Rain Dance (Tulsa Thunderbirds Book 5)

by Catherine Gayle

  I was determined to become one of the exceptions to the rule. I wasn’t going to allow Hayes and his abuse to continue controlling me long after I’d gotten away.

  I couldn’t.

  Besides, I had to remember that the other people in therapy with me were only recently removed from their situations.

  The therapists always said that time was one of the most important factors in successfully moving on, right? And most of these men and women hadn’t been free for much longer than I had. Maybe they just hadn’t taken enough time before jumping back into the pool.

  But had I?

  I wasn’t sure, but at the same time, I couldn’t bear the thought of waiting any longer to build on what Ethan and I had started. I needed to prove to myself that I deserved a man in my life as good and strong and decent as Ethan.

  He served as proof to me that someone could suffer incomprehensible abuse and still come out on the other side to live a good life. And there were more examples of the same everywhere I looked.

  Dana Zellinger had been raped in college, but she’d been happily married to her brother’s best friend for something close to a decade now.

  Viktoriya Chambers had been through countless forms of sexual abuse in her porn industry days, but she and Razor seemed to be getting along together just fine.

  Everywhere I looked, I had strong women surrounding me who’d been through hell and back, and they were all the better for the crap they’d been put through. I had to believe that I could come out on the other side of this just as well as they had, because the opposite was too awful to contemplate.

  And Ethan was my other side. He was my way out, both literally and figuratively.

  I slept more soundly in his arms that night than I could remember doing, outside of my days in the hospital when I was so heavily drugged that all I could do was sleep. I slept the sleep of being at peace with my decisions and my future for the first time in far too long. For once, I actually rested.

  When I awoke the next morning, though, it was to find Ethan staring at me, his forehead creased with all sorts of concerns that I didn’t want to explore. I’d much rather remain in my afterglow bubble, pretending that real life couldn’t intrude on this moment of perfect tranquility.

  But Ethan wouldn’t let me stay there. “If Hayes tries to say that we made it all up in order to justify your leaving him for me…”

  “I don’t want to think about Hayes right now,” I complained, the afterglow fizzling down to nothing like a soda going flat.

  “I don’t want to, either. But we have to. Because you know he’s thinking about us. About revenge. About whatever the hell he thinks will get him off.”

  “There hasn’t been anything else since your father coming down to talk to them, has there? Nothing new? Everything’s quiet on that front.”

  “We can’t fall for the trap of thinking no news is good news,” Ethan said, and he pushed himself up to a sitting position in the bed. “Especially not—”

  But he left that thought hanging.

  “Especially not what?” I prodded.

  “Especially not now that everything my father came down and told them might as well be true.”

  “You didn’t hit Hayes because we had a relationship. We didn’t have anything. Nothing. You didn’t know me or anything about me. All you knew was what you saw. There wasn’t anything more than that until now.”

  “But he’s going to spin it that way. Or his lawyer will. You know they will.”

  I shook my head, forcing myself to sit up, as well. “Whatever’s happening between the two of us has nothing to do with what Hayes did.”

  “The truth isn’t going to hold much weight. There’s no way we can prove it, anyway.”

  “But there has to be. Surely any jury with sense will have to see—”

  “They’ll see whatever the lawyers want them to see, Natalie. It’s not supposed to be that way, but you know it is. That’s how all of these cases work, especially when the defendant is famous. Almost every athlete in the last decade who’s been accused of something like this has gotten away with it.”

  “So you’re saying that I can’t possibly win a case against him just because he’s an athlete? Whether he’s guilty or not?”

  “I’m saying that the deck is stacked against us. How many guys like him can you think of who end up getting convicted of things like this? And even the guys who get convicted usually get off easy.”

  My eyes stung, but I refused to cry. I’d already shed more than enough tears over Hayes to last a lifetime. He didn’t deserve any more of them.

  Ethan reached for me, as if to draw me into an embrace, but I shifted away from him. If he wrapped me up in his arms now, I’d probably give in and cry, despite my best efforts.

  “So do you want me to leave, then?” I asked meekly. “Is that what you’re saying? You want me to find someone else to stay with?”

  “I didn’t say that. I don’t want that.” Ethan sounded defeated.

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying maybe we shouldn’t get involved like this. At least not right now. The timing is shit. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Is that what you want?” I shot my eyes up to meet his. They looked pained.

  “No,” he croaked, “it’s not what I want. Not at all.”

  “Timing isn’t everything. Sometimes the best things happen at the worst possible moment.”

  “And sometimes the worst things happen at the best moment.”

  “I don’t think this could possibly fall into the worst things category,” I said. “Not when we think about all of the other things we’ve been through. Both of us.”

  “It won’t be very good if it ends with Hayes getting off.”

  “He might get off anyway,” I pointed out.

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “So is that more important to you?” I asked cautiously. “Making sure he pays for what he’s done? That’s more important than whatever we could have? Than what we might build together?”

