Touch Me

Evernight
Publishing ®

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2015
Jenika
Snow

 
ISBN: 978-1-77233-466-1

Cover Artist: Jay
Aheer

Editor:
Karyn
White

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized
reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
 
No part of this book may be used or
reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the
case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All
names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

TOUCH ME

Jenika
Snow

Copyright © 2015

Chapter One

Freya
Dresden stared at her stepmother, feeling small compared to the woman who
intimidated her like no other. Even at the young age of fifteen she hated this
life, hated that Meghan was the person she had to look at for a mother figure,
a father figure, hell, the only family she had anymore.

After
her mom died when she was only three her father had remarried, had found the
woman that he could spend the rest of his life with in the form of his personal
assistant. Freya was happy her father had found
someone, that
he didn’t have to be alone.

But
then the unthinkable happened. Not only was she motherless, but she’d become
fatherless as well, and the only person that she could rely on was Meghan in
all her self-absorbed glory.

Meghan
had been sweet at first, trying to befriend Freya because she clearly wanted
her father and his money. And then when a drunk driver had T-boned her father’s
car one rainy night, Freya had lost her father at the tender age of thirteen.
Two years after that and here she was, sitting across from Meghan, watching her
sweet-talk to her new husband, Elijah.

If
Freya could have gone to live with a relative she would have, in a heartbeat,
but she had no one else aside from this woman that didn’t want her, this woman
that now had a legal responsibility because she’d married Freya’s father.

“You’re
not hungry?” Elijah asked Freya. He was a nice man, a man that for whatever
reason thought getting married to a self-centered, mean-spirited woman like
Meghan was a good idea.

“No,”
Freya said, pushing her plate of the burnt toast and the too-runny eggs Meghan
had “cooked.” She stared at the food, her stomach churning. “I prefer my eggs a
little less active and my toast a little less black.”

Elijah
started laughing, and that had Freya smiling. But the exasperated sound that
left Meghan told her that her stepmother really wasn’t all that pleased with
her husband and stepdaughter making jokes about her non-cooking skills.

“I
have to go to school anyway.” Freya couldn’t wait to turn eighteen, to just
leave this place behind and let Meghan and Elijah have their perfect little
life. They were still newlyweds, Freya assumed, seeing as they’d only been
married a few months, but none of this concerned Freya. She tried to keep her
nose out of everything Meghan related, tried to focus on doing well in school
so she could get a scholarship and live in a dorm—far away from this life. She
just wanted to forget about everything she’d lost, everything she was forced to
gain, and just wanted be able to start over alone.

“I’ll
take you. I have to go to the office early anyway,” Elijah said, stood, and
smiled down at Freya.

“I’m
okay to walk, really.” She grabbed her bag off the tiled floor and turned,
making her way toward the front door. But before she could open the door Elijah
was there opening it for her.

“Ladies
first,” he said and grinned. He was such a nice man, and Freya couldn’t
understand why he’d want someone as self-absorbed as Meghan. Freya ducked her
head, stepped out of the front door, and murmured a thank you. She was minding
her own business on all of this and just focusing on herself. She had three
more years and she could get out of this damn house and away from Meghan, this
town, and all the memories of what she didn’t have
anymore
.

They
made their way over to his Range Rover. The fact that Elijah had money, and
owned his own company, was most likely a very big reason Meghan married him.

Once
in the vehicle and when Elijah was on his way to her school, she let the
silence surround her. She liked the fact that she felt comfortable when nothing
was said, when she was alone. But it was also sad because when she was alone
the silence descended on her and she thought about her mom and dad. She didn’t
remember a lot about her mother since she’d lost her at such a young age, but
she had a lot of memories of her dad, a lot of happy memories that she clung
onto.

“I
know Meghan can be a … pill.” He chuckled softly. “For lack of a better word.
Believe me, I know.”

