Find Me in Manhattan (Finding #3) (4 page)

I curled up in bed that night thinking there was a possibility that he was too good to be true. No guy could be this good looking, sweet, thoughtful, and sexy. Not once did he try to rush me into anything, which was sweet. His hands didn’t roam all over my body when his arousal pressed against me. He held me close and twisted a hand into my hair to hold my head and control our kisses, but there was no pressure for anything else… no matter how much I wanted to move forward. I found it incredibly romantic how he kissed me goodnight and reluctantly left after every date.

Jameson was so different from other guys. Even if he was all business, he made sure to spend time with me every single day. On dates, he would hold doors and pull my chair out, refusing to let anyone else do those things. He wanted to be the one who showered me with attention. Jameson didn’t waste a single second on anyone else; his focus was one hundred percent on me.

Another Saturday night rolled around, and I was preparing for another amazing date. I had a good feeling about how the night would end. I even spent the afternoon telling Maggie all about the perfect man I’d found. She was so excited for me, considering she had been there for me when Wade cheated on me. She was there for me when I told her how Billy reacted to the news of me leaving. She knew all about the jackass who took my virginity and the loser who cheated on me in high school. It was no wonder she was ready to marry me off after one conversation about Jameson.

I was giddy when I hung up with Maggie. Spending an hour swooning over him was easy, but then I had to get ready for another night with the charming man who took romance to a whole new level. At exactly six thirty, he knocked on my door. I was putting my lipstick on in the bathroom, so Lana opened the door for him with her flaming red hair sticking up everywhere. It was one of the rare occurrences when we were home together, and she had been curious about whom I was dating since the roses first appeared. I couldn’t gush to her because she wasn’t that kind of friend, but she knew I was seeing someone.

When she opened the door, she quickly slammed it and turned to me. “Oh, hell no!” A knock on the door prompted her to open it again. “Leave!”

“What are you doing here?” Jameson growled angrily. That tone was something I had yet to hear from him and to say it was a turn-off was putting it mildly.

Lana crossed her arms and blocked the door fueling the fire. “I live here. What are you doing here?”

Jameson looked over her head at me, as I stood there bemused by their exchange. “You live with this devil worshipper?”

“Yes, but as far as I know, she doesn’t worship the devil.” I looked at Lana for confirmation. She looked at me like I was crazy. How was I supposed to know what she did in her free time? “What’s going on? I take it you two know each other.”

“Yeah. We’ve met,” Lana said as she went into her room and closed the door with a dramatic slam.
Okay…

“Come on, Sarah,” Jameson commanded forcefully and started down the hallway leaving me to catch up.

“Hey, wait! What was that all about?”

“Your roommate’s crazy, you know that?” He was obviously irate by the way he was towering over me and pointing back at the door to my apartment that had unceremoniously slammed behind me. I still didn’t know why either of them reacted the way they had, but I knew I would have to be the one to let it go in order to save our night. I made a mental note to ask Lana about it later. For now, I had to find a way to get the other Jameson back.

I grabbed the hand that hadn’t been pointing at my door and whispered, “Hey. Let’s forget about her and have a nice night.”

He didn’t let go of my hand or the anger. “I don’t like you living with her. We need to find you another place to live.”
Whoa! What?
Screw letting it go. No one spoke to me that way.
No one!
Now, I was angry.

“I signed a lease here, and I like it.”

“Fine. You’ll stay at my place in the meantime.”

My hands flew to my hips. “No, I won’t. I live here. It’s my apartment. Now, I don’t know why you’re so upset, but you have nothing to worry about.”

Then things really got out of hand. He grabbed my arm so tightly that I squealed. He forced me against the wall and came so close that his nose was almost touching mine. The fire in his blue eyes was terrifying. “You can’t stay here as long as we’re together. She’s crazy. She’ll break us up.”

Now, I didn’t know how not all men realized this, but you never grabbed a lady like that. My daddy never took a hand to me because he believed that no man should physically overpower a woman. Instilling fear in me was a deal breaker.

“Get your hands off me,” I said through clenched teeth. I was sure the anger in my eyes matched his, but my anger was directed at him.

His hand immediately dropped and remorse spread all over his face. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Seeing her made me lose my mind, but I swear to you, I’d never hurt you.” He ran his hands over his face and turned back to me. I was quickly pulled into his arms, and he was hugging me like his life depended on it. “I’m so sorry. What was I thinking? I just feel so much for you. I can see myself falling for you, and I don’t want anything to come between us. It’s hard enough with school; we don’t need anything else to interfere.”

I couldn’t keep up. One minute, he was grabbing me and practically threatening me, and the next, he was spilling his heart out and calling me “baby.”
What the hell?

