Saving ren saviour serie.., p.8
Saving Ren: Saviour Series Book One, page 8
“Yeah?”
“I like it. I really like it. Thank you. Thank you for tonight.”
The indigestion returns and I rub at my chest as I watch her turn back around and run to her mates.
“Just make sure you call me.”
I stand and watch as she climbs into a cab with Jo, the remaining two women get into the ride that pulls up behind them. When they pull away, I decide to walk home along the esplanade and attempt to get my head around everything that’s happened tonight.
Chapter 9
Lauren
Relived to see my bed is empty when I get home, I quickly head into the ensuite, remove the remnants of my makeup, clean my teeth, and climb into bed.
My entire body is vibrating, and my thoughts are a jumbled whirl.
He kissed me on the mouth. Gabe, he kissed me. And it wasn’t just a little peck. He slid his hand into the back of my hair and held me in place. There were no tongues, just lips, but he held on to me like he didn’t want to let me go. Another man put his mouth on me, and I allowed it. It felt good. Better than good. After so long without affection, for a very brief moment, the tender way his lips brushed mine, made me feel wanted, desirable, normal.
I’ve been married to the same man for twenty-four years; we’ve been together for almost twenty-seven. I won’t claim to have never looked at another man or wondered what it would be like with someone else because I’m only human, and that would be a total lie.
Wondering is a bit different from wanting, wishing, and doing though. And tonight, all of those things happened. I wanted to go home with Gabe, I wished I’d left Jay sooner, and I did let Gabe kiss me.
If I needed any more proof that my marriage was truly over, surely tonight’s actions proved it?
Despite how deliciously gorgeous Gabe is, I need to set him and everything that was said and shared between us tonight aside for the time being and focus on getting my life into some kind of order once I move out of here tomorrow.
Despite my good intentions, the memory of that kiss is the last thing I remember as I finally drift off to sleep.
I’m dragged from sleep by the sensation of a hand pushing its way inside my sleep shorts. I know it’s Jay before I even open my eyes. The unmistakable scent of his after-shave, shower gel, the soap powder and fabric softener I wash his clothes in, all combine to make up a smell that used to bring me comfort. A smell that meant safety, love, home. It’s a smell I’ve spent most of my life happily bathed in. But now it’s mixed with something else. There’s the strong odour of alcohol that’s for sure, and something else my sleepy brain can’t quite pin down.
“Take your clothes off, Loz.” Jay’s rough whiskers scrape the tender skin of my neck as he burrows his face into the space between my ear and shoulder.
For a few long moments, I wonder if this is it. Could this be the turning point? A chance to make love, then talk things through, work out what’s gone wrong, and set things right? Is this the moment where we save our marriage and everything we’ve spent most of our lives building together?
“Come on, Lauren, take your shorts off and open your legs. I won’t take long, I promise.”
And then he squeezes in exactly the spot he kicked me the other night. Exactly where he kicked me after he’d thrown me to the floor. Where he kicked me while calling me a fat lazy bitch and telling me I’d ruined his life.
A loud sob escapes me, along with the very last glimmer of hope I had of saving what we once had. It’s not just the pain of him squeezing at my bruised body, it’s the fact that he’s the one who caused the bruises. My husband, the man who’s spent so many years worshipping me. I feel utterly betrayed by his anger, the venom and rage he’s aimed at me without a single explanation as to why. I hate the sad, defeated person I’ve become because of him, and there is absolutely no way I want his body inside mine ever again.
The self-pity and loathing I’ve felt for months are instantly replaced by anger and outrage.
“Take your fucking hands off me,” I tell him through gritted teeth. At the same time, I push both my hands against his chest, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s drunk or because he wasn’t expecting it, but he falls to his back.
My ears ring with the deafening silence as I lay propped on one elbow, waiting on his reaction. I start to push myself up. Deciding in that instant that I’m going, leaving. Fuck it all. I’ll worry about what’s in the safe tomorrow. I don’t care if I have no money, none of my personal documents, I’m done, so fucking done with him and his shit.
