Stay With Me: Diamond In The Rough 3

by Hart, Rebel

  Stay With Me

  Diamond In The Rough 3

  Rebel Hart

  Copyright 2019 © Amore Publishing

  Cover by Robin Harper of Wicked By Design

  Photo: © Regina Wamba

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  1. Clinton

  2. Raelynn

  3. Clinton

  4. Raelynn

  5. Clinton

  6. Raelynn

  7. Clinton

  8. Raelynn

  9. Clinton

  10. Raelynn

  11. Clinton

  12. Raelynn

  13. Clinton

  14. Raelynn

  15. Clinton

  16. Raelynn

  17. Clinton

  18. Raelynn

  19. Clinton

  20. Raelynn

  21. Clinton

  22. Raelynn

  23. Clinton

  24. Raelynn

  25. Clinton

  26. Raelynn

  27. Clinton

  28. Raelynn

  29. Clinton

  30. Raelynn

  31. Clinton

  32. Raelynn

  33. Clinton

  34. Raelynn

  35. Clinton

  36. Raelynn

  37. Clinton

  38. Raelynn

  39. Clinton

  Epilogue

  REBEL HART

  Also by Rebel Hart

  1

  Clinton

  My knees curled against my chest. I felt the blood caking on my face. My head spun from the aftermath of the fight with my father. How aggressive things had gotten. How proud I was of Cecilia standing up to him.

  How much my heart hurt that Rae witnessed any of it.

  I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of Michael’s SUV pull out of the driveway. No, not pull out. Peel out. Tires squealed along the concrete and the smell of burned rubber filled the air. I placed my head against my knees as the rain came down harder than ever. Thunder boomed in the distance. Lightning flashed above my head. When had it started raining?

  Could it wash away my sins?

  I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to vomit on the porch. The silence was deafening. And yet, it brought me peace. My father wasn’t yelling. Cecilia wasn’t crying. Things were simply… silent. The sound of the rain soothed my soul, but the booming of thunder reminded me of reality.

  Reminded me of the presence of my unconscious father.

  My back rested heavily against the railing as I slowly looked up. I stared at the house as water dripped from the tendrils of my hair. I wanted to go after Rae. I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and tell her I didn’t mean it. But I couldn't. I knew I couldn't. Because I was bad news, and I always would be.

  She had her life ahead of her.

  And I had nothing in my future.

  My eyes slowly gravitated to my father, lying unconscious on the porch. I didn’t even know what to do with him. Did I need to call 9-1-1? Was he even still breathing? I saw his back softly moving, and I almost regretted it.

  Almost regretted not having killed my father when I had the chance.

  What kind of person does that make me?

  I grimaced and turned my eyes away from him. Maybe if I ignored him long enough, he’d go away. Maybe if I blinked my eyes rapidly, it would somehow rewind time. Back to the last time I’d been pressed against Rae’s body. Back to the last time I’d been in her arms and gazing into those gorgeous eyes.

  So I blinked as quickly as I could. Faster, and faster, while I prayed it took me back in time. That, somehow, blinking in quick succession was the key to time travel.

  It wasn’t, though.

  It only served to hold back my tears.

  Rae deserves someone better.

  Those four words kept rushing around in my mind. The storm grew and the wind howled. My leather jacket shrunk against me as the rain continued to batter it. Rae did deserve someone better. Someone more worthy of her time. And far less dangerous. The life I lead wasn’t a life to pull someone into. The family I had wasn’t a family I needed to add to.

  And it killed me inside.

  She went after him, though. She cares about you.

  It was true. I’d seen her lunge at him. I’d seen Michael holding her back as she tried to get to me. Which only fueled my need to let her go. If she ever got hurt because of me, I’d never forgive myself. If my father ever hurt her, for any reason, I knew I’d kill him. I’d sit in prison with a smile on my face about it, too. Rae deserved much better than that. She deserved a family that would take her in. Make her feel loved. Make her feel safe. Make her feel wanted.

  None of which my father could ever provide for anyone.

  I still couldn't remember bits and pieces of the night, though. I couldn't remember how we ended up on the porch. Or the exact moment where I knocked my father out cold. I remember Cecilia screaming. I remember her chest heaving with tears. And the next thing I knew, we were on the porch. Before Michael and Rae pulled up. Then Rae had tried to come to my defense.

  And the next thing I know, Dad was on the ground. Unconscious, in a pool of his own blood.

  Or possibly mine.

  Slowly, pain filled my body. An excruciating pain I didn’t know what to do with. My face throbbed. My neck stiffened. My eyes fluttered closed as more tears pushed themselves to the surface. The night came back in bits and pieces. Rae, screaming from Michael’s arms. Trying to pull away and get to me. Cecilia, crying on the porch as she yelled for both of us to stop. My father, chuckling in his maniacal way as his eyes briefly fell on to Rae.

  My knee, connecting with his groin.

  I slowly looked back over at my father. Sounds other than the rain slowly dawned on me. Cecilia’s voice, rambling aimlessly as she stood in the doorway of the house.

