FADING (A novel)(114)

Jase hands them over and quickly leans in to kiss me and says, “Call me.”

I nod as he closes my door, and I turn to look at Ryan as he gets in the car. He doesn’t say anything and neither do I. He starts the car and begins to drive. His jaw is clenched hard, and his breaths are slow and heavy. Ryan’s grip is tight on the steering wheel, and his knuckles are cut open and covered in blood.

Neither one of us speaks the whole drive to his loft. His breathing has slowed and softened by the time he shuts off the car. My tears haven’t stopped flowing. Getting out, he walks in front of the jeep to my side, opening my door. When I shift myself to face him, he drops his head to my lap and grabs onto my hips. Weaving my hands through his hair, I fist them closed and lean my body over his. I know he’s crying when I feel his back begin to heave.

I let go of his hair when he pulls back. The pain in his eyes is almost unbearable. Wiping my thumbs across his cheeks, I brush the tears away from his bloody face. I look over him, and I know it has to be Jack’s blood because Ryan doesn’t have a scratch on him. I don’t ask what happened because I don’t think it really matters.

He takes my hand and walks me inside and up to his room. While he’s in the shower, I grab my purse and take my sleeping pill. I can’t stop crying as I change into a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt and wait for him in bed. He walks out with a towel slung around his waist and goes to throw on his boxers. Getting into bed, he scoops me in his arms as I continue to cry.

All I can see is Jack. He’s there when I close my eyes; he’s there when they’re open, staring into the darkness of the room. I cry because I don’t know how to get him out of my mind. I just need to be close to Ryan, to feel safe and to know everything will be fine.

I lay my hand on his cheek and turn him to me. Pressing my lips against his, I pull back for a moment and whisper, “Make love to me,” before kissing him again.

“Baby, you’re crying.”

“I don’t care.” I bring him to me and begin running my kisses down his neck. Ryan doesn’t move, so I pull away and look at him. “Kiss me.”

“Candace, you’re upset.”

“I need to be close to you right now. I want to get him out of my head, and you’re the only one who can do that for me.”

He rolls on top of me and lets out a sigh, resting his head against mine. “Are you sure, babe?”

“Yes,” I say through the tears that won’t stop.

I cling tightly to him as he slips his hand under my shirt and squeezes my breast while kissing my neck. I reach down and tug on his boxers, just wanting them off.

“Candace.”

“Please, Ryan.”

He pulls down his boxers, and I lift my hips so that he can remove mine. I quickly pull off my top, and when he slides into me, I close my eyes, letting the tears seep out. Ryan has a thing about watching me when we make love, but tonight, he never asks me to open my eyes. I cling to his body as he pushes into me unlike any time before. Without words, he continues to thrust inside of me until we both find our release.

When he rolls off of me, he pulls me snug against him, and he reaches down to grab my hand, holding it tightly. He never lets go of it, and I suddenly feel bad for using him like I just did when he’s also so upset.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t be. You take whatever you need from me.”





Chapter Thirty-Seven


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The ringing of my phone wakes me up, and I climb out of bed to dig it out of my purse. Not wanting to wake Ryan, I step out into the hall, closing the door softly behind me. I don’t recognize the number, so I answer with a hesitant, “Hello?”

“Is this Candace Parker?” a man’s voice asks.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Detective Patterson, ma’am. I got your message and was returning your call. How can I help you?”

The anxiety slowly builds in my stomach as I’m caught off guard by the phone call, especially since last night’s events. A flash of the girl’s face that Jack was with crosses my mind, and I decide that maybe this is what I need to do.

“Oh, yeah. I . . . umm, I’m not quite sure where to begin.”

“It’s okay. Did you have a specific question you wanted to ask me?”

I walk further down the hall and sit down at the top of the stairs. “I guess I was just curious about what would happen if I wanted to press charges; if it was too late . . .or . . .”

“Well, I have your file here. It seems the hospital went ahead and had your rape kit sent over to the criminal lab where it is being stored. That, along with the eye-witness report, well, you have a solid case.”

“Umm, so there was someone there? I don’t remember . . .”

“Yes, ma’am. Let me pull up his statement.” It takes a few seconds before he continues, “Okay, according to his statement, he heard screaming in the alley. When he came into view, you were knocked unconscious. He was the one who called 911 and waited with you until the ambulance arrived.”

My hands begin to tremble as I think about someone being there with me. It makes me almost feel embarrassed just thinking about someone seeing me like that—beaten and naked. That night begins to replay in my head: the screaming, the weight of him on top of me, his grunting, watching his fist before he slammed it into my face.