Perfectly Broken

by Prescott Lane

  “If that’s easier for you,” he said, “and only if you want to.”

  “I need to.”

  Reed braced himself, unsure whether he needed to hear it. He certainly didn’t want to. But it was important to her, somehow essential, perhaps another step in whatever healing process or something. Peyton took a deep breath and gave her locket a good twirl then started the story that had become her life.

  “It was my senior year. Quinn and I were both single for the first time in a long time. She’d just broken up with this guy Adam.” Peyton let out a little laugh. “He was such a douche bag. As prim and proper as Quinn is, she’s always gone out with these weird guys. Hard to believe, but Bret is quite an upgrade.” Reed smiled nervously. “So Quinn and I decided to go out to some party on campus. We were just looking to do something, anything, to take her mind off Adam. She was a mess about the break-up. I drove, and we parked in a lot next to this new dorm they were building. There was construction all around — mounds of dirt, metal, materials all over the grass and gardens.”

  Peyton stopped and looked out to the Gulf, squinting her eyes through the sunlight over the water. Reed reached for her hand, massaging her knuckles with his fingers, focusing his steel blue eyes on her, unsure where this story was going, trying to prepare himself for the inevitable end.

  “The party sucked,” she started again. “There were guys funneling, and girls trying to hook up. It was the typical frat party. It was boring and lame. We were both over the whole college party scene by then. So we left after like 30 minutes.” She paused for a moment then gazed into his eyes. “And I had one drink that night — just one.”

  “OK,” Reed said. “I believe you.” He sensed some internal battle inside her — a part of her maybe blaming herself for what happened, another part trying to convince herself otherwise.

  “We were walking back to my car, and Adam pulled up in his car wanting to talk to Quinn. I could tell she wanted to talk to him. You know the way she gets when she wants something.” Reed nodded. “So I told her to go off with him. I gave her a hug, and she got in his car. Then I walked towards mine — past the mounds of dirt, the metal, the construction materials. It was dark in the parking lot, but I could see my car. It was only about 20 feet away. But I immediately felt something was wrong. I could just sense it. I turned back for Quinn, but she’d driven off with Adam. I didn’t see anyone. It was real quiet. I stood frozen, real still, except for the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.” She began to tremble and squeezed his hand.

  “You don’t have to say any more, baby.”

  “And all of a sudden,” she continued, “a hand grabbed me from behind. It flew in front of my face and covered my mouth.” She slipped her hand from his to demonstrate. “He dragged me into some bushes next to a pile of sheetrock. I tried to scream but don’t know if anything came out. I tried to hit him, but he blocked me. I tried to kick, but he lifted me in the air so I couldn’t get my footing.” She took a deep breath. “The only thing I ever saw of him was his hand.”

  Something clicked inside Reed, her fascination with hands. She’s searching for him.

  “I fought hard,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I want you to know that. This did not happen without a fight. You need to know that.”

  Reed nodded. “I have no doubt you fought hard.”

  “I bit down on his hand as hard as I could, crunching into his bone and tasting his blood.” Peyton looked away for a moment. “Sometimes I can still taste it.” She faced Reed again. “It stunned him, and he cried out — this horrible holler — and released his hand. I took off running past some mounds of dirt. I jumped over some bushes. I knew he was after me. I heard his footsteps. He was relentless. He just kept coming. For a moment, I thought I was free. I thought I’d make it. I thought I’d get away. But I wasn’t fast enough.” She looked away again, disappointment and a few tears covering her face. “At least not then.”

  That’s why she runs the way she does.

  “He caught me and threw me to the ground.” She pointed to her temple. “My head hit the side of this cement bench.”

  Her scar.

  “I blacked out for a minute or two, maybe longer — I’m not sure. When I came to, I was on the ground with my face down, his arm across the back of my neck holding me down. I had dirt in my mouth, mixed with the blood from his hand. And there was this awful smell — some kind of terrible mixture of roof tar, drying concrete, diesel fumes. My clothes were ripped off. I was so disoriented, from the taste, the smell, but I could feel him pushing inside me. And I could hear him grunting.”

