Entangled (A Tryst Novel) (24 page)

I chew the inside of my cheek, my eyes rounding in my skull as I contemplate his words, and my predicament. His faded-black band T-shirt is the same one I remember over seven months ago shimmying my body into before I’d fall asleep for the night. I cringe at the memory, closing my eyes as if to delete it, letting them fly open anew, fresh, but it’s still the worst sight. Jason stands a couple feet away from me now, and I try to play it cool.

“You have me now, Jason. What did you want to say?”

His face sours. His thick brows scrunch up tight as his tongue licks his bottom lip.

I’ve upset him. Shit.

“I don’t have you. I’ve never had you! You left me. You ran away from me. You moved on to someone who doesn’t even see you for what you are.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about, and I refuse to find meaning in this drunken man’s babbling. I won’t subject myself to this insanity. It’s ludicrous, but I worry I don’t have a choice.

Another sandpaper gulp slips down my throat.

“Stop, Jason. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yeah—oh yeah!” He steps forward, getting in my face. His breath is disgustingly slick as it hits my face with the pungent smell of whiskey. I try my hardest not to gag.

“Blake. That’s his name, isn’t it? Who was that guy who dropped you off now? New guy, Skye? New man to make you feel good? To tell you what to do? To tuck you in at night? To touch you where you want—”

“STOP!”

“Oh, you don’t like that? I used to be enough, but the papers are plastering you as the girl who has to get her attention wherever she can.”

I shake my head. I don’t need another Jason-induced revelation. No thanks.

He raises his hand to my shoulder, and attempts to shove me back a step.

I don’t let myself wobble. I stand firm. It isn’t until that same hand comes up to my face, and his long fingers stroke my jaw that my eyes widen in terrified anticipation.

It’s another move I used to love. He even grabs my chin fondly. I can see his eyes piercing me, pinning me, watching me, as if he’s only doing it to elicit a reaction—my guess is a smile, but I won’t. I can’t. I want to pull away, but I’m trying to play this by ear until I feel like I can get to my front door safely.

When will that moment come?

When my face hardens with a look of impatient disgust, Jason grunts harshly, and his fingertips take a grip around my throat instead, digging into my skin.

“You’re such a bitch.”

When I try to reply, his grip on my throat tightens in a restraining squeeze that turns my words into a gasp. In a desperate attempt at breathing, I drop my phone, my fingers flying to his hand. I can hear my phone fall onto the cement with a clatter.

His free hand smacks one of mine away, while my other does nothing to affect his grip, no matter how much my hand tries to wiggle between his fingers. I can’t manage both fighting back and breathing, so I let my hands fall to my side.

I try to steady my stance, but I’m rigid anyway, petrified about what’s to come, because I see no foreseeable escape in sight. This is bound to end terribly. I feel it in my bones.

“I hate that I love you,” he spits out bitterly. His eyes are searing with rage as he holds me to the spot, his grip barely loose enough for me to heave in tiny, shallow breaths of oxygen.

I wish the bile in my throat would rise high enough so I could spit at him, but instead my mouth is cotton, and the only liquid I can manage leaks from my eyes.

Maybe I’d have something to say. Maybe I would even argue at this point. But the fact that I can’t terrifies me. I try to let my watering eyes dart left or right in the hopes of seeing a passerby, but this suburban street is deserted, and that scares me even more.

He’s my weakness in more ways than one.

“I don’t know how to be better,” he sputters. “I want to be better, but the truth is you were the only one who made me think I could be.” With his hands still tightly around my neck, I can’t help but think this insanity is transforming into bizarre. “Did you ever love me, Skye? Can I make this better?”

I nod my head that little bit, and he can see me trying to speak, my lips bobbing with the words I can’t fight. He loosens his grip a little more, and his drunken stare widens in hope.

When I can speak, I don’t waste another second, because it’s clear I’ve run out of options, and I don’t have much to lose. He’d overpower me anyway. I might as well give it all I’ve got.

“I loved you once, Jason. I loved you so much, but you broke me the moment you did what you’re doing right now. Your love isn’t love. It’s far from it, and now I hate you.”

I lift my right knee fast and hard into his groin. His grip around my neck constricts painfully when my knee makes contact, but he throws my body back as he writhes in pain, releasing me.

I try to catch myself, because all I know is I’ve got to get inside my house, and this is my chance, but instead I fall. I fall hard.

My elbow is the first thing I feel scrape across the pavement, and then it’s the slamming of my tailbone after. The force of his thrust is more than I realize as I get ahold of myself just in time before my head falls with my body to the cement.

“You fucking bitch!” he shouts. “You deserve whatever you get coming to you!”

