Saving Jenna

by Christina Butrum

  Grumbling more, the guy straightened in Ian's grip and demanded to be let go. Letting go of the man's arms, Ian gave him a slight shove and pointed in the direction he had arrived. "Go on, and don’t come back."

  Ian and Todd watched the man leave the property, and once he was headed off down the road, they reached into the cooler and declared it was time to drink a beer. It had been one helluva day and they still had no idea what the hell the guy had been referring to.

  Chapter 8

  He had left the house a while ago, in a drunken, crazed stupor. She wasn't sure where he had gone off to, but she was thankful he was no longer sticking around home. She needed to sort through her things in their bedroom and figure out what she was going to take and what would have to stay behind.

  As soon as he left, she had called Cat and explained she needed somewhere to stay for the night. A night would be long enough to get her thoughts straight and figure out where she was going to go. Cat's house was a safe place. He didn’t know where Cat lived, and he wouldn’t be able to find out.

  She knew there would be more explaining to do, but right now, she wasn’t worried about it. Cat would welcome her with open arms, and if Jenna felt the need to tell Cat, she would.

  Right now, she just needed to focus on getting things thrown together into a suitcase, or maybe something less obvious. Scrambling into the kitchen, she looked out the window into the driveway. His car still wasn’t home, but her gut was telling her she didn’t have much time before he returned. Searching through the closet for a garbage bag, she decided it would almost look like she was taking the trash out to her neighbors in case they happened to see her outside—how ironic the thought was.

  Folding clothes in a sloppy, careless manner, she stuffed the bag full of needed clothing. She would worry about the other stuff later, if at all, when she was well on her way out of town. The necessities—her toothbrush and other toiletries were crammed into a Ziploc baggie and shoved alongside her clothes.

  Taking a final glance around the bedroom, she made sure there was nothing else needing to come with her right this minute. Aside from the jewelry and knick-knacks he had bought her, there wasn’t really much of anything worth taking along. Those things weren't valuable when the relationship was shit and falling apart—his fault, not hers. She would have to remind herself of that until she was blue in the face.

  Struggling to lift the bag and swing it over her shoulder, Jenna had no choice but to drag it behind her as she prayed it wouldn’t tear and vomit her belongings all over the floor behind her.

  She had never been this weak. Not before meeting John. She had been able to hold her own, physically and emotionally. It was surprising what a hostile relationship could do to a person. The love she had for him at one time had been her surrender of strength. Loving him took everything she ever had and then some.

  Anger assisted her movements, giving her just the right amount of strength she needed to get the bag out of the house. If only she could feel this much anger when he was beating on her. If only she could use her anger as her defense. He knew he had made her weak. He knew he had full control over her once she had told him how much she loved him.

  The thought almost made her puke. Things change in an instant. The once perfect life she thought she’d had turned into a living nightmare. Plopping the bag down next to the back bumper of her car, she hit the unlock button on the key fob and popped the trunk open. Getting the bag up and over the edge would be hard. She no longer had the anger she had felt in the house. Now, tears stung her eyes at the thought of having to leave and how messed up she was.

  A car's engine revved, followed by the crunching of gravel. Her heart raced, along with her mind as she forced herself to think fast. She needed an excuse, a reason. What the hell was in this garbage bag? And what the hell was she going to do with it? Those questions would be the ones he would ask, and the ones she had no idea how to answer.

  She could smell the liquor before she saw his face. She had grown a keen sense to the smell of booze. The smell made her nauseous. The look on his face tormented her gut further. If she wasn’t careful, he would sense her fear and act on it like a rabid animal.

  "What are you doing?" His eyes glanced over the garbage bag and her empty trunk. When she didn’t answer, his brows furrowed with concern and anger, but she still couldn’t think of what to say. Her brain had shut down and was no longer searching for the right answer. Her heart was bounding out of her chest as she tried to control her breathing. "What's this?"

  "A garbage bag," she said. No sooner than the words left her lips, she regretted them wholeheartedly. She shifted her stance, fidgeting with the key fob in her hand. "I went through some things and thought I would take them to the local shelter. Just cleaning out the closet, is all."

  Silence. The deadliest tool he had to use. A predator using her fear against her. Her heart beat strong and steady in her eardrums, deafening the silence further. She kept her gaze down at the ground, preparing for the worst that was yet to come.

  "Okay," he said. That was it. He had straightened himself away from the car and seemed to be fine with the idea she had given him. A sigh of relief escaped her lips slowly, keeping it soft and unnoticeable. But then, he lifted the bag and tossed it in the trunk of her car like it weighed less than a few pounds. "I'll go with you."

  Fear of her plans being ruined in that instant caused her heart to feel like it exploded in her chest as she tried to remain calm and without reaction. He was testing her. He was waiting for her to break. Once again, using her own fear as a weapon against her.

  Fumbling with the key, she slid into the driver's seat and started the car.

  He slid in next to her and smiled. "It's nice of you to think about the homeless. You know what they say, don’t you?"

  She couldn’t even imagine where this was going. If she had to...

  "Do you know what they say about people who donate things to shelters?"

