Counting on Cayne (Hallow River Book 1) (7 page)

“I promise. You won’t
lose me. Whatever happens, we will be together.” I meant every word as I stared
into his soulful green eyes. He kissed me gently on the lips.

“Good. Because right now
I want to show you everything you’ve been missing all these years.” His devilish
dimpled smirk reappeared. I couldn’t help but smile in response. He reached
over my head and rummaged in the truck’s passenger cab for a few seconds,
emerging with a condom.

“You came prepared,” I
joked. My fingers grabbed for his jeans, unhooking the button and unzipping the
fly.

“It was wishful
thinking, I suppose.”

“Well, that wish is
about to come true.”

I lowered his jeans. He
kicked them off over his ankles. I massaged my palm against his erection,
feeling its impressive size and rigid power through his cotton boxers. Then I
flipped the boxers down and over his thighs and coiled my hand around his massive
shaft, stroking it while he emitted a throaty growl.

“Are you absolutely
sure
you’re ready for this?” he asked, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

“Give me everything
you’ve got.”

“You asked for it,” he
said with a wink and a grin.

He slid on the condom and
positioned himself above me. My heart raced out of control. My breasts and
stomach rose and fell with each shuddering breath.

With a low emphatic groan
that sent shivers into my very core, he thrust himself fully and deeply into
me, plunging long and thick and hard. He pulled out slowly and pushed in deeper,
sliding into my slick wetness with another rumbling growl.

“I fantasized about this
so many times,” he said breathlessly. He pulled out and thrust into me again,
even deeper than before, groaning lustily. “You feel amazing.”

Hot waves of pleasure radiated
through every nerve in my body. I threw my head back, closed my eyes, and
moaned in a thrilled frenzy. He pushed into me again and again, pumping with
increasing force and speed, each plunge bringing me closer to orgasm. I wrapped
my legs around his hips and cried out in greedy delight when his fingers began rapidly
massaging my swollen clit.  My arms flew out to the sides. My nails dug into
the fleece of the blankets. My back arched, my taut nipples pointing to the
sky. He thrust into me harder and faster, rubbing me with one hand and lifting
and squeezing my ass with the other.

“Don’t stop,” I moaned
between breathless gasps. “I’m almost there. Please don’t stop.”

Our bodies moved in perfect
unison. The pressure was building to a climax, his fingers roughly massaging me
from the outside and his dick smoothly stroking me from the inside.

“More,” I whimpered
pleadingly. “Harder. Oh my god. Don’t stop. I’m coming.”

My breath was short and
shallow. He slammed into me faster and faster, his hips pounding against my
thighs, his fingers alternately tickling and grinding. I gripped folds of
blanket and bent my head back, panting and pleading, feeling the pressure build
until a rocking surge burst through me. I came with a rasping animal scream. I clenched
tight around him. My thighs trembled, and my entire body writhed and tensed in
a soul-shaking rush of absolute ecstasy. He plunged deep and long one final
time, exhaling in a long guttural moan as he throbbed and released within me.

We looked into each
other’s eyes while our breathing slowed. He rested his head on my chest, my heart
beating against his ear, while I smoothed his hair. The lingering electric
quivers of pleasure gently subsided into a calming peace. I kissed the top of
his head where it lay on my breast.

He eventually raised
himself up and dropped to my side, leaning on one elbow and lazily tracing the
curves of my breasts and stomach and hips.

“I told you that you’d
been missing out all these years,” he said quietly.

“Cayne, I’m sorry that
we waited so long to be together.” I corrected myself. “Sorry that
I
waited
so long.”

“Don’t be sorry. I don’t
want you to be sorry. I just want you to be here now.”

“I meant what I said
earlier. About staying. If you only knew what---” My throat closed over the confession.
I moved my mouth, but no words came out. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes
and threatened to spill over my cheeks.

“Shhhhh,” he whispered.
“Let’s just enjoy this moment. Together.”

