Riley's Pond (New Adult Romance) (28 page)

Twenty-Seven

WHEN “WORSE” GETS “WORSE”

Riley

Jaxson left a little too fast and gooseflesh skittered over my arms. Dad perched on one of the boulders we’d dragged and rolled for “seating.” It was a wonder Jax and I didn’t suffer hernias or permanently damage important body parts moving the large rocks.

I stared at the dirt, milk chocolate in color with different sizes and colors of pebbles jutting through the powdery imprints left from the soles of my shoes.

“What.” The statement echoed, splitting the air.

“The preliminary DNA tests proved positive on the sheets and panties. Based on what Taylor told you, the pictures, and the estimated time, uh, the alleged attack occurred, there’s enough evidence to support a rape charge against Michael Barnes. Lydia Daniels admitted to not being home, so Taylor was alone with him. The degree of color changes in the bruising also collaborate Taylor’s story, along with your eyewitness account of her physical and emotional state when you first saw her. I would guess you arrived within thirty minutes of when…”

“The animal killed his prey. Taylor’s eyes were ‘dead’ when I saw her, Dad. Vacant. I should have known right then. If I’d been paying attention to something besides my stupid jealousy and that damn diamond, I would have…
should have
known something was wrong.”

I lifted my eyes to Dad’s. “I heard her scream. Did I tell you that? When she called out my name after I said the cruelest things I could to her—just before I reached my truck. I didn’t even turn around. The door slammed and she screamed. The bastard punched, kicked, bit…hell I don’t know! But he hurt her while I stood a few feet away, self-absorbed and going ape-shit. I could have ran back, busted the damn door down and killed the asshole! I had a second chance to save her and I blew it. I. Let. Him. Hurt. Her!”

Dusty tendrils curled into my mouth, covering my tongue with a gritty paste. I choked when the dirty mist strangled my breath, and rolled onto my side, coughing up Dad’s precious
ale
into a puddle next to my cheek. I never remembered falling to the ground.

Dad’s arms scooped in my armpits, wrenching me upright and landing his foot ankle deep in the water when my body weight shifted in his arms.

“Damnit Riley! Snap out of this!” He pushed me back onto the rock and slapped my cheek.”

“Ouch!”

“Look at me.” His fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to stare at him. “This is
not
your fault. None of it. Nor is it Taylor’s. She’s an innocent victim of a deviant jerk who gets his ‘rocks off’ abusing girls. Just like you said. A monster. But one you’re no match for, Riley. Thank God you
didn’t
go back into that house. By being selfish, you may very well have saved Taylor’s life! Got that? If that asshole was okay with doing what he did to her in that short of time, who knows what he would have done if you’d pushed his anger over the edge.”

“But what kind of a life did I save her for, Dad? How long before something worse happens?”

Dad dropped to his haunches clamping my shoulders. “Riley, I’m fairly certain Taylor isn’t the only girl this Michael guy has hurt. This sick behavior didn’t just manifest itself one afternoon. My guess is, she’s not his first victim—just the one he wants to marry, or I should say
own
. If we can keep that from happening, we might buy some time to find the others. The more who come forward and accuse Michael, the longer he’ll stay locked up.”

“But what does stalling their wedding do for Taylor? He’ll just keep beating her.”

“Maybe. But based on what Lydia Daniels has told me about Michael, he’ll want Taylor to have a virtuous appearance and be
unmarked
for their wedding. Personally, I believe this ‘nut job’ fantasizes, Riley. He’ll want things to be perfect…including Taylor.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

My dad took the handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped my face. “Let’s pray I’m not.” He hoisted me onto my feet, handing me the cloth. “Wet that and clean your face. You’ll scare the hell out of your mother.”

I looked at his wet pant leg and a half laugh burst through my caked lips. “And she’ll think you missed the bush or didn’t get your zipper down in time.”

He looked down at his feet. “Damn. These are my good shoes, too.”

Twenty-Eight

PRETENSES

Taylor

We waited almost two hours before being seated for dinner. The law firm rented out
The Landing
, Marblehead’s popular waterfront restaurant for the celebratory dinner. Dad got his promotion and Michael got me. A merger benefiting everyone. Except ‘yours truly’.

