Page 102 of Burning Ember
There was no romance. No tenderness. He took my virginity while I was face down on the kitchen floor, after the backhanded slap I had received, which had sent me there. The tile was white and the contrast of the blood from both the cut on my mouth and my broken hymen finally snapped me out of the daze. I kept telling myself it would get better. But as I cleaned the blood from the floor, I realized that was a lie. Things were only going to get worse.
The next day, he came home with flowers and apologized for gettingcarried away.
But over the next two weeks, he often gotcarried away.He also got paranoid. His bedroom became my prison, and a set of handcuffs took away the last bit of freedom I possessed.
I think partly it was about sex, but mostly he wanted me scared. He got off on my pain and the fact that I was powerless against him.
When I finally managed to escape the handcuffs, I tried to make it look like I’d died in that fire. I had to do something to buy me some time. Time to get as far away from him as possible. I also wanted that damn house, and all the memories of what I survived within its walls, to burn to the ground.
Before jumping on a bus, I called Sundown from a payphone and told her everything. She assured me they were okay and the money I’d given them plus the money she received from the state would get them by for a few months. That relieved some of my fears. Sunny also swore to me that she’d take care of Will, and then told me to call as soon as I got somewhere safe.
Looking down at the phone in my hands, courtesy of Mav who just dropped me off to a sweet and welcoming Bethany, I stall to make the phone call I’ve wanted to make for over a month.
Moisture drips from my jaw as countless tears trail down my face. This time, I don’t force them back. I let them come. I need to get them out. Because I won’t waste my time on the phone with Will crying. Not. One. Second. When I get the chance to talk to her, I want to do just that. Talk to my baby girl, hear all about her new school and her new friends, and somehow make her understand that I’m not in her life, not because I don’t want to be, but because for right now . . . I have to be.
Sometimes the hope for a better tomorrow is all we have to cling to.
EMBER
My eyes are glued to the road and the yellow line in the center as it disappears from sight.
“It’s not going anywhere.” Bethany’s voice startles me out of my thoughts.
“Huh?”
With one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched, she looks over at me. Her honey blonde hair is swept up in a messy bun. She has flawless skin and doesn’t look old enough to have a teenage son. She’s slender, taller than I am, and has pale green eyes that are somehow both striking and calming. My immediate thought upon meeting her was Dozer’s an idiot. Why is he wasting his time with me when he has a history with someone like her? She’s not only nice, she’s genuine, and extremely beautiful. She seems to appreciate the simpler things in life like comfortable clothing, the ice tea we’re drinking in cheap, neon, plastic cups, and the wicker chairs we’re sitting in on her front porch.
Her home is a simple rambler¸ but cozy, and has the feel of love in every room.
She gestures to the right. “You’ve been staring at the road for a while now.”
I have. I’m wondering if I should walk down it and jump on the nearest bus or stay exactly right where I am. A decision I have yet to make.
“Just thinking.”
“About Mav?” she asks.
“Among other things.”
Mav didn’t hide his interest in me when he dropped me off. In fact, he did the opposite.
He faces me on Bethany’s porch, seemingly hesitant to say goodbye, wearing a charcoal-gray Punisher T-shirt under his cut, faded jeans, and all of his biker gear—a flashy belt buckle, knife strapped to his side, and a chain that circles around to his wallet—the very image of what mothers around the world warn their girls about.
He took a shower before we left the clubhouse, and the scent of his soap mixed with his cologne makes it impossible to think clearly. I nearly lost all sense of right and wrong on the drive over. If it wasn’t for my seat belt and the resentment I feel for how he sought the answers he thought he needed about my past, I probably would have crawled across the truck cab and into his lap.
Hell, it’s all I can do not to grab on to his jacket and pull him closer to me.
After reaching into his pocket, he pulls out cash held together by a money clip. My eyes fall on the initials JMG, engraved on the silver clip as he separates a few bills. To Bethany, who’s behind me, he says, “Take her shoppin’. She needs to buy some clothes of her own. Just don’t let Lily pick them out.”
He forces money into my hand a second later, and I quickly scan it to see he’s placed over seven hundred dollars in the palm of my hand.
Thoughts of how Warner spoiled me and how he lured me in with money circles through my mind. Gritting my teeth, I say, “Mav, I don’t want your money.” I try to give it back, but he closes his hand over mine.
“It’s not my money. You earned it cleanin’ and cookin’ for the club. It’s yours.”
Out of his other pocket, he pulls out a phone and hands it to me too. “My number’s already programmed in. But use it to call whoever you want.”
I eye him suspiciously. Damn him. He knows that giving me back some of the freedoms he’s taken will have me softening toward him. And it does. When he’s like this, I find it hard to remember all he’s done to make me hate him.