We both lay back and
stared up into the night sky. Crickets chirped in the grass. The creek bubbled
soothingly over rocks. At some point, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

***

We awoke in a satisfied
daze under a high moon. Cayne dropped me off at my car in front of the diner. I
drove home through empty streets, replaying the entire evening in my head and
trying not to think of what the future might hold. I wondered if I would be
able to keep the promises that I’d made. I wanted to keep them. I wanted
nothing more than to remain in Cayne’s strong and protective embrace forever.
But the world might have other plans.

The house was dark and
silent. I retrieved my phone from the kitchen table, exactly where I had left
it that morning. As I climbed the stairs to my room, I checked my messages.
There were three texts, all from Granton. The last one turned my limbs to ice.

You’re nothing
without me. You’re just a dirty whore who fucked me for my money. I treated you
like a worthless piece of shit because that’s all that you are and all you’ll
ever be.

I will catch you. I will
punish you. I will laugh while you bleed.

Hope you’ve enjoyed
reconnecting with old friends. It’s the last you’ll ever see of them.

“Beatrice. Brinley. LeClare!”

Aunt Lu’s voice boomed
from the kitchen. She was using my real name, a sure sign of trouble. Beatrice
Brinley, the maiden name of my grandmother, was also the name on my birth
certificate. I’d always gone solely by Brinley. It was one of the reasons that
I doubted Granton’s ability to find me. I never told him my real name. After
the previous night’s texts, I wondered if my doubts were mistaken.

I was still in pajamas when
I trotted down the stairs and rounded the banister. I wasn’t due at the diner
until 11:00. My brain was groggy from lack of sleep. Worry over Granton’s messages
had vied with pleasurable thoughts of Cayne to keep me up until sunrise.

When I peeked around the
doorframe of the kitchen, I saw Aunt Lu seated at the table, her hands neatly
folded. A mug of coffee steamed in front of her and another in front of the
seat that I was presumably intended to occupy.

She wore a bright yellow
shirt embroidered with a smattering of bumble bees. From my observations thus
far, Aunt Lu seemed to prefer wardrobe pieces with an element of whimsy despite
being one of the least whimsical people I had ever known. She stared into the
coffee like it was a crystal ball. I slid fully around the doorjamb. She looked
up and caught my eye, nodding at the empty seat across the table.

“Brinley, I need to talk
to you.”

Her voice sounded
unexpectedly gentle. I pulled out the chair and sat on its edge. My knees
jumped up and down in a nervous fidget. I wrapped my palms around the coffee
mug, taking comfort from its warmth. Aunt Lu’s expression was solemn and pained.
She opened her mouth to speak but remained silent. She took another minute to
collect her thoughts as the clock ticked loudly on the wall behind me. Then she
breathed deeply and began.

“You left your phone
here yesterday.”

My stomach dropped into
my shoes. I kept my face still as a stone statue while my heart fluttered like
a bird. I knew what she was going to say next.

“I saw your messages.”

The clock ticked seconds
away into the silence. I gripped the coffee mug to prevent my hands from
trembling. My throat felt hot and constricted. She was waiting for me to speak,
but my vocal chords were squeezed tight by fear.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean to look at them,” she continued, shifting her eyes downward and rubbing
her hands together. “I was cleaning the table and they were just there, right
in front of me.”

I winced with guilt when
she apologized. I should have been the one apologizing for showing up on her
doorstep with no explanation and a heart full of secrets.

“Brinley, you know that
I love you like a daughter.” Her blue eyes misted with tears, but she cleared
her throat and continued. “When you were gone all those years, I hoped that you
were happy. I wanted to see you. I wished that you would come back and visit.
When you didn’t, year after year, I thought it was because you were busy living
the life that you wanted to live. That was enough for me, even though I missed
you terribly.” She lowered her head for a moment. “Was that not true? Was I
wrong all this time?”

I reached out and
grabbed her hand. Her skin was velvety and dry. I stared down at the scratched
table surface, willing my emotions to stay in check and my tears not to flow.
Once they started, they would never stop.

My head nodded slightly.
She squeezed my hand. I looked up and found her eyes searching my face with a
penetrating focus.

“I need you to tell me
right now,” she said in a voice that had suddenly cooled to a lethal calm. “Who
is Granton Langley, and where do I find him so that I can aim my shotgun straight
at his balls and shoot them clean off if he ever comes near you again?”

