A Protector's Touch: A New Adult College Romance & Romantic Suspense Novel

by Parker Sinclair

  Chapter 2

  Facing the Truth

  ~

  Even Ida manages to make it out of the classroom before my feet can even move me past our row. Another pencil nudge from Nia, and I put one foot in front of the other to make my way toward the door before my fingers close around the handle.

  “Well, that didn’t go so bad.” Nia takes one look at my bunched-up shoulders and sighs. “I mean, at least Derrick didn’t act like his usual tool self. And look, you took great notes.”

  Merely shaking my head, I pull on the handle and slip into the warm, spring mountain air. The year is almost over, one that I managed to maintain academically but let fall apart personally. Next year will be better; hell, tomorrow will be better. It has to b—

  My thoughts are invaded by a loud thud against the wall of the science building. I’ve heard that sound before. It’s hardly the first time Derrick has tried to hit me, or someone else, with a soccer ball. The black and white ball is gone before my eyes can track it, the force causing it to ricochet back toward its owner while a nasally bystander laughs at our expense.

  “Cut it out, Derrick. Can’t you find someone else to stalk?”

  I spin toward Nia, my eyes pleading with her to not egg him on. She may be tiny, but she’s obviously done watching me shy away from my bully of an ex-boyfriend.

  “The next one won’t miss. Will it?”

  I turn my eyes on Derrick, getting my glare in order before meeting his eyes. Why does he still have power over me, even from this distance, in broad daylight? Granted, most people have left this area, and he knew that. He managed to convince me to make out with him against this very wall after class.

  “Nobody’s looking, so stop being a prude,” he’d jab, with a fake smile curling his lips. “You’re ashamed of showing others you’re with me, aren’t you? I know you don’t really love me.”

  Makes my skin convulse just thinking about it, about his hands on me, owning me, not loving me. His lips forcing themselves onto mine, outside for anyone to see, seems more like a statement of his bounty and pride than showing me tenderness. I can still feel his teeth on my neck, biting me and marking me. All of the motions on top of the vile words that caused just as much damage to my psyche.

  “We get it, you can play with your ball, now leave us alone before I call for campus security.” Nia takes out her phone and preps to hit the alert button on her app.

  “It’s okay. He was just leaving, weren’t you, Derrick?”

  The voice responding to Nia is somewhat familiar, but it takes me a minute to register it as Tim’s before I turn to see him wheeling himself over, with Shan right behind. This is humiliating, only adding to the damaged image I’ve already revealed to the guy I’ve been pining over.

  Though Derrick knew an audience wasn’t in his best interest, he was rarely one to care. His coach was in good with the dean of students, something he was sure to hold over me plenty of times. Even though he didn’t care much for anyone but himself, he may have accepted Tim’s words and backed off, even if for the purely “saving face” factor, yet once he saw Shan not far behind, someone he perceived as a threat to his claim over me, I could see his muscles bulge and expand within his patented soccer jersey, along with his anger.

  “This is none of your business, stick boy.” Derrick seethes, jerking his pointed finger in Shan’s direction. “If you think you’re getting into her pants by coming to her rescue, you’ve got it all wrong. She doesn’t like pussy mamas’ boys, and that’s all you are, isn’t it?” Derrick walks over to Tim and Shan, but his crony, Chas, stays spinelessly behind.

  My body moves by an outside force as Nia grabs onto my arm and we come together like magnets, watching the three boys face off all because of me and my crazy ex. Thankfully, neither Tim nor Shan look at us as Derrick approaches; I couldn’t bear to meet their eyes.

  Shan remains silent, but Tim doesn’t. “We’re just stopping some good-ole-boy bullying at our college, man. No need to mess with these ladies, is there? I’m sure you have something better to do with your time, right Pelé?”

