Wish I May (36 page)

“
William
,” I murmur.

The man flips me to my back—suddenly, painfully, violently. He pins my hands on either side of my head, squeezing. “What did you call me?”

I blink up at him, and my fantasy skitters away into the night.

“What’s my name, sweetheart?” The man over me demands. “Tell me my name.”

I try to catch my breath, reorient myself. I lock my gaze to the piercing hazel eyes of the man who bought and paid for the right to my body. The man who owns me now.

“Say it.”

“Brandon,” I whisper. “Brandon.”

Present Day

Brandon McHugh is outside Arlen Fisher’s cabin, leaning against a gleaming black Cadillac Escalade, smoking a cigarette. He gives me a disinterested once-over as I swing my leg off my bike.

I went to The Wire to track down Cally after Carl York’s call, but the girls told me she went home. Idiot that I am, I assumed that meant my house, but she wasn’t there.

“Can I help you?” Brandon asks.

“I’m here for Cally.”

“She’s not available right now. Want me to tell her you stopped by?”

Her car is parked right in front of me, but I’m not going to argue. I shove my hands into my pockets and glare at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Me? I’m her boyfriend.”

He inclines his chin. “Hmm. That’s funny, because when Cally and I made plans for her to move back to Vegas with me, she didn’t say anything about a
boyfriend
.”

His words are a punch in the gut, and I have to hold strong against my instinct to stagger back. “I’m sure there’s a lot she hasn’t told you.”

“Oh, hell.” He chuckles. “I’m such a fan of irony.”

I want to knock that grin right off his face. “Where is she?”

He grunts, then cocks his head. “You’re not fucking my girl, are you?”

“If you have to ask, is she really your girl? Why don’t you get out of here? If she wanted to be with you, she’d be living in Vegas.”

He laughs again. “My
wife
and I were just figuring out the details of her return.”

Wife.
The word slams into me, and I spin on him, nails biting into the flesh of my palms. “Excuse me?”

“Cally’s little sisters showed me everything you fixed up for their daddy inside, not to mention the outside. Well done. Can’t say I blame you. But she’s good. You have to give her that. Not even a couple of weeks away from having me to take care of her, she found you. I guess she knows what men will do for a taste of that pussy.”

I don’t even make the decision before my arm is swinging. And soon I’m nothing but my anger and my fists and the sharp pain radiating from where his fist connects with my jaw. His fists land twice—a wrecking ball into my cheek and nose—before I manage a solid swing at his jaw. Then I lose track of where I’ve been hit and the number of punches we’ve thrown. All I care about is bringing this asshole down, and we’re wrapped up in each other, still going hard, when someone pulls me off him.

I’m breathing hard and my vision’s blurry. My face feels wet, and I wipe my nose and find my hand covered with blood.

I can faintly make out Cally’s dad standing over me, and she’s standing a few feet beyond him, hands on her hips. Between us is the asshole. Her
husband.
He hops to his feet and grins like it’s nothing.

“There will be no violence on my property,” Arlen Fisher growls. He’s a quiet man, and that’s probably the most I’ve heard him speak at one time. I wonder if he’ll say more or threaten to call the cops, but he just nods, as if he has complete faith that his order will make it so, and then he turns and walks into his house.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Cally asks, and I don’t know if she’s talking to me or him or both of us. I don’t fucking care. I just want away from this. From her.

I push myself off the ground, and pain starts settling in places I don’t remember getting hit. My side, my left bicep. My knuckles are screaming and the whole right side of my face is on fire.

He slaps her ass, and even though I just promised myself I was getting out of here, I’m ready to go again.

“Will, please,” she whispers before I can swing. “Don’t.” For a quietly whispered word, it’s wrapped in enough sadness that I know I’ve already lost her. He’s here for her, and she’s going with him. He’s the reason she told me she can’t stay. Can’t or won’t?

Her father reappears and hands me a wet towel. I nod gratefully and press it against my bloody nose while Cally takes Brandon’s arm and walks him to his car.

