Sail (Wake #2) (37 page)

I decided on a maxi dress. That counted as a skirt in my book. I let my hair dry naturally, only fixing the stubborn front pieces. I applied only blush and some mascara. The best part about summer was the tan. And thankfully, so far, I’d been outside more. A lot of my color came from being in San Francisco where I’d visited him every few weekends.

I sprayed a little perfume on my neck and gave myself one last look. My reflection proved that happy looked good on me and I felt beautiful.

With my purse and my extra set of divorce papers, I was ready. In the event Grant either didn’t have them or wanted to keep his copy, I had a spare. I was a little behind schedule, but it would be fine.

I drove to the house I’d lived in so briefly and wondered how long I would have lived there had I never met Casey. Would I be happily married—or at least what I knew of happy—to Grant? Would we have been planning children? Would we have ended in a divorce anyway? The more I thought about it, the more I believed yes, eventually our marriage would have failed. Maybe Casey was just a catalyst, one that thankfully opened my eyes so much sooner.

I felt jittery, like I’d had too much coffee, but attributed it to nerves. I took a few deep breaths and walked up the sidewalk, stopping outside the door to knock.

It wasn’t my home.

I waited.

Then I heard Grant come down the stairs near the door.

“Hello, Blake,” he greeted and stepped back for me to come in. I stopped only feet inside the door. I wasn’t staying long. “Welcome home,” he said and shut the door.

If that was supposed to be a joke, it wasn’t funny. I fought the urge to roll my eyes and let it roll off my back. I didn’t have time to get into a pissing match, I had a dinner to get to, and Casey would be showing up at my parents’ any minute.

“Hi, Grant. Thanks for agreeing to sign the papers,” I said doing my part, for polite and civility’s sake.

“I haven’t signed them yet. They’re upstairs.” He probably had them in the room I’d been using as an office. His office now, I presumed.

“That’s fine. I can wait down here while you get them,” I said.

His face went from almost friendly to annoyed.

“You can’t stay a little while?” It was a question, but sounded like an accusation.

I looked around and then noticed a wine glass on the table, an empty tumbler and candles lit. My muscles tensed, but I remained calm.

“I thought we could have a drink. For old time’s sake,” he said motioning for me to follow him to the dining area.

“No, thanks. I’m going to my parents’.”

He stepped closer and something inside me regretted not bringing in my phone. I left it in the car. He took another step closer and I wished I’d let Casey come with me.

His hand came up to move my hair and I moved out of his reach. What was he thinking?

“Don’t. I just want the papers and I want to leave. Please.”

“Was I
bad
to you?” He’d been drinking. In his nearness, I could smell it. I didn’t even know who he was anymore. The Grant I dated rarely drank, especially at home.

I slowly took a step back, needing some distance. My heart rate was beginning to beat overtime. Nervousness was turning to fear. I just needed to stay long enough to get what I came for.

“No, you weren’t bad to me,” I affirmed. I would say anything I needed, if it meant he’d sign the damn papers and I could go. I’d already been there longer than I wanted.

“Was I bad in bed?” he said and, again, leaned into my space. “I didn’t
please
you?”

My stomach rolled. Fuck the papers. He was getting served Monday. To hell with this.

“I think I’m going to go. This was a mistake.” I didn’t need it. I probably deserved it, but I had better things to do.

Casey was waiting for me. He was meeting my mom and dad.

“No. I think you’re going to stay and tell me what I did that was
so
bad you had to fuck another guy the whole time we were married.” That was the moment I started getting really scared. Not uncomfortable. Scared. My instincts screamed to go. And it felt like my body was ready to run at any moment. And because of that, I was leaving.

I didn’t say anything else. I simply turned on my heels for the door. But before my hand found the knob, he had my arm.

“You can’t leave without your precious papers, Blake. Your divorce papers.”

His hand squeezed around my arm. My eyes filled with tears, less from the pain he was inflicting and more for the sadness I felt having made him that way.

My voice shook as I said, “I’m sorry. I don’t need the papers.”

I needed Casey. I needed to leave.

“Oh, you changed your mind? That’s even better. We’ll rip them up.”

I peered into his eyes and saw a total stranger. Though the things he said were from anger, his voice still sounded eerily complacent, like a robot. And now it wasn’t a joke. It was scaring the fuck out of me.

“Please, just let me go,” I asked and brought my free hand up to where he was holding me and tried to pull him off. That sentence spoke to so much more than just my arm, and he heard it too.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to let you leave just yet. Let’s go get those papers.” He pulled and my instincts told me to pull back, and my body acted like it was trying to sit. My legs locked and yanked, but he held me tighter.

Then he began to pull me up the stairs.

“Stop. Please, just stop. Please. I want to go. Why are you acting like this? This isn’t like you,” I pleaded.

“You want to go? This isn’t like me? I gave you everything. You didn’t have to work and travel like you were. You could have had a good life here with me. We could have had a family.” He aggressively wrenched my arm, but I still resisted, trying to hold my footing below the first step. “But, no. I wasn’t good enough, so you fucked someone else. So this is the new me, Blake. Maybe you’ll like me better this way.”

He’d managed to pull me up two steps. The skin on my arm throbbed as he pressed flesh against bone.

I had to stop crying and figure out what to do. I couldn’t concentrate on my arm. I needed to get away. He was crazy.