My hand flies up as my blurring eyes see Jason looming above me in the shadows of the porch light. I think he’s going to drag me up and away, but instead I feel a hard kick to my gut.

The air is pushed out of my body in a scream. Finally! Sound! Although I’m in pain, I’m pleased by the release of any human alarm. Please, someone, hear my screams.

I think I see his leg swing back for another blow, and my arms flail in front of me as I try to scramble up, but the unthinkable happens.

His shoulders fly back, and this time he shouts. His deep voice is full of anger and disdain as he says, “Fuck youuu!”

I scramble upward, my abdomen aching with every movement. I blink through my daze from the blow of the kick, and I see Gio, his arms around Jason in a vise grip, looped under his arms, and his hands pushing Jason’s head brutally forward.

How? What? Wh—

“Skyler, call the police!”

Everything hurts, but I operate like a machine, his words the command as I robotically scramble for my phone. I reach out for it near the steps to my door, and the skin of my elbow painfully stretches with the feeling of a deep wound that I know will require cleaning. I can only seem to focus on my outstretched hand with the phone mere inches away, my fingertips shaking and frantic until they wrap around the device.

I can hear Jason thrashing against Gio’s unmoving grip, but I don’t have the energy to look.

When I turn on the screen to my phone, the large crack across it shocks me, but I continue on, swiping across the screen, my fingers fumbling, but I dial that precious triple-digit number that has saved me more than once.

“This is 9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“Help. I need help . . .”

Blake

The evening is finally winding down, and I’m talking to the director, who’s been my idol since I was in high school.

Lucky for me, he’s taken a liking to my constant questions and has complimented me on the growth I’ve made since the start of filming. I could fucking glow at hearing that from him, but I try to keep my cool. It feels like acing a test, and that’s a feeling I’m not so accustomed to.

After getting over my phase of being starstruck and getting into the groove, it’s nice to just talk. This is doubly helpful since me and Kathryn have reached the highest level of awkward since our hotel-room encounter in New York. Regardless, I’ve been enjoying the distance. She’s been occupying herself with the rest of the cast, and I’ve come to terms with it. I’m not in the mood to play the mediator between us. She crossed the line, and we both know it.

“We only have about three more scenes to finish. I can’t wait to take a look at the film roll, and get it into edits. Today’s scenes turned out great. I think you gave your stuntman a run for his money, Blake.” We share a bout of laughter before he continues, “Just don’t forget to keep eye contact.”

I nod my agreement, but the vibrating sound of my phone within my pocket interrupts us. He slaps a firm hand on my shoulder, shaking it jokingly before letting go as he says, “Let’s call it a wrap. We’ll pick up filming in a few days. Time off might do us all some good. Plus, my wife is pissed. If I miss my daughter’s birthday, she’ll have me in the doghouse. I got a princess party to plan.”

He gives me an eye roll, but his smile tells me it’s worth it. He’s a family man, and although directing is his passion, he has his priorities just like the rest of us. It also helps that the studio will do whatever he wants when they know he’ll bring in the revenue when it comes to the release of the film.

I wave good-bye, catching the last ring of my phone before it goes to voice mail. It’s Skyler, and I can’t wait to tell her I’m coming home early, and she gets me for a few days.

“Babe, guess what?”

“Blake.”

My abdominal muscles clench painfully, but it’s not nerves that fuel it, but possessiveness.

“Gio? Is that you? What’s going on? Why are you calling me from Skyler’s phone?”

He hums, thinking something over, and when I hear the sound of his sigh twisting around what sounds like someone crying in the background, my heart skips a beat.

“You need to come home. It’s Skyler. Her . . . uh, ex-boyfriend showed up at your house. I hope this makes sense. The police are here. She’s really shaken up.”

My feet are already sprinting across the sound stage and out the door to my car in the parking lot. I’m frantic. Everything he’s said is bad, bad, bad.

“Is she okay?”

Another pause, and I want to fucking destroy something. “She’ll be fine. She’s been a bit roughed up, but she’s okay now. She’s just really upset.”

His tone is hard, but his accent curls around every word. He cares. He cares a lot. That much is certain. I don’t know whether to be thankful or furious.

I clench my eyes shut as I slam the driver-side door closed the moment I’m inside. “Keep her safe for me. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Of course. I’ll let her know you’re on your way.”

When he hangs up, I release the breath I’m holding. At least he knows his place. He needs to tell her I’m coming home to her, and that I want nothing but to be the one to keep her safe.

What was that asshole, Jason, doing at my house? What the fuck did he do to Skyler? If she has even the hint of a bruise, I’m going to go ballistic.

