Loving His Forever Read online

  I look down at my feet as my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Warm fingers gently touch my chin. I jerk back slightly then look up at Ethan. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetheart.” His deep southern drawl is soothing with his warm feather like fingers still on my chin.

  He moves his hand to my forearm, trailing his fingers down my arm. Goosebumps break out at the contact. His hand slips into mine, while his eyes never leave mine, letting me know he won’t hurt me.

  I had hugged Sydney, but male contact is something different all together. It stems from my father hitting me and everything else that followed. All the pain I’ve experienced has been inflicted by men’s hands.

  Ethan tugs at my hand and leads me down to the kitchen. I trail behind, taking in his house. It’s so warm. Warmth is something I missed. No matter how warm it is at night, the cold always manages to seep in.

  Entering the kitchen, Ethan pulls me over to a barstool. I pull it out and climb up onto the seat. Ethan goes over to the stove and lifts two huge steaks. The kind that are bigger than my head. My eyes widen. How will I eat that? Shaking my head, I watch as he pulls two baked potatoes out of the oven and sets one on each plate.

  “What do you want on your potato?” he asks over his shoulder.

  “The works is fine. Thank you,” I tell him easily and without an ounce of fear.

  Ethan grabs a knife and starts cutting up a steak. I really hope that’s not mine. After a minute or so, he finishes and carries the plate of cut-up steak to me. It was for me.

  “Here you go, Angel.” He sets the plate down, and now I feel really bad he did all of this for me.

  “Ethan, thank you for everything. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to...” I trail off uneasily. I hate feeling like a burden.

  “No, I want you here.” He smiles, showing his dimple. Then it hits me how hot he is. On a scale of one to ten, he’s a thousand. My cheeks burn as he catches me staring at him. He chuckles quietly under his breath.

  Acting like that gives a man the wrong idea. My back stiffens, making me very aware of Ethan’s movements.

  I grab my fork and take a bite of steak. While I chew, my eyes flutter closed at the taste. I want to savor every single bite because you never know when this will be your last meal.

  I don’t look until my plate is completely empty, my belly burning from feeling so full. Nausea makes its peak as my body resists this amount of food. My hand flies to my mouth, and as I jump down from the stool, the stool hits the island with a thump before it crashes to the floor.

  Remembering a bathroom in my room, I run in that direction. I fall hard to my knees for the second time today as I purge everything into the toilet until dry heaves make my stomach hurt. My body is shaking from having nothing in me again. Tears fill my eyes. I have hit rock bottom.

  Footsteps pound on the floor. Weakly, I look up as Ethan runs into the room. His eyes are sad as he takes in my pitiful state. Closing my eyes, I rest my head against my forearms that are resting on the toilet. Gross, I know, but I’m too weak to care.

  “Angel,” Ethan sighs sadly.

  I lie silently, my eyes pinched closed.

  I can hear the water run for a second before I feel his warm hand touching the back of my head. I lift my head to see Ethan’s eyes meet mine. Looking into them deeply, I see nothing but kindness; and that kindness is almost my undoing.

  I take the washcloth from him and clean myself up, my hands shaking as I do so, then set the washcloth onto the counter. Ethan bends down hesitantly, wraps an arm around me, and then puts the other under my knees, lifting me off the floor. He carries me out of my bedroom, down the stairs, and into the living room. I don’t stop him.

  He sits down on the couch but doesn’t push me off his lap. Sitting up, I look at him, shocked and confused, my body tensing from not knowing what to do.

  “Angel, I’m not going to hurt you, okay? I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you’ll never be hurt again. I know one thing one hundred percent for certain: I would rather cut off my arm before touching you in any unwanted way,” he tells me in a strong voice that has me willing to believe him.

  I relax from his words. His hand comes up to my cheek and pushes my head until it is resting on his shoulder.

  Closing my eyes, I bask in the comfort of his arms, his warmth that’s seeping all the way to my bones and making me feel like I’ve been wrapped in a protective blanket. I feel safe for the first time in years. I stay completely still, not wanting him to get fed up with me sitting here and move me away. I feel confused at my internal battle as my head is telling me to move, while my instincts are assuring me I’m fine where I am.

