Protect Me: Oakville Series:Book Three (3 page)

“Ahh, why’d ya stop? I was enjoying watching you lovely ladies rolling around together on the floor,” Angel jokes, earning himself not only one, but two slaps to the back of the head courtesy of Paul and Kyle. “Ouch. It’s not like I asked to join them,” he throws out as he runs away from another head slap.

I can honestly say this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life. I’m surrounded by people who truly care about me, who I consider my family, and I’m going to marry my soulmate. It can’t get any better than this. Nothing could ruin this moment. It’s absolutely perfect. The doorbell rings and I wonder who it could be. Everyone we know is here.

“I’ll get it,” I yell on my way to the front door. As I approach the door, I’m hit with an eerie feeling that something’s wrong. I don’t know what it is or why I feel this way. I hate feeling uneasy. It reminds me of a time when that’s the only thing I felt. Never knowing what was coming next, but assured whatever it was wasn’t good. That’s a part of my life I’ve tried so hard to forget — ran so far away from, hoping never to see it again.

When I open the door, I realize I didn’t run quite far enough. The air is knocked right out of my lungs when I see my ex-husband, Ray, standing before me.

Twelve Years Ago

T
HIS HAS
been the best six months of my life. Being Mrs. Ray Marconi has been better than I ever thought it would be. It’s like a fairytale for a girl like me. I’ve spent my entire life being passed along from one foster home to another. My incubator dropped me off on the steps of a church three days after I was born. There was a note saying she didn’t have the means to take care of me because she was only sixteen. Her parents hadn’t known she was pregnant. She was able to hide it the whole nine months. When it came time to deliver me, she went to a friend’s house. Her friend’s parents were out of town and I was born on a shower floor. Not the most glamorous beginning. She didn’t even name me. I spent years hating her, but as I got older, I realized she was only a scared child. She probably thought some loving couple would adopt me and I would live happily ever after.

The church’s pastor and his wife adopted me. They named me Holly. When I was four, they were killed in a car accident. I don’t remember them, but we all look happy in the couple of pictures I have. After that, there were a few times when I came close to being adopted, but something always happened to stop it. Eventually, I gave in to the fact that I just wasn’t meant to have a family.

I kept to myself and never really made friends until my freshman year of high school. That’s when I met Ray. Of course, I didn’t think he’d ever give someone like me the time of day. One date and we were inseparable. His friends became mine and before I knew it, I was one of the popular kids. It was an adjustment for me. I was used to being in the shadows, not in the spotlight. But I always felt loved and safe with Ray. And that was something I’d never felt before. It was something I so desperately wanted and needed.

During our senior year, Ray asked me to marry him. Of course, I said yes. Here was this perfect man wanting to love and take care of me forever. He wanted to give me things I’d only dreamed of having, including himself. One month after graduation, we were married.

Over the last six months, I’ve learned a lot about Ray. He’s more particular than he was when we were merely dating. Some people may call it controlling, but I don’t see it that way. I’m used to rules and people who were less than nice to me usually dictated them. But this is different. Ray loves me. He’s given me a beautiful home and takes very good care of me. If he like things to be a certain way in return, so be it. I had planned on getting a job after we were married. I wanted to work with kids, preferably ones in foster care who needed extra attention. When I brought this up to Ray, his response floored and disappointed me.

“A wife’s job is to take care of her husband and their home. Working outside the home would keep you from doing that properly.”

It seemed to make sense at the time, but after a while, I got bored sitting around the house all day alone.

He leaves at seven every morning and doesn’t get home until six or seven at night. I get up in the morning to fix his breakfast and make his lunch. With it only being the two of us, the house doesn’t take long to clean the way he likes it. Then, between four and five, I start cooking dinner to ensure I have it hot and on the table when Ray comes in. That stills leaves me the majority of the day with nothing to do. After five months, I was beginning to go crazy. I needed to find something to fill the empty hours in my day. One day, while reading the paper, I saw an ad. A group home for kids was looking for volunteers. Volunteering would be perfect.

For the last month, I’ve been going to Worthington House for a few hours a day. I’m really loving it. At least now I feel like I’m doing something worthwhile with my time. Plus, I absolutely adore all of the kids. Today, a new little girl named Courtney was brought in. Courtney is only six and from a home where violence is as common as breathing. To say she’s skittish and shy is an understatement. Though, for whatever reason, she seems to like and trust me. The head Intake Counselor asks if I can stay later than normal to help out and I oblige. I can’t leave this little girl alone. Ray would understand if I’m late with his dinner just this once. We never have take-out, so it will be a treat.

When I walk through the door at nine o’clock, something is off. No lights are on but I know Ray’s home because his truck is in the driveway. My heart starts to beat faster the further I walk into the house. A strong sense of unease washes over me as I turn on the kitchen light and see a silhouette of Ray at the dining room table. Why is he sitting in the dark and why am I shaking?

