After We Fall (Take the Fall, #3)(8)
“Does that make you his foster uncle?” I glance at him.
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“You have plans for tonight? Arranged courtships?” Hayden’s parents had been putting pressure on him to settle down before his father’s next campaign starts. Something he shared with me after he’d gotten drunk off his ass one night. Usually, the man was pure calm, pure control, but that had set him off.
“The usual.”
Which meant he was going to King’s. “Why don’t you try another place?”
“Because my dad hates the fact that I meet women there. He says it’s demeaning.”
“To you?”
“No, to the women who work there, while at the same time he insists that it’s beneath me. Our family connections should land me someone with a last name like Bush, Clinton, or Obama. Kennedy, even. He doesn’t give a damn as long as they have political clout.”
“That’s logical.”
“That’s Senator Walker.”
“I think you should be the one to go in the cage next time. Work off all that frustration.”
“And mess up this pretty face? I’ll pass.” Hayden slices his gaze my way. “Besides, I have more pleasurable ways to work off my frustrations.”
“You feeling okay?” Normally, Hayden doesn’t share shit about what or who he does. He’s so discreet that if I hadn’t walked in on him at home with a woman he’d met at King’s, I’d think he was a damn monk. Either way, I hauled ass as soon as I got a shot of her bare ass bouncing on his lap.
I’m not a prude, but I also don’t need to see my buddy’s O-face, either. There are some things that can’t be unseen, and I’d rather not have that one on the list.
“Yeah…more pressure from the senator, is all,” he replies tightly before pulling into the parking lot of Rose Haven.
Opening the door, I get out of his Escalade. “Let me know if I can do anything.”
He eyes me for a second, before grinning. “You could agree to marry me—be my fake fiancée.”
“Your face isn’t that pretty.” Shutting the door, I head inside the building.
Chapter 4
Evangeline
The only thing more terrifying than the cop next door is making female friends. Ironic, given that in high school I was voted the friendliest girl at Holland Springs High. Before my marriage to Penn, I loved making friends, loved having friends, and loved being the center of attention.
All right, so I’ll admit it—I used to be somewhat prideful about my popularity—but I swear that I used my powers only for good. However, the heady rush of being the girl everyone wanted to be, everyone wanted to know, and all the guys wanted to date was one of the best feelings ever.
Penn made sure to disabuse me of that notion. Once he’d gotten rid of my “slutty” friends, he managed to convince me that no one wanted to be my friend, that all my new friends were due to his power, his rank…his everything. I was nothing, less than nothing. Nothing more than an empty vessel to be filled by his wishes and wants and needs. I existed only for him.
Later, when he started hitting me more frequently, I barely existed at all. I hated being the center of his attention, hated being the only woman he wanted—after he got tired of his whore of the night.
Most of all, I hated how long I stayed.
Looking back, I can’t pinpoint when it started…at least not exactly. Maybe when we were dating and he would be a little too rough with handling me when he got jealous of other guys. Maybe the fact that he handled me at all was a dead giveaway.
For me, that’s one of the worst things about living with an abuser for so long. I feel so stupid for not leaving, for not recognizing the signs that were as obvious as the nose on my face, and in the beginning, for loving the attention he gave me. The way he wanted to spend every second of the day with me. The way he made me the center of his world…until he wanted to rule it with an iron fist.
Taking a deep breath, I push the curtains aside and check the parking lot for Hunter’s truck. It’s not there.
My heart jumps in excitement and not disappointment. Never disappointment. I’ll never be disappointed by a man again.
Grabbing my phone, I secure it in my armband and head downstairs. Humid air hits me as soon as I push open the door. I make a face, sticking out my tongue like a hound dog.
A small meow captures my attention, drawing my gaze to the floor.
“Hello there. Looking for some food and water?” I ask the stray cat that is sunning itself on the side porch. Bending down, I stroke its head and the cute thing starts to purr. “Aren’t you sweet?”
Looks like I’ll be acquiring a roommate in my very near future. My walk will have to wait until later because this precious creature will need a bed, toys, cat food, and I’ll have to make an appointment with the—
I spy a black collar around its neck. My heart sinks a little, but I check out the tag anyway. It’s shaped like R2-D2 and I can’t help but make a small noise of delight. “Oh, pardon me, Empress Padme, I didn’t realize you belong to apartment F.” I’m glad she has a home, but for a minute I was excited to share mine.
Empress Padme gives me a haughty stare.
A woman comes around the side of the house, exasperation on her pretty face. She’s almost as tall as I am and is wearing a T-shirt with the phrase IF YOU DON’T TALK TO YOUR CAT ABOUT CATNIP, WHO WILL? printed on the front. A pair of cutoff jeans and hot pink converse sneakers complete her look.