  Tim is older, having been forced to leave for a couple years to regain his strength enough to return to school after a horrible accident. He may never fully recover the use of his body, but that has no impact on his quick mind. Everyone knows he’ll be in line for a TA position. Derrick would be crazy to mess with someone so beloved by the staff and students alike. His story made national news, bringing Crimson State to the spotlight as well, and Derrick can’t live without his spotlight.

  “My beef isn’t with you, Tim. It’s with your little friend behind you. Tell him to leave my girl alone and everything will be just fine.”

  “I’m not your girl, Derrick.” I spit out his name and curse my damn jaw for allowing the words to escape. “Not anymore,” I manage, in a reduced yet powerful whisper.

  Now they are all looking at me, and though my first instinct is to disappear into the shadows, to shrink and shy way, I remember that’s what got me here in the first place. I let Derrick rule our relationship and make me feel like I was at fault for his temper. I know better now, and he will never change. This last chance I gave him proved that to me, but I don’t think he’ll ever understand.

  “You say that now, but you’ll be back. You’re predictable, April. You’ll always come back.”

  I clamp my jaw down tight this time. There is nothing to say in response, and I am not getting into some quarrel with him in front of everyone. I don’t want their pity or the shame I feel to overwhelm me in front of their eyes. I just want Derrick to leave, and with a wave of his hand meant to dismiss me, he clomps away.

  “Sorry, guys. I didn’t mean for you to get involved.” There I go again, always apologizing. I’m supposed to be working on that. Supposed to be.

  “What she means to say is, thank you.” Nia’s voice is strong yet soft. “Derrick’s a jerk, and everyone knows it. You don’t need to apologize for him, ever.”

  “No biggie, ladies. It’s all part of the knight in shining armor thing I’ve got going on.” Tim uses strong arms to move his shiny, silver wheelchair in all directions in his fashionable vest and slacks—dressed to the nines as always. “But I can’t take all the credit. My man Shan here is the one that told me to hang back a minute. Guess his spidey-senses also pick up on damsels in distress. Not that you can’t take care of yourself, I mean, not to discount women’s strength, you know.”

  Though Tim stumbles over his last few words, Nia and I are both smiling at him. I’m even managing to hold my own when his eyes land on my bruise.

  I need better makeup.

  Nia’s finger-poke into my side causes me to laugh out loud. Why am I so good at embarrassing myself?

  “Ha, I forgot how ticklish you are,” Nia sputters as Tim and Shan break into a group chuckle.

  Instead of turning bright red like usual, Nia’s snorting laugh gets me going as well, and I relish the moment of pure happiness and absent worries. This is who I want to be: lighthearted, easygoing, and surrounded by people who are kind, not controlling. I spy Shan wiping a tear from his eye and take a moment to enjoy my stolen glance through the curtain of curls that have covered my eyes. Then I push them slightly, draping them to the side to hide my bruise while I attempt to tap into my confidence by daring to catch his eye.

  In a mere moment, the sounds from the others fade away, and I am snatched into another world, somewhere only Shan and I exist, where the sadness of my past, and worry about what he thinks of my current state, disappear. These seconds drift by slowly. If rain had been falling, I’d be able to tap each droplet with the tip of my finger, allowing them to bounce into each other without busting as they descend toward the ground. It’s like magic. Shan is there with me, his eyes locked with mine, the rise and fall of our chests matching, and I stay. I don’t shy away. I don’t run; I stay.

  “April. Earth to April.”

  “It’s no use. She’s busy keeping Shan mesmerized.” Tim’s w
heel squeaks as he moves back a tick and the spell is broken.

  My darn hand, which isn’t listening to what I want in the least, moves up and shifts my curls behind my ear. Shan’s eyes move to the black and blue hidden poorly behind the beige gunk I have plastered on, and I downcast my eyes.

  “Derrick’s bad news. I hope you stay away from him for good this time. He doesn’t deserve you, and no one deserves that.” He nods his head at the alarming color beneath my skin.