  “Yes, unconscious. Yes, he’s breathing. Uh huh. From the nose. Um, it just—it all happened so fast—I know his nose is broken again. I can just tell by looking at it.”

  My eyes gravitated to my stepmother. To the way she looked upon me with worry and hurt. She slipped out, tiptoeing around my father’s body as she came for me. She dipped down, propping a cell phone against her shoulder. She reached out and touched something on my neck. My eye twitched. Her hand cupped my cheek. And when she brushed her finger across my temple, I felt myself get sick to my stomach.

  I leaned over, away from her, and began to heave. My stomach turned itself inside out as burning bile worked its way up my throat. Concussion. I had a concussion, right?

  I felt my stepmother’s hand softly rubbing my back as I continued to puke on the porch.

  It felt like my entire body was revolting against itself. Rising up and refusing to operate anymore until I got into better circumstances. It was like my physical form had finally given up. Had finally waved the white flag of surrender. I worked my way onto my hands and knees. I shook violently as the world spun around me. Tears dripped down my face. Snot fell from my nose. And with every heave, I felt my nose rush pain around the back of my head.

  “Cecilia,” I whimpered.

  She patted my back. “I’m right here. The paramedics are on their way. Just hold on, okay?”

  I couldn’t gain control of my body. I felt helpless. Pathetic. Weak, like my father had always called me. My leather coat had tightened so badly around my arms that I couldn't feel my hands any longer. And that made me cry even harder. My mother’s l
eather coat. The one she gave me when I was a young teenager. Sent to me, for my birthday. As a present and some sort of pathetic excuse for never being in my life. For leaving me behind with a man she knew to be an abusive piece of shit.

  I suddenly didn’t want to wear it anymore.

  I leaned up and struggled to get it off. I stumbled around as spit dripped down my chin. I felt someone tugging at my coat, trying to help pull it off me as I slowly peeled it away from my body. I coughed and sputtered. Sobs fell from my lips because I didn’t have the strength to hold back my tears any longer. I felt an arm wrap around my stomach, holding me as grunts and growls came from behind me.

  It wasn’t until the coat finally ripped away from my arms, however, that I figured out Cecilia was holding me. Cecilia was grunting with me. Cecilia was cradling me close.

  “Come here. I’ve got you. They’ll be here soon, Clint.”

  I leaned heavily against her. Despite the fact that my massive body was easily twice her size, I curled into her like a newborn child, afraid of being too far away from her. I coughed as my sobs came in hiccups. The taste of puke in my mouth was fucking awful. My nose hurt unlike anything I’d ever felt and Dad still lay there. Unconscious on the fucking porch.

  The thunderstorm was moving away, though.

  Slowly, but surely.

  The sound of sirens fell against my ears and I sighed. Cecilia positioned herself against the house and I leaned even harder against her. I didn’t know what this meant for us. What this meant for our family. Would she tell the paramedics how this all happened? Would I be arrested?

  Would it even matter?

  I might have a better quality of life in prison.

  “It’s okay. Breathe for me, Clint. I need you to settle down a bit.”

  My chest hiccupped. “I’m sor—so—sorry, Cec—cec—”

  “Sh-sh-sh-sh. They’re almost here. I see the ambulance now.”

  The siren’s sound grew to a deafening roar. And only then did my father start to stir. Footsteps landed against pavement as people made their way onto the porch. Helping my father to wake up. I heard him groaning. Grumbling. Growling out my name. I slowly opened my eyes and watched him bat people away. He even ripped a small flashlight out of one of their hands and tossed it over the railing of the porch.

  “Where the fuck is my son?”

  I cowered against Cecilia’s body as her hand smoothed over the side of my face.

  “Where the hell are you, Clinton?”

  The paramedic sighed. “Sir, I need you to stay still. You could have a concussion.”

  My father bolted upright. “Where the fuck are you, you piece of shit?”

  “Sir, can you please—”

  “I’m going to rip you a new one. You don’t get to knock me out on my own porch and get away with it. Cecilia!”

  She snickered. “Shut up, Howard.”

  He snarled. “What did you say, you stupid bitch?”

  “Shut up, Dad. Seriously.”

  He whipped his head around. “Come here, you little dipshit.”

  “You two. Inside, now. The paramedic will tend to you in there.”

  We listened to the command of the woman trying to help my father. But he was combative the entire time. His curses and slurs followed me inside, where my stepmother and I switched roles. Once I got myself on my feet, I took her in my arms and held her closely as the paramedics examined me. They flashed lights in my eyes and checked my temples. The man fiddled with my nose and it nauseated me. I felt myself heave again and Cecilia quickly stepped away, watching with wide eyes while people fussed over me.

  “No concussion. But he’s in mild shock.”

  “Pupil dilation’s good.”

  “We need a brace for his nose!”

  “He’ll need surgery to fix it eventually.”