  Reed scrunched his face and looked away, trying not to form a mental picture of the woman he loved being violated.

  “I started fighting him again, kicking and screaming. But no one heard. At least no one came to help. He grabbed me by my hair and slammed my head into the ground. I got really dizzy. The construction site, the dirt, his blood dripping from my mouth – it all got very blurry.” She grit her teeth. “But I continued to fight. He just kept thrusting into me and hitting me. When he finally pulled out of me, I thought, ‘It’s over. Thank God. I survived.’ But then he went right back in — this time into my backside.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Reed grabbed the back of his neck.

  “I cried out in pain! I felt like I was being ripped in two! And he wouldn’t stop. As he kept going, my locket ripped from my neck. I don’t know if he meant to do that or not. But it fell to the dirt like a piece of trash. I reached out my hand and clung to it. I held it as tight as I could while he tore into me. It was a struggle to hold on.” She gently touched the locket around her neck. “I kept trying to look at him, but it was dark, and the blood and dirt had reached my eyes, so I couldn’t see much. I tried to fight. I tried to get up, but I lost consciousness.” Peyton looked out to the beach.

  Reed sat motionless, stunned, his face stark white and stomach churning, a tear dripping down his face. He thanked God the worst seemed over.

  “The next thing I remember, I woke up in a hospital, with Quinn and Griffin by my bed.”

  Reed’s body recoiled. Griffin knew all this time? That asshole. But he couldn’t make an issue of that — at least not at the moment. He couldn’t hijack Peyton’s story. It was hardly the right time. It might never be the right time. Besides, it wasn’t Griffin’s fault that he knew, and there were more important things at stake.

  Peyton looked into his eyes, knowing that the mention of Griffin had shocked him. “When I didn’t come home that night, Quinn called Griffin. He was in law school just across campus from our apartment.”

  “I understand,” Reed said, “I’m sure Quinn was terrified.”

  “They came looking for me and ....” Peyton took his hand. “My car was still in the same spot. I remember hearing Griffin calling my name. He was the one who found me.”

  Reed gave a tight smile. It was all he could manage. A guy he hated had rescued the woman he loved. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that — gratitude, jealousy, relief. Reed wished he could’ve saved her. And just because Griffin did one good thing, it didn’t erase all the other crap.

  “My grandfather had just died. I couldn’t tell Gram. I had terrible nightmares. Griffin and Quinn were my only support system.”

  Griffin, again?

  “The police never found him. The college was afraid I was going to sue. They offered me a settlement, which I took mainly because I didn’t want to discuss it and because I couldn’t function for a long time. They gave me my diploma without even going to class again. It took a couple months before I’d leave our college apartment and another six months before I’d go out alone. I didn’t go out alone at night for almost another year.” Peyton exhaled, watching the waves crash.

  “Do you still have nightmares?”

  “Sometimes.” Peyton lifted his hand to her heart. “I just feel so broken sometimes, like I’m never going to heal. There’s not a spot on my body he didn’t kick, hit, or touch. I still feel s
o dirty, even after all this time.” She wiped his face with her hand then sat quietly for a moment, drained but pleased she got through it. Still, she felt a twinge of guilt for dumping on him, that her story — her life — was a burden he’d now carry forever, whether they stayed together or not. “It was the worst thing, but I’m OK. I sometimes have flashbacks. But I’m doing better.” She gave a reassuring smile. “I really am.”

  Reed pulled her into his arms, nuzzling his head into her neck. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “There’s not much you can do.”

  He thought for a second. “When you have nightmares, please come to me. I don’t care what time of the night. Even if I’m out with Bret or working late or at my own place, you call me – whether it’s bad or not. Understand?” She nodded. “I want to hunt him down and kill him slowly. I want to keep you here safe forever. I don’t know how to help you.”

  Peyton stroked his hair. “You can’t fix this.”

  “But ....”

