Saving ren saviour serie.., p.14
Saving Ren: Saviour Series Book One, page 14
“Gabe, total honesty? I’ve been with one man since I was eighteen, I’ve never cheated on him, or even considered an affair, so please don’t think that this,” I again gesture between us, “that me waking up in another man’s bed is normal behaviour for me.”
He reaches out and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture should feel nice, really nice. Instead, it makes my stomach churn with nerves.
“Ren, if I thought for one second that waking up with anyone other than your husband was your normal MO, I would’ve fucked you in an alley Friday night and forgotten your name by Saturday morning.”
That comment leaves me wondering if that’s how he usually spends his Friday nights.
Out of nowhere, what was mentally too much, hits me physically. My skin prickles and panic bubbles inside me.
“I’m not ready for this. I need time,” I pant out, my voice creeping higher. “I can’t jump out of a twenty-four-year marriage straight into your bed. I need to talk to my boys; I need to process what’s happened. He hit me. When I was already down on the floor. . .” My legs and hands feel numb, and my breathing doesn’t seem to have any kind of rhythm.
“Twenty-six years we’ve been together, married for twenty-four. We’ve been a team, inseparable. He’s been my world, then out of nowhere, he did this.” I randomly gesture with my hands towards my face and body. “And the worst part is, I don’t know why. I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. . .” My breath catches at the pain in my ribs as Gabe pulls me into his lap, wraps his arms around me, and holds me against him. While rocking me like a baby, he lets me cry.
In the bright winter sunshine, I sit out on Gabe’s balcony and drink my coffee. After I finally stopped crying and pulled myself together, he insisted that I eat, but after a close inspection of the contents of his fridge, he realised there was little in there to create breakfast or any other kind of meal with. He’s now at the supermarket rectifying that.
Gabe’s house is set on a hill above the beach. It sits high enough that the traffic noise from the cars passing along the esplanade doesn’t drown out the sound of the waves, which calm me enough to make the call I’ve been dreading.
With one hand wrapped around my coffee cup, the other presses my phone to my ear while I wait for my husband to pick up.
“Where the fuck are you?” Is how he greets me.
“Doesn’t matter where I am, I just need you to know that I won’t be coming home. I also need. . . no, I want you to stop calling me. There is nothing for us to discuss. All future correspondence should be made through our solicitors. You’ll be hearing from mine sometime next week.”
“Stop talking shit, tell me where you are, and I’ll come pick you up.”
Jay’s voice sounds raspy, the way it does when he hasn’t had enough sleep, for a split second, I worry about him. I put it down to habit, and not because I actually give a fuck about how he’s sleeping.
“Jay, you really need to listen to me, what you did to me Friday night. . . what you’ve been doing to me for. . .” I’m pulled up short of delivering what I want to say by the tears that are once again threatening to fall. I’ve given this man enough of me, I gave him almost everything, and the very small piece I’ve managed to hold on to will not be spilled in tears that he gets to hear.
“It’s over, Jay. We’re done.”
“You don’t mean that, Lauren. You’re pissed, I get it. Just come home and we’ll talk.”
“I don’t want to talk, Jay, I don’t want. . .”
“For fucks sake, why has it always got to be like this with you? You pitch a bitch fit at the slightest thing, then turn it all around and blame me. Then you wonder why I lose my shit.”
I don’t know why I’m shocked at the way he’s flipped so easily, but I am.
“I’m going now.”
“I’ll fucking find you.”
“You ever come near me again, and I’ll press charges, Jay. The only reason I haven’t done it yet is because of our boys.” An alarm sounds somewhere in the house, and I watch as Gabe’s gate slides open; a few seconds later his black truck turns onto the drive.
“And what exactly do you plan on telling the boys? Ryder knows you’ve not been home all weekend. I called him, looking for you.”