  My breathing evens out as I fall into a deep sleep with Ethan’s strong, tattooed arms wrapped around me tightly.

  Chapter Four

  Braelyn

  Hands are roughly pulling down my pants while my body feels like lead, not able to move from the drugs in my system. I want to fight with everything in me, but I can’t. Tears stream down my face as the helplessness kicks into full gear. His evil face is in front of mine, sneering evilly as he enters me forcefully.

  I shoot up in bed, screaming at the top of my lungs as the memories of what happened to me crawl over my skin, making me feel dirty, impure. Vomit crawls up throat.

  My door flies open, and Ethan rushes in holding a gun, looking ready to kill. He searches the room before his eyes land on me. My body is shaking from the memories, and tears are running down my face. I loathe sleeping. Nightmares bring up things I want to bury.

  Ethan sets his gun on top of the dresser by the door. Gulping, I clutch the blanket in my hands. My breathing is erratic. He slowly walks over with his hands out in front of him and then sits on the bed a foot away from me. He lifts his hand up toward me a couple of times before setting it down onto my lap. I want him to hold me. I can’t believe I’m saying that. I want to feel safe again like I did before.

  Scooting forward a little, I lift my arms, letting him know what I want. Something flashes across his face, too quick for me to catch. He wraps both arms around me tightly, while my arms go around his waist. His hands run up and down my back gently, soothing me.

  My body melts into his. He lifts me up off the bed and moves me to the top, positioning me so my head is on his chest, one leg is over his, his arms are wrapped around me tightly, and my other arm rests across his belly.

  “Angel, I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers. What can I say to this? We lie in silence as I fall back into a deep sleep.

  ~*~

  My room is filled with light as the sun shines in unforgivingly when I wake up the next morning. I move and notice something heavy lying on top of me. My eyes widen. I look up and see it’s Ethan. I relax back into bed.

  I rest my head back on the pillow. Ethan burrows his face deeper into my breasts and smacks his mouth.

  “Donker sticks,” he murmurs.

  Is he really talking in his sleep? Giggling, I wait to see if he says something else.

  “Mommy, I’m a good boys. Sweareth.” Then he starts giggling.

  I slap my hand over my mouth, trying no to laugh out loud at that one, but it’s too late. Ethan’s head shoots up groggily. He looks at me. Unable to hold in my laugh any longer, I laugh out loud with my head thrown back.

  “What are you laughing at?” he asks in amusement, his eyes bright.

  “You talk in your sleep,” I tell him between laughs.

  “I do?”

  I can hear the uneasiness in his voice.

  “You do.” I wipe the tears from under my eyes and look at Ethan, who has himself propped up on his elbows as he’s looking at me with a huge smile.

  He pushes himself up to his knees and slides off the side of the bed. He points over his shoulder with his thumb, “I’m going to go and make some breakfast.”

  Nodding my head, I watch his retreating back. I let out a deep breath and fall back onto the bed with a thump. I just slept in a bed with Ethan. I didn�
�t have any bad dreams either. What could this mean? Shaking my head, I throw back the covers and walk over to the corner of the room where my bag is sitting.

  I walk into the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. Sunken in cheeks, lips too big for my face, large blue Bambi eyes. I lift my shirt to look at my belly; my ribs poke out sickly and my belly is sunken in. Disgusted with myself, I let my shirt fall back around me.

  I look deep into my eyes. Why did you let something like this happen to you, Braelyn? How could you have been so weak? Shame flows through me. I destroyed everything I ever worked for. I hate myself, but I also know in this moment I can’t allow the shitty hand I’ve been dealt dictate my life anymore; it’s time for me to live again.

  I grab some skinny jeans Sydney gave me out of the bag and slip them on. They’re loose around the legs and waist. The only thing holding them up is my butt, it seems; the only thing I didn’t lose. I slip a tank and a V-neck shirt over my head. The shirt clings to my breasts and flows around my belly.

