Powers Financial. I also see Remy across the room in what appears to be a very heated conversation with Zoey. I wonder for a moment what that might be about, and by the look on Aimee’s face, I think she might be wondering, too. Before I can say anything, Remy looks up and notices us, a look of confusion or concern covering his features. He almost looks lost.

  Before I can say anything, Aimee takes my arm in hers and leads me toward the back door. “I need a drink,” she insists.

  I can tell she’s hiding something, but I allow it to slide until we’re alone, and I can press her for the details.

  I don’t miss the way her eyes linger and appear almost longing as she drags me away from Remy. I know Aimee, and I also know that she feels something for him she isn’t admitting. There’s no way though she can hide the question in her eyes when she notices Zoey. I, too, have questions, so many questions.

  As we step through the back door and out onto the patio, I can almost feel Drew. Like a pull toward the man who holds my heart so dear in his hands. I look to my right, and he comes into view. Broad shoulders and back stretching against the material of his shirt. He’s all I see.

  I admire his profile. The way he holds himself with such confidence is so sexy. Then, as if he can feel me watching him, he turns and looks back over his shoulder, a wide smile stretching out over his mouth the instant our eyes connect.

  With a simple shift of his head, he beckons me forward, and without hesitation, I move to him.

  He immediately pulls my body against his, leaning in to press his lips to mine. “I’ve missed you,” he confesses wi
thin our kiss.

  “And I’ve missed you,” I say in return, making his smile grow further.

  He pulls back just enough to take me in. His gaze roams over my body, only furthering the heat I already felt.

  “You look gorgeous,” he whispers.

  “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.”

  Drew raises his brow and his eyes turn dark with lust as he continues to drink me in, slowly moving up and down my body.

  “What’s on your mind?” I innocently ask, knowing full well what he’s thinking.

  “You. In those heels.” He looks down. “In just those heels,” he whispers as he nuzzles the crook of my neck. “Behave, baby. I won’t hesitate to steal you away from the party and have my way with you.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  A low growl fills my ears, and I look down to see his impressive erection. I squeeze my thighs together, holding in my own desires.

  “I fully intend on keeping all my promises to you.”

  “Good.” I lean over and kiss his cheek as I place my hand on his hard chest. “Thank you again for today. I appreciate it.”

  “Of course, baby. Anything for you. But come over with me. I want you to meet someone,” he says as he pulls me in close and places me at his side. “Fin, I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Reagan.”

  I finally peel my eyes off my man. I look before me, and my knees grow weak.

  I can feel Drew holding me up, but I am frozen in fear. Everything slows, and the paralyzing fear comes back with full force. My eyes water, and my ears ring. I’m gripping Drew’s arm for dear life, willing him to know what I’m feeling and to take me away from the monster who haunts me.

  He is staring at me. Looking down my body. Our eyes meet, and I don’t move. I can’t move.

  He found me.

  “No,” I say, the word burning my throat. “No,” I repeat, refusing to accept that this can truly be happening.

  “Babe,” Drew whispers, his voice laced with concern. “Reagan,” he attempts again.

  I pull myself from his arms.

  The eyes of the man who hurt me stare back at me. That same callous look is offered, as if to attempt to instill fear in me all over again. The familiar feeling of panic fills me as I continue to back away. Everything around me blurs, except him.

  Zane.

  How can this be happening?

  “I can’t do this,” I say in a rush. I quickly move toward the side of the house in search of an escape. My heart races as I spin around in circles, realizing the only option I have is to turn around.

  “Reagan,” a man’s voice says.

  At this point, I’m petrified, feeling lost in the memories of that night so long ago.

  “Please tell me what’s going on.”

  “Why did you bring him here?” I say, practically screaming the words. “How could you do this to me?”

  I feel crazed, unable to control my emotions. It is like that night all over again. I can almost feel his hands on me. My body trembles as pressure sits on my chest, almost as if I am suffocating.

  “Reagan,” Drew attempts once more to calm me. “Who?”

  “Him,” I say, feeling anger fill my body. “The man who hurt me.”

  Concern changes to confusion in Drew’s eyes before, suddenly, realization hits him.

  “Fin?”

  “No,” I say as I move around him. “Zane.”

  39

  Drew

  It’s official. I’m going to go back out there and kill Fin with my bare hands. I pace around the foyer before I wrap Reagan in my arms. I hear footsteps running toward us and pull her behind me.

  “What the fuck happened?” Remy yells as he throws his arms up. “Fin’s back there, confused as fuck.”

  “Fin?” Aimee screeches. “That’s the fucker who raped Reagan!”

  Remy’s expression matches mine. We see red.

  “Aimee, stay with Reagan, and do not let her out of your sight. Remy, let’s go.” I turn around and kiss Reagan’s forehead before leaving her side. It kills me to leave her like this, knowing how afraid and hurt she is.

  I pull Remy toward the party and tell him to be on the lookout for Fin. He’s a sneaky fucker, so I’m sure he’s hiding if he hasn’t left yet.

