“Oh, Charlotte,” I say, hugging her. “Thank you for having me, and I’m so, so sorry,” I finally say out loud. “I’m going to make a couple of phone calls tomorrow. I’ll find somewhere else to go.”
She looks at me in shock. “You will do no such thing,” she says. “When you finally get settled, we’ll have a family meeting to discuss whatever is going on. But whatever it is, we handle it here.”
“But I’m not family,” I say, trying not to let the sting hurt so much.
She puts her hand on mine. “Oh, hush your mouth, silly girl.” She smiles through the tears. “You’re one of us now.” I don’t answer her. Instead, I blink away the tears that are stinging my eyes, and all I hear is my mother’s voice.
“Tears are a waste, Olivia. No one is going to want such a dramatic woman.”
“Thank you,” I say, and she gets up.
“You go take a shower. I’ll send Casey to check on you later.” She walks out of the room.
Walking over to the drawer, I open it to grab my stuff, then walk into the bathroom. I turn on the lights, but they’re too bright, so I turn them off and make my way through the dark to the shower. With just the little light shining into the bathroom from the room, I undress and step under the hot water. And as it pours over my face, I let the tears fall.
I sob, wondering how I got myself into this mess. I should have walked away long before Dominic proposed. I shouldn’t have settled, but all I could hear is my mother’s voice.
“Olivia, you never marry for love. You marry for money; the bigger the wallet, the bigger the happiness. You marry a man who has a private plane, not one who cleans them.”
I didn’t even love him. I tolerated him. I mean, in the beginning, he treated me like a princess. He took me on these romantic little dates, but then the dates got less romantic and more extravagant. So I would forget the small stuff, like how he sent me flowers every time we went out the first month, and then they just stopped. God, I was so stupid, and now look at where I am. In the middle of the South trying to make sure the people I love don’t get hurt.
When I get out, it takes everything in me to dry off and put my pjs on. When I open the door, the only light in the room is coming from the little lamp on the nightstand. I walk over to the bed and slide into it. I should tell them I’m okay, but the minute my head hits the pillow, I’m sucked into sleep.
The darkness takes over, and I’m suddenly standing in the middle of my apartment. Except it’s vandalized exactly like it was in the pictures that they showed me a couple of weeks ago. I look around and see that our couches are shredded like people thought we were hiding something in them. The stuffing is scattered around it, and the coffee table is tossed over on its side. I look over at the shattered television. Walking over to the kitchen, I see that all the cabinets are open, everything is thrown on the floor, and the fridge is tipped over. When I turn to walk to my bedroom, I stand in the doorway, seeing my stuff on the floor and smashed to bits. The pictures I had on the wall are thrown on the floor, and the walls have holes in them. My bed is flipped over, and the mattress is cut right down the middle. My drawers are all over the floor, and my clothes or whatever is left are scattered. And I can’t forget the red writing on my bedroom wall.
You’ll get what’s owed to you.
I hold up my hand to the wall, my fingers reaching out to touch it, but I’m suddenly in Casey’s house. I’m standing in the living room, and the writing is on his wall. His whole house is trashed, as I stand in the middle of it. The front door opens, and when I look over, Dominic comes in, looking at me. “You can’t outrun me this time.” He raises his hand and aims a gun at me and then shoots. The sound of yelling makes my eyes fly open when I realize I’m the one screaming.
Casey runs into the room, and he has me in his arms before I can take my next breath. I’m gasping for breath and trying to get my heart to slow, but all I can do is sob and cling to Casey while he holds me.
Chapter Eight
Casey
The sound of her screaming makes my blood run cold. Jumping off the couch, I run over to her room and find her thrashing in her bed. “It’s okay,” I say. Her eyes open with a wild look in them. “I got ya, darlin’.” I hold her in my arms as she sobs, clinging to me, then I climb into bed next to her when she finally calms down. “Do you want something to drink?” She just shakes her head but doesn’t move from my arms.
“Can we go lie on the couch?” she asks, her voice weak. Standing, I gather her in my arms and carry her to the couch. “Why is there a pillow and blankets already here?” she asks when I put her down so her head is on the pillow. Sitting next to her on the couch, I cover her with the same blanket I was using.
“Well, I was afraid I wouldn’t hear you if something happened,” I say as I push the hair away from her face. “I promised my mother that I would take care of you.” The lie comes out before I can stop it. My mother had no say in where I slept. She left the house as soon as she came out of the room. I just wanted her gone so I could be alone with Olivia. I listened at her door, and when I didn’t hear anything, I walked in and turned off the overhead light, then switched on the small lamp on the nightstand. Situating myself outside her room, I sat with my back to the wall, and waited until she came out and climbed into bed. Once I heard her soft snores, I went to my bathroom and took the fastest shower of my life. After I finished, I checked on her again, then decided to sleep on the couch since I’d have to set my phone alarm for two hours to remember to wake her. It rang quietly once, but my eyes were still open. I got up and walked over to her. Checking on her, I felt like a creep watching her, but I just stared at her, wondering what in the fuck was going on with me. Until I heard her yelling.
She swallows while she looks at me, and I walk to the fridge to get her a bottle of water.
“Here,” I tell her as I open, then hand her the bottle. I walk to sit down on the couch beside her feet. She swallows a couple of sips. “How is your head?”
Looking down at her hands, she says, “It almost feels like I have a little headache.” She takes another sip, and I wait a couple of minutes.
“You feeling any better?”
She nods. “Yeah, it was a nightmare.” When her head shakes, a tear escapes, but she wipes it away.
“It’s only normal, darlin’,” I tell her softly. “Yesterday was crazy.”
“It was a weird one,” she says, looking at me. “I was standing in my apartment, but it was trashed, and then suddenly, I was standing in this room. But it was trashed, too.” She leans over to set the water bottle on the coffee table. “It’s fine. It was just a dream.”
“It was,” I say softly, wanting to cup her cheeks with my hands. I want to sleep with her in my arms so she can feel protected and safe.
“Is it okay if I sleep here on the couch?”
I want to tell her that she should sleep in my bed, but I don’t want her to think that I want anything. So instead, I just nod. “Sure, darlin’.” She turns to her side and closes her eyes.