“Can I ask you a question?”Our fingers were still linked together, and I lifted them up into the air, marveling at how small and dainty her hand was compared to my catcher’s mitt of a palm.
“Hmm?”She looked blissfully sleepy and so incredibly beautiful laying naked beside me.
“What’s the story with the kids’ dad?Your ex?I never wanted to pry when I lived with you because, well, I was a kid then.And it seemed fresh.But … what happened?”
Her dreamy state of post-orgasmic joy fizzled away from her eyes, and I immediately regretted asking, but then she nodded softly and rolled onto her back, keeping our fingers linked.“I—my cousins and I—were born into this weird cultthing.It’s based on Christian Fundamentalism, or Christian Nationalism.Women are considered the property of their fathers until they then become property of their husbands.We’re not allowed to vote, many aren’t allowed to work, and very few graduate high school.We’re forced to wear frumpy, conservative dresses, never cut our hair, walk behind men, and spend our days in the kitchen and minding the children.There’s so much domestic violence, incest, rape, child abuse.You name it.Consent doesn’t exist.Female body autonomy doesn’t exist.Men who haven’t otherwise been able to find a wife are drawn—if not recruited—to the ‘organization’ with the promise of a wife.Which is why it’s usually an old man in his fifties or sixties, married to a much younger woman in her late teens or early twenties—my husband was one of those men.They are obsessed with having sons and carrying on their genes and family name.It’s honestly disgusting.Women are treated like chattel.”
“Christ,” I breathed, definitely not expecting her story to be so dark.But then the comment Sam made to Laurel about Gabrielle and her cousins not being allowed to color when they were kids made sense now.And Damon did say when he showed up on my doorstep at the cabin that they were part of a cult.I just didn’t realize how intense and frightening it was.How much did the kids know?“How’d you guys get out?”
“My dad, Naomi’s dad, Danica’s dad, and Raina’s dad were all brothers.They were all horrible men.Just … awful.They had one sister, our aunt Dolores.After she was married off and miscarried because of her abusive husband, she ran away from the organization.Years later, when we were all teens, she found creative ways to get in touch with us and let us know that if we ever wanted out, she would support us on the outside.The town librarian was fundamental in helping us escape.Let’s just put it that way.”
“I did a bit of reading about the winery the other night.Is she the aunt that owned it before she passed away and you and your cousins took it over?”
She nodded.“Yes.Aunt Dolores did very well for herself over the years and bought the winery.She left it to the four of us in her will.”
“That’s really cool.”
Her nod was gentle, and a sadness entered her eyes for a moment.Maybe over the loss of her aunt?It was there and gone in a flash, and she plastered on a small smile.“Anyway, we all agree that we should have gotten out a lot sooner, but we were scared.We didn’t know anything outside of our own, fucked up world.Then we were married off, and had children, making us feel pretty much stuck.My husband, Cyrus, was an older man.I married him when I was twenty-one, and he was fifty-four.It took us a long time to get pregnant, which just infuriated him.We had several miscarriages before I finally got pregnant with Damon.And since they don’t really like the medical system—because doctors ask too many questions—I wasn’t allowed to get checked out.I had to beg to go to the hospital after my last miscarriage because I was going into septic shock since not all of the fetal tissue naturally expelled.”
My jaw dropped, and I squeezed her fingers before bringing the back of her hand to my mouth for another kiss.
Her throat moved on a hard swallow.“He was physically abusive to me.And that may or may not have caused my miscarriages, we’ll never know.But when I finally became pregnant with Damon, I think the only reason I was able to get through the first trimester was because Cyrus went up north to Alaska for a three-month hunting trip with a few other men, and I was sent to live with my parents while he was gone.”
“Oh my god.”
“We had Damon, and he immediately wanted to try for another one, but that pregnancy was complicated, and the labor and delivery were very rough on me.Since leaving all of that, I’ve found out I have endometriosis, which makes sense for my difficulty conceiving.That was the first time I stood my ground with Cyrus and told him no—and he listened—sort of.Other times, when I told him no, he ignored me.”
The haunted look in her eyes told me the rest, so I didn’t ask a follow-up question.
“Then I got pregnant with Laurel, and that’s when I discovered Cyrus, his brother, Wilson—who he had joined the organization with—and Danica’s husband, were molesting Wilson’s three young daughters who were two, four, and six.I’m not going to tell you what I walked in on, but I ran for my life, seven months pregnant, in bare feet, and holding a three-year-old Damon in my arms, to the police station, and turned them in.They chased after me, but none of them were fit men, and I beat them there, even with a thirty-pound toddler in my arms.The girls had physical evidence of their …anyway,the men are in prison, all three of them, and the prosecutor made sure there was no possibility of parole.So we don’t have to worry about them ever hurting anybody else again.”She shrugged as her eyes grew watery.“There you have it.Our horrible, embarrassing, traumatizing past.”Her bottom chin wobbled a bit, and she swallowed again.
I could tell this wasn’t an easy thing for her to talk about, and why would it be?It was horrific what she and her cousins and children went through.No wonder she kept to herself and was the ultimate mama bear when it came to protecting her children.She literally ran barefoot, pregnant, and holding a toddler to do the right thing and turn monsters into the authorities.There was no doubt about it, Gabrielle Campbell was not only the strongest person I’d ever met, but she was a bigger badass than I could have ever imagined.
“Can you, um … can you say something?”she murmured, breaking eye contact.“You haven’t said anything in a while and it’s kind of freaking me out.”
I rolled on top of her, surprising her, given the rapid flutter of her lashes.“Thank you,” I whispered, brushing my lips across hers.“I can tell that wasn’t easy.But it’s only made me think even more highly of you than I already do.And I thought you hung the moon before.”
She huffed a laugh, her breasts brushing my chest.“Well, I don’t.And maybe the reason I don’t havehobbies,per se, is because we weren’t really allowed to have them growing up.At least not onesIliked.We could quilt, do needlepoint, knit, crochet, or spin wool.Women reading anything more than scripture or cookbooks was discouraged, which is why I’ll almost let Laurel read whatever she wants for as long as she wants.We were meant to learn how to be ‘good wives’.And once we became wives, our hobby was supposed to be keeping our husband happy.”
I made a face of disgust.“Sounds like these men would just love Germaine Pratt’s podcast.”
“They make Germain Pratt look like a woke, ultra-feminist.”
I brushed my lips across hers again.“You’re so strong.You saved yourself, your kids, those little girls, and so many more.I’m proud of you.I hope you’re proud of yourself too.Because you should be.”
Her fingers made their way up into my hair and she played with it, almost like a fidget toy to keep her thoughts from wandering or getting too dark.“It took me a while to get over the guilt of not getting out sooner.But then … if I’d escaped sooner, andnotwitnessed what I did—”
“You can’t hold on to regrets.You saved those little girls.That’s what you have to hang on to.”
She blinked a few times again at me.“This feels so easy right now.Us.In bed.With the world outside not really existing.”
I nodded and my cock—despite the dark topic of discussion—began to grow again since it rested right next to the wet, warm heat of her center.
She shifted a little, and her gaze flared when she felt my inconvenient excitement.“Sorry,” I apologized, attempting to roll off her.“Not appropriate.”
But she gripped me by the hair, and murmured, “Stay,” against my lips, before claiming my mouth in a slow, sensual kiss.
This time, I let her lead.I let her take control, and when she took my cock in her mouth as I kneeled in front of her on the bed, I knew right then and there, leaving the island when the time came, was going to be fucking impossible.