“You forgive me, right? I’m so sorry. You’re so precious. You have to know I would never intentionally hurt you,” he begged as he gently rubbed my arms and kissed my forehead. I was too shocked to move. “Please don’t let this change anything. You’re so important to me, Sarah.”

My mind was reeling, and all I wanted to do was erase the past ten minutes and start my night over. I took a moment and thought about why he continued begging for my forgiveness. It wasn’t as if he had ever given me any inkling that he would hurt me. Dr. Wright trusted him. I hoped I could as well.

“It’s all right. Just don’t let it happen again.”

“Thank you, baby. Thank you.” He kissed my lips, my cheeks, my forehead, my nose then added, “I’ll make it up to you. You still want to go out tonight, or we can grab some takeout and go to my place for a quiet night. Whatever you want.”

“That sounds nice.”

That was the first night we slept together. After dinner, he massaged my feet, which led to a leg massage then a whole body massage. We made love in front of the fire like the romantic cliché he was. I loved it at the time, but that was then.

Now I know better
.

Michael

I woke up with a start, drenched in sweat. It was still dark out, but I wasn’t in my bed or my apartment for that matter. “You okay?” A woman’s voice broke through the cloud that still hovered in my mind. I turned to find Chastity, one of the starter girls from the track, with her face buried in a pillow and her hair fanned out all over the place.
Shit. I fell asleep. I never fall asleep
.

“Yeah, I have to go.”

She rolled over exposing herself to me. The girl was soft and curvy in all the right places, but what once looked appealing now looked like a mistake with her smeared black eye make-up and swollen lips a little too familiar with the male anatomy. Something I would have never thought was a problem, but all these girls were the same. A little conversation, and I mean very little conversation, and they were ready to hop into bed then walk down the aisle. Alcohol was usually to blame. In this instance, it was the sole reason I was still here.
Too much whiskey
. I broke two rules tonight.

As if on cue, she mumbled, “You can spend the night.” Her words brought me back to the present, and my urgent need to get my ass out of there. Falling asleep had been a huge mistake.

“Nah. Thanks, though.” I threw my t-shirt on and slid my feet into my boots without concerning myself with the laces. “Uh...thanks for tonight. I’ll see ya.”

I snuck out of her apartment as quietly as possible. I was pretty sure she was talking to me as I left, but if I knew how to do anything, it was how to escape quickly. When I arrived back at my place, I showered, scrubbing my body until it felt raw and the smell of a strange woman disappeared. Even though it was late, I took my pills on my nightstand and hoped sleep wouldn’t evade me. I craved the darkness that the pills brought. The doctor said it was the only way some guys could sleep after… He didn’t say after what, just “after.” He didn’t need to say more, though. Even if he hadn’t been there, hadn’t lived through it, smelled the torment, heard the madness—he had seen the aftermath. He knew better than anyone what happened
after
.

It had been almost five years, and I still had nightmares. Therapy didn’t cure them. Nothing could cure the panic I felt in confined spaces. Talking about it hadn’t stopped the screaming inside my head. It definitely did not erase the burning smell permanently trapped in my nose. Five years only allowed me to distract myself from the memories, but at night, when I was free of distraction, the visions took over. So did the regrets and the blame and the hate and the pain and all the internal torture one man could take, so I swallowed the pill and let the darkness come.

Sarah

I thought I was tough. I always prided myself on being a strong woman.
Hear me roar!
It turned out I was just like every other sob story you read about, the warning story for other women. I had become the one who ignored the old saying about something being too good to be true. I so badly wanted love that I believed the lie. Men were my weakness. Well, men and chocolate.

Jameson and I continued dating through summer and before I knew it, the weather began to change. Fall had officially arrived. I was sure the incident had been a mistake considering the months that followed were good when we had time for each other outside of school. We spent most of our time together in the tiny VA office where we entered and analyzed data and worked on our papers. He taught me how I was expected to interview study participants and how to transcribe the information collected then he took me on romantic dates and loved me almost every night.

I had taken to calling it an “incident” shortly after it happened when I realized the arm grab was a fluke. I told myself that it wasn’t that bad and avoided Lana like the plague. I didn’t want to see her roll her eyes every time I came home from being with him. She only saw the incident, not the romance and kindness he showed me. She ruined the illusion of perfection. With each incident-free week that passed, I told myself that maybe I had made a bigger deal out of it than it actually was. I was sort of known for being a drama queen at times. It wasn’t like he hit me, so every time I thought of the incident, I reasoned away the warning flags that popped up inside my brain.

Looking back, there were little things—signs that I should have questioned. He spoke of his parents often, but he never offered to introduce me. They only lived in a penthouse overlooking Central Park, it wasn’t like they were across the country, or I don’t know, in Alabama running a farm.