  For a long moment, Ethan wouldn’t meet my eyes. He stared down at Snoopy and picked at a piece of lint on the bedding, anything to avoid looking at me. But when he finally looked up, he said, “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know, and that’s what’s killing me right now.”

  I nodded as if I understood, but I couldn’t quite wrap my brain around it. Yes, Hayes had done awful things—to me—but I didn’t want to give him the power to continue controlling me for the rest of my life. I wanted to take that power back, to reclaim it for myself. And in so many ways, it seemed that Ethan had done exactly that when it came to his father.

  But not with this. In this one circumstance, it appeared that his father, and Hayes by extension, were still controlling Ethan’s decisions, his life.

  Maybe my hope of ever moving on in my life was all for naught.

  Maybe I’d never be free, and what I saw in the other WAGs was nothing more than an illusion.

  Maybe they weren’t free, either.

  Maybe Ethan was only putting on a show for the world, trying to pretend that he had moved on with his life, dealt with his demons, and was a well-adjusted, decent human being.

  Maybe none of it was real. Maybe it was just a dream I was clinging to because I didn’t have anything else to hold on to.

  Cautious of my leg, I shifted until I could slip out of the bed.

  “Wait.” He reached out a hand to stop me, but I shrugged him off and headed for the door. “Natalie, please,” Ethan said.

  “I need to go,” I said, barely holding back a sob.

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know.” All I knew was I couldn’t stay where I was any longer.

  SOMEHOW, I’D CONVINCED myself that Natalie would simply go back downstairs to her bedroom and stay there—that maybe she’d shut me out for a while, but then we could have a rational discussion and sort everything out like the adults we were.

  It was easy to believe th
at when I heard the door to her room close, followed by a tense, crackling silence that ate away at me. The stillness allowed me to run through that conversation on repeat in my mind, listening to it again and again so many times that I couldn’t help but think of all the ways I could have handled it better. Frankly, I doubted I could have handled it worse. Maybe if I’d told her to leave, but not much else would have qualified, and there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d ever tell her anything of the sort.

  The longer I lay there, the more certain I was that I’d fucked up royally. I couldn’t let her leave. And not just because Hayes and his asshole friends and my father were all still out there, either. It was more than just a desire to protect her, to shield her from all the shittier parts of life that she’d already experienced more than her fair share of. Hell, it wasn’t even just because I wanted to set an example for my kid of the kind of man I hoped he would grow up to become.

  It went far deeper than all of that; I couldn’t let her leave because I loved her. I needed Natalie in my life, and I needed her to know that. That explained my overprotectiveness of her, my need to be sure that Hayes paid for what he’d done to her. It explained the way my stomach clenched in fear anytime I thought of someone hurting her.

  I loved her.

  And sitting around and waiting for the right moment to tell her how I felt wouldn’t do either of us any good.

  Just when I’d finally made up my mind to go downstairs and admit to my own idiocy, Snoopy let out a bark and raced to the window the way he always did when a car pulled into the driveway.

  Then the front door opened and closed.

  No. This couldn’t be happening.

  When I reached the window, all I could see was an unfamiliar silver car driving away. I squinted to make out the license plate number, but it was no use—the car was already halfway down the street, too far away for me to see without superhuman bionic vision—and clearly, I was no superhero. I couldn’t be any less heroic if I’d tried.

  Fuck.

  I bolted down the stairs and out the front door, but the car might as well have disappeared in thin air.

  It was gone.

  Natalie was gone.

  I’d royally fucked up.

  Snoopy yapped at my side, his ears low and his tail tucked between his legs. He knew something was wrong, too.

  “Come on,” I muttered, pointing him back into the house.

  He barked at me, then followed it up with a low, discontented rumble.

  “I know it,” I said. “I was an idiot, okay? But what do you want me to do? I don’t know where she went.”

  He barked again and then whined.

  “Maybe she called one of the girls to come get her,” I said, trying to explain it to myself as much as to the dog. I hoped that was the case. If she’d gone with Dana Zellinger or Tallie Fielding or one of the other WAGs, she’d be fine. Maybe not emotionally fine, but she’d be safe. And at the moment, safe would have to be good enough.

  But I didn’t recognize the car she’d gotten into—a fact that gnawed at me from the inside out.

  I waited for Snoopy to do his business and then herded him back into the house. After starting a cup of coffee in the Keurig, I headed back upstairs and grabbed my phone off the charger. Then I shot off a quick text message to a few of the WAGs, asking if Natalie had contacted them and if she was on her way to their houses.

  Within seconds, my phone started to light up with their responses.

  London: What the fuck did you do?

  Tallie: She’s not on her way here. At least not as far as I know.

  Dana: Why would she leave like that?

  London: Because Bear did something stupid. Has to be.

  Dana: I’m texting her now. Hold on.

  Viktoriya: Not here.

  Ravyn: Do you want us to help you look for her? Drew and I can be at your house in 10.

  London: Dima says you’re an idiot.

  London: Actually, I’m not sure what he said. It was a mix of Russian, English, and Dima. But whatever it was, he’s right, and I concur.

