He Loves Me Not: Lily’s Story, Book 1 (22 page)

A
s we drove
through the dark streets I wondered where he was taking me. A short while later we pulled up in front of his old apartment building.

“What's going on Trevor? Why are we here?”

He just grinned as he walked around to my side of the car and held the door open for me.

I stared at him but didn't move. “I'm not getting out of the car until you tell me what's going on.”

His smile faded. “Just get out, Lily.”

“No.” I crossed my arms, put my head against the headrest, then closed my eyes. When Trevor’s hand clamped around my upper arm and yanked me out of the car, I gasped. “Trevor, let go! You're hurting me.”

“Knock it off,” he said through clenched teeth. Then he nearly dragged me toward the door of his old apartment.

Dizzy with pain, I could only struggle to keep up. A moment later Trevor knocked twice then opened the door to his old apartment. He shoved me in ahead of him and I fell to the floor. Humiliated at the treatment, I looked up to see Bronson, Trevor’s old roommate, staring down at me.

“Hi there, sweetie,” Bronson said, grinning. Then he looked at Trevor. “How long are you going to be?”

“A couple of hours at the most.”

I pushed myself to my feet and sat on the couch, furious at the treatment I was receiving. “Where are you going?” I demanded.

Trevor gazed at me. “I have to work and you'd better be here when I get back.”

“Don't worry, dude. She’s not leaving on my watch.” Bronson winked at me. “Right, sweetie?”

Frightened at the thought of being left alone with Bronson, I stepped toward Trevor, a pleading expression on my face. “Why did you bring me here? I'd be fine at home.” I forced a tender smile on my face. “Our home.”

Trevor smiled and stroked my cheek. “You'll be fine here, too. And this way I can work without worrying about you.” He looked over my shoulder, then back at me. “Bronson will take good care of you.”

Trevor pulled me close and I had to force myself not to go rigid at his touch. Instead, I lay my head against his chest in a show of pretended affection. “Don't be long,” I whispered.

Tilting his head away from mine, he bent down and kissed me softly. “I won't be. I promise.”

A moment later he was gone and I was left staring at the closed door.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I announced as I headed down the hall. I wrinkled my nose as I stepped into the less than clean room, then locked the door behind me.

Leaning against the bathroom counter, I stared at the windowless room.

I can't believe Trevor’s doing this to me. He's treating me like a wayward child, not his wife.

Though I recognized that Trevor had good reason to fear I'd run if I had the chance, I was still incensed that I had no control over my own life.

“Are you okay in there?” Bronson called through the closed door.

I ignored him and turned toward the mirror. I splashed my face with cool water, then looked for a clean towel with which to dry it. Seeing none, I grabbed a handful of toilet paper and dabbed at my damp skin.

“If you don't answer me, I'll come in,” Bronson shouted, pounding on the door.

“I'm fine!” I yelled back. “Leave me alone!”

“Sorry, sweetie. Can't do that. I promised your husband that I wouldn't let you out of my sight.” He paused. “Well, you're out of my sight right now.”

I yanked the door open, then pushed past him and walked toward the front door. “This is ridiculous,” I muttered as I reached for the doorknob.

Just as I was about to turn the handle, Bronson's hand clamped down on my shoulder. “I'm going to have to report this to Trevor,” he breathed in my ear.

His breath reeked of alcohol, and I inwardly cringed as I imagined spending the next two hours with him. Disgusted as I was with Bronson, I didn't want him to 'report' anything to Trevor. I still needed to gain his trust so he would leave me on my own. “I was just going to get some fresh air,” I said as I let go of the doorknob. I turned in his direction. “You can come with me if you want.”

“Naw. We'll stay here and watch TV. There's a ball game I want to watch.”

Never letting go of my shoulder, he steered me to the couch.

“You can sit right next to me.” He pushed me onto the couch and sat close enough that our legs touched.

I tried to scoot away but there was nowhere to go. “I'm thirsty,” I said as I stood.