Her words hit me with
the shock of a grenade. I almost laughed and cried at the same time. A barrier
had been broken with one swift hammer blow. My wall of shame and guilt crumbled
beneath a roaring wave of truth. I held tight to her hand and told my story for
the first time.

“I met Granton Langley
seven years ago. I had been happy until then. I was struggling, of course.
Dancing jobs were few and far between. I guess I had a touch of big fish
syndrome when I left Hallow River. I thought I was a star. When I got to New
York, I discovered that my talent was not so special and that I was only one of
thousands. But still, I was happy. I earned enough money waitressing to afford
rent in an apartment that I shared with three other girls. We lived on ramen
noodles. We saw each other through auditions, celebrated our victories, and
drank away our losses. I certainly wasn’t living my dreams yet, but I hoped
that I soon would be.”

I hesitated, gathering
strength. Aunt Lu nodded, encouraging me to continue.

“Granton found me waitressing
at a cocktail party. He’s a big shot in the world of finance. He’s handsome and
charming and rich. He pursued me, wined and dined me, and told me that he
adored me. He seemed like everything a girl could ever want. He made me feel
like I was the most beautiful woman in the world. I moved into his penthouse.
It was a palace. He bought me expensive gowns and jewelry and took me to exciting
places. When I look back now, I realize that I was just a prop. He dressed me
up like a doll and paraded me around like a prize.”

“After a few months, his
behavior toward me started to change. I hadn’t given up on my dancing career
yet. I still went to auditions, but rejections left me discouraged. Whenever I
failed to land a part, he told me that it was because I was too fat and that I
had no talent anyway. He laughed as he pinched my hips and thighs. He told me
that I would never make it as a dancer, not in this body. He said that I was
lucky to have him because I would never survive on my own. I believed him. I doubted
myself in a way that I never had before. Anxiety creeped into every audition. I
expected failure and knew that I would have to face Granton’s laughter and
insults afterwards. That’s when I stopped dancing completely.”

I paused and nervously
scratched my nails along the scuff marks on the tabletop. Looking back now, I
wondered how those relatively small attacks could have torn down my confidence
so quickly and caused me to give up so readily on my dream. But when someone
chips relentlessly away at your sense of self, it takes an unmistakable toll. Besides,
those were just the opening shots of Granton’s war on my psyche. Much worse was
to come. I pressed my fidgeting hand flat on the table and continued.

“He became obsessive
about my movements. He interrogated me about everything I did, every place I
went, and every person I saw. He hired a photographer to follow me. He threw a
batch of pictures in my face, claiming that I was cheating on him when I had
coffee with a friend or chatted with a stranger on the street. I threatened to
leave. He begged me to stay. He said that he was only jealous because he loved
me and that
I
was the one hurting
him
. I stayed even though I
knew that it was wrong. I stopped talking to people. I looked over my shoulder
whenever I left the house. Granton became the center of my world even as his
moods became increasingly erratic and unpredictable. I never knew whether he
was going to be nasty or kind, vicious or loving. I was kept off balance. The
first time he hit me---”

I stopped. My breath
caught in my throat. Aunt Lu’s lips pursed and her eyes burned with anger. She
squeezed my hand reassuringly. I took a sip of coffee to settle my nerves.

“We’d gone to a party.
On the ride home, he berated me for making him look foolish with something I’d
said. I had no idea what he was talking about. I told him that he was being
ridiculous. When I stepped through the front door, a blinding flash of pain
pounded through the side of my face. I was on the floor before I even realized
what had happened. Granton was standing over me and shaking his fist. I tasted
blood in my mouth. Droplets of it had sprayed onto my dress when he hit me. I
was too stunned to speak or even to breathe. He just walked away and left me
lying on the ground.”

“Of course, the next
day, he was all apologies. He said that he loved me and that it would never
happen again. He bought me a new designer dress to replace the one spattered
with blood. He acted genuinely sorry. Then a few weeks later, he pushed me
against a wall and punched me in the stomach. He blamed me and said that he
wouldn’t need to hurt me if I would only love him more. It happened over and
over again. He fractured my cheekbone when he slammed my head against a marble
counter. He threw me to the ground, held me down, and punched me until I passed
out. He strangled me until I thought that I was going to die. Then he begged
for my forgiveness. He told me that he couldn’t live without me. He showered me
with apologies and gifts. The car, for instance.”