  “You can’t fix this,” she said again, more firmly this time.

  He kissed her temple and leaned his forehead down onto hers. “I’m going to try.” He lifted her in his arms, the blanket falling to the floor, and carried her into the bedroom and gently placed her on the bed. Then he knelt down at her feet, as if praying before an altar. He slid off her sandals and wiggled her baby toe. “How about here? Did he touch you here?”

  Peyton gave a sweet smile and shook her head. He placed a peck on her baby toe while massaging the sole of her foot. He moved on to another toe. “Here?” She shook her head again, and he kissed it, too. He went on to kiss each of her toes then moved to her hands, kissing each finger in turn. “I’m thanking them for fighting so hard — for keeping you alive for me.” He continued his journey up her arms, kissing every inch of her — the way he’d promised so many weeks ago.

  He reached her neck and planted slow kisses then held her cheeks in his hands, kissing every part of her face, spending a little extra time on her scar. “I don’t care about the cracks,” he whispered. “Cracks give character.” He moved down her other arm and lifted off her shirt, exposing her ivory lace bra. Then he slid her shorts down her legs. Reed looked down at how beautiful she was, her shorts around her ankles.

  She smiled as he stared. She was on to him — to touch and kiss every part of what that monster attempted to destroy. He slowly unhooked her bra, sliding it off her shoulders, then gently cupped and kissed her breasts slowly and softly. He trailed kisses down her stomach and circled her belly button with his tongue before sliding down one leg and up the other, massaging her inner thighs along the way.

  He flipped her over and straddled her, massaging her back and starting another trail of kisses down her spine. His hands grazed her ass, and he licked down her legs, nibbling with his teeth along the way. He turned her over again, his hand now drifting lower between her legs. He kissed her inner thighs and drew a deep breath, inhaling her delicious scent, and moaned her name like a prayer before placing his mouth between her legs. “I love how wet you get for me.”

  His warm breath against her, he let his lips linger, planting feather-light kisses while she arched her back. “You taste even better than I imagined.” He saw a blush cover her entire body, as he sucked down hard, his whole mouth wrapped around her. He flicked his tongue on her, tasting her, then slid it firmly inside, slipping it in and out, Peyton lifting herself against him. Without warning, she suddenly came — hard — gripping the bed sheets with her hands. But Reed knew she wasn’t done.

  “More,” Peyton whispered.

  “I love how greedy you are.”

  “Please!”

  “Hush, baby,” Reed said. “I’m going to make you come again.”

  He slid back up her body, caressing her flushed cheek so she’d look at him. He kept his eyes locked on hers, half-lidded in passion, as he slid his hand back down, feeling how open she was, her slick wetness between his fingers. He wanted to slip his hard dick inside but knew this wasn’t the time. He settled for sliding two fingers in her, and she widened her legs. “There’s not a part of you I don’t want,” he whispered. “Not a part that isn’t pure or special.”

  He moved his fingers slowly, keeping his eyes on her face. Then he took his pinkie, slid it around her to moisten it, then pressed against her backside. Her entire body went rigid, and she tightened her legs together. “I want to make all of you feel good,” he said, gently kissing her neck and breasts, waiting for her to relax back into him. He stroked her nipples with his tongue and felt her legs calm and spread open again, devouring his two fingers and taking them deeper inside.

  “Look at me,” Reed said, needing to see Peyton’s eyes, needing to know she was with him. Peyton slowly opened them and nodded her approval. He slid his pinkie back inside. She breathed deeply, as he filled all of her. He waited for her to relax again then began to move all three fingers, taking in the flash of confused pleasure across her face. He moved his fingers a little faster, applying a bit more pressure, feeling her muscles constrict around him, drawing him deeper inside.

  Her hips bucked before her entire body quaked. “Oh my God!” she screamed, loud enough for the seagulls to hear, and bit down on Reed’s shoulder while gripping a pillow with all her strength. He kept moving his fingers, filling her up, until she finally relaxed her grip.

