After We Fall (Take the Fall, #3)(11)

Why did I let Penn get to me at a job interview? Why do I let him continue to get to me at all?

My knuckles begin to hurt and I glance at them. They’re bloodless.

“Calm down,” I order myself. Peeling one hand and then the other off the steering wheel, I flex them, wincing as they tingle with blood flow.

When I was healthy enough to leave the battered women’s shelter, I refused to see another counselor. I didn’t want to relive my nightmarish existence. I didn’t want to talk about letting go or forgiving. I thought I could just shove everything away. I thought I could go about my life and he couldn’t touch me anymore.

I was wrong.

Yet, it’s not my fault. The only thing that changed for me, besides moving to Rose Haven, is talking to Hunter Sloan. Sure, he’s the man who helped me at the hospital. Sure, he’s the man I clung to when I was brought, by him, to the women’s shelter, but now I know that I was high on pain meds and he reminded me of my brothers. Men who would never, ever lay a hand on a woman. So, of course, I trusted him.

Grabbing my phone, I text the only person I trust to help me—Piper Simmons, the woman who helped me at the women’s shelter after Penn beat me so badly that I finally found the courage to leave him. Even though I have only spoken to her twice since I left the shelter, I know she won’t ignore me.

Me: Hey there. Can we meet to talk?

Piper: Yes. Where, when, and what time?

Me: Tomorrow at 6, at The Tea House.

Six should be late enough, I think.

Piper: Perfect. See you then.

I rest my forehead against the steering wheel and begin to pray for peace, for calm…and to be left alone. It’s not exactly easy for me to do this anymore. When I was younger, I loved going to church, loved singing in the choir and volunteering. So every time we moved, I found a new church home.

But Penn hated anything that had to do with God and Jesus freaks, as he liked to call me, so I eventually stopped going at all.

Of course, my dumb ass didn’t find out about how he felt until after we were married. My only excuse is that I was in love. Penn had healed my broken heart and, when he would drive all the way from Fayetteville just to see me, I couldn’t help but run away with him after only a month of dating.

Stupid girl.

In any case, the bruises on my face and arms drew attention, too, and I hated lying to everyone, so it wasn’t that hard to stop going.

Or so I liked to tell myself.

Thing is, I know if I had told the truth to anyone there, I would have been helped because I worked for the committee that helped abused women and children.

Ironic, huh?





Chapter 5


Hunter


After a shitastic day at work, I am eager as hell for a beer and a juicy steak on the grill, but before I can grab a bottle from the fridge, my phone rings and I groan.

It’s my partner, Dwight. Today he was promoted to detective, and, while I’m proud of him, I don’t want a new partner. Shit, I’m half afraid they’ll put me with Roberts and I’ll end up killing the guy on the first day we’re together. While that might do the world a favor, it won’t help me when I’m up for promotion.

“Sloan.”

“Now he speaks,” Dwight says with a laugh. “Wasn’t sure if I would get the silent treatment or not.”

Rubbing my forehead as I walk to the window and peer out, I say, “You know I’m proud of you. Just not too keen on possible candidates for my new partner.”

“Aw, I love you, too, man.”

I roll my eyes, then push a couple of blinds apart and spot Evangeline in the parking lot, washing her car. Right then and there, my day goes to one hundred percent.

“It won’t be the same without you,” I point out. “If I get stuck with Roberts, then I’ll have to listen to techno.”

“Better than that mariachi shit you made me listen to.”

“One song and it was because my momma called the station to play it on my birthday. Man, I can’t believe you would insult my mother. You know how she feels about you.”

“Yeah, yeah. We both know she’s in love with Hayden. He speaks en espa?ol better than me.”

“Hayden speaks better Spanish than I do.” But I have my father to thank for that. He liked to brag to his friends that he beat the Mexican out of me while keeping my back strong. The *. Not sure why he married my mother, or even got involved with her, since there was no denying her heritage.

“How she doing?” he asks, even as I keep my gaze on Evangeline. She picks up the hose, her leggings stretching over an ass so fine—f*ck. I can’t be thinking about a woman’s ass while my mother’s in the conversation.

“Fine. She’s still in Tijuana. I think she’s extending her visit by another month or two.” I’ll keep sending her all the money she needs to stay down there for as long as she wants, if it makes her happy and gives her peace. The woman has been through hell and back, toting me on her hip until I was old enough to willingly hold her hand, and she deserves peace.

“Good for her.” Dwight exhales. “Alisha says to stop by for dinner sometime.”

“I will.”

“So we good?”

“Very good,” I reply, then let the blinds fall into place. “I’m happy for you, bro, and we’ll go out to celebrate soon.”