***

Do the police cars in front of my house make this situation more real or surreal? I’m not sure. There isn’t room for my car in the driveway with them there. I park in front and note Gio’s shiny Audi parked haphazardly and diagonally in the spot next to me, suggesting he might have thrown his car into park and flung himself out of it to take care of a chaos I can’t wrap my head around.

Skyler. I need to find Skyler.

My hands are constant clenched fists as I walk up the driveway. My eyes get distracted by movement, and I turn to my right to see Jason in the backseat of the police cruiser, his arms constricted behind his back.

The rat bastard looks just like I remember him. Pathetic. I remember his pleading when Skyler was just a dream of mine. I remember her fear then as she scurried inside, and I dealt with him. I remember yanking him up by a balled fist of fabric from his shirt as I probed him with questions and accusations months ago on this same doorstep. I remember him getting snarky, and turning into a coward when I threatened him. At the time, I didn’t understand the severity of the situation, and I let him go after he promised to leave and never come back. If I knew then what I know now, I would have done some serious damage.

At the thought, my strides hesitate just a second, debating on if I should attempt the thrashing I so desperately want to inflict. When his beady eyes lift to catch mine, he immediately looks away in apparent shame. Damn right.

I’ve never wanted to destroy something so badly in my entire life.

I force myself to look away as I approach my front door, which sits wide open. I can hear two voices I don’t recognize as I enter.

Cops. Both men stand looming over Skyler who’s trembling in the arms of Gio as they sit on the couch. The primal caveman in me wants to rip Gio to shreds, too, but I can’t get over at how small and frightened Skyler looks curled in on herself in his arms. It drives me into madness.

Gio sees me first, turning his wide, probing eyes to me. He doesn’t flinch, but continues his wide strokes against Skyler’s back. She’s speaking, maybe answering the police officers’ questions, but her eyes are clenched closed as tightly as my fists.

“Blake,” Gio whispers.

Skyler’s eyes fly open.

I want to run to her. I want to hug her, hold her, kiss her.

Though, my legs don’t want to run. My steps are surprisingly cautious as I take it all in, avoiding any sort of misstep. I’ve never been so hyper-attuned to someone. My only thought is I don’t want to rattle Skyler more than she already is, even if she’s eyeing me like a wild animal; her endless-ocean eyes are bloodshot from tears, but wide with need.

Both officers turn to me, nodding their hello. One of them is tall and dark, his eyes scrutinizing, but kind. While the other is a stout, graying man with an overly concerned look.

“You the boyfriend?” the taller one asks.

I nod, and extend my hand to both men, shaking theirs firmly.

Skyler is slowly peeling herself away from Gio, but I can see Gio just as carefully watching her, and even hesitant about letting her go. I want to hate him so fucking much, and I do. However, Skyler has that effect on people. You want to like her. You want to protect her. Her genius is just as inviting as her smile and eyes, but they hold a sincere naïveté that you can’t help but adore, which keeps men like me . . . and Gio, at her whim, whether she knows it or not. That’s if he sees what I see, which I think he does.

What kills me the most is she’s trying to show me she’s strong as she desperately tries to straighten her posture, but she doesn’t seem to have the energy to stand, and I wouldn’t ask her to try. Her trembles still riddle her body, most evident at her elbows and knees. She’s trying to wipe the fear and exhaustion from her face, but I want her to go back to lying down. I want to tell her everything’s going to be okay.

“I think we’ve got all the statements we need. Here’s our card if you need to get ahold of us.” The two officers walk away from the living room, and the air feels so thick and humid with anguish I can’t stop the rippling tension in my muscles from spreading as I follow, grabbing the card from the cop. I nod my head in the direction of Gio to signal him to stay at Skyler’s side, and it kills me that I haven’t touched her yet. I, myself, am starting to feel like a caged beast.

I walk the officers to the front door as they continue, “Skyler has given me your cell phone number, and hers, Giovanni’s, and her brother’s, if anything else comes up. Are you aware of the restraining order that was placed against Jason Vasquez?”

“Yes, I knew about it. Did she tell you he appeared here a couple months ago?”

Maybe I shouldn’t have divulged that, but when it comes to Skyler’s safety, I’m willing to let her get mad at me if it helps the cops take things more seriously.

They both nod. “Yes, and when he approached her in the street a couple weeks ago, too.”

My stomach plummets with the gravity of the information. Why didn’t she tell me Jason showed up again? 
Bang.
 It feels like a jab to my well-being. However, I nod like I already know. “Great,” I reply, except everything is anything but great. My eyes shoot over the taller cop’s shoulder at Jason, who watches from inside of the police cruiser. He’s squinting and scrutinizing us obviously talking about him. 
Prick.

