Stay (19 page)

Read Stay Online

Authors: Emily Goodwin

BOOK: Stay
3.02Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“You’re not going to, are you?” he asked, apprehension in his voice.

I shook my head and sighed as the logic set in. “Not now. It’s too cold. I could freeze to death before I found help.”

“Aren’t you afraid of getting hurt?”

“Not really. I’m more afraid of my family getting hurt.” I traced my eyes down the road, blinking away snowflakes that landed in my eyelashes. “I still think there's a way. Don’t let fear keep you from dreaming, right?”

Jackson gave me the smallest of smiles. “Don’t actually do it, okay? Not now at least. I don’t want you to get hurt. Obviously,” he added so quietly I could barely hear him.

“Why?” I asked and hoped he didn’t think I was ungrateful. I just had to know why he thought I was worth it.

He shook his head and cast his eyes to the snow covered ground. “There’s something so … so
alive
in you. You’ve been here for half a year, Addie, and you’re even more determined to leave now than you were when we brought you here. You’re not broken. You still hold onto who you are. I’ve never seen that before. Everyone ends up giving up. It’s like they can’t see any way out.”

“Do you see any way out?” I asked slowly.

Jackson put both hands on the shovel and leaned on it. “I didn’t, until recently,” he admitted.

“What changed?”

He looked away. “Don’t know. Sick of it?” he added quickly.

“Do you think about what life would be like if you weren’t here?” I asked.

“Sometimes. I want to go to school. I want to study things, anything, I don’t care what it is. But I should have started college three years ago, and Nate never let me finish high school.” He shook his head and looked embarrassed. “It’s just something to think about, I guess.”

“No,” I said and took a step closer to him. “It’s more than just something to think about. It’s what keeps you together isn’t it? Keeps you from surrendering your hope. You have to hold onto it, want it, need it. Or … or else you’d have nothing.”

Jackson’s eyes moved from the ground to my face. His lips pulled into a smile, and some of the sadness began to disappear from his face. My heart skipped a beat, and I wanted to move closer to him, feel his body heat and start talking about Harry Potter and books again. We could forget about this nightmare for a few minutes.

“The driveway’s not gonna shovel itself!” Zane yelled from inside the house.
 

Jackson’s body stiffened, and a wave of fear washed over me. Jackson turned away so quickly, he slid on the snow-covered path. He recovered quickly and pushed his shovel forward, clearing away another few feet of snow.

I moved several yards away, taking big steps through the deep snow. I felt bad for Jackson. He seemed so sad, so defeated, and only a little sliver of his true self was left and was at risk of slipping away. I wanted to know just how long he’d been here and how he ended up here in the first place.

A north wind blasted through, spraying me with tiny shards of ice. I closed my eyes and braced myself. The frigid Iowa winters were nothing I wasn’t used to, though I usually had proper attire on. I stole a glance behind me and saw Zane standing in the living room. He had closed the window but kept the curtain pulled back. He titled his head down when he saw me looking. His eyes narrowed, and the temperature felt like it dropped another ten degrees.
 

I pushed a shovelful of snow forward as fast as I could. I wanted to get away from the house and away from Zane. I worked feverishly, and in a matter of minutes my back and arms were tired. Jackson walked past me, already done with the section he had been working on. I watched him start on the driveway.

“Are we really going to do the whole thing?” I asked, feeling somewhat out of breath.

“Yeah,” he replied, seemingly unfazed from the physical work. “There’s a snow blower in the garage.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I spat.

Jackson gave me a one-shoulder shrug. “I wish I was.” He pushed aside more snow. “Zane is impatient. If I do something really slow, sometimes he lets me use a tool or something to speed it up.”

“Oh,” I said and remembered Zane pushing me out of the way when I tried to hang up the Christmas lights.
 

“And sometimes that just pisses him off and he punches me. I never really know.” He let out a deep breath. “But today I’m guessing Nate will want the driveway cleared. So go slow. Don’t strain yourself.”

I nodded. “Okay.” I took Jackson’s advice to heart, mostly because I wasn’t in shape enough to shovel the entire driveway without passing out. His words turned out to be true. About an hour later, Nate threw the snow blower’s key into the snow. It took us nearly another hour to find them.
 

“Stay in here,” Jackson told me when we went into the garage. “It’s not warm but at least you’re out of the wind.”

