The Revolution (16 page)

“No.”

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“No.”

The darkness of her tone twists my insides, an unfamiliar fear coating each of her harsh breaths. I try to keep it cool and not push her to tell me what the fuck is going on, but I want answers. My shortness comes through breaths and I grip my steering wheel tighter. Steadying myself, I ask, “Do you want to come back to my house? The new one so we can be alone?”

I’m answered with only a nod, which is good enough for now in the confines of the car. Moments later, her voice is weak and quiet, when she says, “Can you stop by the store? I think I need ice.”

My heart starts pounding as I pull into a store parking lot. “What do you need ice for?”

I park and there’s enough light shining in from a Ralph’s sign that when she turns, I stop breathing altogether.

“Please don’t look at me, Kaz.” Her voice is barely a whisper, her tears reflecting the light, her face swelling with red and purple coloring.

“Lara…” My words choke in my throat looking at what he did to her. Dried blood rims the right side of her mouth and her left nostril. It’s light pink under her right eye and her cheekbone is starting to swell. He knew what he was doing to get away with this. Hard enough to hurt her, but just shy of long-term damage. “You need a hospital, and I need a fucking baseball bat.”

“Don’t. Please. Can we just get icepacks and go? I don’t want this all over the news. I don’t want to be all over the news like this.” She reaches to touch me, but hesitates. As if warring with herself, her eyes close and she touches my arm with such care. It’s the same care she deserves in return, so I cover hers with my hand.

“He deserves to go to jail for what he did. You need to think about pressing charges.”

“We can take pictures if we need to, but I can’t go tonight.” Tears streak down her cheeks. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m ashamed. Weak. I thought I was strong, but he showed me I’m not.”

Anger forms, fueling me forward, wanting to kick his ass. “Lara, whatever he said to you, whatever he did to you, it’s not because you’re weak. It’s because he is. You need to remember that.” For her sake, I’ll go get the ice, but I hate leaving her here. “Will you be all right by yourself?” She nods. “Hold on to your phone in case I need to call you. Don’t answer any calls from him.”

“I won’t.”

I get out, but duck back in, and say, “Lock the doors and don’t open them for anybody but me.”

She nods again and does as I say. I hurry into the store to the medical aisle. I grab several icepacks and some I can bend to make it go cold on the spot. The others I’ll put in my freezer when I get home. I rush to the frozen aisle and grab some bags of peas and to the meat department for a small steak. At the register I get four bottles of water, grab a Vitamin Water for her, and take a small bottle of Ibuprofen next to the register. Tempted by the candy, I also buy some chocolate in hopes to see her smile.

When I get back to the car, the door is unlocked and I squeeze the bag behind my seat. I take a bag of peas out before getting in. “Put this on your face.”

Leaning back in the seat, she closes her eyes, the bag of peas being held to her cheek. When I pull out onto the main street again, she whispers, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“I am too.” She laughs lightly, but it’s followed by an, “Ouch.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Inhaling deeply, she then exhales slowly, bringing the peas down and holding them in her hand. “I know you probably have questions and rightly so since I dragged you into this whole mess, but can we talk later? I’m really tired.”

“I have a mattress at the house now. Not much else, but at least you can get some rest.”

“I’ll feel safer than being at mine tonight.”

How the fuck is she so calm when I’m shaking on the inside I’m so furious?

Once we get into my house, she heads for the bathroom and I unload the grocery bag. The last owners left the fridge and now I’m grateful as I place the icepacks in the freezer with the other bag of frozen peas. Noises echo around the empty house and I hear her nearing. When I turn, she’s there, and that’s when I get a good look at her. Oh, shit. With watering eyes and messed-up hair, she looks down, embarrassed in way a woman should never be. Her shirt is ripped more than I first noticed and her feet are bare.

“What did you do with his keys?” I ask, wanting to take them and destroy that motherfucking, gas-guzzling, piece-of-shit vehicle. Just like I want to destroy him. I’ll make him pay for what he’s done.

“I left them in the Hummer and locked the doors.”

“Do you have shoes?” I ask, wondering if she took them off or I missed that detail earlier.

“I took them off upstairs.”

I find some relief in her answer. The blood on her face is gone and she’s cleaned up. Hating to have to ask this, I ask anyway because we need to have the evidence. I step forward wanting to be close but scared to touch her, to hurt her. “We should take photos. Just in case. Okay?”

“I don’t want to take any photos.” She wraps her arms around herself protectively.

“What can I do to make this better?

“You’re here. That’s enough. Thank you for picking me up.”

“Don’t thank me when I feel I’ve failed you.”

“You didn’t. You helped. So much more than you know.” Delicate fingers touch her cheek.

“Are you in pain?”

“My whole body hurts.”

“We need pictures. You need them. We can call Rochelle or Lane if you’ll feel more comfortable with them.”

“No, I don’t want anyone else to see me like this.” Looking down, she says, “Just you. Is this too much? I know it’s a lot to take on when we’re just getting to know each other.”

“No. It’s not too much.” I cover her with my body. It’s easy to do when she’s so much smaller, but my anger surges again, knowing she’s even smaller compared to
him
. “You need photos.” I lean back and look at her, the top of her head as she keeps her eyes lowered. “I’m not letting this go and you shouldn’t either. We can take them with your phone so you have control of them, and no one else, just in case you need them.”

