Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
I sniffle, wiping my eyes. “Finish what? I don’t understand. You … y-you killed those men.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Hurt me? He killed three men. Three men who probably have families. That’s three families without fathers and husbands. Steven lost his father and look how that turned out.
I touch my leg on instinct, and Jack doesn’t miss it. He lifts my dress. I have a red mark that will be a bruise by morning. Jack eyes me, and I swallow my emotions, refusing to look directly at him. I didn’t kill anyone. Why do I feel such shame?
“I’m fine,” I whisper.
His jaw muscles tick, working his teeth overtime while he pushes my dress further up my legs. I grip his hand to stop him. This only hardens his expression more. He pushes past my grip until my dress is at my waist and the partially torn crotch of my panties is in plain sight.
“Did he stick his fingers inside of you?” Jack’s voice is tight, a rubber band stretched to its limit.
I shake my head. How do I tell him I don’t actually know? I let myself escape to a different place. Then, I gathered the confidence to take back control.
“Did he fuck you with his fingers?” His words cut through the air, and it startles me.
“No,” I say before choking on a sob, shaking my head over and over. “I-I’m fine. I was in control. Y-you messed with my head.” I push his hand away from my leg and wipe my nose with the back of my arm. “It’s flesh and bones. It’s not me. It’s not who I am. It’s a vehicle.” I hold my ground despite what feels like a building collapsing in my chest, sharp-edged boulders landing in the pit of my stomach.
“It’s your body,” he says after a hard swallow.
When he looks at me again, I tip my chin up. I want to remind him that he’s right. It’s my body. Not Archer’s and not his. But I can’t because I think he killed three men tonight to save me. To save my body. I did this. Three families will grieve the unnecessary deaths of their loved ones because of me.
“I saved you from yourself.” Jack’s words echo.
He drops his head in my lap, reverently kissing my bare legs. “You want a shower?” he whispers.
I don’t want his kindness. It makes me feel weak. And I can’t feel weak when I have to be stronger than ever. Right now, admitting how badly I messed up takes the most strength.
“I have to go back. Eloise will know something’s wrong.”
“No. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Jack—”
“If you leave, I can’t protect you.” His hands grip my waist to keep me from standing.
“I don’t need your protection.”
“He was going to rape you.”
I shake my head over and over.
Pained lines crease his forehead. “I know you think it’s just flesh and bones, just a vehicle. But this flesh and bones is how you experience the world. It gives you perception. The mind needs a body, and the body needs a mind. As long as you’re alive, you can’t separate the two. If he takes something you don’t willingly give to him, it won’t just break your body; it will destroy a part of you that will never mend.”
I blink back a new round of tears. “I’m willing to give it to him if it makes things in my world a little less wrong.”
Jack frames my face with his hands, desperation filling his eyes. “They’re gone, Frankie. Nothing can make that less wrong. And maybe you’re willing to give him your flesh and bones, but I’m not.”
I touch my fingers to his black-painted face. “You killed three men.” More tears escape when I blink. “It’s …” My lower lip quivers. “It’s my fault.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “It’s Archer’s fault.” He stands, leads me to the bathroom, turns on the shower, and lifts my dress over my head. I cover my breasts, but I don’t know why. Archer didn’t take anything I hadn’t willingly given him before today. But that’s just it … Ada hated her husband because he tried to take what she wasn’t willing to give. And she didn’t fall in love with Baines until he surrendered, giving her freedom.
Control changes everything.
When I lost control tonight, everything changed. And when I took it back, it changed again.
“Do you need some privacy?” Jack sets my dress by the sink.
“No,” I whisper, letting my hands slide from my breasts to my sides.
Jack’s gaze flickers past me to the shower for a second. “If you need time to—”
“I don’t.”
If he treats me like I’m broken, then I am.
In silent acquiescence, Jack removes his clothes. I ease my ripped panties down my legs. He takes them from me, tossing them in the trash.
I step into the shower first. The water’s not steaming hot, but it’s better than his hose in the garage. Jack joins me, and I take the washcloth from his hand and start cleaning the paint from his face.