Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
He takes the gun away and pulls me into his arms, pressing me against his warm chest. “It’s okay, Tor.” I feel safe for a moment, and I wish this were enough. I wish he were enough, but even Jude can't keep my demons at bay.
I nuzzle against his bare chest and close my eyes, listening to the strong beat of his heart like my own personal lullaby. If Jude can make me feel safe for even the briefest moment, then perhaps he can make me forget, too.
Maybe he can erase Tom’s touch. I can still feel his vile hands on my body, and I hate that Tom was the last person to have me that way.
I pull my cheek away from the warmth of Jude’s skin and look up at him. He cups my face in both hands and strokes his thumbs over my jaw. He doesn’t need anymore than my gaze on his lips to lean in and kiss me. It’s a gentle whisper, soft, reverent. I push up on my tiptoes and wind my arms around his neck, clinging to him with shaking fingers.
“Fuck, I miss you.” His hands move around to the back of my head, tangling in my hair. A low flicker of want sparks in my chest and I embrace it. I need him. He can take it all away, make it better. When I tentatively push my tongue against his, his fingers tense, tilting my head back for more access.
I get lost in him, and everything melts away until he presses me back against the wall. The heavy weight of his body traps me, imprisons me. And just like that, I’m no longer here. I’m there.
Being restrained, held down, forced. Joe is dragging me by my hair, pinning me by my throat.
Breath freezes in my lungs before I lash out, palms shoving against his chest. Jude steps back and holds his hands up in front of him.
“Hey. Hey. It’s okay....” His brow furrows, like he doesn’t recognize me. Doesn’t understand who this pathetic person is.
Tears blur my vision. I know Jude would never hurt me, but it doesn't seem to matter. Defeat is like a lead weight pushing down on me until I feel small and broken. "I'm sorry," I whisper.
He carefully pulls me close again and rubs his hand along my back. “It’ll be okay. Give it time.”
No amount of time is going to fix me.
_____
The scent of coffee greets me when I step into the tiny, outdated kitchen the next morning.
"Morning, darlin’,” Marney says, taking a seat at the breakfast bar with a cup of coffee and his paper. “You told him yet?"
"No."
"Gonna have to tell him some time…” Yes, at some point, but based on when I had my last period, I think I’m about six, weeks which means I have a while.
"He's not ready to hear it."
"He's not ready to hear it, or you're not ready to say it?"
Both, but I tell myself that Jude doesn’t need this right now. I have no doubt at all that Jude will want this baby, that he’ll love it. But what if Tom comes for us before Jude gets to him? He’s outmaneuvered him at every turn up until now. Always three steps ahead. I’ll see you soon, Tor. Those ominous words play through my mind. No, telling Jude only gives him even more to lose when Tom does come for me. And he will. I feel it in my broken soul.
"I know you don't wanna talk 'bout it—'' Marney places the paper on the counter. “But if you ever need to..."
The last thing I want to do is talk about it. "I just need to forget, Marney."
"Ain't no forgetting, darlin', just surviving."
He doesn't tell me it will be okay. He doesn't pretend there will be a day where what Tom did to us will all be a distant memory, because there won't. It makes me like the old man.
"Now, you gonna eat today?" He pushes up from the stool and shuffles toward the fridge, opens the door, and stares inside at the bare contents. He grabs something and tosses it on the counter before going for the bread. “I’mma make you a tuna sandwich. Tuna’s good for the…” He turns and drops his gaze to my stomach. “The you know what,” he whispers.
Marney’s Tuna melt sandwiches are bad on a good day, let alone with the permanent nausea that started this week. I can’t quite bring myself to tell him that though. Instead, I thank him and choke down a few bites. After I consequently throw up, I go outside to sit on the porch and take in the beauty of the surrounding wilderness. Mountains creep along the horizon in the distance, and the scent of pines drifts on the cool breeze, bringing me a fleeting sense of peace amidst the chaos.