I looked down the long driveway, which was in the shape of an ‘L'. “It will still take you forever. I’ll do the short part of the driveway by hand,” I told him.

“I can do it,” he told me.

“Really,” I pressed. “Let me help.” He still had to be hurting from the beating he took, especially if his bones had broken like I suspected.
 

“Okay,” he said with a nod and fired up the snow blower. No sooner had he finished, a car turned down the driveway. Jackson exited the garage to direct whoever it was to the front door. I followed him. As soon as the car came into view, I froze.

“What’s wrong?” Jackson asked me.

I shook my head. “I know that car.”

Jackson gave it a second look. “Yeah, that’s Travis—” he cut off. “Oh.” Without another word, Jackson stepped in front of me, shielding me from Travis’ line of sight. I moved closed to Jackson and cast my eyes to the ground. I didn’t want to risk Travis seeing my face. Travis gave Jackson a small nod and continued on to the front porch.
 

“I bet you’d like to hit
him
with a car,” Jackson said quietly, turning to me.

“You have no idea,” I replied, looking up into his eyes. It was weird, feeling safe next to Jackson. Not that long ago I feared him. Now his presence brought me a little comfort. He had definitely proved that he cared about me by taking the fall. It wasn’t that I wanted him to do it again, not at all. It was more like I felt like I had an ally.

Jackson turned around and studied my face. “We should probably shovel the sidewalk again,” he said with a small grin. “Ya know, since it’s been snowing this whole time.”

“Yes,” I said seriously and felt another ball of anxiety unwind. “I think that’s a good idea. We should be thorough.”

Jackson’s grin turned into an actual smile. His eyes brightened, and for the first time, he looked like he wasn’t wishing death on himself or someone else. I picked up my foot to take a step when the garage door opened.

“What the fuck is taking so long?” Zane barked.

“Snow’s still falling,” Jackson stated. “We need to re-shovel.”

“You do it,” Zane said. “Adeline has to work. Travis is waiting.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“WHAT?” I BLURTED.
 

“You’re working. Get in the house,” he said.

I felt like someone ripped out my heart and threw it into the snow. My body was too cold, too numb to move. I stood there shaking my head. “N-no,” I stuttered.
 

“No?” Zane asked and raised an eyebrow. He laughed and sneered at me. “Get in the goddam house.”

“Why?” Jackson asked. Zane actually looked surprised.

“What’s it to you?” he retorted.

“He’s Rochelle’s client.” Jackson took a step to the side, moving closer to me. I wanted grab his arm and hide behind him.

“Rochelle is busy,” Zane snapped. “Adeline, get your ass in here before I come get you.”

I knew my legs moved, but I had little feeling in my body. The floating feeling took over, the one I had become all too familiar with the last few months. I didn’t want to be in my own skin anymore. I wanted to be anyone else, to be anywhere else but here.
 

I entered the house through a mudroom. I took off the oversized boots and unzipped my coat. Zane yelled at me again to hurry up and go upstairs. I let the coat fall to the floor and walked through the house.
 

Travis was waiting for me in the guest room. He had already started to remove his clothes. My brain checked out, and I went to the bed. I imagined I was somewhere else, somewhere not in my body, but no matter how hard I thought of warm sandy beaches or even my overcrowded English 101 class with Professor Fitz, who was always dripping with sweat and never wore deodorant, I couldn’t block out the pain.

Travis pushed me down onto the mattress. I closed my eyes and took a breath, bracing myself for the initial overwhelming pain. I balled my fists and whimpered when he forced himself into me. I turned my head, not wanting to look the monster in the eyes.

Travis grabbed my chin and roughly forced my face straight. “Look at me,” he said. I closed my eyes. “Look at me!” he said again and shook my head.

“I’d rather die,” I said through clenched teeth.
 

Travis thrust into me as hard as he could, as if he was stabbing me. He was doing it on purpose, wanting to hurt me. “Look at me!” he said for the third time. His fingers dug into my face. I opened my eyes one at a time. “Now tell me how good this feels.”

My brow furrowed as I tried not to cry. “So good,” I whispered.

“Yeah, oh yeah,” he groaned and started to thrust faster. He held my gaze as he finished. Panting, he collapsed onto me, making it hard for me to breathe. He lay there for a minute before he pushed himself off of me. I didn’t move until he was dressed and out of the room. I sat up, swallowing the lump of sour vomit threatening to come up. Shakily, I got off the bed and redressed.
 