  Peyton opened her eyes to find the mark she made. “Sorry,” she said, embarrassed, and kissed it.

  He ran his fingers through her hair. “Don’t ever apologize to me in bed. Not for enjoying yourself. Not for saying ‘no’ to me. Never.” She nodded she understood, and he cupped her face in his hands. “You are not broken. You are not dirty. And I’ll spend the rest of my life kissing every inch of you until you believe me.”

  Peyton smiled at him. “You’re like my sexual handyman.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “WAKE UP, SLEEPYHEAD!” Quinn yelled, jumping up and down on Peyton’s bed like a trampoline. “I missed you!”

  Peyton groaned then threw a pillow over her head. “How much coffee have you had?”

  “I lost count around five cups.”

  “Go away!” Peyton begged.

  “I even shared one with Reed.” Peyton’s head shot up, finding a big smirk on Quinn’s face. “I caught him trying to sneak out of here real early!”

  “He wasn’t sneaking,” Peyton said. “He needed to get to work.”

  “He told me. He wanted to make sure I knew he wasn’t being a prick, trying to make a quick getaway.” She took a seat on the bed and cocked her head to the side, pondering some deep thought. “I think he’s a little scared of me. That’s actually a good thing for you. I know Bret is scared of me. I think all men should be a little scared of their women — keeps them in line.”

  Peyton released a huge yawn. “What else did you two chat about?”

  “He thanked me for the bikini I packed.”

  “Yeah, he’ll love you forever for that.” Peyton knew she wasn’t getting any more sleep, not with Quinn as perky as ever. So she got up, stretched, and dumped her suitcase on the bed.

  “Reed’s actually growing on me,” Quinn said. “He seems to take good care of you.” She held up a plastic bag of seashells on the bed.

  “Oh, just throw those in my nightstand drawer for now.”

  Quinn frowned and tossed them in. “You know the slut drawer isn’t for seashells, right?”

  “What drawer?”

  “The slut drawer,” Quinn said, like every girl in the whole world already knew. “The bedside table drawer, where you’re supposed to have lube, condoms, vibrator, sex toys — not seashells.”

  Peyton laughed. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

  * * *

  “Thanks for meeting me so early,” Bret said, standing on the front porch of a dilapidated Victorian cottage. “I know it’s your first day back.”

  Reed took in the cracked windows, weathered roof, and four-foot waterline along deca
yed wood siding. “What the hell are we doing out here?”

  “I need your expert opinion.” Bret opened the front door, its hinges barely hanging on, making a spine-tingling squeak.

  Reed covered his nose. “This place reeks. Did something die in here?”

  “Maybe.” Bret shrugged his shoulders.

  “Are the bodies still inside?” Reed deadpanned.

  “I don’t think it’s been touched since the hurricane.” Bret nudged Reed forward, his foot creaking on a thin wood plank. “I need you to take a look around and see if there is any potential.”

  “To be demolished?”

  “No. For me and Quinn – and a family maybe.”

  Again? Reed could only assume all the recent references to marriage and family were some strange hand of God, or perhaps his mother was orchestrating the whole thing from behind the scenes. “And you think this is it? Why don’t you buy something decent?”

  “I guess I could,” Bret said, “but this is a good deal, good neighborhood, good investment.”

  Reed sidestepped a pile of dirt and moved a cobweb from his path, then he took a step inside the kitchen, if one could even call it that, with rotted cabinetry and no appliances and exposed wires waiting patiently to electrocute someone.

  “Look, I have this plan to surprise her with the house — after we’re engaged, of course, which will be soon. And I figured I’d let her pick out the flooring, tiles, colors, and stuff. So it could be her dream house.”

  Reed looked at Bret in shock, his wingman now turning into a family man. Has he been watching HGTV, too? Reed thought to file a missing person report, but given how things were going with Peyton, he might have to file one on himself, too. Reed bent down where an oven once stood. “First, you need to get an inspector out here. See if she has a good foundation.”

  “And then?”

  Reed looked up at him. “Then go buy a ring.”