  I see Sydney also packed a small bag of makeup; I look inside and grab some mascara and eyeliner. I apply the eyeliner with shaky hands to the top and bottom of my eyelids. Twisting the top off the mascara, I put on a couple coats just enough to make my eyes pop, not make me look skanky. Then I find the comb and brush my wavy hair, then flip my head over, giving myself some extra volume.

  Stepping back, I admire myself. I look nice; well, I think so, considering what I used to look like. I smile to myself, feeling somewhat like my old self. Cleaning up has never felt so good in my whole entire life. I needed this; I needed to feel human.

  Bagging everything back up, I set the bag back in the corner of my room before I head downstairs. As I make it down to the bottom, I start to feel nervous. What am I doing, dressing like this? What if he gets the wrong idea? Stupid, stupid, stupid, Braelyn. I’m not showing any skin, but I feel exposed more than I have in years. I can feel the leering gaze of men who want to do horrible things to me.

  Panic shoots through me like a rocket, overpowering me to the point where all the oxygen leaves my body. I can’t breathe! Grabbing my throat, I fall to the floor as I feel the hands of the man who hurt me moving all over my body, taking what isn’t his. A loud bang comes from beside me as I lean back onto something. Black spots cloud my vision.

  “Braelyn. Shhhh. I got you, baby, please come back to me,” a voice begs.

  My hands fall down to the floor limply as I stare blankly. My head rolls to the side as my eyes roll into the back of my head.

  “Braelyn! It’s Ethan. You’re safe.” The voice soothes me, even though I can hear the panic in the depths of it.

  I turn to the voice and look at a familiar pair of green eyes. “That’s it, baby, breathe.” A hand trails down my face. I’m safe.

  “Ethan?” I whisper as the daze I was in starts to fade away.

  “Yes, Angel. It’s me.” He wraps his arms around me tightly and lifts me off the cold floor. My head goes to his chest as he holds me to him. Safe. Closing my eyes, I bask in his touch. My hands twist in his shirt, holding him to me as tightly as I possibly can.

  Embarrassment washes over me. I’ve made a fool of myself. Getting dressed up makes me feel better but will not heal the horrible scars on my fractured soul. All anyone sees when they look at me is weakness. I want to be strong; strong where nothing can bother me again.

  I put my hands on his chest and push myself back from him as far as his arms will allow. “I’m so sorry, Ethan. I’ll pack my bags.” My voice hitches when I say bags, because those clothes aren’t mine. I have nothing. Nothing to my name, nothing that I cherish, nothing that tells I even live in this effed up world.

  His arms tighten around me at my words. “No!” he growls, his body stiff as a board, his arms locking around me so tightly I can’t move.

  “Why...” I trail off and raise my head to look up at him. I’m confused. Why would he want me to stay? I’m a burden that’s leeching off both him and Sydney. Sydney is my family; I understand her helping me. But this man? I don’t get it one bit. He comforts me when he doesn’t even know me.

  He lets out a deep breath and relaxes his hold slightly. “Braelyn, you deserve so much more than the life you have been dealt. I see you. I see a strong-ass woman who has fought as hard as she can. I can see the fire in your eyes still in the depths, wanting to come out. What happened to you doesn’t define who you are. You can’t control what’s happened to you, no matter how much we want to.”

  “Ethan,” I whisper, my eyes filling with tears at his words. Not knowing what to say, I lay my head back onto his warm chest.

  Chapter Five

  Braelyn

  A week has passed since the day I had that panic attack on the living room floor. They come less frequent now as I’m at ease around Ethan. He works every day, and I’m home alone. That gives me time to think about things and come to terms with everything that has happened, making me feel a little more at peace about it all each day.

  I don’t want to live like this anymore. I want to have a life, a job, and so much more. I crave it with every bit of my being. I’m not over what happened to me by a long shot; it haunts me every moment of the day. My dreams and flashbacks consume my every thought, but I want to try. Something I have never done before.

  Ethan may have a part to play in this. He made me realize that not all men are bad, and he never once gave me the idea he wanted to hurt me. The exact opposite, really. I feel safe and content around him. Something I can’t make sense of, nor will I try to decipher.

