Fragile Things (Folkestone Sins Book 1) Page 13

  What the hell?

  Examining the soft white flesh of my bicep, I find a patch of raw, bloody red skin surrounded by what looks like teeth marks.

  Teeth marks?

  Prodding gently, I can feel the deep bruise not yet visible. Moving to my breast, the same marks and underlying bruises cover a small area beside my nipple, some of the dried blood now ripped away and the skin underneath tender. A frenzied need to see if there are any others has me standing in front of the full-length mirror with my hands moving quickly over my naked skin. I feel for sore spots while my eyes search for similar injuries and find two more. One is high on the inside of my right thigh, deeper than the others, and already a dark blue-black at the edges. The other is on the outside of my right hip near the row of small cuts, where it looks like somebody tried to cut away my pants and caught the skin at the same time.

  That fucker gnawed on me like a goddamn chicken leg!

  Anger is replacing the soul-numbing fear that engulfed me in that disintegrating barn. Being afraid makes me useless, unable to get my head above water. Anger, though, I can use. Anger gives me the strength to get through this. To go after the asshole who decided I was something to be used as a chew toy and thrown away like a piece of garbage.

  When I step under the shower spray, the warm water stings when it hits certain spots and makes me hiss with pain, but it also feels like heaven, washing away the blood and dirt and stink.

  Payne’s lounging in my wingback chair, his socked feet propped up on the matching ottoman and a giant bowl of buttery popcorn in his lap, while Sunday stretches out on my bed with me. Neither one of them seemed to want to leave, and Cecily had no problem with it, so we’re camped out in my room watching Hudson and Hicks back up Ripley on an alien planet.

  I see Sunday’s eyes slide quickly to Payne to gauge the degree of his attention on us. Happily munching on popcorn with his eyes glued to the television hanging at the foot of my bed, he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to us at all.

  "We didn't tell him," she says quietly. "We didn't tell Poe what happened. When Raff told us what happened when he ran into you, we thought we'd just give you a little space. But then the girls and I tried to find you later, and you were gone.” She sniffles, and I can tell she’s trying to get through what she has to say without falling apart. “We went back and found Payne, Raff, and Heller, and they helped us look, but none of us could find you anywhere." She glances down, refusing to meet my eyes. “Poe left. After those awful things he said to you, he left with Hali."

  Her revelation surprises me, but my gut-wrenching reaction to it doesn’t.

  “So, he doesn’t know about any of this.” It’s a statement rather than a question. “He doesn’t know I was drugged and left half-naked and abused in a broken-down barn.” Another statement.

  “Nobody knows except for Payne and me, and your aunt and Spry.”

  “Oh, thank God.” My feeling of relief is snatched away as Sunday bursts my bubble.

  “You have to tell him.”

  “Like hell I do! It’s none of his business.” I argue, incredulous at the suggestion.

  “Yes, it is, Stell. It’s bigger than just you. I’m sorry, but he needs to know.” She looks at me with pleading eyes. “Please tell him.”

  “Sunday, no. I don’t want to. I can’t even remember what happened. He already hates me, and I don’t want to play his bullshit games anymore. If he laughs or says that it was my fault, or worse yet, looks at me with pity, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it. I’ll either punch him in the face or cry. Or maybe both.” I angle my face down so she can’t see my flush. “As much as he hates me, my stupid heart still feels something for him, and I don’t know how to stop it. His opinion matters to me.”

  “You’ll be fine, New Girl. You’re the badass babe from New York, and you’re an Heir. You’re more than a match for Poe Halliday.” I nearly jump out of my skin when Payne interjects out of the blue. “And for the record, Poe doesn’t hate you.” He shoves another handful of popcorn in his mouth and talks around it. “Far from it.”

  I snort, and Sunday laughs, though I’m not sure if she’s laughing at the ridiculousness of Payne’s statement or my response to it. He was obviously paying more attention to us than we realized. Deciding I need a minute alone, I gingerly push myself off the bed and grab the almost empty bowl from Payne’s lap.

