Chapter 35

THIRTY-FIVE

Colin

T hen there is nothing keeping you with me.

Owen doesn't want me.

That truth carves a hole in my chest so large I don't know how I'll heal from it. It's a gaping wound, hemorrhaging every word he's ever told me.

Stumbling out of the building with blurry eyes, I get into the car that's waiting for me. The driver just opens the door without a word and doesn't say anything until he's behind the wheel.

"Where too?"

My breath hiccups a few times before I'm able to get the word out. "Hotel."

At this point, it doesn't even matter which one. Anywhere but here where I can lick my wounds and pull myself together. Though I doubt I'll be able to. Not really. The man I've stupidly fallen in love with doesn't want me, doesn't love me, doesn't need me.

It's like a knife in my heart. Ragged and rusted as it tears me apart from the inside out. I'm only kept around as long as I'm needed and less work than someone else. I should be used to it by now.

But it's such a soul-deep ache to be kicked aside by someone who knows you. By someone you've spilled your secrets to.

We pull up in front of a hotel, I don't know which one because I don't care, and I head for the reception desk.

Wiping at my face, I do my best to look presentable, but if her expression is anything to go by, I've failed.

"Good afternoon, what can I do for you?"

"I need a room," I croak.

"Of course, for how long?"

That's a good fucking question, but I don't have the answer.

"Um. Three days." That should be enough time to come up with some kind of game plan.

She takes my driver's license and credit card, putting in the information and running the card so it's on file.

"I'm sorry sir, the card was declined."

What? That can't be.

I take it from her and hand her a different one. She runs it twice and looks at me with pity in her eyes.

"I'm sorry sir."

What the fuck is going on?

I hand her the only other one I have, and the same thing happens. Spinning on my heel, I storm from the hotel lobby. This is the last thing I need.

Where do I go?

I can't go back to the apartment. I have no money. No dorm room. Oliver isn't going to let me stay there, and the last thing I want right now is to look at the face of a man who just ripped my heart out. Fucking twins.

Maybe Allen's out of town and I can stay at his apartment? I've done that before.

With a knot in my throat, I message him, but he's in town, so that's out. Fuck.

I literally have no one to turn to. No friends. No family. No means to take care of myself.

My lip trembles for a moment as I realize just how disposable I am to everyone around me. I guess my father was right. I'll never be good enough to keep, only ever for a night or two.

A tear slips from my eye, and I wipe it away quickly. I don't have time for this. I need a plan. Since Owen doesn't have anything to do with my finances, I head to my parents' house.

With a direction for my hurt to funnel into, I call the car back and let anger wrap around me.

Entering the lobby, the man at the desk knows me and clears me to head to the penthouse without a word. Despite the tremble in my hands, I walk with purpose. Using righteous indignation to wrap around the hurt and fear to find what I need to know.

"Colin, what the hell are you doing here?" Mother snaps when I stride into the formal living room where she's twisting her hair around her finger.

"Trying to figure out why my credit cards have been declined," I snap back at her. Anger feels good. So much better than heartbroken and hollow. "Where is Father?"

"Where is Cassandra?" she counters. Good, Cassie hasn't told her. "Cassandra is a good girl. I know you had something to do with her running off to god only knows where. You always were a bad influence."

I get in her face. Finally able to let out the years of pent-up anger. "You allow that man to do whatever he wants. You allowed him to push her into marriage arrangements when she was underage. You allowed him to use her like an asset, like property, like a fucking show dog, to further his career. You are the reason she left. You didn't protect her when she needed it, and you made damn sure I wasn't here to do it for you."

My chest is heaving when I'm done. Furious and hurt and scared.

"So, I'll ask again. Where is Father?"

She rears back and slaps my cheek, but I don't flinch. It's her go-to. I've been slapped more times than I can count on my fingers. It stings like a bitch, but I don't let it show. Honestly, the physical pain is easier than the one in my heart.

"The truth hurts, doesn't it?" My words are quiet. "But it doesn't make it less true." Spinning on my heel, I get to his office. If he's here, that's where I'll find him.

I don't bother to knock on the closed door. I just swing it wide open and walk in.

Father is at the desk as I suspected and glances up over his reading glasses at me.

"I was expecting you." He takes the glasses off and stands.

"Why did you cancel my cards? You aren't even paying them." Owen has been.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" My father's furious voice makes me pause and reassess. "Taking your inheritance wasn't enough. You've left me no other choice."

