Chapter 7

Bracingmy good arm on the white bathroom counter, I took a few deep breaths and shook off the nightmare. The pain pills had done a number on me. They’d made me loopy in the past, but having a nightmare was a new side effect. I really didn’t like it.

Awkwardly, I hopped over the black-and-white tiled floor to the toilet and fumbled to pull down my sweats, so thankful the hospital had let me change. They would’ve had to cut my jeans off otherwise, and then I’d be down another item of clothing. As it was, I wouldn’t be able to wear them anyway for six weeks. There was no way those skinny legs would fit over this new walking boot. Groaning, I sat. It was safer than risking another embarrassing moment in front of Atticus with my pants around my ankles. Once I’d finished, redressed, adjusted, and washed—well, my one hand—I was exhausted again and frustrated at my lack of ability to do things for myself.

Opening the door, I wasn’t surprised to see Atticus leaning on the wall waiting. He approached me, ready to help, as I hopped out of the bathroom and back into the living room. He’d turned on a few lights, which made the room warm and inviting. The floors were polished light hardwood, with whitewashed walls giving the room a fresh and spacious feel. The sofa and recliners were the most surprising style choice because they were a light peachy-pink color. I couldn’t help but laugh as he helped move me into the room and back onto the sofa again.

“What?” he asked.

“I didn’t picture you as a pink kind of guy.” I gestured at where we sat.

“Hey, don’t knock my tastes. It felt homey and unique,” he said bashfully.

“I was only teasing you.” I took in the space around me. “Your place is nice. Very homey.” And I meant it. His living room was to the left of the entryway and led into an open-plan kitchen I could see from the sofa. He had a soft black-and-white abstract rug under the wooden coffee table that matched the TV cabinet. Sitting back, I took a moment to enjoy how cozy it felt as I sunk into the comfy cushions.

“Well, thank you then,” he said absently and sat right next to me. “So, what would you like to do? Stay here or have me take you to where you’re staying? Where is that by the way? I don’t think you said.”

Pausing, I really didn’t know what to do. He was being so nice and had gone out of his way for me all day. He deserved some truth. Plus, my brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders.

“Um.... I hadn’t actually settled anywhere yet.” I left my statement open and waited to see what he would say.

“What do you mean? I’m confused, didn’t you arrive in town yesterday? Where did you sleep last night?”

I could feel his gaze on me as I glanced down at my lap. It was probably better that he knew the truth about me sooner rather than later, and then maybe all his niceness would come to an end.

“I didn’t stay anywhere.” I shrugged.

Atticus appeared totally confused, thick eyebrows rising. “You’re not making sense.”

“I’m homeless. I slept in an abandoned truck last night,” I whispered, not wanting to hear how pathetic I sounded.

The silence at my statement unnerved me. I tried to glance at Atticus out of the corner of my eye, but my hair was in the way and I couldn’t see him. All of a sudden, I was lifted onto his lap and held against his strong chest. Normally, I would’ve freaked out, but it had been so long since I’d been hugged or shown any affection that I just wanted to bask in it and drink it all in before it went away again.

We sat like that for a while.

“I don’t know what to say.” He nuzzled the top of my head and loosened his hold on me. “Can you tell me why you came to Hope’s Ridge?”

Feeling surprisingly safe in his arms, I considered telling him my story. After all, I was proud that I’d finally managed to leave, but also ashamed it had taken so long and put me in this problematic situation.

“I left my partner of five years.” Bracing myself, I continued with the truth. “He was abusive, both physically, emotionally and more. He also happens to be a beloved local sheriff’s deputy, so no one believed me when I tried to prove he hurt me. Derek made sure everyone knew I was clumsy.” I tried adding air quotes to “clumsy” and snorted. “Even our doctor thought I was lying. I went to her when Derek managed to dislocate my shoulder, and she laughed and said it wasn’t possible, Derek could never do that. She even got snippy with me for spreading lies about him. It got to a point where Derek stopped letting me leave the house.”

Atticus’s arms tightened around me, but I needed to get this all out, so I grasped his hand across my chest like a lifeline. “I knew I needed to escape, but I had nothing and no one, Derek made sure of that. He kept me away from any friends I had or made in my first year of college. In the beginning he was sweet and made me want to spend time with him. I didn’t realize until it was too late that he’d monopolized my time so much that the friends I’d managed to make forgot about me. I’d been so focused on my studies before Derek that I didn’t have many close friends anyway. I think that was part of the reason Derek chose me.

With everything Derek did, the nightly abuse, constant fear and fighting, I knew I had to escape, but I needed to be smart about it. It took me almost a year to collect enough money and courage to get away. I ran away once he’d passed out during a nightly bender. That was four days ago. All I have is what I’m wearing and my backpack. Derek took everything else, he controlled the money, our life and the house. He isolated me and kept me trapped.” I paused and waited. It felt good to get it out and have someone to talk to. I hadn’t had that in so long.

“What about your parents? None of your friends reached out at all? I’m sorry no one believed you,” Atticus said softly as he glanced at my face. I was worried I would see pity, but all I could see was compassion and kindness.

“I don’t have parents,” I said as Atticus raised his dark eyebrow. “What I mean is, I grew up in foster care. I never knew my birth parents. I was a firehouse baby.”

Atticus hugged me harder.

We sat in silence, snuggling on the couch for a while. I’d rested my head on his shoulder and was enjoying the closeness so much that I’d started to doze off, exhausted from sharing my story—well some of it at least—yet comforted by his sturdy arms and the warmth of his embrace. It was a while before he finally shifted around.

“Well, what I said earlier is true. I have a guest room no one is using, so please stay here until you can get back on your feet.” He glanced down at my foot in the walking boot. “Okay, so maybe you just chill here until you’re all healed and can use your foot again.” He chuckled.

I took a moment to look up into his face. His smile was asymmetrical, and his pale green eyes shone with care and honesty. I’d learned to trust my gut in my lifetime and could feel his sincerity. “You sure? I’ll be able to pay rent as soon as I find a job. I can help around the house, cook, and clean. I don’t want a free ride.” I jutted out my chin.

Atticus beamed at me. “I’m sure we can work something out. Now, how about some dinner?” He lifted me to my feet, unfolded the knee walker, and then carefully guided me to it. With a gentle smile, he helped me shuffle into the kitchen.