I wore a strapless cranberry dress, cut low enough in the front for Michael to leer at my chest, but high enough in back to cover the yellow-green bruise on my back. Luckily, the one on my arm shrunk and I covered it with make-up. I had no idea how I’d manage eating a full meal. I barely kept anything down because my stomach still hurt from where Michael’s fist made contact a couple weeks ago. Weight fell off me every day.

The one thing I was grateful for? The bleeding. Constant bleeding. Turns out my period came right on schedule. Coupled with the side effects of either the morning-after pill or internal injuries, I’d been blessed with a two-week reprieve from Michael even attempting to get close to me. Apparently, he’s grossed out by the whole monthly “female issue.” Little did he know, this would be the longest menstrual cycle I could possibly contrive.

Michael’s car had two seats with a long console that kept my body separated from his. He opened the top for the ride home and I leaned back, letting the cool air blow through my hair. A sliver of peace filled me.

I made it through dinner, smiling and nodding when appropriate, pleasing Michael. He’d been attentive, handling me carefully so no one would notice me wince if he held too tight. The kisses he lavished on me frequently during the evening, were his “public showcase” kisses, keeping his tongue in check and pressing only lightly so he appeared the perfect gentleman.

The façade worked. We appeared happy and excited about our pending nuptials slated for two weeks from tonight, thanks to Michael’s formal announcement, which trumped the congratulations intended for Dad. I held out hope for an October wedding, wondering if I could follow a Halloween theme and walk down the aisle as a ghost, because I felt like one.

I blamed myself for the twisted change in dates. When we returned from Wellsville, I made the mistake of suggesting we hold off having sex until married so our wedding night would be “special.” I made the offer more enticing by explaining that by then, the bruises would be gone and my naked body would appear unscathed.

Michael actually considered the idea, until he stopped by my house the other night to pick me up for another one of his family’s dinner extravaganzas. He walked in my bedroom catching me wearing only my panties. He demanded sex right that second…in my bedroom…with my mother across the hall, getting ready to join us for dinner.

“No! Mom will hear us,” I argued. I knew damn well she didn’t care. She’d let Michael come into my bedroom unannounced. Everyone believed his chaste charade, never thinking he’d “deflower” me before our wedding.

Michael also entranced my mother. His presence in my bedroom reassured her the wedding would happen and her daughter would marry Boston’s most eligible bachelor. What a feather for her socialite hat.

I remembered how Michael’s eyes roved my body, his nose wrinkling momentarily with disgust at the bruise covering my stomach. We’d only been home a week and the visual mark of his abuse had actually turned a darker purple.

The eyes I hated darkened with sick pleasure when they rested on my bare chest. Two steps brought him across the room and his hands on me before I could reach for something to cover myself or move out of the way. He pinned me against the wall with his body, the bruise on my back smarting against the pressure.

“Ouch! What are you doing?”

His mouth moved over my chest, “I think it’s obvious.” Fingers stroked the inside of my thighs, his pulse quickening in the hot lips pushing hard on mine.

I closed my mouth and pushed him back. “My period is still going.”

“Shit.” He stepped away. “How long does that go for anyway? I’m dying babe. I’ve got to have you.”

“Honestly, given what happened in Wellsville, it’ll probably be awhile.” He hated when I reminded him of that day. I punctuated the moment. “If you want, I can go to a doctor to make sure nothing’s wrong?” Just the ice needed to put out the fire.

“No. Nothing’s wrong, anyway. You’re perfect.” He kissed me lightly and left me to finish getting ready.

Thinking I bought myself some time, I semi-relaxed later at his family dinner. Until dessert. Michael tapped his fork against his glass.

“Everyone? Taylor and I have a surprise.” He turned to his mother, his face shifting into a boyish pout. “I hope this won’t cause you too much stress, Mommy, but Taylor’s kind of anxious…
you know
. So I agreed to let her move the date up.” He raised his glass and my stomach lurched. “We’re getting married in two weeks!”

The room transformed into jubilation and chaos. Two weeks. Not six. Not even four. Two weeks until imprisonment in matrimonial hell. My mother squealed in elation.