"What are you talking about?" I don't step back when he walks toward me but only because of years of training to hold my ground.

My father rushes me, pinning me to the wall with an arm across my throat. He's so much bigger than I am that I can't get any leverage to get him off me. I dig my fingers into his arm, but the jacket protects his skin. Pushing on him gets me nowhere. My lungs are already screaming for air as the logical side of my brain shuts down, leaving me with only instincts.

"Not only do you continue to embarrass this family publicly, but you've absconded with your sister," he seethes through his teeth.

Fear flares in my gut at the cold fury staring back at me, and I don't see the hit coming. Pain explodes at my temple, and my knees buckle. I don't know what he hit me with, but it wasn't his hand. Light bursts behind my eyes, and for a second, I don't know what's happening.

"Ungrateful."

I drop to the floor, and he kicks me in the stomach. Bile rises in my throat, but I can't throw up, I don't have time to react. All I can do is curl around myself.

"Disgusting."

Something crashes into my nose. My eyes immediately start watering, and blood streams down my face to the floor.

"Useless."

My body takes hit after hit. I don't know how long it lasts; my mind is trying to protect me by blocking out what it can. There's only pain. Sharp. Dull. Pounding.

Knowing my father hates me is nothing new. I've known most of my life. Since I started showing signs of being interested in men, voiced not wanting to be him, and getting between him and my sister, he's made no secret of his revulsion.

In shows and movies, they show parents loving their children just as they are, but it's a fucking fantasy because it's never been true for anyone I know.

He keeps talking, but I've tuned it out. I can imagine the horrible things he's said.

Eventually, the pummeling of my body stops long enough for me to start to relax. When his hand rips my head off the ground by my hair, I flinch and cry out.

"You may as well take your husband's name because you'll never be accepted as a Covington again." He drops my head with a thunk and bursts of light explode behind my eyes again.

The door slams closed, the noise making me jump and curl in harder around myself. But everything is still and silent except me.

What the fuck am I going to do?

Cracking my eyes open, pain flares through my head at the brightness of the light. There's blood pooling on the floor under my head, dripping down my face and drying around the edges.

I need to get up. Get out. Call…someone.

Who the fuck do I have to call?

Owen doesn't want me, my mother clearly won't help me, and Cassie is in England. Isaac would probably come, but Oliver despises the air I breathe, and I can't deal with him right now.

I don't have anyone.

That realization is heavy. Tears burn my throat and leak down my face to join the blood on the carpet.

Everything hurts. Every inch of me, inside and out, and I have no one to help or even offer an ear to listen.

For just a few seconds, I let myself sob, but it makes my head hurt more and the bleeding from my nose worsen. Choking back everything I can, I start to move. Slowly. Carefully. Painfully.

How is this my life?

Pretty sure I have a concussion, maybe a broken nose, my shoulder is fucked, and the muscles in my stomach burn. But I manage to get to my hands and knees.

My stomach rolls, and even knowing it's going to make everything worse, I can't stop myself from throwing up. My head feels like it's going to explode from the pressure, and the force through my nose causes a red-hot pain that makes my fingers curl into a fist. And there's nothing I can do about it.

Once I get to dry heaving, I shuffle to the side and lie back down. How am I going to get out of here?

Father comes storming back in and stands over me. I cower into myself, hoping to protect myself from the worst of it.

"You aren't even man enough to get up." He grabs my jacket and hauls me to my feet, making my head swim and my stomach roll. I can't see well enough to know where I'm being dragged to, I can only hope it's the damn elevator. I know he pays the staff off when shit happens so they won't report it, but I just need to get out of here.

The ding of the elevator is music to my ringing ears. He throws me into the space, my head bouncing off the wall, leaving me in a crumbled ball on the floor.

"If you step one foot on this property, I'll have you arrested for trespassing."

The doors close, and I'm being sent to the lobby. With a heavy heart and tears joining the blood dripping from my face, I find my phone in my pocket and call the only people I know who will show up.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"

Greg, the lobby attendant, tries to help me from the elevator, but I scream at him to not touch me, so he grabs some paper towels and kneels close to me.

The ambulance shows up, the EMT's roll me onto the gurney, and after asking me a bunch of questions, take me to the ER. I'm bloody, snotty, and splashed with vomit. I'm asked if I want to file a police report, if I need an advocate, if I feel safe at home. Is there anyone they can call for me.