  London: But seriously, what did you do?

  Dana: She’s not answering. I texted and called.

  Ravyn: Should we file a missing person’s report?

  Tallie: She has to be missing for 24 hours first. Doesn’t she?

  Dana: I think so.

  Viktoriya: Razor said the guys will all look for her.

  London: She’s not missing. She’s here.

  And just like that, I could breathe again. I wasn’t the praying sort, but for the first time in recent memory, I said a silent prayer of thanks. Maybe I’d been a huge idiot, but at least my idiocy hadn’t resulted in Natalie falling into Hayes’s hands again.

  Me: Tell her I’m on my way over to get her.

  London: No, you’re not. She doesn’t want you to come.

  She didn’t want me? Ouch. That hurt a lot more of me than merely my pride. But we needed to talk, and the only way that was going to happen was if I went over there and picked her up.

  Me: I’m coming anyway.

  London: Dima will hold you down while I cut off your balls if you so much as step foot within fifty feet of my house. Understand? She doesn’t want you here. Don’t make me turn you into Reek. Or Varys. Or whoever.

  That hurt more than anything else could have. Not London’s threats—but the fact that Natalie didn’t want me to come get her. The fact that I’d fucked up so badly that she’d run from me.

  I was supposed to be protecting her from all the shit in the world, but instead, I was causing even more of it.

  I wanted to hit something. Someone.

  No, not just any random someone. I wanted to hit Hayes. And my father. And everyone else who had played any part in hurting Natalie.

  But by that standard, I ought to hit myself.

  I threw a pillow at the wall, more disappointed in myself than I could ever remember feeling before. Snoopy whimpered and jumped up to sit beside me, burrowing his face in my lap for comfort.

  Not that it helped.

  Nothing could help me now.

  I COULDN’T CRY.

  I wanted to, actually. I’d been trying, hoping it would help. Breaking down for a bit might make it feel a lot better. Sometimes, nothing would help other than having a good blubber-fest and getting all the hurt and anger and disappointment out of your system, and right now seemed as though it should be one of those times.

  But no tears would come.

  My eyes remained dry, scratchy…raw, almost to the point of pain, but not quite. At this juncture, even pain would be welcome, because it would mean I felt something. Anything.

  Instead, I felt numb.

  I didn’t want to be numb. I wanted to experience it all right now, so I could get it over with and move on. Putting it off wouldn’t help anything. Through all the years I’d spent with Hayes, I’d learned that delaying the inevitable only made it worse when it finally happened—whatever it might be. Better to face whatever crap life would throw at me head on, rather than trying to hide from the unavoidable.

  Knowing all of that didn’t help, though. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t make the tears fall. It was as if everything inside me had gone dry and hollow, leaving me nothing but an echoing chamber of emptiness.

  “I’ll rip his head off next time I see him,” London practically spat. “What the hell was he thinking, letting you run off like that?”

  London’s fury only made the emptiness inside me build. Because, whether I should be or not, I wasn’t mad. I couldn’t drum up any anger inside to fill the void. Instead, all I had was a horrifically dull ache that gnawed away at my stomach.

  “He didn’t know I was leaving,” I said. “I didn’t tell him.”

  “Don’t get me started on how stupid you were,” she shot over her shoulder at me from the low kitchen island, where she was chopping up a cucumber with a ferocity that should have had me quaking where I stood. “Because that asshole and his friends are o
ut there, and while you were all alone, they could have done anything to you and you wouldn’t have had any way of letting us know you were in trouble. But right now, my mad is all directed at that overgrown idiot who let you walk out by yourself. You don’t want me to turn it around on you.”

  Her son crawled over near her wheelchair and tried to climb up the spokes of her wheel, but Dima swooped in from around the corner. He lifted the boy out of harm’s way, giving me a wink before whisking the toddler into another room.

  “It’s not like I just walked out and wandered around aimlessly, waiting for Hayes to come and attack me.”

  “No, but you didn’t tell anyone where you were going, either. What if we weren’t at home?”

  “Then I would have gone to Ravyn’s house.”

  “Try a call first next time,” London said, glowering. “Or even a text. Something. You had an awful lot of people worried about you.” She reached for a tomato and started attacking it just as fervently as she’d gone at the cucumber. The cutting board was beginning to look like a crime scene.

  Her admonishment stung, almost as much as Ethan’s easy dismissal of me. Maybe he hadn’t told me to leave, but he might as well have. Telling me that getting revenge against Hayes at some point in the future was more important than helping me get what I needed in the present was like a knife in my gut.

  Mainly because it proved my fears were valid.

  Maybe Ethan seemed whole and complete on the surface. Maybe it appeared he had gotten his life together after all the horrors his father had put him through.

  But in the end, he was just as messed up as the rest of us.

  He didn’t have it all figured out. He hadn’t moved on. All he’d done was build a wall around himself, using that protective barrier to hide the ugliest parts of himself. And maybe he was able to keep that ugliness at bay most of the time—but it would always rear up again at the worst possible moment.