“Me too.” Bronson stood alongside me and walked with me into the kitchen. He opened the door to the refrigerator. “Help yourself, sweetie.”

Letting out a sigh, I leaned toward the cold interior and looked at the offerings. I saw a few sodas and a lot of beers. Taking the first soda I saw, I straightened.

“Grab me a beer,” Bronson said.

“Get your own,” I spat out, then walked toward the living room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Bronson hurriedly choosing a beer and slamming the refrigerator door. He was by my side before I had a chance to dash for the front door.

As we sat on the couch, I wondered if Bronson knew what Trevor was really up to.

Maybe if I’m careful in the way I ask him, he won’t get suspicious.

I waited until he finished three beers before I began my questioning. “Hey, Bronson.”

He looked at me, his eyes slightly glazed. “Yeah?”

“Shouldn't Trevor be back by now? It's been more than two hours.”

He smiled. “He'll get here when he gets here.”

“I guess someone needed their car pretty bad for him to have to work so late.”

Laughing, Bronson said, “Yeah. Something like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Grab me another beer, sweetie,” he said.

I brought back two, hoping he would drink them both and pass out so I could leave.

He opened the first one and took a large swallow before belching.

“So Bronson, have you ever worked in the auto-body business?”

He gazed at me. “Naw. The only thing I like to do with cars is drive 'em.”

“What kind of car do you have?”

“Just a junker right now.” He leaned toward me conspiratorially. “But at least I don't have to worry about it getting stolen, right?” He laughed at his own joke.

I smiled in response. “Now that you mention it, I remember seeing something on the news about a lot of cars getting stolen recently. I hope mine's okay. Aren't Hondas pretty popular?”

He belched again and leaned toward me, closer this time. “Don't you worry. Trevor will make sure that doesn't happen.”

“I don't know how Trevor could have any control over that.”

Bronson just grinned and downed the rest of the beer he was holding before opening the next one.

What does he mean by that? Is Trevor involved in the thefts? Wow. His crimes could be more serious than I thought.

Twenty minutes later Bronson had fallen asleep and was snoring peacefully. I stood, careful not to disturb him, then walked toward the door, my heart racing. I placed my hand on the doorknob, then hesitated, wondering if Trevor would be standing on the other side waiting for me.

Where am I going to go? I have nothing. Not even my purse. If I really want to end it with Trevor I need to turn him into the police. If he's in jail he can't hurt me anymore.

I released the doorknob, walked back to the couch, sat down, and put my head in my hands. Just then the door sprang open and Trevor stood in the doorway. My head snapped in his direction, relief flooding me that I hadn't opened the door only a moment before.

I stood. He looked at me and then at the snoring Bronson. An expression of disgust crossed his face before he walked up to Bronson and smacked him in the back of the head. Hard. “Wake up, loser,” Trevor nearly shouted.

Bronson opened his eyes.

“I'm impressed, Lily,” Trevor said. “Even though he fell asleep, you're still here. Maybe I was wrong about you.”

I smiled and snaked my arms around his neck, then gazed at him with forced adoration. “I told you I would be fine at home.”

“Dude. You're back,” Bronson said, rubbing his eyes.

Trevor shook his head. “See ya later.” Then he held my hand and led me toward the door.

I glanced back at Bronson, glad he was too out of it to tell Trevor I'd tried to escape.

A
s we drove back
to our apartment I chewed on my lip, wondering if I should question Trevor about his evening. Deciding to push my luck, I turned in my seat to face him. “So, did you get a lot done tonight?”

“Huh?” he said, glancing my way.

“At work. Did you get a lot done?”

“Yeah. It was . . . productive.”

“Was it just one certain car that you had to do tonight? Is that why Rob needed you to come in so late?” I twisted my wedding ring on my finger as I waited for his reply.

Trevor shifted his eyes in my direction, then faced the road again. “Why all the questions?” He paused. “The only thing you need to worry about is whether my check clears.”