She
looked her at him. Elijah was a big man, tall, muscular, with a head full of
short black hair, and these green eyes that were so intense they almost seemed
unreal. Freya knew an attractive man when she saw one, and Elijah definitely
was. But the fact he married Meghan, a woman that was beautiful on the outside
but ugly on the inside, made him seem not so attractive. But he was nice, and
it wasn’t a good thing for her to judge him because of the woman he decided to
be strapped with.

“Can
I ask you something?” Freya shifted on the seat, held her backpack in her lap,
and saw him nod.

“Yeah.
I know we really don’t know each other, but I’m here if you want to talk.
Believe me, I know what can go through a kid’s head. I have a few nieces and
nephews,” he said and grinned.

“What
do you see in her?” Freya wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed to ask him that. She
was honestly curious why someone would want to be married to a woman that only
thought about herself.

He
was silent for a moment, but then he exhaled and glanced at her for only a
second. “She can be difficult, I admit, but she’s a good person at heart. I
have to believe she is.”

Freya
didn’t bother snorting at that. He clearly didn’t know Meghan the way she did,
but he would. It was only a matter of time before he really saw Meghan for who
and what she was: a woman only after a man with a fat bankroll and nothing
holding him down. Elijah didn’t have any children, and she knew from hearing
Meghan when she’d spoken to her father years ago, that she didn’t want any
kids.

They
rode the rest of the way in silence, and then when he stopped in front of her
school she got out before he could say anything. She just felt like she was out
of place in the only home she’d ever known. She hated that, hated that she
didn’t belong anywhere.

One
day she’d be gone, and she’d say fuck it all. She’d start her own life, make a
new one where she didn’t have to rely on anyone, and that would be the end of
it. If she stayed here longer than she had to Freya didn’t think she’d survive,
especially not with a stepmother like Meghan being the shadow that darkened her
life, and reminding her that her father was no longer here, that her life was
no longer the same.

Chapter
Two

Three years later

Well,
Freya had done it, graduated, gotten that scholarship to a school away from
this town and from Meghan, and was currently getting so drunk she couldn’t see
straight. But this was what Freya needed, to just become oblivious of anything
and everything.

She’d come
to the party with her friend Terra, but she couldn’t find her at the moment. The
last time she’d seen her was when she was heading upstairs with one of the
football players. So here Freya was, standing here watching people, getting
drunk, but not feeling like she cared much because she was nice and loopy.

The
party she was at was at some guy’s parents’ house. They were out of town, so
the house was filled with seniors and juniors, but also some freshman and
sophomores had weaseled their way in. She thought even some college kids were
present. The booze was flowing, the joints being passed around, and half the
student body at the party were either almost fucking, heading to one of the
space rooms to do just that, or not caring about screwing right here out in the
open. But then again she supposed anyone who was drunk or high didn’t care if
people watched.

There
was a group of guys sitting on the couch right across from her, and she was
pretty sure they were snorting coke.

She
stared at the lines they made with a credit card and at the mirror they were
using as their surface foggy from the white residue. One of the guys rolled up
a dollar bill into a tight cylinder, and then leaned forward and inhaled one of
the lines through his nose. It was kind of fascinating to watch, but not
something she’d ever want to try.

“You
want some?” The deep voice beside her had her turning her head and staring at
the guy that stood a few inches from her. She’d never seen him before, and he
looked pretty old, maybe college-aged. He grinned, his eyes bloodshot, glossy,
and the smell of beer coming from his breath.

“No,
thanks,” she said and shook her head, looking back at the guys doing lines.
“It’s just kind of interesting to watch, like I’m in the middle of
Boogie Nights
or something with all the
drugs and sex happening.” She took a drink from her bottle of beer, finishing
it off, and was about to go into the kitchen to throw the bottle away and get
another one, when the guy that had asked if she wanted coke stopped her with a
hand on her shoulder.

“Come
on, just a line. I swear it’s like fucking heaven right up your nose. And
dripping down the back of your throat.”

“Sounds
tempting,” she said sarcastically, “but I’m not into having heaven snorted up
my nose.” She moved away from him and went into the kitchen where a couple was
currently making out and groping each other. The girl was sitting on the
counter, her legs spread, and the guy wedged between them.