I expect him to grab my hair or slap my face as I start to move out of the bed. What I don’t expect is for him to twist his body in such a way that he’s able to use the soles of both his feet to kick me out of the bed with such force, I crash into my bedside chest of drawers.
My breath catches as my ribs smash against the edge and the whole thing tips over, taking me with it, only stopping when my head and the side of my face crack against the wall.
I’m not sure if I blackout, but the room is silent for a few moments, and stars dance in front of my eyes, and there’s a shrill ringing in my ears.
“If you’re not up for fucking me, then there’s no need to keep you in my bed. You can sleep on the fucking floor, exactly where you belong, you useless cunt,” Jay hisses from somewhere above me. There’s a moment, the briefest of moments where I allow myself to hope that he’s done and I attempt to sit myself up. That’s when his fist connects with my cheekbone and the side of my head. I’m not sure if he kicks or pushes me, but I’m again slammed against the bedside chest of drawers I’m still laying across.
The wind is knocked out of me, and I fight to catch my breath while trying not to panic. The room is dark, and I’ve lost all sense of direction as I attempt to find the wall, or anything to lean against and right myself.
I can taste salt and blood. I try so hard to hold onto my tears and sobs, but they escape as whimpers and snorts. Too scared to move, I lay motionless as I listen to Jay climb back into bed, and within what is probably seconds, but feels like minutes, he begins to snore.
Scrambling frantically in the dark, I eventually find the wall. Pressing my palm against it, I attempt to stand. The chest of drawers tips and I fall with it, letting out a groan at the pain shooting across my ribs.
With my hand covering my mouth to quieten the sound of my heaving breaths, I take a moment for my head to stop spinning and to calm my racing thoughts. I need to get out of here and to do that, I need to stay calm. I take a few deep breaths in through my nose, with my entire body almost convulsing with how hard it shakes, I reach out a trembling hand and eventually find the wall again. Finding purchase, I leverage myself into a kneeling position, move around the drawers, collecting my phone which had been sitting on it as I go, and attempt to crawl on all fours into our walk-in wardrobe. Pain slices through my shoulder, so instead, I shuffle on my knees.
Using the light from my phone, I find my UGGs and pull them on, along with a big oversized cardigan hanging from a hook.
Standing upright, my head spins, and my stomach roils. I swipe at the blood that’s pouring from my nose, has coated my chin, and is dripping onto my chest.
I blow out a few short breaths and close my eyes, again trying to get my shit together. Fuelled by pure adrenaline, I fight back the pain, ignore the blood still dripping from my nose, and now coating my ear and neck from a cut somewhere in my head. In a futile effort at holding myself together, I wrap one arm around my middle and nod. ‘You can do this,’ I mouth.
Silently, I move to the opening of our walk-in, too scared to use the light on my phone to check Jay’s still sleeping, I rely on his snore as an indicator. Reaching my bedroom door, I close my eyes while opening it as carefully as possible. Tiptoeing along the hallway towards the front door, I unlock it, pull it open, and step outside. Finally letting out the shaky breath I’d been holding onto, I run, leaving my home, my husband, my marriage, and the life that I thought would always be mine behind.
I run until I vomit. Scared that the sound of me throwing up and my sobs will wake someone up in our usually quiet neighbourhood, I turn down an alley and head towards the small row of shops I know are just a few blocks away.
As I walk, I dial Jo’s number. My hands, legs, and insides are shaking to the point I can barely hold my phone or focus on putting one foot in front of the other. The call goes to voicemail, and I’m about to call again, when I see a set of car headlights approaching from up ahead, I can’t hold back the cry of absolute fear that escapes me. Terrified it might be Jay, I duck into a driveway, my cardigan catching on something and pulling me into a bush as something sharp tears against the skin on my bare legs.
I squat in the darkness—my body heaving with the force of my tears and sobs. As the car draws level, I lose all control and wet myself.