I turned away from him, realizing he wasn't going to give up information so easily. “Forget it. I was just trying to make conversation.”

His hand stroked my neck. “Look. I really don't want to talk about work. Okay?”

“Fine.”

Once home, Trevor sat with me on the couch. “Rob needs me to start working more.” He paused. “That means I’m going to have to start trusting you to not take off.”

Hope surged through me. “Of course you can trust me, Trevor.”

Smiling, he nodded. “Good. That’s what I want to hear.” He gazed at me, his eyes locked on mine. “Because if I have to track you down again there are going to be some serious consequences.”

A shiver of dread crawled up my spine. “What do you mean?”

All warmth fled his eyes. “It doesn’t look good when my wife takes off for days without telling me anything. Especially in your condition.”

As I thought about the evening I'd just endured, and the way Trevor had treated me in the past, fresh anger coursed through me, fueling my words. “How do you think it makes you look when you push your pregnant wife to the floor and leave her with a drunk for hours?”

He clenched his jaw as he glowered. “You’d better watch it or you’ll find yourself getting babysat by Bronson on a nightly basis.”

I stood abruptly. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” Then I walked into our bedroom and closed the door. As I got ready for bed, I heard sounds coming from the TV.

As soon as he leaves for work, I’m out of here.

By the time I'd fallen asleep, Trevor still hadn’t come to bed.

The next morning I woke early and was surprised to see Trevor’s side of the bed empty. Elated, I checked the bathroom, then quickly checked the rest of the house.

I was on my own.

Fresh optimism flooded me. This was the first time in over two weeks that Trevor hadn’t been constantly hovering over me. After throwing on some clothes, I began a more thorough search for my purse, but didn’t find it anywhere.

Trevor must’ve taken it with him. I can’t get far without my car keys and my money.

Alarm pounded inside me. I sat on the bed, taking several deep breaths as I tried to think clearly.

I can use a neighbor’s phone.

Relief cascaded over me as I ran to the front door. But once I reached it, my mouth fell open, and I stared, dumbstruck.

Trevor had changed the deadbolt. He’d replaced the lock with a deadbolt that had to be unlocked with a key from both the inside and the outside.

And I didn’t have the key.

Tears filled my eyes as I realized the mistake I’d made in arguing with him the night before.

I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

Angry with myself for letting my outrage get the best of me, my shoulders slumped.

If I hadn’t said anything to him, maybe be wouldn’t have locked me in.

Then panic set in.

What if there’s a fire? How would I get out?

Frantic for a way to escape, I looked around the room, my gaze darting in all directions.

The window!

I rushed to the window and pressed my hands against it. It was a plate glass window and didn’t open—there was no screen to simply push out. I’d have to break it to escape. Then I thought about the one other window in the small apartment. It was in the bedroom.

Clawing at my last hope, I raced into the bedroom and over to the window. I slid it open and pushed and pulled at the screen until it popped out. Examining the edges, I didn’t see any noticeable damage. Then, climbing into the window well, I stood, but was dismayed that the top of the window well was far above my shoulders. The house was on a steep slope and this window well was deep.

I tried to boost myself up, but to no avail. I climbed back into the bedroom, then went into the kitchen, grabbed a chair, and dragged it into the bedroom. I tried to push it through the small window opening but it was no use. The chair was too big.

Pushing myself back through the window, I yelled as loudly as I could, “Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?”

Silence was the only reply. I continued yelling for fifteen minutes until my voice started cracking from the strain. Hauling myself back into the apartment, I fell onto the bed, defeated.

If Trevor’s goal was to completely isolate me, he’d done an excellent job of it.

Picturing the front window, I knew I could smash through it, but I also knew if I did, there would be no hiding it from Trevor.

What if I break it and I have nowhere to go? I can’t come back home and pretend I haven’t tried to escape. What if I cut myself trying to crawl through and hurt the baby? What if I bleed to death? Will anyone care? I already know no one will answer my yells for help. I just spent fifteen minutes proving that.