Freya
went to set the bottle on the counter, but she was so drunk she didn’t
calculate the distance right and it ended up crashing to the floor, shattering.
She closed her eyes, feeling a wave of dizziness slam into her, and knew that
she needed to go home. It was time to call this a night. She grabbed a rag,
bent down, and started picking up the glass so no one got hurt.

“Hey.”
Terra’s voice was right behind her, loud to be heard over the music, and caused
Freya to jump. She jumped, causing the piece of glass in her hand to fall, but
not without cutting her hand in the process.

She
gasped, stood and turned to see Terra looking thoroughly mussed. Her red hair
was a mess of waves around her face, and her cheeks were flushed.

“Oh
shit,” Terra said, grabbed the rag out of Freya’s hand, and held it to the cut.
After a while of lifting the rag and placing it back on the cut checking to see
if the bleeding was stopping, Terra finally breathed out and removed the rag
again. “The bleeding stopped, and I don’t think it’s that deep.”

“It
doesn’t hurt,” Freya said and braced a hand on the counter to steady herself.

“That’s
‘
cause
you’re wasted,” Terra said on a laugh. “Come on,
let’s get out of here.”

They
made their way out of the house, with people staring at them and commenting on
the bloody rag held to Freya’s hand. Once they were outside, across the street,
and in Terra’s car, Freya looked at her friend. “You’re good to drive?”

Terra
snorted. “I haven’t had anything to drink, although I am a little bow-legged.”

Freya
groaned and closed her eyes, resting her head back on the seat. “No details,
please.”

Terra
laughed, but didn’t respond. They drove the twenty minutes it took to Freya’s
place, but it seemed like it took forever. By the time Terra parked in the
driveway, helped Freya out, and they walked to the front door, Freya turned
quickly and emptied her stomach. It lasted a few minutes, and when the dry
heaving finally subsided Terra handed her a napkin.

It
wasn’t like Terra was her best friend, or even that close. They went to school
together, but it was only when Freya started working at the local coffee shop,
which was also where Terra worked, that the two started talking. And that had
only happened this year.

“Where
the hell did this come from?” Freya asked and chuckled.

“My
pocket. You’re glad it wasn’t used.”

Freya
groaned. “Nasty.”

“You’re
good to get inside by yourself?”

Freya
nodded. “I feel better now.”

“Are
you sure you’re going to be okay?”

Freya
straightened. “Yeah, I feel a lot better now.” After finally convincing Terra
she was really okay, she waved at her friend and watched her get in her car and
leave. The sound of Meghan yelling came through the front door, and Freya
groaned softly and closed her eyes. In the three years since Meghan and Elijah
had been married it slowly progressed to where Meghan was a bitching machine.
But then again she’d been this way with her father, all the way up until he
passed away.

Freya
turned and made her way to the porch. She not so gracefully sat down on the
cement step, not about to go in there right now. She might be drunk, and able
to blissfully walk through that landmine, but no way in hell was she going to
let it ruin the buzz she had going on.

It
was only about five minutes before the sound of stomping feet came closer to
the front door. It eventually opened and slammed against the wall, but Freya
didn’t bother turning around. Instead she leaned her head on the banister next
to her, closed her eyes, and waited for everything to pass. But she couldn’t
tune out the sound of Meghan bitching at Elijah once more.

“I
am so sick of this bullshit, Elijah,” Meghan all but shrieked. “I can’t live
like this where you are never home because you’re working all the damn time—”

“And
how do you expect to buy your Louis Vuitton purses, pay for that brand new
Mercedes, or all the other shit you
have
to have?” Elijah said from inside, in a calm, collected voice.

“And
you,” Meghan spat out. “God, you are worthless, coming home drunk and making
the porch reek like fucking puke. College can’t come soon enough for your ass.”
Meghan stormed down the porch, away from Freya and the house, and a few minutes
later was peeling out of the driveway.

Freya
lifted her hand and flipped Meghan off even though the bitch didn’t see her. It
made Freya feel marginally better, so she supposed that was something.