I jerked my chin toward
the window to indicate the silver racer parked out front. I took a deep breath.
This was more than I had ever told anyone about my life with Granton. It felt
both liberating and frightening.

“The cycle went on for
years, through ups and downs. Sometimes months would go by perfectly normally.
To the world, we were a happy couple. Then one day, he would turn on a dime and
start yelling and hitting. I think he liked to keep me guessing, wondering when
he was going to strike next.”

“Why didn’t you tell
anyone? Why didn’t you tell me?” Aunt Lu asked. Her forehead was creased with
concern and her eyes registered a profound sympathy.

“I was ashamed. I internalized
the blame and was embarrassed that I had allowed myself to become a victim. I
knew that people would ask me why I’d stayed with him. I couldn’t answer that
question for myself, let alone for anyone else. It had nothing to do with the
money. I didn’t care about that. But people would judge. They always do. Part
of me believed him when he said that he loved me while another part of me knew
that it was a lie. I lived for the scraps of his affection. I felt worthless.
It sounds bizarre and insane, but I had come to believe that I deserved to be
treated this way. Most of all, I felt like I had let everyone down, you and
Uncle George and everyone who really cared about me. That’s why I never came
back. That’s why I never said a word.”

Memories that had been
trickling steadily into my consciousness now burst through in a flood. Ghosts
of the panic and terror that had overwhelmed me for all those years now threatened
to choke me into silence. Nightmares buried deep within my mind rose to the
surface and crashed across my vision. I recalled every punch and kick, every
gash and broken bone, every time I was dragged across the floor or thrown
against a wall, every time I was made to feel less than human and every time I
was desperately afraid.

My stomach heaved. I
rose abruptly and ran to the sink, leaning over it with my hands pressed flat
on the counter. Aunt Lu followed and gently placed her palm on my back.

“It’s alright,” she
crooned. My spinning head began to right itself. The awful visions subsided under
her soothing influence. I stared hard at the tiled backsplash to maintain my
composure.

“I was also scared. He
told me that he would punish me if I ever told anyone. He held a knife to my
throat and said that he would kill me if I ever tried to leave. But one day, I
just knew that he was going to kill me if I stayed. That’s when I made the
decision to escape. I was terrified. I packed a few belongings in secret, took
the car, and sped down the interstate. This was the only place that I could
think to go, the only place that I wanted to go.”

My tears began to flow.
Aunt Lu wrapped me in an embrace. I wept on her shoulder with an abandon that I
had not allowed myself in years. After several minutes, I quieted down and wiped
my soaked cheeks with the backs of my hands. Aunt Lu held my shoulders firmly
and looked directly into my tear-rimmed eyes.

“What are you going to
do now?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I
sighed. “You saw the texts. I can’t stay here. He’ll find me. I’m putting
everyone that I love in danger. You, Cayne---”

“Cayne?” she asked.

I realized with a jolt the
truth of the confession I’d just made. I was falling in love with Cayne. But that
was a part of the story I wasn’t yet ready to share with Aunt Lu. I shook my
head. She allowed it to pass.

“Brinley, listen to me.
You’re not going anywhere.” She grasped both of my hands in hers. “You are
staying right here. You are not running and you are not hiding from this
monster. If he comes, we will face him together. Do you understand me?”

I started to peep out a
protest, but she cut me short.

“Do…you…understand…me?”
She spaced out her words with precision and weight. She gripped my hands tight.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said
weakly.

At that moment, Georgie
ran into the kitchen with an excited squeal and leapt onto Aunt Lu’s lap. He
wore a pajama set covered in little pictures of trains and carried a stuffed
green dragon. Displaying a child’s innate empathy, he saw my red eyelids and
wet tear-streaked cheeks and thrust the dragon across the table.

“Here,” he said with
high-pitched emphasis. I laughed despite myself, took the dragon, and hugged it
tightly to my chest.