Slut - Woodruff Jettie - Страница 35

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Nick groaned a loud breath and continued. “Gabby, when was the next time you had sex? Do you remember that?”

“Yes, it was for an initiation for a boy to get in a gang. Three of them held me while one raped me.”

“Did the other ones hurt you, too?”

Tears slid down both my cheeks, but my body never moved from its slumped position. “Yes, they all did.”

“Ask her about Paxton.” Lane whispered from Nick’s side.

“No. Get out of here. This isn’t what this was about.”

“Come on. Ask her about the first time she met Paxton.”

“Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

“I just want to make sure I didn’t have anything to do with her hating sex,” Lane admitted. “You gotta erase this shit though. It was a long time ago.”

“I’m not doing that, Lane. This was supposed to be about helping a girl enjoy sex with her husband. I don’t want to get involved in anything else.”

“Can you make her forget that? Ask her about the next time she had sex,” Lane pressed, this time taking a seat, straddling a backward chair, right next to me.

Paxton paused the video that time.

I snapped a glance toward him and frowned. “What now?”

“I don’t want to do this. Let’s stop.”

My constricted eyes accused him of the secret next. “Why, Paxton?

“This isn’t what I want you to remember. I hope you never remember that night.”

“What night?”

Paxton stood and ran his fingers through his hair. His body turned and his hands grasped the banister.

I waited until his head dropped and hit play again. My eyes went back to my lifeless body, and then up to Paxton’s as he turned to me, crossed his arms, and then his ankles.

“I’m going to ask you a few things that you won’t remember, okay, Gabby?” Nick continued against his will.

“Okay, “I replied.

“Ask her about the day she met Paxton. He told me she was just some slut that needed a place to stay. He said he fucked her the first day he met her. She wasn’t supposed to stick around. He wasn’t supposed to marry her,” Lane explained, voice anxious with a hoarseness caused by nerves.

“What? I don’t even know what you just said, man.”

“Ask her about the first time she met Paxton.”

“Gabby, do you remember the day you met Paxton?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Can you tell me about it? Think about where you were, the sounds, was it warm out? Were you alone?”

“I knew him before he knew me, sort of,” I explained.

“Gabriella,” Paxton quietly said, one last attempt to hide yet another secret.

I looked up, but I’m not sure what I was feeling. Confused as hell. “Why do I feel like this whole thing just backfired on you, Pax?”

“Because it did. This was the furthest thing from my mind. What the fuck is this?”

I didn’t reply. I turned back to the monitor with yet another what the fuck moment. Nothing could have prepared me for that one. No wonder Paxton wanted me to forget it. I spent the next twenty minutes reliving the moment I met Paxton. Nick asked my lifeless body what I meant, and my mind was blown.

I walked for miles, trying to get as far away from Ms. Porter, my gang-infested neighborhood, and my past. I only wanted to run away from it all. Forget everything that hurt, including my sister who I was sure I’d never see again. This area was under construction, new homes being built in the suburbs close to the beach. I thought my luck had changed, that the little cottage sat empty, waiting for me to show up. It was perfect. Close to the beach, and private. Nobody lived there, but Paxton, and he was hardly ever there. He left for work early in the morning in an old black pick-up truck, and worked on the only house that had been there before the other new constructions.

Even with my background, all the crap I’d just gone through, I felt like it was an omen. Like I was meant to find this empty house in an unoccupied neighborhood. Except for Paxton. The first few days I stayed in the shadows, never turning on the lights, and lurking in the shadows once he got home. The dark nights hid my silhouette while I stood right outside his windows and watched him work on the house. He was so handsome, so strong, and all alone. I think I fell in love with him the first time I saw him. He worked late into the night, woke early and left for work, and came home and did it again. The entire week. That’s all he did.

Although I knew I would never concoct enough nerve to talk to him, I fantasized about him being my husband, and raising a family in that house. I spent hours reading my mother’s words, poems she’d written in a notebook, and dreaming. It was all I had. Visions of a life I would never have with a gorgeous man who would never want me, it got me through the first couple days after my attack.

I was there for four days before he ever saw me, before I ever heard his voice. I wasn’t expecting him home so early. He wasn’t supposed to be home until later, like six, not five.

He ran up behind, startling me from behind. “What are you doing here? This is a private beach. You staying with someone?” he questioned, eyes looking up the beach to the faraway homes.

“My feet are in the water. You don’t own the ocean,” I snapped. My eyes looked up to his, and right back to my feet. Good Lord. His strong jawline, dark eyes, and his build, intimidated the hell out of me. I think I was afraid of him from the moment I met him, but it didn’t keep me from wanting him. I was fascinated. He wasn’t like the guys I was around. He worked, hard, and he was alone.

“Two miles. From that rock-point, clear down past that little cottage. It’s all exclusive to Prescott Lane.”

“Prescott Lane?” I questioned, eyes darting to his, and right back to my bare feet.

“Look at me. You should look at people when they speak to you. Prescott Lane is that way. See the houses? This part of the beach is exclusive. Move along.” His voice was stern, matching his cocky attitude.

“Sorry,” I said as I watched him walk away. He lifted his white t-shirt and wiped sweat from his forehead as he went about his business. His back was just as defined as the rest of him, and I noticed. Holy smokes.

My eyes barely met Paxton’s when I felt him sit next to me. His hand took mine and he paused the movie again.

“What, Paxton?”

“I’m afraid for you to go any further.”

I didn’t even bother trying to hide the sarcasm. “Obviously.”

“Can I just tell you myself? Please.”

“No, I don’t trust you. You’re going to tell me your way. I want to see it my way. I want to feel it like it happened, not some sugar coated lie.”

“What do you think you’re going to hear, Gabriella?”

I felt the rock in my hand pull toward his and then click. The thoughts of what I was about to learn came fast and furious, but nothing could have prepared me for that. Nothing at all. I hit the play button, taking in a breath at the same time Paxton did. I stayed in Paxton’s arms until I got to the part where he caught me in his cottage. It was late on a Saturday night, I was asleep in the bed in the corner when he unlocked the door. I didn’t even hear him until he was right over my bed. Paxton squeezed my hand and I braced myself for the worst while I listened to my faraway voice explain that Paxton had company, a guy he called Lane. I learned from hiding in the bushes that Lane was one of the homeowners, newly married, and there for the weekend to work on his own house. I listened to the two men talk about all the construction headaches while they drank a lot. I finally got tired sometime after midnight and snuck away.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in my house?”

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