  “Hey,” he frowns, “where are you going with that?”

  “I’m just going to get a drink. You hoovered up all the popcorn, so I might as well make some more while I’m down there.” He purses his lips and blows me an air kiss while rubbing his stomach.

  “See, Easton? That’s how you do it. Always take care of the man in your life.” He laughs and catches the pillow Sunday throws at him with ease, tucking it behind his back.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” She’s already halfway off the bed as she asks.

  “No. I’m good. You stay here; I’ll be right back.” She looks like she might argue with me for a minute, but she lowers herself back down and watches me like a mother hen.

  Babying the swollen ankle I twisted on Roxy’s stairwell while Poe ripped out my heart and handed it to me, I leave the two of them and take the stairs down to the kitchen.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Most of the kitchen is dark and quiet; the soft under-cabinet lighting the only illumination in the large room. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, my hand shakes as I fill it with water from the fridge dispenser and some of it sloshes onto the floor.

  “Shit.” Ripping a few paper towels from the roll in the pantry, I drop them on the small puddle and dry it with my foot, holding on to my glass like a lifeline. Remembering another late night mopping a floor with my foot, I don’t even notice my aunt until she speaks.

  “I’ll get it.” Cecily’s voice emerges from the shadows gathered around the long table and makes me jump, spilling more water.

  “Jesus Christ! Auntie, what the hell are you doing sitting in the dark?” I squawk.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Coming over to where I’m standing, she reaches down and finishes drying the floor, grabbing the soggy mess of paper towels, and throwing it in the trash.

  “It’s okay. I can get it myself. No big deal.”

  Let me just wait for my adrenaline to stop pumping.

  “No.” The word is solid and definitive.

  “No? No, what?” I ask, confused.

  "No. You aren't going to do this by yourself. You’ve had to do way too much in your life by yourself. You aren't alone anymore." Her face flushes with embarrassment and guilt. "I'm sorry I let you down. I should have protected you." Angry tears start to flow down her pink cheeks. "This is my fault. It was selfish of me to bring you here. It would have been easy enough just to send you money and make sure you were taken care of from a distance." Swiping the tears away with the back of her hand, she stands a little straighter. "This will not happen again. We'll find you a nice condo wherever you want to go, and I’ll make sure you have everything you need. You can get on with your life and try to forget this town even exists." She jerks in surprise at my sudden harsh jolt of laughter that quickly turns into a cough.

  "You think I could leave here now?" I question when my throat clears. "No way."

  "Stella, be reasonable, please. Look at what just happened to you!” Her face is set in stone, the severe downturn of her mouth carving a harsh and rigid shape on her usually sunny features.

  "That's exactly why I can't leave—not knowing what happened or why? I can’t let that go. Though I do have a suspicion as to who." The side of my upper lip curls momentarily in disgust.

  And, boy, is he going to regret that decision.

  "Look, Auntie, I've never really been a part of anything. Even with my mom, she kept us separate from everything and everyone. She got worried when people started to get too close, so she pushed them away. I'm slowly learning there was a reason for that, and I need to know wh
at it was." She tries to interrupt, but I silence her with a raise of my palm. "I know it's dangerous. Trust me, I’ve been warned. I know it probably won't be good when I get to the bottom of it. But I have to know." Tilting my head to the side slightly, a shy smile settles over my lips. "Besides, I have you now. And Sunday. And Payne and the others." Poe's vicious words from last night flash briefly through my mind, and I shove them back into the dark. "I don't want to leave. Please don't make me leave." An ache builds in my throat at the thought. My aunt reaches out for me, her face softening at the pleading note in my voice as she wraps me in a warm hug.

  "I don't want you to go anywhere, but I'm scared for you. When you didn't come home last night, and nobody knew where you were…” she trails off, a sob choking her words briefly. “When nobody knew where you were, all I could think of was your mother. She broke my heart when she left without a word." Her eyes puffy from tears, but bright and direct, she delivers her decision. "If you're going to stay, I need you to be careful. Very careful. And we are going to lay down some ground rules. Agreed?” Some of the tension leaves my bruised body, and my heart swells with love for this woman I didn’t know a week ago, who now feels like home to me.

