“Clearly, I don’t rather.” I open the door and wait while he closes everything down and snags his bag. “I can’t leave you out here for another night. No matter how crazy you make me, I feel bad.”
“I make you crazy?” He flashes a smile, and I have to turn away and walk to the house before I do something stupid like kiss him silly. “Tell me more about that.”
“No.” I hold the door for him and then close and lock it. “Want some wine?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
I nod and walk into the kitchen to refill my glass, then gesture for Rafe to join me in the family room. This is one of my favorite spaces. It’s cozy with deep-cushioned couches, colorful pillows and throws, and a TV.
I sit, toss a blanket over my lap, and sip while Rafe kicks off his shoes and curls up in the couch across from me.
I’m already feeling the effects of the wine. Just a little. And that’s good because I could use a little buzz tonight.
It’s been a hell of a week.
“So, what’s new?” I ask and get the laugh I expected. His laugh always made my stomach clench.
Nothing has changed in that department. God, he’s a sight to behold. “What is it about men getting better-looking as they age?”
He tilts his head. “Did you just call me old?”
I snort and take another sip. “No. I said you’re getting better-looking as you get older. There’s a difference.”
“I miss you,” he says and rubs his hand over his face. “Do you know how hard it is to sit over here, see that you’re struggling, and not hold you?”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I sip my wine. The small buzz has progressed into a pleasant, bigger buzz now.
“You’re a good person,” I reply.
“Fuck that.” He shakes his head and braces his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “I’m not a good person, A. I’ve done some shitty things in this life.”
“Me, too.” I stare down into my glass and think about what he said earlier about being my friend. Maybe I need to talk about this. And it’s not like I can be with him for the long haul, so who better to talk to? “The pictures they sent… The things that Richard made me do. It was pretty bad.”
I take another drink for courage and watch as Rafe sits back again, his eyes pinned to mine, listening.
“We dated for years before we got married. I thought I knew him inside and out. He was smart and funny and gentle. Kind of boring, truth be told, but I was okay with boring. You know that.”
He just watches, so I keep talking.
“Then we got married, and it all changed. Not overnight, either. It changed that day. Suddenly, the man I thought I knew was gone, replaced by this cold, mean man that I didn’t recognize at all. He liked to punish me. Got off on it, I think. And he liked some weird sexual shit, Rafe. He liked to watch. And other…things. If I said no, he got angry. Furious. It wasn’t just the run-of-the-mill silent treatment or yelling and then getting over it.
“No, he’d rant and rave. Lecture. Take my car away. One night, he locked me out of the house.”
“He locked you out of your own house?”
“It wasn’t mine. My name wasn’t on it. It’s only mine now because he died and left it to me. He was a horrible person. So, I learned that it was just easier to go along with what he wanted. At first, he only wanted other people to watch. That was awful. But then, it just…got worse. I’m not going to go into the details because they’re embarrassing and awful. But I did those things, Rafe. Even if it made me sick. Even if I didn’t want to. I still did them.”
“You were terrorized,” he says, his blue eyes shooting flames of anger. “Enslaved. Abused doesn’t even start to cover it. Christ, A, if I’d known—”
“It’s over now.” I shift in my seat and frown at my empty glass. “My lips are numb. I should probably stop drinking now.”
“You should go to bed.”
“Yeah.” I blink at him. “You’re so handsome. And I’m still just as drawn to you as I was when I was nineteen. Too bad it didn’t work out. Well, I’m going to bed. Make yourself at home.”
I wave and wander up the stairs to my room, take the robe off, and climb into bed.
I’m just so tired.
But then the dreams come.
“You’re going to lie on that bed and let me do whatever I want to you, Annika.”
I scowl and try to keep the tears at bay. “Richard, this makes me uncomfortable.”
“I don’t fucking care. You’re mine. That means you’ll do what I say, when I say. Now, get on the bed with your ass in the air like I told you to.”
I let the tears fall, but I know they won’t matter. Richard never cares what I say or do, as long as he can use me the way he wants. He’s awful. He’s evil.
People are watching, but I close my eyes and block it out. I’m at the beach, in a chair, with the sun shining on my face.
For just a moment, I almost believe it.
But then something hits me over the butt, hard. I cry out, but it keeps happening, over and over, making my skin sting and more tears come to my eyes.
God, is it over yet?
But, no. No, it’s not.
They take turns. Some fuck me. Others laugh. Touch. I’m nothing but a thing to them. I’m nothing.
“He’ll never want you now,” Richard hisses in my ear. “You’re damaged goods, and Rafe will never look at you with anything but disgust. You’re a slut. A whore.”
“No.” I clench my fists and cry out again. “No, please. Just stop. I’ll be good. Just stop.”
“Hey, baby. Hey. You’re okay.”
He pulls me to him, and I want to cling to him. To tell Rafe how much I love him. To thank him for making me feel safe.
But the words won’t come, and the dreams won’t stop.
Chapter 5
~Rafe~
The screaming woke me. The whimpers tore at my heart. No man wants to hear the love of his life cry out in terror.
And now, holding her hand in the dark, I’m torn between needing to comfort her and wanting to kill someone.
I’ve never felt the need to murder the way I do on Annika’s behalf. I’m the least violent of the three of us brothers. But she’s hurting, and someone needs to pay.
The worst part is, I have a feeling that the person responsible for the anguish is already dead.
I should go back to my own bed now that she seems to be settled down, but she’s so damn tempting.
Just leave her be, Martinelli.
I turn to leave, but she whimpers again, and I make the executive decision to stay. I slip between the covers and spoon her, pulling her against me as a million memories flood my mind.
I spent years sleeping with her just like this. Years. It’s as familiar as breathing. Sometimes, we wouldn’t sleep at all. We’d lie in the dark and talk and laugh. Other times, we’d make love all night long.
I miss all of it. Every minute of it. The fact that I can’t be with her because of who our families are makes me rage like nothing else ever has.
“Damaged goods,” she says, talking in her sleep.