  Shan’s words kindle a fire in my cheeks. I can’t let him leave like this. What must he think of me? A girl who stayed with someone long enough to have to bring his mark with her wherever she goes. It will eventually fade, just as my feelings for Derrick finally dwindled and sputtered out, beaten away by his vicious words and cruel strikes.

  “It’s definitely over,” I reply after a few seconds of silence. “Some people just can’t change.”

  “Those are the ones who can do the most damage. It’s the ones who love them that change.”

  We wave our goodbyes and offer up more “thank yous” to the guys. Nia and Tim exchange numbers for “study group purposes,” she claims, and all I can think about as we leave that spot is the painstaking grief latched tightly around Shan’s words. He’s known someone just like me. Someone who has been hurt, maybe even worse than me. And here I am making eyes at him, when all I am doing is reminding him of her.

  Chapter 3

  Pushing It Away

  ~

  The first mile is always the hardest. At least that’s what I keep telling myself with lungs burning and a form that is totally out of whack. I trip more than once, running along the winding, dirt forest trail surrounding the university as I let my mind race.

  My thoughts take a sprint through my body, blaming shoes that need replacing, or the warm-up I cut short, but I know the real reason. I took way too long to come to my senses with Derrick, and despite all of the group sessions, journaling, best-friend ice cream gorging cry-a-thons, I still beat myself up, or rather, I’m still allowing him, in some way, to hurt me.

  My legs pound harder, erasing the salt drops before they can release from their fleshy, creased prisons, finding my stride once again, and catching glimpses of the rabbits (AKA the men’s team) running up ahead. Sabrina and Caroline are usually with them as well, but their Greek activities have taken priority today. They’ve asked me to join, multiple times, but Derrick always talked me out of it.

  “When will we have time to see each other with all of the sorority demands? Aren’t we more important than some girls club? What about school?”

  My ex wouldn’t stop there. He’d bring up running and my love for art as well, using all of our private conversations against me in what eventually showed me that what it was really about was control. Control over me, over my time, and over what I shared with others about our relationship. He didn’t want anyone to know, keeping his treatment of me, the slow, painful transmutation from being the doting, charming, hero to the jealous, cheating, anger-fueled beast of a boy-man. All this before I could see what was truly happening, before I could stop my fumbling fall over the cliff dropping down into a place where I’ve struggled to get out of for nearly a year.

  My fingers ache as I picture myself clawing out of a relationship-grave meant to bury me alive, to trap me into a void where all I do sets him off, makes him react that way, causes him to push me, grab me, yelling until the spittle of his abusive mouth leaves my face soaked and tear-streaked.

  “No one will ever believe you,” he’d shout. “I’ve never left a mark on you.”

  That wasn’t entirely true, but he knew how to hide them, where to land his attack, until now.

  Lungs ignite, burning beautifully in the cool spring air. My legs join suit, not painfully, miraculously, and I power forward, gaining ground on the men’s track team. Coach Gary typically sends Sabrina, Caroline, and I off with the guys more often now, pushing us to make our 4x800 the top in the state, and the nation. Not to mention the two-mile I painstakingly attack during the nearly eight round-and-rounds; the 3000 meters is like a beast trying to beat me down. Even more now that I relate my nearly inescapable relationship with Derrick to the heathen race. I travel the same road, over and over, where nothing ever changes and nothing ever will, but I keep trying, attempting to make it different. In a way, I desire to beat the track into submission.

  Am I like Derrick? Abusing the track beneath my feet, crushing it down with each stride? The words Shan spoke are resonating more brutally honest than when they first hit my ears. Will I be forever changed now? Have I been shown that love is violence? I have been more aggressive lately on the track—vicious, even. Once even getting angry with Sabrina when she fell behind on the second leg. Though Caroline was upset as well. The three of us have to do our best since Mary struggles with the third leg, and I can’t overcome deficiencies in two laps.