Later, alone with my dark thoughts, I finally allowed the floodgates to open. I gave permission for my heart to ache for Riley…to miss him. On the drive home to Boston from Wellsville, I forbade a single tear to drop. I knew if one fell, I’d be admitting to my heart I’d made a horrific mistake by leaving. The recognition of such a grave error in judgment would also acknowledge
I
existed. And I didn’t. I’d turned into a shell of some girl who once knew true love, but now, knew only anger, hatred, and unbearable loneliness.

**

Michael’s hand sliding under the edge of my skirt, his fingers stroking my thigh, reminded me my present nightmare still played on. Cautiously, I brushed his hand away. He moved it to my bare shoulder, caressing my neck.

“Your dad acted strange tonight.” His fingers purposely pinched my skin. “You didn’t say anything, did you?”

“Ouch! No way. I’ve kept my promise. Why do you think he acted strange?”

“After dinner, he got a call on his cell and left the dining room. When he returned, I swear his eyes shot lasers through me. He kept giving me these evil stare-downs. I tell you, baby, the guy weirds me out.”

“You’re imagining things. My parents are thrilled we’re getting married.” A match made in Hell.

Michaels’ hand wrapped my hair, tugging my head toward him.

“What are you doing?” I protested. He kept pulling.

“Babe, you’ve got to give me something. Two weeks is a long time.”

His knee propped the steering wheel and he unzipped his pants. Suddenly, I knew what Michael wanted.

“No! Don’t make me, Michael. Please! Save it for when we, uh…have more room. Besides, the console’s in the way.”

All the times Riley and I spent together he never even hinted about me going down on him. Never. Sometimes he tortured me by kissing my stomach, but that was as far as he took his mouth.

Tears welled in my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to be with Riley. With him, I felt safe. He respected me and never pushed. When I said “stop,” he did, without whining. I knew I got him worked up all the time, but if I said “no,” he didn’t question.
Begged,
but only being playful. If Grammy hadn’t turned on the flood lights that night,
stop
would have been the last thing I’d have said.

Michael kissed my hair, whispering over my ear. “If you want, I can pull over. There’s a blanket in the trunk.” He arched his pelvis and his knee lost grip of the wheel, swerving the car across the highway.

“Michael!” I screeched. My heart stopped beating as I watch white dotted lines dance sideways.

He stomped on the brakes, sending clouds of billowing smoke in the air. The car launched off the side of the road, into a crevasse. The airbags remained intact, but the engine killed and wouldn’t restart.

“Fuck!” he shrilled, the nasty word chasing its echo into the darkness. No cars had passed us either way in the past half hour, probably because it was past midnight.

Nothing good happens after midnight.

Michael flipped on the car GPS and sent the satellite signal to his phone. He confirmed his coordinates with the towing service and snapped his phone shut. “Thirty fucking minutes!” he snarled.

His head snapped my direction and his hand clamped the back of my neck. “This is your fault! If you weren’t being such a prude, we wouldn’t be sitting in the middle of nowhere waiting to be murdered!”

Murder.
A welcome alternative to what lie ahead for me.

“You’re such a whiny bitch, Taylor!” He yanked a fistful of my hair. “You’ve got thirty minutes to convince me forgive you. Make it count baby!”

Bile licked the back of my throat. I prayed my dinner stayed down. Or maybe I prayed it didn’t.

Twenty-Nine

PARTY CRASHERS

Riley

Wednesdays were worse than Mondays. I pulled late shifts on Tuesdays, which cut into my already sleepless nights. My three AP classes were on Wednesdays. I became mentally drained by the time the last bell rang, which then signaled soccer practice.

This Saturday marked the big match with our rivals, Edgemont High. I had to be on my game. I would lead out. However, since Taylor left, my head refused to get into any game except the one I planned.

Taylor would be getting married in five weeks. I volunteered for every shift I could trade for at Barneys, socking money away. My bus pass lay tucked between my mattresses. I would go to Boston and persuade Taylor not to go through with the wedding. If I had to kill Michael to help her make that decision, then I would—with pleasure.