Liam runs his hand over his head.
“I don’t know. Yes, legalities and contracts are done with paper.” He stumbles on his words. “You don’t even understand money?”
I shake my head. As a woman in the cult, I wasn’t expected to understand that sort of thing. That was my husband’s responsibility. I was raised to solely look after the house and children. I haven’t told Liam yet, but I can barely read unless it’s from the Bible. Lots of the words I’ve seen on signs today, I don’t understand. I think it’s best to save that for a different time, though. I can tell he’s freaked out enough. I only understand what an annulment is from listening to conversations between Liam and the band. I’m not as intelligent as these people. No, that’s not strictly true—I’m just very sheltered.
“I have to think about this. Will you give me until morning?” Liam requests.
“Of course.” I try not to let the fact I’m going to worry all night about my future cloud my answer.
“Okay.” Liam nods toward the bed. “You get some sleep, and I’ll come and get you for breakfast. We can discuss it, then.”
“All right.” I make my way back to the bed. I’ll undress when Liam leaves.
“Yivi, what is the name of the place where you grew up?” Liam questions, his hand on the bedroom door.
“Serendipity Falls,” I reply honestly.
“Thank you.”
Liam leaves, closing the door behind him.
I undress and climb into bed. My body is exhausted and needs sleep, but as I drift off into the realms of unconsciousness, the chilling thought hits me that Liam probably asked where I came from so he could return me there.
Chapter 7
Liam
#IDontThinkThereIsEnoughBrandyInThe
WorldForThis
The half-finished glass of strong brandy sits in front of me. I thought the stinging amber nectar would soothe the pain in my chest by ripping apart my throat, but it hasn’t. I’ve just got a burning feeling there now as well as the ache in my chest.
I can’t believe what Yivi told me.
How could she not know about money or television?
How could anyone live like that?
It’s not an existence anyone should be forced into.
I turn my head toward the clock in the corner of the room, wondering how long I’ve been sitting here. It’s almost morning. Six am. I’m exhausted. I should have slept, but my brain won’t switch off.
The door opens and in walks a sleepy looking Tate, Cameron, and Austin. All are rubbing their eyes, and they stumble to various seats in the room.
“Zoey gets up far too early,” Tate grumbles. “She saw the light on in here, and she told us we all had to come and check on you.”
Cameron yawns and stretches. “You all right?” he asks
Austin leans his head against the tall backed chair he’s sitting on and shuts his eyes. “What they said.”
I pick the brandy up and take another mouthful before answering them. “I spoke to Yivi.”
“About the kiss?” Tate questions.
“Yes,” I reply solemnly. “I’m confused.”
“That’s women for you.” Cameron yawns again before scratching his balls in the loose tracksuit pants he’s wearing.
“There are many things Zoey does that confuse me all the time. You get used to it, though,” Tate adds.
“Yivi asked me not to press forward with the annulment.”
“What?” My bandmates seem to go from half asleep to wide awake instantly. They all have looks of anger on their faces, except for Austin—his is more one of confusion.
“Why wouldn’t she want to get divorced from you as soon as possible?” he asks suspiciously.
“Cheers, for the vote of confidence as a husband, mate,” I snort.
“She’s a money grabbing whore. We misread her yesterday, and she’s taking advantage of the fact we’re nice.” Tate isn’t impressed.
“No, it’s not that,” I tell him.
I need more brandy. I have to finish the entire glass…the bottle. Maybe that will stop the ache in my chest.
“Liam?” Cameron sits forward in his chair with the intense look on his face that he gets when he knows something’s seriously wrong.
“She doesn’t even know what a television is,” I reply stupidly.
“What?” Tate responds. It’s such an alien concept to us. We’ve grown up with televisions. We can’t imagine a life without them.
“She doesn’t understand money, and I’m not sure how much she can read. I was watching her with signs yesterday, and they didn’t always seem to make much sense to her.”
“She’s led a very sheltered life. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get an annulment. This is your life. You don’t have to be married to someone because you feel sorry for them.”
I know the words Tate speaks are the truth, but it’s the reason why she’s led a life so vastly different from mine that concerns me.
“She grew up in a cult. Two days ago, she was supposed to be married to a man who would, for want of better words, fuck her until he got as many kids as he wanted out of her. She didn’t have a say in the matter. She ran away from him and straight into me and another unwanted marriage, having never drunk alcohol before and getting plastered off her first sip. I fucked her. I don’t know if I was gentle or rough, but I made her bleed because she was a virgin. She thinks she has to get pregnant with my kids because that’s what she’s been told has to happen. When you told me I was an idiot yesterday, you weren’t wrong. I completely fucked up, but not for myself, for her, for the woman I put in my bed and who didn’t have a clue what I was doing to her.”
My confused verbal diarrhea leaves my bandmates stunned and quiet. They open and close their mouths like fish as they try to find something to say. Finally, Cameron holds his hands out to try and calm the situation.
“All right, let’s think about this sanely and calmly. How do we know she’s telling the truth? It could be a ploy.”
“Because she can’t fucking lie, even to save herself,” I snap back.
“I have to agree there. Zoey’s seen it too,” Tate adds.
“All right.” Cameron gets to his feet. “Do you know the name of the place she says she comes from?”
I nod toward my phone on the table. The second I came back to the room after speaking with Yivi, I searched the internet for information on Serendipity Falls. Everything about their philosophy disgusts me. I had to stop reading in the end.
Cameron grabs my phone and swipes it open. We’ve always known each other’s security codes. He starts to read the page. When he slumps back down in his chair and turns ghostly white, I know he’s as sickened as I am about what he’s seen.
“This can’t be true,” he states as he hands the phone to Austin, and my best friend starts to read.
“I’ve searched a few sites, and they all say the same. They believe they have to live like they’re still the middle ages. They’ve no modern medicine, no technology. Nothing like that. And women are the property of men.”