“Tell me, Austin, what do you consider a good book?”
I’m not sure why he insists on calling me Austin. I’ve told him multiple times now I’m from Dallas.
“I’m admittedly a sucker for the classics. But I have a list of books I’d like to read that’s a mile long.”
He taps his pointer finger to the side of his temple and says, “Storing that tidbit away for a rainy day. Pun intended.” We both chuckle at that. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? A blanket? Or a glass of water?”
I set my book down and reach for my water bottle with one hand while holding up a piece of the blanket draped over my legs with the other.
“Right,” he claps his hands together in front of him before nodding toward the steps. “I guess I’ll just head to bed then. Goodnight, Austin.”
My lips turn up into a smile at his caretaking antics. He’s gone out of his way each day to ensure I’m comfortable. Even when he’s on the road and I’m staying at Griffin’s house with McKenna and Cadence, he’s texting or calling me to see how I’m doing.
“I’ll actually head up with you.”
“Okay, I’ll turn off the fireplace and double-check the alarm is set,” he says.
I’m not sure if he tells me that he set the alarm each night for his reassurance or my own, but I appreciate it either way.
While he’s doing that, I fill up my water bottle and get one for Carson.
“Here,” I say as I hand him his.
He takes it and flashes that bedazzling smile of his at me. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s a water bottle, Golden Boy. Don’t look too much into it,” I tease. When his smile becomes too much to look at, I cast my eyes to my feet and clear my throat. “Besides, it’s the least I can do for letting me stay here rent-free. I’m going to figure out a way to repay you.”
Carson gently lifts my chin with his fingers, and I reluctantly meet his gaze once again. His voice is calm and reassuring as he says, “Dakota, I respect the hell out of you, so I don’t mean any disrespect when I say this, but your money is no good here. The only repayment I’ll accept is the assurance that you’re safe and healing.” His sincerity bleeds through with each word he says. I nod my head in acceptance, unable to speak past the lump forming in my throat.
We don’t say another word as I reluctantly step away from his grasp. I instantly miss the warmth of his touch as we head upstairs together to get ready for bed. At the top of the steps, we both turn right down the hallway that leads to our respective bedrooms. Mine happens to be across the hallway from his bedroom, with Cadence and Kenna’s being on the opposite end of the upstairs.
I pause in front of my door and take a deep breath. Keeping my back to Carson, I say the words that Carson has said to me each night, “Sweet dreams, sleep tight, I hope you dream of me tonight.”
He chuckles softly before murmuring, “As long as they’re filled with thoughts of you, they will be as sweet as ever.”
“You’re such a stupid fucking bitch. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? It wasn’t enough to get caught up in your trashy little fantasies? No, it wasn’t enough for my wife. Instead, you needed to go whore yourself out to my boss’s fucking son! Well, now you’re going to pay for making me look like a goddamn fool,” Aaron says as the back of his hand strikes the left side of my face.
The force of the blow causes me to fall to my knees. I’ve barely touched the ground before his dress shoe connects with my ribs once, twice, three times. Pain slices through me with such vigor I forget how to breathe.
“Get the fuck up and properly accept your punishment.”
Grasping on to what little strength I have, I try to get my feet under me. My attempt is feeble, and that only seems to spur his anger further.
“I. Said. Get up. You fucking bitch,” he spits out, wrapping his fist in my hair and lifting me from the floor. My scalp throbs when he releases my hair, but the throbbing is quickly replaced by a shooting pain down my spine as Aaron punches my back before catching me around the throat to prevent my fall back to the ground. His grip around my throat tightens, and it’s at this moment that I know he’s going to kill me.
Fight. I need to fight back.
Black dots begin to cloud my vision, but I push past it as I reach down and grab my stiletto pump off my right foot. Aaron doesn’t see it coming as I drive the sharp heel behind me. As soon as it makes contact with his head, I don’t hesitate. Without sparing a glance back, I grab my purse from the ground and use every bit of strength I have remaining to get myself the fuck out of this house. Once I make it inside my car without him following, I realize the contact must have done some damage or temporarily stunned him.
“Austin. Hey, hey, shhh, you’re okay,” Carson whispers as he wraps me in his arms. “You’re safe. I’m right here.”
I open my eyes and use Carson as my focal point to gain my bearings. I’m safe. I’m at Carson’s—he’s right here, and Aaron isn’t.
Carson’s bare chest. Carson’s ocean eyes. Carson’s clean-shaven jaw. The sound of my pulse thundering in my ears. The sound of Carson’s quick breaths. The soft pattering of rain from my noise machine. The feel of the soft sheets beneath my legs. The warmth of Carson’s arms wrapped around me. The hardness of his muscular body pressed against mine.
I take a deep, calming breath as the fear from the flashback slowly recedes.
The same week I moved into Carson’s house, I began seeing a therapist twice a week. Tasha has already taught me so much, but the 3-3-3 rule—three things I can see, hear, and touch—has been an absolute life saver on nights where I relive it all over again.