“Baby, you have nothing to be scared of. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”
“Wh-what about harm to others?”
“You’re scared I’ll hurt someone else? Like Blake?” Rhys’ stare morphs when he says his name, like he’s already given it thought, and the outcome is grim. My heart aches in my chest.
“I can’t be responsible for someone getting hurt or dying, Rhys, I can’t. I won’t be able to live with myself.”
“Even if they’re evil, Bristol?”
Is he insinuating Blake is evil, and that’s how he’s going to justify it? Is Blake evil? The controlling, demanding behavior, treating me as though he has ownership over me, just because I’m his fiancé—was his fiancé.The way he’s threatened me with violence, threatened the shelter, was going to force himself on me, the way he hit me. I’m terrified of him. But I don’t want him to die. I just want him to go away. I can’t have his death on my hands any more than I want it to be on Rhys’.
“I can’t let you hurt him. I can’t let him hurtyou. I need to save the shelter. I’m just so scared, Rhys.”
Rhys arches a brow. “I need you to talk to me, I’m begging. I knowyou, and I know you’re keeping things from me. I also know that you flinched that night at the gala when he touched you. I saw how you didn’t want to be in his arms when he pulled you into his space. I know how anytime you mentionhim, your entire demeanor changes and trembles. I can see your fear. You know my past, baby, so you’ve got to understand that my mind is doing wild, dangerous things by imagining what’s happened. Set me straight so I can breathe a little easier.Please.”
God, I’m so selfish. How did I not even think about that? Of course, Rhys would be scared for me; he watched his mom endure years of abuse at the hands of his father. I just didn’t consider Blake to be abusive because he wasn’t physically beating me. Even though that’s exactly what he’s been this entire time. Abusive. The control, the isolation, the insults and backhanded remarks, the threats. So, I tell him everything.
“He wasn’t like this at first, obviously, or I wouldn’t have fallen for him. But the last year or two, things just slowly snowballed until they exploded. It started with him getting a job as an accountant for this start-up. But his pay was obscene. I never saw it since we have separate bank accounts, but he was able to purchase the home I lived in with him, and I definitely saw that price.”
“That didn’t set off any alarm bells for you?”
“Not at first, but then he got another promotion, and then another one. He’s always worked intensely hard, and I thought the company just saw value in him. I met his boss twice, and he said that they take care of the people who are good for their business. He made me so uncomfortable.”
Rhys cocks his head to the side. “In what way?”
“Just the vibe I got, I guess? It was more than the money and the power; it was slimy. Like I knew I would never want to be alone with him.”
Rhys’ position shifts slightly. “And you weren’t?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Never. Blake was . . . territorial, but not in a protective way. In more of an ‘I’m his property’ kind of way.”
Rhys cracks his neck from side to side, his jaw clenched tightly. I can tell he’s teetering on the edge of restraint.
“All I really know is that Blake was easily making millions working for them and that he handled all the major accounts for their company and all the businesses they worked with. He never told me what type of business, and I honestly never asked. I knew he was an accountant, and I knew that he would have multiple companies he worked with, so it was pointless to ask.”
“I understand that, baby.”
“But then his behavior started to change. I thought maybe it had something to do with the people he worked with. I did meet some of them, and they were all so terribly rich that they seemed to lack humanity. Just not nice people. We never spent time together, never really had sex, he would ignore me for days, and then suddenly drop an event or a dinner on me like I was expected to know and be ready at all times. Then the comments started about my weight, or my profession, constantly digging at me that I smelled like a wet dog, or was covered in dog hair, that my full potential was for me to be at home, pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen. He was so degrading. He even tried it the last time we had sex. Called me a whore and a slut and then told me I was pathetic for crying about it after. God, Rhys. I wanted to leave. I wanted to leave so many times.”
“Fuck,” Rhys hisses. “What was holding you back? I know for every survivor of domestic violence, it’s different depending on their situation.”
“At first, I wanted to believe that he was just stressed about work. That things would get better when he got his next promotion. But then everything started to escalate, and . . . I haven’t told anyone this because I just learned about it myself, and I was trying to handle it. Shelters run on donations; without them, they would crumble and fall apart. When I was trying to save Bloomfield Animal Haven, I spent several months working my ass off to get steady donations to fund it. Then one day, we secured it. An anonymous donation that was life-changingly huge. The next month, we received another one. And another one. I didn’t know who it was or what organization, but I was just so thankful I had a fairy godmother out there somewhere helping make it possible for me to help all these animals.”
“Tell me it wasn’t Blake, sweetheart.”
I look away sheepishly, feeling so stupid. But like always, Rhys reads the emotion on my face and pulls me right back into him. His large hands cup either side of my neck, his thumbs rubbing gently against my jawline. It brings me so much comfort, and I melt into it.
“Hey, this is not your fault. Men like him only feel good when they’re controlling everyone around them. It makes them feel powerful and strong. But they’re usually the weakest kind of man out there. A real man doesn’t need to control those around him, or hurt people in order to be the top dog.”
“I know you’re right. It just took me so long to see it. But it gets worse, Rhys. He found out about us. After we kissed, I knew Icouldn’t go on any longer with him. I had been trying to find new funding for the shelter, but I couldn’t suffer anymore in that house after kissing you. I couldn’t pretend anymore when my heart was with someone else. I’ve been so unhappy for so long, and I just thought we could have a normal conversation about me leaving. I’ve spent years of my life with that man, and I felt like I owed him a face-to-face.” The tears start to stream down my cheeks as I remember how bad it went; how violent and different he was with me. “He came home, and I told him that I was unhappy and had made up my mind to leave, that I wasn’t going to marry him. Rhys, it was like a switch went off. Like he’s been hiding all this time behind a mask.”
“Was he physical with you, Bristol? Did he hit you?”
I ignore his question, knowing it’ll set him off, and there’s nothing we can do about it right now.
“He showed me two manila folders, the first one was photos of us—together. The shelter, the coffee shop, in my office, when I was concerned about your injury, us standing too close, us . . .kissing. He’s been having someone follow me. Accused me of being a whore.” Rhys shifts then, grabbing my face and guiding me to look him in the eyes, his big thumbs wiping at the tears as they cascade down my face.
“You are not a whore. Not for what we did. Not for any reason. Do you understand?” There’s no missing the sharp sting in his words, and I’ve never seen this side of him before. I’m not scared, anything but, actually.