“Where have you been, Holly?” Ray inquires. He takes a long pull from his beer as he stares me down, waiting for my answer.

Nervously, I stammer, “I was at Worthington House. I left you a message. I was the only person the little girl trusted and would let anywhere near her. They needed me to help out.” I set the bag of Chinese take-out on the counter, noticing his jaw tighten at my words. Ray is most definitely mad, but never has his anger been directed at me. Slowly, he stands and stalks toward me. Not once do his eyes leave mine. My heart is beating so fast and hard against my chest, it hurts. The cold, angry look in his eyes has my palms sweating and throat dry. The closer he gets, the more nervous I become.

He stops when his face is inches from mine. The smell of beer mixed with whiskey assaults my nostrils, sending waves of nausea through me. Not only do I hate that smell, but Ray doesn’t drink whiskey anymore — he loses control of himself too easily.

Ray grabs the bag of food and scrunches up his face in disgust. “What is this shit? It’s cold and three hours past the time I should be having my dinner,” he snaps. Taking the bag off the counter, he hurls it across the room. It hits the kitchen wall and all the food spills to the floor. His anger confuses me. For the first time in six months, his dinner hasn’t been waiting for him and he loses it. It just doesn’t make sense to me. “This is why you were told you couldn’t have a job.”

“But, Ray, I’m only volunteering. I tried to call to let you know I’d be late tonight,” I try explaining. I can see by the expression on his face that opening my mouth may have been a mistake. He looks even angrier, if that’s possible. Tightly, he grips my arms and shakes me. Fear immediately courses through me and tears start to flow from my eyes.

“Save the waterworks. You’ll get no sympathy from me. They’ll only piss me off even more. You know the rules, your responsibilities, and you disregarded them. I don’t ask for much, Holly, but if you can’t do the few little things I ask for, you’ll have to face the consequences,” he fumes. Before I have a chance to respond or even think about what’s coming next, there’s a sharp pain radiating along the side of my face. As soon as it registers that he hit me, he does it again. There’s so much force behind his punches, I’m afraid my head will snap right off my shoulders. I try to move away from him, but he has me pinned against the sink. There’s no escape. Slowly, I look into his eyes and I’m startled by what I see. The love and affection I usually see in his eyes is gone, replaced with anger and hate. In this moment of rage, it’s like the Ray I know and love is gone. I can’t decide what hurts the most right now, the beating I’m receiving or the fact that Ray is the one giving it to me. I try to think of anything but the horror I’m living at this moment. I have no idea how long it lasts. When I feel myself begin to blackout, I welcome the darkness as long as it takes me away from what’s being done to me.

Slowly, I open my eyes and tilt my head to look around. I’m still in the kitchen, laying on the floor in front of the refrigerator. Everything seems to hurt, whether I move it or not. Tears start to flood my eyes as I recall the events of last night. How could he do this to me? Was it all my fault, like he said? I gently ease myself up off the floor. I have to grab a hold of the counter to keep from falling. The room is spinning. Damn! My head is pounding and every breath I take sends a stabbing pain through my rib cage. Glancing at the clock on the stove, I see that it’s eight in the morning. I look outside to see Ray’s truck isn’t in the driveway. He got up and went to work, leaving me passed out on the kitchen floor. How could he do that? I can’t think about this anymore, my head hurts too damn bad.

After cleaning up the mess on the kitchen floor, I go upstairs to take a shower, hoping the warm water will ease some of the pain. As I’m standing in front of the mirror, I’m stunned by the sight of myself. My face is covered in bumps and bruises. There’s a cut on my very swollen bottom lip. Lifting my shirt causes me to run for the toilet and empty my stomach. There are bruises all over me in the shape of Ray’s hands and feet. I get into the shower and pray the water can wash this nightmare away.

I spend the rest of the day cleaning the house, making sure everything is just like Ray likes it. For dinner, I prepare lasagna with a salad and garlic bread — his favorite. I don’t dare do anything to set him off again. I have no idea what kind of mood he’ll be in once he gets home and I sure as hell am not going to make it worse. The closer it gets to him coming home, the more nervous I become. My ribs still ache with every move I make and no amount of makeup will allow me to cover up the bruises on my face.

I’m just putting dinner on the table when I hear his truck pull in the driveway. Trembles wrack my body, only getting worse when the front door opens. Ray comes into the dining room holding a huge bouquet of pink roses and wearing a smile on his face. What the fuck am I missing here? I want to throw up and he’s all happy and smiling like it’s just another normal day. He walks up to me and presses his lips against my cheek. My whole body tenses, protesting his touch. He notices, but leaves it alone. He holds the flowers out to me and I immediately take them. Even though every fiber within me is telling me to chuck them in the trash, I pull out a vase and fill it with water before joining Ray at the table.