Page 12 of The Boy from Half Moon

I never knew when a panic attack would hit and cause my anxiety to overload my senses, rendering me helpless to fight back. I’d felt powerless far too many times and the man responsible liked finding me here, in the barn, in that state of mind, alone.

I felt the panic rising. “You can’t hide, Luke,” my inner voice reminded me. “You did bad things and now you’re going to pay for them. Knock-knock. I’m back.”

I focused on the partially open door, my avenue to escape, but I needed to remain still and fight the need to run from the alarm. The pulse in my temples was deafening, the feeling of dread rising, my eyes darting around as I fought a war I’d fought for the past five years.

“You’ll never get away from him. And now he wants David. Your sweet little brother is next.”

I staggered for the wooden rail of a stall and held tightly, bending over as my world spun around. I needed to run from this horror show but knew I couldn’t. My mother and little brother were helpless without me, and I was in no condition to protect them. I couldn’t protect myself, and the reality of my situation had found me again, alone, and in the place where my abuse had begun.

“Where you going to go, Luke?” The voice spoke, squeezing my heart like a vise grip. “He’ll find you. He always finds you.”

I ran away once. I was sixteen then, and the assaults were getting more frequent, so I ran as hard and as fast as I could, ending up in the woodshed of a neighboring farm. I hid there for two days until hunger overcame me, so I snuck into the neighbor’s house thinking they were away at the time.

The wife was home, and she’d made quite a ruckus when she confronted me in front of their refrigerator foraging for food. Her husband drove me home after she called him. They were sympathetic but afraid of where I’d come from, so they dumped me at the gate outside the compound. That was the last time I’d run.

The gigantic interior space of the barn continued closing in on me like it was a matchbox, dark clouds of terror occupying my mind. Lately, the attacks had become more frequent, leaving me exhausted from fighting him off. I was afraid when trying to sleep. Afraid when encountering triggers. Afraid of being afraid. The anxiety lived within my flesh walls, while the ranch walls were becoming inescapable.

I ran blindly, stumbling and breathing hysterically, as I sought the refuge of safety just beyond the giant barn doors. I had to get out and into the daylight once again, just like ten minutes before. The sails of fresh sheets would comfort me again. Fresh air, space to breathe, safety, all of it mere steps away. But then a large shadow filled much of the open doorway in front of me, seizing my heart and cutting off my path to freedom.

“I thought I might find you here,” the voice of my abuser spoke. Franklin pointed toward the ladder. “Let us check out the loft together, Luke.”

His words, voice, and intention triggered a warning that set off a familiar response. A circle of light in my vision narrowed to a pinhole until it vanished completely. I went into myself. Into a quiet place. The place that sheltered me from the coming storm. The only place that allowed me to survive him. It was time to travel.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Tate

“What do you think?” Alec asked, motioning around the outdoor deck at the country club he was a member of. “There’s the exclusive membership, a great golf course, and the club is populated with the people one must know in this town. You definitely should join.”

“Impressive,” I agreed, smiling. “I’ve never golfed, though,” I confessed.

“Neither did I when I moved to Bend. That’s why they have club pros to teach you the game,” he explained. “And trust me. The views aren’t bad either, and I’m not referring to the fairways.”

After dropping my luggage at the country club resort he’d chosen for me to stay in until my loft deal closed, he dragged me to the clubhouse to see if I had any interest in joining. Apparently, he’d assumed I had a quarter-million dollars for membership dues available for such an extravagance.

Thomas, my ex, was also a golfer and claimed he’d made his fortune on the links. I’d never gone along with him because I had an aversion to selling my soul for a buck and kissing ass professionally. Alec was twenty years younger than my ex, but the similarities were alarming at best.

“Have you dated any of the pros?” I asked.

Alec frowned, a look of disgust touching the corners of his mouth. “Why would I do that?” he scoffed, seeming shocked that I’d asked such a question. “There’s no future with a club pro who couldn’t make it on the professional tour.”

“There’s the possibility of love,” I advised. “Surely that counts for something.”

“You can love a wealthy person just as easily,” he argued, revealing a shallow attitude.

“I suppose you can.”

“You disagree?” Alec asked.

“I’ve had a relationship where my partner was wealthy. I think I’d prefer true love at this point,” I stated, instantly thinking about bakery boy. Could Luke offer true love? Was I crazy to even dream about him when a true catch sat across from me and seemed to be flirting with me?

“That’s actually sweet,” he agreed. “I just don’t think I could do that.”

“What part?” I asked, surprised by his honesty. “True love?”

“I don’t think true love exists to tell you the truth. Love is transactional on so many levels, so why not make sure your love interest has some coin?”

Alex held his hand up to get a server’s attention, then cupped his hand and whispered toward me. “I’m going to have to speak to the club manager about the level of service around here today.”

I smiled at the handsome server when he arrived tableside. “Mr. Browning,” he acknowledged. “Your usual, sir?”

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