Waves of despair crashed over me as I lay there and considered my options. Eventually I came to the conclusion that there was only one way to escape.

I’ll just have to convince Trevor to trust me. I’ll put on the act of my life persuading him that I love him and am devoted to him and would never consider leaving.

Optimism replaced the despair as I got up from the bed and went to work. I put the chair back in the kitchen, then showered. I spent the rest of the morning cleaning the house, organizing cupboards, and generally making the house look as perfect as I could make it.

I searched my cookbook for a recipe we already had the ingredients for and that Trevor would like, then spent a portion of the late afternoon preparing the meal. When it came time to set the table, I hesitated over whether to use my remaining china.

What if things go wrong and Trevor breaks what’s left of my mother’s china?

Pushing aside my worries, and committed to playing the part of the perfect housewife, I set the table with my good china and hoped for the best. When I heard Trevor’s key turn in the lock, my heart pounded.

I hadn’t decided if I should say anything about the new lock.

“Hi, honey,” Trevor said as he locked the door behind him and dropped the key into his pocket. He glanced around the spotless rooms. “Wow! You’ve been busy.”

I walked up to him and gave him a warm hug and kiss. “It’s only because I love you. I want you to look forward to coming home at night.” Smiling adoringly, I gestured toward the table. “I have dinner ready. Are you hungry?”

“I’m starved. Just let me wash up first, okay?”

I nodded and set the food on the table while he went into the bathroom. A moment later we sat at the table and I asked Trevor about his day.

“It was busy, which is always good. But I don’t really want to talk about work.”

“Okay,” I said. “What do you want to talk about?”

He leaned over and touched my abdomen. “How’s our baby doing?”

“Fine, as far as I can tell.” I hesitated. “I need to choose a doctor soon so I can make my first appointment.”

He smiled with confidence. “I’ve already taken care of it. One of the guys at work just had a kid with his wife and he gave me the name of her doctor. I made an appointment for next month.”

I forced a smile on my face. “Well, thank you. That was very thoughtful.” I reached my hand under the table and pinched my leg to keep from telling Trevor what I really thought.

The rest of the evening went smoothly and I hoped Trevor was starting to build a little trust in me.

Over the next few days Trevor treated me kindly and I began to hope that the change in my behavior had helped him to change his. One evening as we watched TV, I decided to bring up the subjects of the door and my absent purse.

“Trevor, I’m worried,” I said, leaning against him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he looked at me.

I sat up and faced him. “Well, I’ve been thinking. What if something goes wrong with my pregnancy? I won’t have a way to get in touch with you.”

He stared into my eyes for a moment before smiling. “I’ve been thinking about that too, so I decided to get us a land line.” He gazed at me more intently. “But you have to promise you won’t do anything to make me regret it.”

“I won’t. I just need a way to contact you.” I smiled faintly. “That’s all.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He unlocked the front door, then headed outside. A moment later he was back, a phone in his hands. He took a cordless phone and plugged it into the kitchen outlet, then came into the living room and sat next to me.

“Happy now?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes, thank you.” I leaned against him as he put his arm around me, and we began to watch TV.

When the news came on, and a story about more cars being stolen began, Trevor turned the channel.

“Wait,” I said. “I want to see that.”

Trevor kept flipping through channels. “Why?”

“Bronson mentioned something about stolen cars and I want to see what the news is saying.”

Going rigid, Trevor turned off the TV. “What did Bronson say?”

His reaction made me wonder again if he could be involved in the thefts. “Nothing.”

“He must’ve said something. Now tell me what it was.”

“He was just telling me that his car is old and whoever’s been stealing the cars wouldn’t want to take his.”

Trevor seemed to relax. “Oh.” He stood. “I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.”

“I’m not ready yet. I’m going to stay up a while longer.”

Trevor pulled me up. “Come on. It’s late.”

His reaction didn’t leave me any space for disagreement. I followed him to the bedroom, all the while wondering how I could find out what he was involved with.