With my hand covering my mouth to quieten the sounds I’m making, I draw in a breath through my nose before choking out heaving sighs of relief as soon as the lights and sound of the car disappear. Having no option but to keep moving, and beyond feeling ashamed, I stand, wipe the inside of the tops of my legs on my cardigan, and start moving again towards the shops.
A floodlight illuminates the small car park, so I keep close to the darkened shopfronts, dashing past the bakers—where I usually get my coffee on my morning walks—which is lit up at the back, and make my way to the alley running between an Italian deli and the barbers.
Once in the alley, I hit Jo’s number again. I don’t know if that was Jay’s car that passed me earlier, but I remain hidden and hopefully safe from being seen from the road. It takes two more tries before Jo picks up.
“Lauren, what's wrong?”
“Jo,” I sob, overwhelmed with relief at hearing her voice. “Jo, please. Please can you come and get me. Please. I've had a fight with Jay.”
“Where are you?”
I can’t think straight. The pain radiating through my left shoulder is now so intense, my legs buckle, and I slide down the brick wall I’m leaning against. The freezing cold of the concrete pathway permeates my piss-soaked shorts and skin.
Leaning to the side, I vomit again, all the while, Jo is firing off questions I can’t quite hear.
“I’m at the shops where the bakers and deli are. I can’t see the name of the street; I can’t remember what. . . I don’t know the name of the street, Jo, I don’t know it.” I’m crying and trying to catch my breath as my teeth chatter together. I do know the name of the street, but my brain refuses to function and give me the answer. Another car drives by, and I release my breaths out in short pants, terrified the occupants might hear me breathe or cry. Letting out a whimper of relief when it passes, I hear Jo calling my name down the phone.
“Lauren, listen to me. I need you to calm the fuck down and listen. I know where you are, and I’m coming there now.”
“Jo, just make sure Jay’s not driving about looking for me. Listen to me, Jo, make sure. . .”
“I will, I’ll turn off my headlights,” she cuts me off and says. “I need you to stay calm and listen. I’m just getting into my car, when I start it up the phone will cut out and the Bluetooth will kick in, but I’m still here, okay, I’m still with you. It’ll just drop out for a few seconds.” It takes about thirty seconds before I hear her again.
“Right, I’m back, and I’m on my way. It’ll take me five minutes, tops.”
There’s silence for a few long seconds, and I panic that the phone has cut out.
“Jo? Jo?”
“I’m here. I’m right here. Are you hurt? Do we need to call the police or an ambulance, Lauren?”
“No. No police. I can’t. I won’t do that to my boys.”
“I’ve got a feeling he might need protecting from your boys when they find out what he’s been doing.”
I can’t even process an answer to that comment. The thought of my kids finding out about all of this hurts so much more than anything Jay could physically inflict.
“I can’t, I need time. I can’t let them see me like this. I need time before I tell them.”
“Are you hurt then? Has he marked you? Talk to me, Lauren.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. No police, no ambulance. I don’t want to go to the hospital; they’ll call the police. I need time, Jo, time to talk to the boys.”
“Okay, okay. We’ll figure it out. I’m here. My lights are off, and I’m just pulling into the car park. Where are you?”
“In the alley.”
I watch as her car pulls up parallel to where I’m hiding. I’m so overwhelmed with relief that I can’t move. As Jo climbs from her car and approaches, the noise that escapes me doesn’t even sound human.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you; I’ve got you.”
Jo squats down to my level, but I can’t bring myself to meet her eyes. I don’t want to see in them what she’s thinking of me right now.
“Oh, Jesus. Fucking hell. Fuck. Can you walk? We need to get you to a hospital. Can you stand up? Let’s get you into the car, don’t even bother trying to argue with me, you need to get to the hospital.”
“I can’t. I pissed myself, I can’t get in your car like this.” I sob between almost every word. As I stand upright, I’m hit with a wall of pain but can’t pinpoint the source. Everything hurts, from my head, to my heart, to my toenails and fingertips, I hurt.