  Tonight, we are going to dinner. My nerves are shot at the thought. Exposed. But I can do this. I walk into the bathroom to slip on white skinny jeans and a red flowy top that clings slightly to my curves. Pulling the top up, I make sure no cleavage is showing. I don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.

  I shouldn’t have to feel like I have to hide for the fear of...of getting assaulted. Ethan won’t allow anything to happen to me... I hope... Shaking my head, I busy myself putting on a light amount of makeup.

  After I’m finished getting ready, I walk downstairs and veg on the couch. Ethan has the morning shift this week. I bring my hands up to my mouth nervously, afraid of what will happen tonight. This is the first time in years I’ve been out anywhere.

  I was on the streets not too long ago, and now I sleep in a warm bed and live in a house with plenty of food. I was so used to going hungry, scrounging every single bite and worrying when I would get the next meal. It’s hell. The people on drugs are so unpredictable. They can snap in a split second; all they worry about is getting their next fix.

  The more I think about the life I had, the more I want to change it. Women who are abused feel like they have nowhere to go to feel safe. They need a safe haven. Even if they have a home, money, etc., that doesn’t guarantee a safe place.

  “I’m home, Angel. Let me go take a quick shower and I’ll be ready to go,” Ethan yells through the quiet house, making me jump in fright. Holding my pounding heart, I lean back into the couch.

  Ethan pops around the corner in his police uniform. My breath catches in my throat at how good-looking he is as I watch him run up the stairs.

  Gulping, I try to relax myself and not think about the what ifs. The what ifs of when my stalker will find me and what will happen if he does.

  Turning back toward the TV, I watch ‘Catfish’ until Ethan comes back down the stairs. He’s in jeans that hug him in all the right places and a black T-shirt that hugs his chest, biceps, and broad shoulders. His tattooed arms bulge as they move. His piercing, green eyes take me in as I stand up from the couch. Rubbing my hands together nervously, I slowly walk over until I stand in front of him and meet his eyes. I’m not scared of him, well, not anymore. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have already. Ethan has done everything humanly possible to let me know he won’t hurt me, that he’ll do the exact opposite: protect me.

  “You ready, love?” He reaches for and grabs my hand with a s
mall smile on his face.

  Biting my lip, I nod slightly. He tugs on my hand and leads me to the front door. This is it. It’s been years since I’ve been out to eat. Ethan’s house has become a comfort and safety net. I’m going so far out of my comfort zone.

  He locks the door behind him but never let’s go of my hand as he leads me to his big, red truck. His police car is parked in the driveway beside the truck. I look at my surroundings nervously as Ethan opens the truck door and helps me up inside. But he doesn’t close the door, so I turn to look at him. He stands in front of my open door and lifts his hand to cup my cheek.

  “I’m so proud of you, Angel. I can see the fear written all over your face. Know you’re safe with me. Always.” He leans forward and my eyes widen. My body stiffens to stone. My eyes follow his movement. He presses his warm lips to my forehead tenderly. My heart starts pounding out of my chest.

  Ethan backs away and shuts the door then gets in the driver’s side. I tuck my hands under my knees as I think about what the heck just happened. The kiss on the forehead was totally innocent. Starting that first night, Ethan has ended up in bed with me from my nightmares every night, because as soon as he leaves, I wake up screaming again. Ethan holding me chases away those demons.

  Ethan starts his truck and looks over at me. “You sure you’re ready for this?” he asks. I nod and give him the biggest smile I can muster. Ethan’s mouth falls open for a second and lets out a small hiss that I can barely hear. Confused, I start to ask what’s wrong, but he turns away from me.

  We sit in silence for a few minutes before I ask, “How was work today?” I look over at him for a second before looking out of the windshield.

  “The same ol’, same ol’. Some fucker was hitting his woman today in a store because she was trying to leave him.” He tightens his hands on the steering wheel, making the leather creak from his tight grip.

  My throat tightens at the thought of a woman having to go through that. I wish I could help her. Nobody deserves to go through something like that.