  Ian’s breathing propels me forward; I am nearly in line with him, will even pass him soon. The vicious April, creeping out of me, dragged forth by the chase. My mind and rest of my body catching fire along with my legs and lungs. This is dedication embodied in motion, my desire to win out of the gate. I surpass Ian, putting him behind me, along with the irritated growl he sends my way, while I keep my eyes on the back of Nate’s blazing red hair. Passing him will get me closer to the main pack of the men’s team, something I’ve always caught sight of but never joined, aside from warm-up. Yeah, that thing I basically skipped today.

  “Hey, April,” Nate pants, not turning his head to see who is coming alongside. He’s the only one least annoyed by a girl passing him. Ian said nothing. “You going to hang out for a little or overachieve again today?”

  “You know me. I’m allergic to slacking.” My breathing is a silent wisp compared to Nate’s inhales and exhales.

  Nate’s low-cut dreadlocks catch the strays of sunlight peeking through the leaves and needles of the forest trees. He’s a kind guy. Having moved out here from Hawaii, he traded his surfboard in for a snowboard, at least during the school year. The sophomore returns every summer to rock the waves instead of the snow-covered rocks.

  I like Nate; he treats me like a person and not a pair of breasts. Seems few other collegiate boys have this rare knack. His pace increases with mine, and we stay in sync for a bit before I move off ahead.

  “Go get ’em, girl!”

  An icy chill rolls through the trail, pushing against my face and pouring into my throat, settling down into my chest. For a split second, I bobble, just before finding my feet again and bolting toward the others. When the middle group stays together, they tend to forget the predator coming after them, safety in numbers giving them a false sense of security.

  That’s what Derrick has—safety in numbers, hidden by his soccer team, his coach, tutors, the legacies that endow the school with money from the lining of deep pockets that mimic those of his family. Note to self: being lavished with gifts from the get-go may be a sign of a way to get their claws into you for good. I should be clear about who I am referring to, though I am gathering it is clear by now. The ones who think they should be able to do with us whatever they want, whenever they want.

  “Look at all these things I can buy you, take you to, provide for you, all in ways no one has ever done before,” he’d say. “You are my Cinderella, and I am your prince.”

  Now, when I think of his words, I hear this instead. We will be together always, even if you want to escape.

  Derrick has turned into the ultimate villain in my mind, the sinister equivalent of the anti-Disney male role. From one extreme to the other—one that doesn’t exist, and one that unfortunately does.

  My feet are floating now; I don’t hit the ground—at least I don’t seem to—but instead I fly, fly toward the others, gaining ground as their shoes become a serenade to my mind and body. It draws me in closer, demanding I join the chorus, become one with the team, leave my past and worries behind, find a means to create my own way, to break free of what ha
s held me back. Shedding Derrick has done more for me than keeping him. He has not made me vicious; he has made me a fighter, a stronger, smarter, and happier warrior. I have learned my lesson, I have seen my errors along the way, and from here on out, I am powerful alone and will help any other woman who has faced the same as me, to be free—free to love, to hate, to be what nature intended. True to herself and never losing herself to a man.

  Shan might be right, those left in the wake of abuse are changed forever, but that doesn’t make me ruined; it makes me something new. Something I wasn’t before, and I need to realize that’s okay.

  Chapter 4

  A Chance Meeting

  ~

  It’s gotten easier, if that’s even a good term to use. But “they” are right when “they” say time will help someone heal, from even some of the deepest wounds—at least for me it has.

  It’s been weeks since Derrick came after me with his little toy ball, and even though I can feel his eyes on me in class, burning and scathing, it doesn’t have the same impact. More importantly, I have no inkling to forgive him or take him back this time, which means the time apart, this healing time, is for real this go-around. I’m not going back, and he isn’t trying to change my mind.

  On that subject, this does tend to cause me a bit of distress. A silent Derrick is a deadly Derrick. He’s up to something; I just feel it. Even if he doesn’t want me back, he certainly has too big of an ego to handle me not wanting him back. I’m a thing to him, and even though my confidence is blooming back into the daylight, soaking in the sun like a salve, I can’t shake the itch in my mind that he’s planning something.