  “Agreed. Thank you, Auntie, for letting me stay. For everything.”

  “Get some sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow. I’ll call the headmistress and let her know you’ll be taking a few days off.” Hugging me as tightly as she dares, knowing how sore I am, she releases me and turns to go back to her bedroom, but I stop her with a hand on her arm.

  “I’m going back to school tomorrow.” She faces me again, reaching out and laying her hand on the side of my face as I speak. “I’m going to find out what happened and make sure whoever did it knows they will never do it again.” My words come out strong and matter of fact. Wariness and pride jockeying for position over her features, she finally nods once.

  “Alright. But you are never to be alone, got it? You make sure one of your friends stays with you.” Running her fingers softly over my new shorter hair, she smiles. “Sunday did a good job. It suits you.”

  Grinning in thanks, I grab my glass and head back upstairs, my promise of more popcorn forgotten. Sleep won out over snacks anyway since Payne is zonked out in the chair, one arm behind his head, the other across his chest. Lifting the soft throw blanket from the end of my bed, I carefully put it over him, and he mumbles quietly in his sleep. Crawling in under the covers of my big comfy bed beside Sunday, my movement makes her stir and wake up enough to ask if I’m okay. Murmuring my assent, I turn off the television and fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  My alarm starts going off far too early. Refusing to open my eyes, I reach out blindly to shut it off, my flailing raising a groan from beside me. Keeping my eyes closed, I smile.

  “Good morning to you, too.”

  “Why is school so early? Are they trying to make it as terrible as possible?” Rolling over, she buries her face in the pillows. “Don’t they know I need my beauty sleep?” Her muffled complaints make me laugh.

  “Yes, Sunday, they are purposely trying to make you as ugly as possible. It’s a grand scheme devised by the average-looking people of the world to level the playing field.” She lifts her face out of the pillow and props herself up on her elbows.

  “Are you calling me better than average-looking?” Flashing a cat that ate the canary grin at me, she throws the covers off and stands up, raising on to her tiptoes and stretching toward the ceiling. “That’s a reason to get out of bed. I can’t hide this beauty from the world.” Rolling my eyes and grinning, I groan at her goofiness as she does a chicken walk over to the closet and disappears inside. “Dude,” she says, poking her head out around the door. “I’m borrowing a uniform so I don’t have to go home before school, ‘kay?”

  “Help yourself. Go use the shower first.”

  I’m just going to lie here and think of all the ways I can pay Bingham Ramsey back while I wait.

  “Hey, when did Payne leave?” I raise my voice so she can hear me while in the depths of my closet, looking at the blanket folded neatly and stacked with the pillow on the chair.

  “No idea, I didn’t even hear him. His car is still at his place since I picked him up there when we went to find you, so I guess he probably called somebody to come and get him and take him home.”

  The two of us manage to get ready in decent time, even when a tear or two manages to escape as I blow-dry my now much shorter hair in a fraction of the time I’m used to. Sunday stays quiet, and like the best friend she is, helps me straighten and style it without comment. By the time we’re ready, I have to admit that while it’s not something I would have ever done on my own, the new shorter style looks pretty good on me.

  As we walk into the kitchen a few minutes later, our eyes swing to each other, and our laughter is uncontrollable. Payne is wearing what has to be one of Cecily’s aprons judging by the frilled edging, a streak of flour on his handsome cheek as he cheerily hums a wordless tune and pours pancake batter onto the flat grill of the gas cooktop. My aunt sits at the island in front of one of three places set for breakfast, drinking her coffee and watching him over the rim of her cup with amusement.

  “Ladies!” He exclaims when he sees us in the doorway. “Welcome to Pancake Heaven! Please have a seat.” He gestures to the remaining two spots at the island, dripping batter from the ladle in his hand onto the floor. We slide into the seats next to Cecily and raise our eyebrows at her in question.