It's clear I got the shit beat out of me, and for some unknown fucking reason, I protect my piece of shit father. Maybe tomorrow I'll be angry enough to deal with it, but tonight, I just want to be held and told that I'm lovable. That I'm not broken or ruined or useless.

I just want my husband to love me.

"Mr. Covin–"

"Colin," I deadpan. I'm not a Covington anymore, Father said as much.

"Colin." The nurse that's been assigned to me, Brittany, smiles softly at me. "Are you sure there's no one we can call? Your file says you're married. We can call your spouse."

I can barely see out of one eye, and everything hurts. I have an IV and fluids being pushed through. They hit me with something to take the edge off the pain, but we're waiting for a CT scan before they give me good shit apparently. The doctor was already in here, did a neuro test, and decided I need the scan.

"No, leave him alone. He didn't ask for this."

She cocks her head like what I said didn't make sense. Maybe it doesn't to her, but she doesn't need the dirty details of my life.

"We're going to get you changed into a gown, okay?"

"Sure."

"Do you think you can do it yourself, or do you need some help?" She puts the folded gown and a sheet at the foot of the bed.

"I don't know."

"Okay, I'll help you." She gets the IV disconnected so I can get my shirt off, and she has to help me get it over my head. When I try to stand to get my pants off, I dry heave into one of those round blue bag things they give you. So I end up laying down and just shoving the fabric down my hips far enough that she can pull them the rest of the way off.

Once the stupid gown is on, she gets everything connected and shoves my ruined clothes into a bag.

I'm tired. So fucking tired.

I curl up on my side again, as much as I can, and ask Brittany to dim the lights for me.

She does and pulls up a chair next to the bed and holds my hand. How is it that this stranger is the only person to offer me comfort? What have I done so wrong that no one I know would even care enough to ask if I'm okay? Isaac would care. I know that logically, but Oliver would probably say something about me earning this. He hates me. Hates that I'm married to his brother. Hates that he's been doing well with me, better than he was when Oliver ruled his life. Is this my penance?

"I don't know why you don't want to report whoever did this to you." She takes a breath. "But if there's someone who might come looking for you that is dangerous or that you don't want to know you're here, I need to know."

"They won't come looking for me. No one is in any danger." If I thought he would hurt the staff or another patient, I wouldn't hesitate to tell her. I would protect them like I've done my whole life. I protect everyone but me, apparently.

"Was it your spouse? Is that why you don't want us to call him?"

"No, he's a good man." He doesn't love me and doesn't need more of my shit to deal with.

"Don't you think he would want to know you're here? That you've been hurt?" I can see the pity in her eyes. She wants to make herself feel better by not leaving me alone. She thinks it'll all be better if I have someone to comfort me. Too bad I don't have anyone but her.

"It's okay. Really. I'll be okay."

I always am.

Do I have my phone? I should tell Cassie to be careful. Who knows what Father will do now. I didn't expect him to attack me. Who's to say he won't do the same to her?

I get the CT scan done. Moving from the bed to the wheelchair, chair to table, then back again was brutal. My head is screaming, the world is tilting, and my stomach is pissed. I just want to sleep, but I'm in too much pain to be able to. My head throbs, my stomach aches, my head feels like it's going to fucking explode. I can't think anymore.

Brittany checks on me again, placing a hand on my shin.

"Uh, Brit?" A young nurse with a blonde ponytail peeks into the room. "I need you out here."

She nods and pats my leg. "If you need anything, just hit the call button, okay?"

I nod and close my eyes.

There's a commotion, a man is yelling that sounds familiar, but my head is too swimmy to place it. The curtain shrieks open, making me jump and my head throb. In the open space is Owen. I can't see him clearly enough to read his expression, but his shoulders are tight with tension as he stays frozen in the little doorway.

Am I hallucinating? Is it actually Oliver coming to tell me I deserve this, and I'm no longer allowed to talk to Isaac?

"Colin." Owen's voice breaks.

"Owen?" Tears fill my eyes, and he comes for me like he's going to reach for me, but I flinch back. I can't take any more hits. Physical or verbal. "Please don't."

He freezes with his hand above me, not touching me, but so fucking close I can feel the heat from his palm. I'm desperate to feel his skin on mine, but if he comforts me now, it'll destroy what little piece of me I still have when he leaves again.

"Who did this to you?"