I stand and lean against the balcony as Gabe climbs from his truck looking up at me. Leaning over, I hold my phone against my chest and my finger against my lips hoping he’ll understand I need him to be quiet. I get a chin lift, followed by a quick nod as he pulls a couple of bags from inside the car.
“I’ll tell the boys the truth. I’m not covering for you anymore.”
“You’d do that? You’d do that to me, to the boys?”
“You think that’s worse than the shit you’ve done to me?”
“Oh, here we go, so what if you broke a fucking fingernail. . . wah, wah, wah.”
“You broke more than my fucking nail, you broke my heart, you very nearly broke my spirit, but not anymore. I’m done. I won’t be back, so you’d better get your head around it.”
“You’re so full of shit. You give it all that mouthy little Essex girl front on the phone, but I’ve seen how tough you really are when you’re laying on the floor begging me not to hurt you anymore, snivelling and fucking crying. Who the fuck wants that anyway? You used to have a bit of fight in you, Lauren, now you’re just a fat mess with no getup and go.”
I turn to see Gabe coming through the sliding timber doors. I switch my phone to speaker and place it down on the outdoor table. “Jay,” I mouth to Gabe.
“Come home, don’t come home, I don’t fucking care. Maybe stay away for a few weeks and work on yourself, lose some weight, and learn how not to be a mouthy little cunt.”
Eyes on mine, Gabe leans in silently, ends the call, then pulls me into him. With my face buried in his chest, I breathe in all that is him. Fresh clean air, citrus and sunshine, his unique scent already familiar.
“Why the fuck are you listening to that prick? The man’s obviously having some kind of mental breakdown now that he’s realised what he’s done and how badly he’s fucked up. I don’t understand why you’re putting yourself through listening to his bullshit when you don’t have to.” He speaks with his mouth pressed up against my ear. Despite slipping into bed beside me as I slept, this is the first attempt he’s made at getting close to me, and even though my head is still trying to catch up with events going on in my life, I’m only human. My skin erupts in goosebumps, my stomach clenches, and I physically shudder at his proximity and the sensation of his hot breath on me.
Hoping to disguise my body’s reaction to his, I let out a slow exhale.
“You’re right, I don’t. Putting up with his abuse has become a habit. I called to tell him to stop calling me. He was all over the place. Do you think that’s really what’s wrong with him, that he’s having some kind of breakdown? One second he’s telling me to come home so we can talk, the next, he’s coming out with all the shit you just heard.”
“No fucking idea, and I can’t say I really give a fuck about his mental state either.”
I feel a little pang of. . . something. . . in my chest. I shouldn’t care about what Gabe’s just said, I shouldn’t worry about Jay, but I’ve spent my entire adult life with him, and all of my old thoughts, feelings, and habits are going to take a while to move on from that.
“I understand why you do though, he’s still your husband, you’re not going to be able to switch all that off in just a matter of hours.”
I look up and meet his eyes looking down at me. He slides his palm up my arm and over my shoulder, his fingers brush across the curve of my neck until they finally meet bare skin at my jaw. His thumb gently strokes across my bruised cheek.
“You’ve spent most of your life loving him, you’re entitled. . . expected, to feel torn, but me? I have no affiliation, and as far as I’m concerned, he’s a coward who put his hands on you, and I’d like nothing more than to be given a chance to return the favour. Mark him, the way he’s marked you.”
I hold my breath the whole time he talks, letting it out slowly when he finishes.
“What do you need from me? What can I do to make this shit show a little better for you?”
I’m shaking so hard I feel like I’m vibrating, but talking to Jay was, surprisingly, easier than I thought it would be.
“You’ve done more than enough, and I think I’m actually doing all right.”
His lips twitch before eventually forming a smile.
“What?” I ask.
“All right? Yeah, I’m all right, you all right?”
“What are you doing? What is that?” I question, knowing full well he’s attempting to mimic my accent.
“Shut up. Hundred percent babe, you all right?”