Step after step, he went backward, jerking me as he went, his force only waning when I struggled against his hold. I fought and pulled back, almost bringing us both down. He stopped, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and heaved me up toward him.

I silently screamed and surrendered a little ground. He trudged me up a little farther by the head.

“Does he pull your hair? Maybe that’s what women want these days. Is that it?”

I couldn’t suppress my sobs and my focus began to blur. I just wanted to go to my mom and dad’s. I should never have come. I didn’t know he would be like this. I didn’t see it coming.

Casey is waiting for me. What if he thinks I changed my mind? What if he leaves?

True horror gripped me with that thought.

My mind scrambled.

I went a little easier. Grant was actually pulling some of my hair out and it hurt like hell. I could feel it tear from my scalp lock by lock. It burned as it ripped from me.

“See? That’s better. I think you like it. Maybe when we get up here we’ll just call your parents and tell them you’re not coming to dinner. Then, you’ll be free to have a drink with me. After we rip up those papers we don’t need,” he said as we topped the flight of stairs.

“I’m not staying here,” I defiantly squeaked out. “Just let me go. Please.” I tried to pull back again, but his grip was unrelenting.

“Oh, I think you’ll do what I want to do for a change tonight, Blake.”

I needed to hit him. I’d known that the whole time. I was just afraid he’d hit back.
Would he really hit me?
But I didn’t have a choice. Something told me if he got me to the very top of the stairs it would only get worse. I swung up at him and only hit him weakly in the arm.

“You like to hit, too?” He jerked my head up so he was staring into my eyes. The venom inside his was terrifying.

He wasn’t concerned for me.

He wasn’t worried about me.

He only cared about proving a point and making me pay for what I’d done.

This was about his pride, not his love for me.

There was no love for me.

Then I felt his fist across my cheek and it blinded me. I saw stars as every nerve in my cheek roared in agony. I’d never been hit before. And since he held my head with a fist of my hair, the force of the blow also sent searing pain through my scalp. I felt skin rip away from skin. I’d never been in pain like that and my senses all at once began to shut down.

He was yelling, but I couldn’t hear.

He was so close, but I couldn’t smell the vile liquor anymore.

He was a monster, but he was fading.

I was going to pass out.

Casey is going to think I’m not coming. He’s going to leave me.

A fleeting surge of adrenaline spiked through my system. I had one more shot. I didn’t overthink it, there wasn’t time. I lunged forward, taking him off guard since he was pulling me. Head first into his thigh—which was the closest part of him I could reach and I bit him. I bit through his jeans until I felt his skin break in my mouth. Until I tasted blood. Metallic and salty.

“You fucking bitch!” he screamed, as I twisted my head back and forth.

He had to let me go.

In my attack, he’d released my hair and arm to smack and hit my head and face. I let up.

I was free, but too quickly, to urgent to get away, I leaned back. My feet slipped and went backward.

And then there was nothing.

Friday, June 4, 2010

NOTHING.

She hadn’t called me all afternoon. She’d been busy, and I didn’t want to bother her. I tried to be cool and not let my overactive imagination wander. But it was getting to me.

I sat in her parents’ driveway, watching the minutes tick by on the clock in my rental car.

She was only five fucking minutes late. No reason for alarm.

Then it was ten.

I stirred uncomfortably. Looked at my phone. It read the same time as the dashboard and I saw I had not erroneously missed any calls from her.

What is it about time, and waiting for someone that causes minutes to stretch into years? I stayed calm, but my senses were watching for her in every capacity. A call. Headlights on the street. The sound of her voice.

Her family’s party wasn’t until the next day, but the wide, paved driveway to their house was full of vehicles.

Fifteen minutes.

Twenty minutes.

If anyone saw me sitting out there, I feared they’d wonder who I was and what I was doing.

I checked my fucking phone again, then said, “Fuck it,” and decided to text.

Me: Everything okay? I’m in front of your parents’ house.

I waited five more minutes. Still nothing.

I did a search on my phone to find Grant’s address. When I found it and was just about to turn over the ignition, I saw the front porch light turn on and their door open.

Reggie stepped outside so I got out of the car, thankfully having already met that brother before. I was glad it was him. We met halfway up the cement sidewalk.

“Hey, Casey. It’s good to see you,” he said in greeting, holding a hand out for me to shake. I extended mine to him, noticing the tremble in my fingers. My body felt weird, but I pushed it aside. I was being foolish.

He smiled and seemed friendly enough.

Was I expecting them to hate me? In some ways, maybe I was. I was the other man. The home-wrecker. I just hoped they also saw me as the man Blake loved and someone who she deemed worthy of this whole mess.

“Hi, it’s good to see you, too.”

He looked past me to the car and asked, “Are you here with Blake? I don’t see her.”

“I was meeting her here. I think she’s running late.” I looked at my watch.

Thirty-six motherfucking minutes.

“Actually, she’s about a half hour late and she’s not replying to my messages.”

He pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and swiped it open. “Let me see if I can get her to answer,” he said.

I liked Reggie.

He was definitely a dude I didn’t want to piss off. He was even bigger, more bulked up than the first times we’d met. That one warning look he’d given me at the airport in Chicago, was enough for me to make sure I stayed on his good side.