  She shook her head, wishing he would shut up and get out of the car, leave her be.

  "They exude plenty of empathy. They're able to put themselves in another person's situation easily and relate with their troubles." He had his eyes on her.

  The smell of booze lingered between them. "I believe that is true about you."

  Whatever his words meant, she no longer cared. She had drowned him out and wished for nothing more than for him to get the hell out of her car. To leave her well enough alone and forget she ever existed in his life. She was doomed. This had been her chance, probably her one and only, to escape the sadistic fuck.

  "Drive."

  Having nowhere else to go, she shifted the car into drive and headed in the direction of the homeless shelter downtown. The fear of not only being stuck forever, but now having to get rid of the contents in the bag, surged through her. Her final thought before arriving at their destination had been how she would explain the empty dresser when they got back home.

  The tension was thick, along with the primal fear she felt while she sat in the driver's seat, guiding the car to a last-minute destination. She debated whether now was the time to be honest with him or to continue on with the torment of playing the waiting game. It was only a matter of time until they were headed back home to a house with empty drawers. And she really needed these clothes.

  Sweat beaded across her forehead and she could only imagine this was how prey felt before being caught by their predator. Her gut instinct told her he already knew what she had in the bag. That he already knew what she had planned to do long before he had followed through with her lie. This was stupid. She was stupid. The whole thing was ridiculously stupid.

  A thought had crept into her mind and there was no way she could distract herself from thinking it. No doubt, she had always wondered what life would have been like if she had talked Ian into staying. If she had begged him not to leave for the Army. If only she had pleaded her love for him, he would have chosen to stay. Not only her, but his family. If he had a fami
ly that would have given a damn, would he have stayed?

  There had been nothing worth staying here for him. Their relationship had been good, more than good—great—but there had been times when he let the past of his cheating mother cloud his trust and thoughts of her. Nothing she could have done then would have made him stay. No matter how much she had poured her heart out to him, he wouldn’t have stayed. And he hadn't. He was gone before she could talk him out of it.

  "Are you going to get there any time soon?"

  The gruff voice of the man she had been stuck with over the last year interrupted her thoughts of not only what could have been, but what should have been. Sure, her speedometer was bouncing steady on less than twenty miles per hour, but she was in no hurry. Not now. Her plan had backfired and she was too tired to figure out a solution to this never-ending problem that was called life.

  Pressing down on the brake, she pulled into the parking lot of the shelter. Bins sat outside the overhead door, waiting for her things—the things she was unwilling to hand over. She shifted the car into park and opened the door. A sudden thought of possibly getting around this with only losing a few things came to mind as she stepped out, shutting the door behind her. Only to be gutted when he opened his door to get out.

  Hurrying to the trunk of the car, she realized she forgot to press the button to release the latch. Instead of getting out, John hit the button for her and kept his eyes on her the whole time she was digging through the trunk, pretending to gather extra things that had fallen out of the bag. While pretending to gather things, she was making an even trade of garbage that had been hanging around back there for God knew how long and shoved her clothes under the spare tire, making sure they were tucked far enough underneath that he wouldn’t be able to see them. She would be able to grab them later tonight when he passed out in the recliner—a nightly routine for him.

  He was motioning for her to hurry up. He looked irritated beyond a questioning doubt, and she so badly wanted to smack the look off his face. It was hard to remember the day she had actually fallen in love with him. The type of man he had once been—charming, sweet, selfless. Before a switch was flipped and he had become a man she had only seen on Lifetime with the crazy exes and such who weren't who they appeared to be. He definitely suited the act well.

  Lifting the last bag, full of trash out of the trunk, she tossed it into the closest bin, apologizing to the facility for doing so, before turning back to the car and slamming the trunk closed.

  Still having to figure out a way to keep him from seeing the empty closet and half-empty dresser drawers, she shifted the car into drive and drove straight home, more than ready to get this night over and done with. Tomorrow would be a new day and another chance to get her shit straight.

  Chapter 9

  Waking up starving, like he hadn't eaten for however long, Ian sat up straight in bed and turned on the lamp next to him on the stand. The nights in this house were getting easier to deal with. He had done plenty more cleaning last night before making his way under the covers, but there was still plenty more that needed to be done before the place met livable standards.

  G2 rolled onto his back, away from the light, almost as though he was boycotting the alarm clock that had waken them both from a deep, snoring slumber. "I know, boy, but we've got things to get done around here. And it won't get done if we stay in bed all day. Although, it does sound quite nice, doesn't it?"

  The dog sneezed as he buried his face under the pillow. Spoiled dog. He didn’t even act like he was a stray anymore. It had taken a while for him to come around and pretend to be normal, but hell, Ian could say the same for himself. Coming home from Iraq hadn't been an easy feat. That had taken him a lot. Even these days were iffy.

  "Two weeks, boy," Ian said, patting the dog's side before standing up from the bed to stretch. "Two weeks tops and I'll be outta here."

  As if the dog understood every word Ian had said, he tilted his head to the side, as though he wondered if he was going with or if he would be left behind. "Don’t worry, dude, if your owners don’t pick you up soon, you're going with me."