“You need to stop. I don’t know what you’re attempting, but it’s so bad, you’re making all my bruises hurt at once.” I attempt to wriggle out of his arms but wince at the pain in my ribs and shoulder as he holds me in place.
His brows raise, and the smile is instantly wiped from his face, making me feel a pang of guilt. “Shit, sorry, did I hurt you? You didn’t take your painkillers last night. Have you had any this morning?”
“Nah, mate,” I reply in my best Australian accent. “I don’t like the way they make me feel. The pain’s okay anyway, at least it was, till you started talking like Bert The Chimney Sweep.”
“My Essex is better than your Aussie any day.”
I roll my eyes in response as he stares down at me. His eyes scan my face, focusing mostly on my mouth, and I wonder, right before he finally meets my gaze, if he’s going to kiss me. His breaths come heavier, faster as he watches me, but he just stares, making no attempt to instigate anything physical between us, not even a kiss. I’m not disappointed, I’m not ready for that yet, but I am curious. I got to experience the gentle press of his lips against mine on Friday night, but right now, with my body pulled flush against his, I am wondering how a real kiss from him would feel. Mouths open, tongues tangling.
“I really wanna kiss you right now.”
“Get out of my head,” I say out loud.
His eyebrows shoot up, and he gives me a sexy smirk.
“You want me to kiss you?”
I shrug. I do, but I shouldn’t. I don’t want to complicate my life further or blur the lines of what might or might not be happening between us.
“I’m. . . curious? I know it’s too soon; I know I’m not ready, but I won’t lie, I am curious.”
“Total honesty,” he says quietly. I’m not sure if that’s a request or him voicing his understanding of what I’m trying to say.
“Always. It’s my one. . .” I consider the word I want to use. “Demand.”
“Oh, you’re making demands already?”
“I am,” I answer with a small nod. “I need that from you, if you’re not going to give me that. . .”
“Whatever you want. I already told you that. Whatever you need, whatever it takes, that’s what you’ll get from me.”
With his unwavering gaze fixed on mine, I believe him. There’s something there, here, happening between us. If it was just about sex, he wouldn’t be putting up with all the extra bullshit I bring to the table. He’s already told me I come draped in a red flag wearing a crown with the word DRAMA flashing front and centre of it, and despite all of this, for some reason, he still wants to pursue something with me. Right now though, I’m not sure I’m brave or reckless enough.
“Total honesty, Ren. Despite you telling me it’s too soon and you’re not ready, I think you’re wrong. I think the moment’s perfect, and I still, really, really wanna kiss you.”
His hands slide down to my arse as he gently pulls me against him, his very obvious erection presses against my belly.
“I think you might want to do more than kiss me.”
“With my dick. You didn’t let me finish. I really wanna kiss you with my dick.”
I lick my lips. Despite everything inside me pulling tight, I shake my head with a smile.
“Not happening,” I tell him quietly.
“I can wait,” he says against my ear. His lips brush along my jaw before resting on the corner of my mouth for a long moment. “Just let me know when you can’t.”
With that, he pulls away and heads back inside.
“Come back,” I say in a tiny quiet voice. “But not really. But not really not really.”
I sit back down in my chair and let out a huff. “Far out, that man does things to my brain,” I say to no one in particular while picking up my phone and calling my youngest child.
“Mum, what the fuck?”
“Language, Ryde,” I respond to the way my youngest answers my call.
“Language? Are you kidding me right now? Where are you? Dad’s going out of his mind, and Sonny’s about to book a flight home.”
“You done?”
“Not even a little bit. Talk to me, mother, what’s going on?”
Brushing the tip of my tongue over the split in my lip, I attempt not to cry as I’m hit with a tsunami of emotions. I thought I had this, but admitting to my kid that my marriage to his dad is over makes my throat feel tight and causes an ache in my chest.