“I couldn’t give a fuck if you were covered from head to toe in shit, you are getting in my car, and we’re going to the hospital.”
Chapter 10
Lauren
The lie comes so easily, and once I tell the first, despite the trauma, my injuries, the alcohol I’ve consumed, I manage to weave an elaborate and yet believable tale of a drunken girls’ night out, which results in me bouncing on the bed, losing my balance, taking a tumble and landing on the chest of drawers beside the bed. My fall resulting in bruising four ribs, dislocating my shoulder, a glued-up gash to my head, a bruised cheek and jaw, and various other bruises and contusions all over my body.
The nurse knew I was lying.
The doctor knew I was lying.
But I escaped the hospital without the police being called and am now settled in the front of Jo’s car with my ribs bandaged so tight I can barely breathe, my arm temporarily in a sling, a glued together head, lumps, bumps, bruises, and scratches to the entire rest of my body while wearing a hospital gown, my UGGs, and cardigan. My pissy sleep shorts were dumped in a surgical waste bin after I convinced the nurse I’d wet myself after laughing so hard at falling off the bed.
It’s eight in the morning when we pull up outside Jo’s, and my phone shows forty-seven missed calls and texts from Jay.
I have nothing to say to him. I don’t know that I ever will, but just in case, I’ve written a whole fucking speech in my head. One day I’ll be able to look him in the eye and convey the fear and terror he’s made me feel. But that day isn’t this day, nor will it be any day soon.
Right now, I’m just grateful that his car isn’t parked at Jo’s with him inside waiting for my return. I’m exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. I feel hollow. I’d like to think I had no tears left in me to cry, but they’re there, right below the surface and ready to breach the barriers of my eyelids the instant I let my guard down.
Jo cuts the engine of her car, but she speaks before I can move to open the door.
“I’m beyond pissed off at you for not getting the police involved tonight, but right now, I’m exhausted, you look like absolute shit, we both need a shower, and we both need to try and get some sleep.”
I turn and meet her light brown eyes, one of those tears I was keeping prisoner escapes and rolls down my cheek.
“But at some stage, we are going to talk about this, and you are going to tell me exactly what happened tonight. There is a bed at my house for as long as you need it. I will feed you. I will clothe you. I will lend you whatever money you need, but at some point, I will expect the truth.”
I nod, knowing if I even attempt to speak, the only sound that’ll escape me will be yet another sob.
“Right, let’s get you in and get you showered. Stay there, I’ll come around and help you out.”
An hour later, freshly showered, and with the blood washed from my hair—thanks to Jo’s help—I’m sitting at her bench wearing one of her hoodies and a pair of hammer pants while picking at a bacon sandwich.
“Eat that, you’re going to need to take some pain meds soon, and you can’t do that on an empty stomach,” Jo orders.
Before I can respond, my phone vibrates from where it’s plugged in at the wall. Jo removes the charger and slides it to me. Jemma’s name lights up the screen. I swipe to open and set it to speaker.
“What the fuck is going on? Where are you?”
“And good morning to you too, Mrs Wilson.”
“Cut the crap, East! Why is your husband ringing me looking for you? What’s happened?”
Jo’s phone begins to vibrate. “It’s Jay. Jem, we’ll call you back in a few and explain everything. Love you, bye.”
“Don’t you dare. . .”
I cut Jem off and end my call as Jo answers hers.
“Hey, Jay. You’re up bright and early. What can I do you for?” She winks at me and says before Jay even speaks.
“Morning, Jo.” My eyes close at the sound of his voice, my heart stutters in my chest, and just for a moment, a very short moment, I feel something. Opening my eyes, I instantly lock it down.
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen my wife, have you?”
“Lauren… no… not since last night. I shared a taxi with her. I don’t understand. She did come home, right?”
“She did, but I got home after her, and I’d had a little too much to drink. You know how she can be? We got into a bit of a blue, and she stormed off.”