  A reassurance later, the dog buried himself under the covers. Ian left him alone while he headed off to the bathroom. A nice, hot shower would feel good on his stiff muscles. He couldn’t say he wasn’t used to the work he’d been doing around here, but he could say that it was kicking his ass this week.

  Cranking the knob, the pipes rattled to life, spurting water from the gunked up shower head. Another thing to add to the list of things to get done around here—plumbing. Plumbing was his least favorite project, but it was something that needed done. There was no skirting around the edges with this place. Everything that needed fixed would be fixed.

  The steam on the mirror was a good indication that the shower had been hot enough. He had taken ten minutes to shower and would take another ten to look somewhat presentable. He wasn’t a man to worry much about his appearance, looking rugged and dirty most the time, but the thought of that brunette being Jenna made him care just a tad bit more than usual.

  Running a handful of gel through his hair, he slapped on some cologne and called himself good enough. Sliding into his boots, he called for G2. "If you don’t come, you'll miss out on breakfast."

  The dog poked his head out from under the covers and bolted toward the door. Ian guessed he must have understood him and there would be no sense in having to repeat himself.

  Yanking the door open, he grabbed his keys off the hook and headed out to the truck. G2 didn’t give him time to open the door. Instead, a black streak was seen as the dog jumped through the passenger side window that he hadn't worried about rolling up last night.

  "That excited for breakfast?" Ian asked, climbing into his seat and turning the key, allowing the truck to grumble to life and idle for a few minutes before backing out of the driveway. If G2 was any indication on how the day was going to be, Todd would be either refusing to get out of bed, or he would be waiting, ready to hop in and head for breakfast. A few short blocks, time would tell.

  Chapter 10

  Walking in the back door, she had almost expected Cat to be waiting for her by the time clock. Instead, there was no sign of her. Breathing a sigh of relief, not wanting to explain yesterday's events that had led to the calling of a co-worker for a place to stay, Jenna took the time to get her thoughts straight and clocked in.

  She was late by a few minutes, but she had no choice when the foundation was refusing to cover the bruise she had received last night. She had readied an excuse for the bruise as she slathered another layer on her face, praying she didn’t have to use it. Even now, with three layers, there was a chance it would shine through, putting her on the spot to use the lame excuse. The same excuse she always used if someone caught sight of a bruise. She was clumsy, or she forgot to shut a cupboard door. Or the worst, overused line of falling down the stairs.

  "Hey there, good lookin'," Cat sang out as she breezed her way into the kitchen. "What took you so long to get here?"

  Her question was innocent, but it packed a punch. Not that Jenna would ever take Cat's questions personal, but lately, things were out of her control.

  "Hey, I only ask because that cute guy is back and he brought a friend."

  Her mind raced at the possibilities this cute guy was really Ian. Ian Riley owned a rental house here, but he hadn't checked on it for a while. She had heard he kept tabs on it through old friends, and Todd, the town drunk who had nothing better to do than snoop around.

  A flash of panic struck her at the thought of what if it really was Ian who was sitting out there, waiting to be served his coffee and breakfast? What if he was really here?

  Shaking the thoughts, she realized that the chance of him coming back to this town were slim to none. He had too much going for him out east and there was nothing here for him. The house would always be there, regardless of how rundown it would become through renters moving in and out. Ian would most likely hire someone to fix th
e place up than come back to West Grove.

  "Well, are you going to take a peek or just stand there?" Cat asked, sliding her pen through her hair after scribbling something on her pad of paper.

  "I'm just...I'm..."

  "Come on." Cat's hand was wrapped around her wrist before she had a chance to give an excuse, a reason, for not wanting to jump at the chance to see who this cute guy was, sitting in the same booth as the other day, according to Cat. "You can busy yourself in a minute. Heck, we've wasted how many minutes already just standing here?"

  Cat dragged Jenna to the doorway between the kitchen and diner. Not that she was really trying to get a clear view of the guy, but there really was no use. She couldn’t make out his face or his features. The only thing she could make out was his gel-spiked hair and rugged appearance with his over washed and faded flannel.

  "See what I mean?" Cat nudged her arm, and she tried hard not to flinch. Healing bruises were still tender and she had to try her best to hide the pain she felt any time they were bumped. "He's a looker, isn't he?"

  Playing along, just to get this moment over and done with, Jenna offered a smile and a slight shrug. "Sure, he looks all right."

  Cackling like a mad woman, Cat let her head fall back before pushing her out of the kitchen and into the diner. Jenna grabbed her apron, tying it tight behind her back. She flipped on the radio, hoping to hear upbeat music that wouldn’t make her dwell on life like country music had a tendency to do sometimes.

  "So, you won't believe how much coffee this guy drinks," Cat called out as she appeared in the kitchen once again, grabbing two clean coffee mugs from the cabinet above the sink. "You would think he would have that rental house fixed up and done by now. As much energy this coffee must give him."

  Cat shook her head, not realizing her words had brought on a whole new selection of thoughts to filter through Jenna's mind. Ian had been a coffee lover. He had always drunk his coffee black, no sugar and no creamer. Straight from the pot. He had a rental house here.