  I reached out for Cecilia’s hand and she took it. Then, with a squeeze, she stepped back out onto the porch. She closed the door, muting my father’s yelling and cursing. And as I stood there, alone, I let the tears silently fall.

  In front of a paramedic that kept tossing me pitiful glances.

  “This is gonna hurt. Just bear with me.”

  “One, two—”

  I closed my eyes and let myself fall into a happy place. I saw Rae’s face, smiling at me as she called out my name. I was used to traveling to happy places. That’s how I’d gotten through the hurt and the pain of my childhood. I didn’t even feel them snap my nose into place. I didn’t feel them inject me with pain medication. I didn’t feel them poking around at my bruises or putting a brace over my nose.

  Because I’d lost myself in my own little world.

  A world where Rae was still there. Safe from harm, and able to fall into my arms without a care in the world. I lost myself in a field of flowers as our backs fell to the petals, casting them upward as we made love underneath the summer sun. I lost myself in her laughter. In her scent. In her smile and her touch and her kiss.

  And when I opened my eyes, one last tear slipped down my cheek.

  No more, after this.

  “Thank you, I really appreciate it. Yes, I’ll make sure to file a police report. Yes, self-defense. I can promise you that. Handcuffs might be necessary to transport him. Uh huh. I’ll be along in a little while. He’ll be fine. Yes, thank you so much.”

  Cecilia’s voice filled my ears and my eyes panned over to her. I saw her ushering the paramedics out. I heard the exhaustion in her voice. She closed the door and locked it, then turned to face me.

  “I told them to take your father to the hospital.”

  I nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  “You really should go yourself. But they insisted you were fine.”

  “If something happens tonight, I’ll check myself in somewhere.”

  She snickered. “You’ll do no such thing alone.”

  Then she came over and took my hands within hers. “You really should call her, you know.”

  I nodded mindlessly. “Okay.”

  “I’m serious, Clint. She could really help you right now.”

  “I’ll take that into account.”

  “Clint. Look at me, sweetheart.”

  My eyes fell to hers and I tried my best to focus.

  “Call. Rae. Promise me.”

  I nodded slowly. “I promise to consider it.”

  Then I pulled away from her and walked my ass upstairs. Because I sure as hell didn't want to be part of this world anymore. I wanted to be part of my dreams.

  Part of the only place where my father didn’t exist.

  2

  Raelynn

  I sat in the passenger seat of Michael’s car as we drove back to my place. I kept my eyes on the outside mirror, looking back, just in case Clint started running after us. But he didn’t. He receded into the horizon as another storm unleashed, pouring forth more rain than I’d ever seen. Booming the loudest thunder imaginable. Flashing etches of lightning throughout the sky and blinding the whole of Riverbend for seconds at a time.

  My heart had never hurt this badly before.

  My soul shattered. It felt as if my heart were dripping blood as it slowly sank to my stomach. The butterflies in my body died, giving way to maggots that felt as if they were eating me from the inside out. It was the only way I had to explain the pain no one could see. It was the only way I knew how to explain how much Clint had just hurt me.

  Maybe he didn’t mean it?

  It was my only hope. Maybe it was just a show he put on for his father. But that didn’t make sense. His father had already been knocked unconscious. Was it possible the show was for Cecilia? Maybe she secretly didn’t like me, or something like that. Or maybe, he meant it now but wouldn't mean it tomorrow.

  Yeah, he’ll call. Once tensions settle and he gets some rest.

  “He’s just got a lot on his plate right now. Give him some time.”

  Michael’s voice pierced my thoughts, but I had nothing to say.

  “You know he cares ab
out you. I certainly know he cares about you. Just give him some space. A lot has happened in a short span of time to him.”

  I nodded aimlessly. “Yeah.”

  “He’s probably just overwhelmed, and he’ll call you tomorrow once he feels better.”

  “Maybe so.”

  “And besides, if we really want to be real for a second?”

  I sighed. “Don’t.”

  “We all know Clint can be sort of an ass sometimes. That’s just kind of how he is.”

  I closed my eyes. “This was different, and you know it.”

  Michael didn’t respond, which furthered the dread in my gut. He’d always been the voice of reason. The person that worked gracefully under pressure. Part of me was hoping he’d go against what I said. Tell me that this wasn’t any different. That Clint was simply, well, being Clint. But when he didn’t argue, I wanted the world to open up below me.

  Taking me, and Clint’s father, along for the ride.

  We weaved slowly through the neighborhood as the sounds of sirens wailed in the distance. I whipped my head around, trying to figure out where they were headed. Had someone called 9-1-1? Was Clint all right? Who called? Did Michael call?

  I looked over at him and he held up his hands.

  “Don’t look at me. My guess is his stepmother called.”

  Cecilia. “That makes sense.”

  I settled heavily into the seat as we turned down my street. I closed my eyes, feeling Michael’s SUV park itself in my driveway. I didn’t want to get out. I wanted to go back to Clint’s place and force myself into his orbit. Force him to tolerate me until he came to his senses.