Lifting my gaze, I look to the door, seeking out Gabe for reassurance. Instead, all I get is my own reflection bouncing back at me. It’s an image I barely recognise. A woman with a messy bun, wearing oversized sweatpants and a hoodie, sits curled in a chair. I keep forgetting that one side of my face is still swollen and bruised, my eye barely open. Raising my hand, I brush the tips of my fingers over my face and lips, reminding myself exactly why I’m in this state and needing to make this call.
As much as it kills me to do it, my boys deserve honesty. They’re both grown men, but as their mum, the need to protect them will forever be present in me.
Taking a deep breath in through my nose, I let it out slowly and organise the words in my head before speaking them out loud.
“I had to get out, Ryde. Things have been bad for months, but this past week. . .” I take in a mouthful of air, hoping I can gulp it down with my threatening tears.
“I ended up in the hospital Friday night. . .”
“What? Why? The fuck, Mum?”
“He just lost it. It’s not the first time, you know what he’s like, but every week lately, it’s just getting worse and worse.”
“He hit you? He’s been hitting you?”
“I thought things would get better, I thought I could handle him.”
“Handle him? Mum, he’s your husband. You shouldn’t have to handle him. Far out. He fucking lied to me. He told me you stormed off after he got home late. He’s been a nightmare at work, losing his temper over shit all the time, but I thought that was just at work.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I allow the silence to continue, to give my son the time he needs to process what I’ve just told him.
“Where are you now? Are you somewhere safe?” he asks quietly. While I consider my answer, he continues.
“Are you okay, Mum? I can’t believe you didn’t say anything, that you didn’t tell us what was going on.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t tell anyone,” I respond.
“I’m gonna kill him, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”
“No, you’re not. I got away, Ryde, I’m okay. Honestly, I’m fine. You can be angry with him, but you have to work with him. Don’t let what goes on between me and him, mess things up for you at work. I don’t want that. This isn’t just about me, it’s about you and your brother and the business. . .”
“Mum, he’s been putting his hands on you. You really think I want to keep working for him?”
My lips rattle together as I let out a long breath, and I instantly wince at the pain that action causes. I’m pissed off with myself for forgetting about the split in my bottom lip while feeling sick with guilt at what this is going to mean for my kids. This is not how I ever imagined my life would go. I’m sitting on an almost stranger’s balcony, wearing an almost stranger’s clothes, hiding from my husband as I tell my kid I’ve left his dad.
“What about your job?”
“He should be more worried about his job. He rarely turns up these days, Mum. It’s not an issue, I’ve got everything under control at the office, and I’ve promoted Spencer. We’ve taken on two new site managers and Spencer is now project managing all our jobs while I run the office.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
“Because I assumed you knew. I thought he was just slowing down, spending more time at home with you. That’s why I couldn’t work out why he’s been so pissed off on the rare occasions he does show up. If anything, I expected him to be more chill.”
“He’s not been spending his time with me, I assumed he was at work, and when he has been home, he barely says a word. He didn’t even tell me he’d moved the business account to a different bank.”
“Did he tell you I’ve bought the townhouse?”
“What? No, he hasn’t mentioned it. That was in both our names. How was he able to do that?”
Ryder lives in an investment property I jointly own with Jay. He pays minimal rent, but it covers the small mortgage we have on it and gives him somewhere to live.
“I’m not sure. There’s been a few things that have gone on that have had me confused lately. I offered to buy the townhouse because Dad said you guys were struggling. The business hasn’t been doing great, but since I put Spencer in charge, things have picked up.”
“I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with all of this. I had no idea. What did he charge you to buy the house? Was there any profit made?”
“Mum, you purchased that place off-plan and only paid a couple of hundred thousand for it. It was mostly paid for. I paid five-hundred thousand for it and all of the profit Dad put back into the business to make up for what he’s been drawing out. Before he even knew it was in the account, I paid all the trades we owed money to, as well as all the suppliers. What was left, I’ve moved to an account he doesn’t have access to.”