  I’m covering every inch of my parents’ house, determined to find him, get answers, and show him what it’s like to feel pain. Anger seethes through me, and murderous thoughts fill my head.

  “Son?”

  I turn to see my dad, worried and confused.

  “What’s going on?”

  I come close to him and lower my voice. “A few years ago, Reagan was attacked.”

  I hear a gasp and see that it’s my mother. She’s holding on to my arm.

  I continue, “It was Fin who attacked her. She knows him as Zane, and so does Aimee. Now, where is he?”

  Saying all of this to my parents is a knife through my heart. The piercing pain slits me, and it’ll continue to haunt me for the rest of my life. I’m seeing Fin’s hands hurting her, telling her not to scream, and forcing himself into her against her will. Everything burns, and it feels like someone’s pouring acid into my eyes and mouth. The love of my life is hurting, and it’s because of the fucker I called my best friend. I feel completely useless since I can’t find him.

  Remy comes toward us and shakes his head.

  “Fuck.” I practically growl as I pull away from my parents.

  Then it hits me. I know exactly where he’s hiding.

  I storm through the yard, heading toward the pool house.

  When we were younger, he’d stay here whenever he needed to get away from his house. His parents were functioning drug addicts, pill poppers—a lot like Remy’s mom throughout his childhood. There were several nights Fin stayed over for dinner with me and my family. We took him in. We took care of him. Hell, my parents took in both of them and gave them stability. But, Fin, he turned out to be a monster lurking for prey.

  I storm through the door and see him in the corner. His phone drops from his hand, and he looks at me.

  Confused.

  Nervous.

  Scared.

  “You fucker!” I scream as I launch at him.

  Once we’re on the ground, I elbow his cheek and slam my fist into his jaw. My hands wrap around his neck as his hands wrap around my wrist.

  “Please!” he screams as he struggles beneath my grip. “Please! Listen to me. I’m fucking sorry,” he gasps.

  I hold his throat tighter and see his eyes closing.

  “Son!” I hear my dad scream as arms try to pull me off. “Let him go. This isn’t the way to do this.”

  “Yes, it is,” I snarl as I fight the tears.

  All I can see is Reagan’s beautiful face full of tears and bruises. She’s on her bed, holding herself, crying softly, and there’s no one to help her.

  Well, I’m fucking here to help her, and I’ll always be here to help her.

  Fin’s a fucking dead man. The law won’t touch him, and she’ll never get justice. If I can kill him, then she’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.

  “Drew!”

  Reagan’s voice pulls me out of my anger, and I turn to see her in Aimee’s arms. Her hands are covering her face, and I watch her crumble.

  “Please stop,” she begs.

  Before I can turn back, Fin punches my stomach and pushes me off him. I land on my back and quickly pull myself together. Remy’s wrestling with him, but he wins and rushes out of the pool house.

  “Fuck,” I scream as I attempt to follow him.

  “No,” Reagan begs. “No, please don’t do this. I’m begging you.”

  “I can’t let him go.” I point out toward the unknowing party. “He hurt you. He needs to pay.”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t lose you.”

  My beautiful, strong girl is pleading me to stay with her. She’s fighting back her fears and standing before me, asking me to stop, and all I can think about is
getting her justice and making him pay. The sheer determination on her face to calm me down works. Her own tears dry, and the grip she has on my arm tightens.

  “We need you.” She pauses and holds my hand tighter. “Dawson and I need you.”

  Without another thought, I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head. She wraps her arms around my waist and holds me tight.

  “No matter what, I’m here, and I’ll never leave you, baby. I’m going to protect you and keep you safe. It’s you, Dawson, and me. Forever.”

  “Forever.” She hiccups and holds me tighter.

  “I’ll never fail you. Never.”

  The days following the return of Fin, I’ve been home with Reagan and Dawson. We spend our days waking up together in bed, and Dawson and I make her breakfast, followed by a morning walk and coming back to relax and play endless games. Dawson has a list of one hundred things he wants to do before school starts again next month. We’ve accomplished forty-five of the one hundred, and tonight, we’re crossing off three more from the list.

  Dawson’s sitting on the blanket with Reagan and Aimee while I’m making popcorn with Remy.

  “How’s she doing?”

  I shrug. “She’s scared because he’s out there. We’re talking to the police in Boston, but without evidence, they said it’s a he-said/she-said situation. Chicago PD is aware. No one’s seen or heard from him though. I don’t know what else can be done. I have my lawyer looking into this. The statute still stands, but without evidence, it’ll be harder to prove.”

  The most important thing is, Reagan’s healing. She’s seeing another therapist and coping with her fears. My girl’s strong, and she can withstand anything that comes her way.

  The first few days were tough, and she cried every second. I held her tight and kissed her and loved her. After a while, a light came back in her eyes, and she shone bright.

  “That sucks.”

  I grunt. “Yeah.”

  “She has you and Dawson. That’s important. Be strong for her, and she’ll be okay.”

  I nod, and when the microwave beeps, I pull out the bag of popcorn and pour the contents in a large bowl.