Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

ANI

I’ve never been in the back of an expensive Town Car before, but I suppose I should have expected that when Phoenix Godwin offers to drive you home, what he really means is he’ll have someone chauffeur us there as we sit awkwardly on the smooth leather seats in the back of the car, not saying a single word to each other.

I’m not even sure why Phoenix offered to come. It’s clear by the way he toys with his cuff links, breathes shallowly, and darts his eyes out at the passing scenery that the man is extremely uncomfortable in my presence. He appears more restless than me, which is really saying something.

“You didn’t have to come,” I say, although it’s a little late now. We are almost there.

“I said I would. I’m a man of my word. When I offer to help, I mean it.” He doesn’t look at me as he speaks, but instead unbuttons the first two buttons of his shirt to give more room between the fabric and his neck.

“I’m clearly making you uncomfortable.” I don’t know if I should be apologetic or offended.

“It’s not you that is making me uncomfortable.” He quickly glances at me. “It’s not you at all.”

We finally turn the corner, and I’ve never been so grateful to arrive at my home as I am now. This car ride has almost been painful.

The trailer looks like it’s been through hell and back. One side is covered in moss and mildew, the other in decayed holes. The outside is the color of dirt, its trim yellowed, and the wood is splintered, the glass looking about ready to shatter. The trailer’s walls are made of poorly and irregularly shaped aluminum siding, some of it rusted, as if the whole structure has been left out in one constant storm for years. The aluminum has been dented and pushed back on itself, and the roof is sagging and leaking. The whole trailer reminds me of a melted popsicle discarded on a dirty street.

I’m embarrassed.

But I don’t want Phoenix to know just how much I’m ashamed that he’s seeing this place I call home.

He’s silent as he gets out of the car, taking in every square inch of my home sweet home. He walks around to my side of the car and opens the door for me, offering his hand to assist me out. Gentlemanly manners are forever ingrained in this man.

The door isn’t locked, but then it never has been. I have nothing anyone would want to steal. When we go inside, Phoenix is clearly not prepared for what he sees. He doesn’t even try to hold back the gasp of shock he makes.

“You can’t stay here,” Phoenix declares as he looks around inside my dilapidated, white trash trailer in revulsion.

Everything inside is coated in a film of dirt and grime, the floors are stained in dried memories of darkness. Mold—visible from the living room—is growing around the sink, the toilet is cracked and jagged, the TV is crooked on the wall, and thick cobwebs are hanging from the ceiling.

The living room floor is splintered and worn, the carpet stained with food and mold and vomit from all Mark’s partying the night before I left. The walls are chipped, the color long since peeled off. The floor is stacked with boxes, mechanic books, men’s magazines, and newspapers. The kitchen table is cluttered with dirty dishes and fast-food trash. Cookie crumbs and soda cans litter the countertops, the sink is filled with soured milk, rotting fruit, and scraps of dry food. The couch cushions are stained and ripped open with missing springs, stuffing and filth spread across the floor.

“Absolutely not.” He motions to the front door, where it barely hangs on its hinges. “You don’t even have a lock to the door.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say.

“Ani...”

“I just have to clean up. Now that he’s gone... I can. ”

Mark never allowed me to touch his stuff. He didn’t like when I tried to clean, even in the slightest. He didn’t like anything I did.

“This goes beyond anything that can be cleaned up.”

“I know it’s not like what you’re used to, but it’s all I have.” I give a weak smile. “And I’ll be fine.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his face conflicting emotions. “It’s not safe.” His voice is gentle, but undeniable worry is lodged in his eyes. “You don’t have to stay here,” he continues, softer now. “I know it’s not easy, but I could help you get somewhere else. Somewhere you can actually be safe and secure.”

I hesitate, conflicted. Part of me longs to accept his offer, to just let him take care of everything and give me a new, better living situation. But that would mean taking charity, and that’s something I’ve never been willing to accept from anyone.

I draw a deep breath and force a smile, trying to make my voice sound more confident than I feel. “I’m all right here.” My words come out more firmly than I intended. “I’m really okay. I know how to rebuild.”

Phoenix continues to assess the room as if looking for danger to pop out.

“It’s just me now,” I add. “I can fix this place up and make it my own. He doesn’t have a say. His drunken rages can’t destroy what I fix or clean.”

Phoenix shakes his head. “I’m not letting you stay here. No fucking way.”

I stand my ground, my heart pounding. I don’t want to rely on someone else to take care of me. I want to be able to stand on my own two feet and provide for myself. But at the same time, I’m scared of being here all alone—not that I’d admit that.

Fear and determination battle inside of me, the two seeming to pull me in opposite directions. It’s like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering back and forth between safety and danger. Fear of the unknown and of taking a risk makes me want to accept Phoenix’s offer. But stubborn pride makes me cling to the idea of self-sufficiency.

I look around the room, studying the worn walls and broken furniture. I’ve been in worse places and managed to make them livable. A few repairs, and it’ll be good as new. I can do this.

“I’ll find a way,” I say.

“I said no, and that’s final,” Phoenix pushes. “ You’re coming home with me where you belong. I should have never even considered allowing you to return here.”

“I can’t just stay at your house. I’ve overstayed my welcome as it is.”

“You can. You will,” he insists.

The walls start to close in on me. Phoenix is only trying to look out for me, but the idea of being under his roof again makes me feel like a burden.

He’s right, however. I look around a trailer that doesn’t even have running water or electricity. I couldn’t wash the dishes in the sink or even flush the toilet. I can’t stay here, and even my stubbornness is starting to realize that fact.

“Besides, Olympus Manor isn’t just my house. It’s the family estate, and your sister is part of that family.” A slight grimace at the mention of her, washes over his face. “So think of it as your sister still helping you, rather than me, if it helps.” He scowls at the trailer’s condition again. “Whatever it takes to get you out of this fucking hell hole.” He looks to the open door. “And how do you know he isn’t coming back?”

“I know.”

His blue eyes narrow on me as he shakes his head. “I’m not going to take that chance. Any man who did to you what he did and forced you to live in conditions like this deserves to be dead. And if he were to walk through that door right now, I’d kill him with my bare hands.”

The mention of death and killing turn my stomach, and I feel faint, but I quickly shake it off. I have to. I can’t reveal my secret ever. To anyone.

“You are coming home with me where I can keep you safe from him.” He takes in the garbage in the kitchen again. “From all of this.”

I draw a deep breath to steady myself, then nod. I’m grateful for Phoenix’s offer, but it won’t be easy adjusting to being dependent on him. Still, I can’t stay here. After one last look around the living room, I gather my courage.

“Okay,” I say, “but just until I find another place. Until I get on my feet.”

I make my way to head to the bedroom, but Phoenix reaches out to grab my arm. “Where are you going?”

“To pack some clothes.”

“We’ll buy you new clothes in town. Everything in this place smells of mold and puke.”

I try not to be offended by him saying my clothes stink, but the reality is he’s most likely right. But I also can’t have the man buying me clothes on top of offering me a place to stay.

“Daphne still has some things at the house,” I say.

“We’re stopping on our way back to get you some items. Final.”

“You don’t have to do this,” I say, offering him one last chance to back down.

“I do.”

With that, he places his hand on my lower back and leads me out of the trailer to the waiting car. I don’t even look back to say my goodbyes. This part of my life has to be over. Never go back. Never return.