  “Don’t look at me; this was all his idea.” She chuckles. Sipping the orange juice set out for us, Sunday and I watch Payne flip the pancakes once with an admirable level of skill, letting them finish cooking for a few minutes while he pulls a full stack out of the warming oven. Adding the new ones to the pile, he shuts off the oven and the cooktop and starts arranging food on plates with his back to us.

  “Today, we have chocolate chip pancakes, with strawberries and bananas for the young ladies,” he proclaims in a terrible fake accent, “and plain with blueberries for the mistress of the house.” Setting our plates in front of us with a flourish, he sets to cleaning up.

  My stack is topped with sliced bananas for eyes, and extra chocolate chips arranged in a smile. Leaning over to Sunday’s, hers has the same chocolaty smile, but instead of banana slices, hers has strawberry halves for eyes that look a little too heart-shaped to be coincidental. She won’t look at me, instead keeping her head down and trying to hide her pleased smile.

  “Payne, if all of your food is like this, you are welcome to come and cook here anytime you’d like.” Cecily makes an appreciative noise, her mouth full. “These are fantastic.” Sunday and I both dig in and echo her sentiments wholeheartedly.

  “Alas, ladies, I must leave you and go home to get ready for school.” Glancing at his phone as it dings with a text message, he removes his apron and folds it neatly on the counter. “Thank you for letting me stay last night, Miss Bradleigh, and for letting me use the kitchen this morning.” He starts backing out of the kitchen. “Sun, New Girl, I’ll see you guys at school.” Saluting, he turns and disappears down the hall to the front door.

  Dropping my fork on my plate and wiping the syrup from my lips quickly, I tell my breakfast companions I’ll be right back, and slide off my bar stool. I manage to catch up with Payne on the front porch, just as the Uber he ordered pulls up to the front steps.

  “Thank you, Payne. For yesterday, for smiley pancakes this morning, for everything.” I instinctively wrap my arms around him in a sisterly hug. “You’re an excellent friend and a really great guy.” He chuckles and hugs me back.

  “Don’t tell anybody. You’ll ruin my street cred.” He pulls back and winks. Glancing thoughtfully back at the house, he gets serious for a second. “Except that one inside. You can tell her what a nice guy I am.” Running his hand through his hair, he shoots me a wistful grin and jogs down the stairs, slipping into the back of the waiting car and waving once before it drives off.

 
“Oh, I think she knows exactly what kind of guy you are, Payne Emerson, even if she won’t admit it,” I say with certainty to the fresh morning breeze before heading back inside to finish breakfast.

  Chapter Eighteen

  My head is pounding, and my legs feel like wet cardboard. The arm curled under my cheek is asleep to the point of not feeling attached at all anymore. But for thirty blissful seconds, the only sensations I experience are the discomfort of sleeping in a fucked-up position and a decent hangover before it all comes flooding back.

  The words I spit at the girl who unknowingly has my heart.

  The devastated look on her beautiful face.

  The soul-ravaging shame at being the cause of her humiliation and pain.

  Dragging the back of my hand across my dry lips, I blink bits of sandy grit out of my eyes.

  I have to fix what I broke. Or at least try to.

  Getting myself vertical is more challenging than I expected. Once I’m there, my headache makes its presence fully known, a dull, throbbing helmet, and my thankfully empty stomach clenches and unclenches a few times, undecided if it wants to turn inside out or not.

  Jesus, how much did I drink last night?

  Scanning the sand around my makeshift bed, I count the empties as I grab them, a little surprised to realize that I finished off eight here, along with the two at the party. I shove them back in the cases and stow them in the trunk before going in search of my boots, taking the water bottle I keep in my gym bag with me.

  Gravity is so not my friend right now, and she makes me take a seat and a few deep breaths. While I’m trying to get my shit together enough to go home and fall into my bed, I check my phone and see texts from Payne, Raff, and Sunday. Raff’s and Payne’s are of the pretty standard variety, just checking to make sure I’m okay, but Sunday’s… Well, Sunday’s is something entirely different.