A
second later the sound of Elijah coming toward the front door stirred Freya
slightly, but she was feeling nauseous again, and didn’t bother moving to look
at him.

“How
much of that did you hear?” he asked after several seconds had passed. He moved
onto the step beside her, sitting down.

“All
of it,” she said softly, not really caring about their fight, because she knew
she was about to throw up again. Turning her head, feeling humiliated that she
was about to puke right in front of him, she braced a hand on the banister and
just let it all come out.

But
what surprised her, as she was in the middle of dry heaving in between throwing
up bile, was the fact Elijah reached out and grabbed her hair, keeping it away
from her face. She would have thanked him, but her body ached, she was
embarrassed, and the burping sounds that came from her intermittently had all conversation
ceasing with her.

“You’ll
feel better once it’s all out,” he said softly, and started rubbing her back.

“I
don’t think so, because nothing else is left and I still feel like shit.”

He
started chuckling, and after a moment he helped her up and into the house.
“Come on, sit down and I’ll get you some water and ibuprofen.”

Once
inside she sat on the couch, closed her eyes, and heard him leave to go into
the kitchen. The sound of him opening the cabinet, the bottle of pills being
opened, and of him turning on the faucet, seemed so overly loud she actually
groaned. When she was about to lie down he came back in the living room and
touched her hand.

“Here,
you’ll feel better after you’ve taken these.”

Freya
opened her eyes, took the pills and water he offered, and once they were
swallowed she rested her head on the couch. For a second she just stared at
him.

“Why
do you stay with her? She’s such a bitch.” Freya didn’t care if she was being
bold. She might have thrown up until nothing was left, might not be as drunk as
she was, but she was still pretty buzzed and wanted to know.

He
didn’t answer right away, but he did sit in the seat across from her and brace
his forearms on his thighs. He stared down at the ground for what seemed like
forever, and then ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“I
don’t know if she ever planned on telling you this, or if even I did. I know
you’re leaving for college in the fall, and getting away will be so good for
you.” He leaned back on the chair, his dark hair mussed from him running his
fingers through it. His eyes seemed lighter, more sympathetic even. “We aren’t
staying together. In fact, I’ve already gotten the paperwork for a divorce. I’m
already looking for another place, because I can’t stand to be here with her anymore.”

She
sat up a little straighter. “She didn’t act like you guys were getting a
divorce, not with her screaming at you even.”

He
shook his head. “I was going to give them to her tonight, explain it all, but
she started acting like, well, herself.” He exhaled again. “I haven’t been
happy for a long time, and although I shouldn’t even be telling you these
things, I know you haven’t been happy either. We’ll both be breaking away,
Freya.”

She
didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say.

“She
never treated you right,” Freya finally said and leaned back again. “No one
deserves to be trapped with her self-righteous, self-absorbed ass.”

He
smiled lightly, not really an act that was humorous, but kind of sad. “She has
some self-esteem issues, and I think once she address those she may be able to
have a good life.”

Freya
rubbed her eyes. “I don’t care if she ever has a good life. She’s an awful
woman.”

“You’re
drunk—”

“And
you think that’s why I’m saying it?” she said and dropped her hand to the
couch, staring at Elijah again. “No, I am not so drunk that I don’t know what
kind of evil bitch she really is. You deserves better than her. My father
deserved better than her. And I deserve better than having to live with her.”
The sadness of bringing up her father slammed into Freya harder because she was
drunk, but she held back her emotions. “I should go to bed.” She stood,
surprising herself that she could stand fully.

She
looked over at him and saw that he watched her, this guarded, hurt, and angry
expression on his face. “Goodnight, Elijah,” she said softly. He smiled, but
once again it seemed a little forced, a little sad, as if he were doing the act
for her benefit. “I’m really sorry things aren’t working out with Meghan. I
meant it when I said you deserve better.”

“Thanks,
Freya, and I’m sorry, too.” He didn’t have to say why he was apologizing,
because she knew. Both of their lives had clearly not gone the way they planned
or wanted, but they would make it work. They had to, because if they didn’t
then what was the point?