Was there a moment weeks ago that Skyler was in as much danger as she was in tonight? I know she doesn’t like to worry me, but I wonder if this could’ve been avoided if she’d spoken up. The thought kills me.

I tell myself to hit the gym in the morning in order to work out this aggression that’s building fast and furiously inside me.

I have this sudden urge to throw open that police-car door and get violent, just to release this building anger, but instead I swallow it down and ask, “What’s going to happen to him?” I nudge my chin in the asshole’s direction, and I’m surprised I’m able to achieve this even keel when I want to commit a felony and rip the guy’s head off.

“Jail, sir. No bail, in violation of a strict restraining order. We’ll schedule him for a court date and go from there.”

I can’t imagine them clearing him with this huge amount of evidence. I want to ask the two cops for details, but I’d rather just ask Skyler.

“Good. Feel free to call Skyler if you have any updates, but I’d also like to add that I don’t know how she is emotionally, so if you feel so inclined, I’d also prefer you call me instead, if you can. I just . . . I just don’t know how she’s doing. She doesn’t look good.”

I’m babbling. The police don’t care.

The taller one’s eyes soften in understanding, and it gives me hope, but a tight, regretful crook appears on his lips. “Unfortunately sir, legally we can only call the young lady, or her brother, since he’s family and the one who facilitated the restraining order in the first place.”

I nod for the umpteenth time, my jaw rigid. I understand, sure, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

“Take good care of her tonight, she needs some TLC, sir.” The compassion from the stumpier man throws me, and I give him a small smile even though my arms are tightly crossed over my chest.

“I will no doubt take care of her. Thank you for taking care of this, officers.”

They both tip their heads in recognition, and then go on their way.

As I turn back inside I’m not willing to give Jason another glance, because he isn’t worth it. Maybe that’s Skyler’s reasoning. Maybe to her Jason isn’t worth her time or worth mentioning. Maybe she thought he would just go away. I grit my teeth at the thought. She’s smarter than this.

When I turn around, Gio is already a few feet away, running his hands through his dark hair as he approaches me. His eyes are tired with worry, and he can’t help himself as he turns back to look at Skyler once more. He looks compelled to fling himself back to her on the couch, but he rights himself seconds later as he finishes his journey to me.

I have to say it. I have to.

“Thanks for being here, Gio.”

He nods, and lifts his chin to the door, telling me he wants to talk outside.

I follow him out, and I notice the cruisers have already vanished. It isn’t until the front door shuts behind us that he speaks.

“She needs you,” he says.

I don’t know why this has me feeling relieved, but it does. It also has me realizing that I don’t want her alone inside. I need her in my arms. I need to tell her she’s safe. I don’t know who to blame, but God dammit, I want to blame someone, and the guilt building in my core is the worst.

He continues, rubbing at the back of his neck, suddenly looking more shook-up than I would expect. “I just wanted to explain the situation a bit, but I’ll be brief. She did incredible today at the photo shoot, Blake, she’s a real natural.” He clears his throat as if catching himself, but I ignore it as he goes on. “I dropped her off a little over an hour ago. Everything was fine. She waved me off, and I left. The only reason I came back was because she left the dress I gave her in my car.” This time he flashes me a smile of admiration. “She picked a dress out for your event, and she was really excited to wear it for you, so I knew I had to get it back to her. I might have been gone ten minutes, at most. When I pulled back up your street she was on the ground, curled up with this man looming over her, and I watched him—” His words get choked off as he rubs over his face, and my guts writhe with the pain I see flit over his features. “He kicked her, Blake. Hard. Next thing I know, I parked, ran toward her, and got that guy under control. I don’t know the details. She hasn’t talked much. She called the police from her cell phone. I held him until they got there.”

Bile rises in my throat as anger, fiery hot, seethes through my veins. My hands are back into clenched fists as I listen.

“He thrashed against my hold, and just so you know, I threw a punch in there for good measure—”

I have to say it so I take the moment to interrupt, “He fucking deserves more than just a punch!”

He manages a tight chuckle. “Cops were here in five minutes. I’ve just been holding her inside as she cried. She didn’t want to talk, and I didn’t make her. Like I said before, she’s really shaken up. You might want to check her body for,” he gulps, “bruises, maybe. I didn’t check her over for any marks or anything, but I think I noticed a scrape on her arm.”

My blood is at a boiling point, but I also want to shout at the top of my lungs, fury coursing through me. Life is unfair, and Skyler doesn’t deserve this.