“I can’t believe she’d be with someone like that.”

Her father is staring at me, and I realize I said the words out loud.

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking that people don’t continue living their lives just because you’re not around,” he says softly. “Cally isn’t the same girl you were with seven years ago, and if you keep trying to pretend she is, you’re both going to get hurt.”

I draw in a breath. Cally’s been trying to give me the same warning and I’ve ignored her, but suddenly it’s painfully obvious that she was right.

I walk back to my bike and every step sends pain radiating through my ribs. Cally is standing at the SUV, using a washcloth to wipe blood from Brandon’s face. When she sees me watching, she steps back and drops her hands to her sides. Her eyes go sad as she looks me over.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I swing my leg over my bike and pain ricochets through my core. “Fucking fabulous.” Then I start the engine and pull away. Because I can’t handle the idea of her seeing me like this. And because, for the first time, I finally understand what she was telling me. She’s not the same woman she once was, and we can’t have the relationship we once had.

“Baby,” I whisper. “You’re hurting me.” William’s gone, Brandon’s pissed, and my world is shattered.

Fury burns in Brandon’s eyes. “You little slut. You’ve been fucking that asshole.”

I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “It’s not what you think.” My purity, the idea that I had only ever been with
him,
was everything to Brandon. I don’t want him going after Will. I can’t have him hurting Will more than he already has.

“You fucked him and now you expect me to take you back, to take care of you?” His hands slide from my shoulders to around my neck, resting there, waiting for an excuse. My dad is just inside the house and I say a silent prayer that he’s watching, that he’ll be able to protect me if Brandon snaps.

“I didn’t sleep with him,” I say, slowly lifting my hands to his face. “I don’t want to be with anyone but you.” I have to calm him down before his hands tighten any more at my neck.

“Don’t lie to me, Cally. Not about this.”

“I wouldn’t.” The lie is a dangerous one. All he would have to do is ask around town and he’ll learn the truth. I’ve been careless, too determined to soak up every ounce of a life I knew I’d have to leave behind.

“I
saved
you,” he whispers, his face going sad and his hands dropping from my neck to take mine. “You were days from being on the street and I saved you.”

That’s his favorite story to tell. He’d hold me at night and repaint our ugly beginnings in the broad strokes of his twisted perception. As if he didn’t pay Anthony tens of thousands of dollars for the privilege of taking my virginity. As if he didn’t force me to marry him so he could control me even more than before. “I helped your family. How do you repay me? You don’t even visit me while I’m in prison.”

“I—I didn’t think you wanted to see me,” I lie. “You were with her.” But I can tell he sees through my excuse now. He always has.

“I told myself I would get you back as soon as I got out, but you tried to push me out of your life like I didn’t
save
you.” He has tears in his eyes. Actual, glistening
tears.
“You. Hurt. Me,” he growls, hands returning to my neck. “I thought you would need me again after your mom’s drug overdose. I was so sure that would bring you back to me.”

“Brandon,” I gasp when his hands tighten. “You’re hurting me.”

He stumbles back, his hands curling into fists. “I can’t look at you right now.” Then he climbs into his car and tears out of the drive, kicking up dust.

I don’t know how long I’m standing there before I feel Gabby at my side. “I don’t like him,” she says. “He came to the apartment the morning Mom died. I never liked him.”

I turn and blink at her. “Brandon was at the apartment the morning mom died?” Then Brandon’s words sink in.
“I thought you would need me again after your mom’s drug overdose. I was so sure that would bring you back to me.”

I never told Brandon mom died of a drug overdose. I told him she had a heart attack. Just like I told everyone else.

“I was so sure that would bring you back to me.”

Suddenly, everything is too clear. After years, Mom was doing better, even holding a steady job. Then suddenly a drug overdose? And how did Brandon know?

I thought I could run away. I thought I could hide from Brandon. I thought leaving New Hope would be enough to protect the people I love. But the only way I can protect them is if I give Brandon what he wants. They won’t be safe until he has me or he’s in prison again.