I used to like it rough. I wondered if I’d like it again. Not even rough sex … just sex in general. Would I even be able to have sex, enjoyable sex with someone I loved, again? Then again, who would want to be in a relationship with me even if I did get out?

 
I placed both hands on the dresser and bent over, taking a deep breath. I hated Zane. Hated him with everything inside of me. I had never been a violent person, but the thought of hitting Zane’s head against a wall until blood oozed out brought me more joy than I was willing to admit.

I pushed off the dresser and stiffly walked downstairs. Zane was sitting on the couch, watching me come down the stairs. He tilted his head down and seductively bit his lip. His incredible good looks only made him all the more dangerous. I glowered at him and fought the urge to pick up the little glass statue of a bird that sat on the coffee table and hit him in the face with it. Jackson had said that Zane almost always had a gun on him. I didn’t feel like getting shot today

I hurried through the living room. I didn’t want to go back into the dark hole that had become my home, but I didn’t want to be anywhere near Zane.

Lily and Phoebe stood in front of the large mirror getting ready for tonight’s work. Lily was chatting away, talking about working at the club over the weekend. She was excited and animated and seemed to be looking forward to it. I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt since I would rather strip and give lap dances with happy endings than go to the truck stops, but I knew deep down she was becoming exactly what Jackson was talking about: so broken she forgot she was a victim.

***

The girls left early that evening. I took a fast, icy shower and buried myself under blankets, trying to get warm. I was just beginning to drift to sleep when I thought I heard the basement door slowly creak open. I sat up, pulled the covers down from over my face, and blinked in the light. When I heard nothing, I lay back down and buried myself under the blankets again.

“Adeline?”

I shot up, heart racing.
 

“Sorry,” Jackson said and took a step back.

“It’s okay,” I breathed, my eyes locking with his. I instantly felt a little safer. “I didn’t hear you coming. I always hear you coming.”

“I’m not supposed to be down here,” he told me. “I … I wanted to see you.”

I ran my hands over my damp hair. “Oh.” It took me off guard, though at the same time a warm flutter ran through me. I like that feeling … I missed that feeling. I looked up at Jackson and noticed a new bruise overlapping one that was just starting to fade. I stood, keeping the blanket around my shoulders and gently touched his cheek. “What happened?”

Jackson put his hand over mine. The flutter turned into butterflies in my stomach at the feeling of his skin against mine. He looked away. “Zane hit me again.”

“Why?”

“He saw me talking to you.”

My eyebrows pushed together. “You can’t talk to me?”

He frowned. “He said I wasted time by talking. Plus, I’m not supposed to do anything I enjoy while I’m working. Or ever,” he added ruefully. “Not when he’s around at least.”

“You enjoy talking to me?” I couldn’t help but smile when I asked.

His cheeks grew red. “Yeah, I do.” The floor creaked above us. Jackson’s dark brown eyes flicked to the stairs. “It’s freezing down here.”

I nodded. “It’s awful.” I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “I knew old houses were drafty, but this is just awful.”

The floorboards creaked again. “I’ll be back,” he said and hurried up the stairs. I retreated to the lumpy mattress on my cot and hoped Jackson didn’t get caught coming down to see me. I missed his company already. I tried to convince myself it was pointless to get to know him. Zane would make sure Jackson and I didn’t have the chance to become friends.
 

Just a few minutes later, the door opened again.

Jackson emerged from the stairwell holding a ceramic mug. Steam billowed from it and the wonderful smell of hot chocolate filled the basement.

“Oh my God,” I said when he extended the cup to me. “Oh my God,” I repeated and inhaled the aroma. “Jackson …” I didn’t know just what to say. I wrapped my cold hands around the mug. It was uncomfortably hot, and I knew I should set it down before I burned myself. I used a corner of one of the thin blankets to absorb the heat. “Thank you,” I told him and looked him in the eye, noticing for the first time that a circle of dark brown outlined his pupils. “You shouldn’t have, though. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Again.”

Other books

The Runaway Duchess by Eaton, Jillian
Hycn by D.S. Foliche
Remembered Love by Diana Hunter
The Searcher by Christopher Morgan Jones
The Bradbury Report by Steven Polansky
Restless by William Boyd