His phone rang often, but he never answered it. I wondered about the calls all the time but tried not to be a jealous girlfriend. He didn’t have time to cheat on me anyway, so I didn’t think I had any reason to worry about that. Besides, the time I accidentally walked in on one of his conversations, he was pleading with the person. “I’m fine,” he said. “Everything is fine. You don’t need to worry.”

The second he noticed I was in the room, he rushed off the phone. “I have to go. I’ll call tomorrow morning,” he said then quickly hung up throwing his phone on the table. His smile for me was a complete one-eighty from the second before as he came to me and kissed me like he hadn’t seen me in days. When I asked about the calls, he said it was on old family friend from Connecticut checking in with him.

I had no reason not to believe him. He always seemed to tell me the truth, showed up when he said he was going to, followed through on every promise, and deceivingly showered me with attention. Jameson made me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world with his sweet words and unyielding affection. Things appeared perfect, and I was too busy to notice that he had no other friends. We spent zero time with anyone else. He picked me up from either my last class or the office at the VA we had been assigned and dropped me off in the mornings. Every single time, I thought about how sweet he was to take such care of me.

It wasn’t until my first interview that I realized there were more to Jameson than the vigilant Ph.D. candidate and the charming Casanova. I met Sergeant Davis Holcombe in the VA interview room on a Thursday afternoon. He was about my age, which surprised me. I didn’t know why, but I expected the soldiers in the study to be older. This was a five-year follow-up, after all.

Sergeant Holcombe walked with a cane and had scarring on his arm that looked painful. I ignored all of it and looked directly into his eyes with a friendly smile. I held out my hand to him and said, “Sergeant Holcombe, I’m Sarah Grant. I’m a doctoral student at Columbia studying to become a counseling psychologist. I’m grateful you were willing to take the time from your day to speak with me.”

He smiled a winning smile and took my hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Grant. I’m an open book these days.”

“Glad to hear it. These questions can get personal, Sergeant.”

“Please, call me Davis.”

“Sure,” I agreed, pleased that my first solo interview was one of the pleasant ones. Jameson had warned me about the participants that were
less
friendly, and I had been wary of having an angry vet across the table from me. “You ready, Davis?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

I turned on the recorder on my iPad and started the quality of life questions. I reminded him of his previous answers, and we discussed the changes in his life. Fortunately, he was easygoing and willing to answer anything I threw at him without any difficulties. He had a great support group at home, and therapy had been good for him. I felt lucky to meet him and hear his story.

After we had finished talking, I walked out with him. I had to catch the subway back to school, and it could be a long, uncomfortable ride if I caught it at the wrong time.

We stopped outside the VA, and he put his hand on my arm. “Thanks for today, Miss Grant. You did a great job. I have no doubt you chose the right career.”

“Thank you, Davis. I wish you the best of luck. Your wife and kids are lucky to have you.”

He nodded. “Trust me. I’m the lucky one,” he told me just as he stepped into a cab. He waved at me from behind the window as the yellow car drove away.

I was smiling happily and completely unaware of my surroundings until someone grabbed my arm forcefully and familiarly, except this time he started dragging me around the building and down the street to a secluded alley. I struggled to turn my body and keep up with the movement. My toes unhappily protested against my heels as I tried to get my bearings again. “What? Who?” I turned my head to find Jameson was the person holding my arm so tightly that I couldn’t pull it from his grip. While the first time didn’t leave any marks, I was sure this time I’d have a bruise where his fingers pressed into my skin. Not only had the son of a gun humiliated me by manhandling me right in front of the building where I was working, but he was also leaving marks on me.
Oh, hell no.

“What the fuck was that?” he yelled making his face turn red with anger and his perfectly styled hair flop in his eyes.

“What?” I snapped just as angrily while still trying to wrench my arm free from his iron grip.

“You can’t flirt with the vets, Sarah! That’s completely inappropriate!”

“I wasn’t flirting,” I protested thinking he was correcting my behavior as an investigator on the study, not as a girlfriend. I was wrong.

“I saw you. You want to sleep with that gimp? You want him, you whore?”

I gasped at his words.
How dare he speak to me that way!
“Let go of me now before I scream!” He didn’t let go of my arm; when I opened my mouth to scream, he covered it with his giant paw. His hand muffled my voice, so I bit his finger.

He pulled away quickly shaking out his hand before it came flying back across my face. “That fucking hurt, you bitch.”

I held my burning cheek wondering where my sweet, romantic boyfriend went.

“You want one of those broken motherfuckers then go for it. I’m done with you anyway,” he spit in my direction just before he walked away.

The tears burned my eyes and dripped down my cheeks. I didn’t know exactly how I felt at that moment, but I was certain I had never felt worse.