Contemplating the options, she finally looks up and says, “With my phone only, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

Each mark, each bruise, for every hit he put on her, he’ll get three. I will kill Mark Renner. Trying to focus on getting the photos is doing my head in. Seeing her shame, watching the tears trail down her face, breaks one of mine free. I shake it off, making sure she doesn’t see how my heart is breaking for her. Just take the pic. Just do this, for her. We spend the next five minutes taking photos of her body and close-ups of her face. When I give the phone back to her, I say, “Back these up and protect them.”

“I will. Thank you,” she replies shyly.

I raise her chin up, but it’s still not any easier to see her like this. I tamp down the anger raging inside that could bury me knee-deep in my own pain and tears for her. I have to be strong. For her. “Don’t let him touch your soul. No matter how he tries, he can’t steal your beauty, who you are, or what makes you special. Protect yourself. Protect your soul.” I kiss her cheek. “And go easy on yourself. There’s nothing you could have done differently. This is on him. Promise me you’ll keep the blame where it needs to stay—on him.”

It’s just a murmur, but I hear it. “I will.”

I kiss her mouth gently. “Good girl. I bought a steak for your eye. The enzymes are good for healing.”

That evokes an unexpected smile. “I think I’ll pass on the raw meat for now and stick with the peas.”

“I have whiskey.”

“I definitely need a shot or two of that.”

“No glasses, but a bottle.”

“Perfect.”

I retrieve the bottle, unscrew the cap, and offer it to her.

She comes to me, taking the bottle in hand. “I know I shouldn’t drown my miseries in liquor, but I think tonight will be an exception.” Putting the bottle to her lips, she keeps her eyes on me and takes a few large gulps of the liquid. “Ah! That burns.”

“You’re gonna need Ibuprofen and water before you go to sleep.” She takes another gulp before handing the bottle back to me. I take a few gulps of my own before capping it. “I can get some for you now.”

“Thank you.”

With the bag in hand, we head to the bedroom together and stop just inside the door. “I can sleep out there.” I hand her the bag.

“No. Please, Kaz, can you stay?”

“Are you sure?”

Looking me in the eyes, she says, “I want you to.”

“What side do you like to sleep on?”

A smile is hidden in her expression. “Whichever. I don’t mind. I usually end up in the middle.”

Seeing her smile makes me glad she trusted me enough to call me. “Rochelle was worried about you.”

“I’ll text her.” She picks her phone up from the floor next to her shoes and starts typing. “I’m going to tell her I’m all right so she doesn’t worry.” She looks to me for the promise she’s seeking.

“I won’t tell her tonight, but you need tell her tomorrow.”

“I will.” After setting her phone back down, she comes back and stands in front of me. “Is it okay if I take these clothes off? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

Make me uncomfortable? How could she think that?
“You’re safe here.” That’s a promise I can easily make. “I’m here however you need me.”

“I knew I could trust you.” While taking down her jeans, she says, “He’s on steroids.”

“Your ex?”

“Yes. I don’t know how he passed the drug tests, but he did.” She looks up at me and says, “I can almost pinpoint when he started. It was about three months ago. I left the party with him because I thought I could give us closure. He thought we were getting back together… or he hoped.” I watch as she pulls her shirt overhead not bothering with the buttons. After all, it is ripped.

The bruising on her chest is worse when she’s fully exposed. “He hit you here more than once…” Reaching forward she doesn’t flinch or move when I touch her, which makes me realize how much she trusts me. I run my fingertips over her chest, right above her breasts. She bites her lip and closes her eyes. Stepping closer, I embrace her, stroking her back gently. And her tears start falling.

She must sense the change in me as anger fills every muscle of my being because she whispers, “Forget about him. Stay with me.” Her hands touch my face and our eyes meet. “Stay for me. Please.”

“I want to pummel him for what he’s done. I want to obliterate him, but for you, only you, I’ll stay.”

“Promise not to leave me?”

“I promise,” I say, leaning forward and kissing her forehead. “Come on, sleeping helps the body heal.”

“And a bag of half-thawed peas,” she says, taking the bag from the floor onto the bed with her. She settles under the covers, takes two Ibuprofen with a water chaser, and turns on her side to face away from me. “Hold me, Kaz?”

I hate hearing doubt in her voice. There is no way I wouldn’t hold her. I take off my jeans and slip under the covers next to her. Leaving no space between us, I caress her hip as I slide my arm around her middle. Her breath catches, but settles. She puts the peas on her cheek as I move her hair away, letting it slide down her back. I place one kiss just at the curve of her neck, and then lean back. Neither of us says anything more. We don’t need words. We’ll speak through actions, caresses. This feels good… right. I just wish it were under different circumstances.

Lying in the dark with her, I listen intently to each of her breaths, hoping she finds sleep and knowing she needs the rest. Minutes later, the peas fall to the bed, letting me know she’s asleep. I stay still a while longer, then release her, rolling to my back. So many thoughts are running through my mind, rage in my veins, my heart weakened to the woman next to me.

The woman I’ve been dreaming about is finally in my bed. The one I’ve fantasized about for over a year and I’ve imagined when fucking others. She’s here, lying next to me and I can’t sleep.

Watching her, my chest hurts. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and equally the most fascinating. She’s so smart, teases, jokes, and flirts. And… trusts me. She trusts me with her life. That’s what brought her here tonight. I would do anything for her and I think she knows it.

I sit up and scrub my face with my hands. She stirs beside me, making me want to stay. I really should, but I just can’t stay here any longer…

A promise is a promise and all that. But some promises are worth breaking.
This is one of them.