Page 49 of Bleeding Blackheart

I take a large swig of my third beer. “Yeah.” I feel even more stupid after explaining it.

He presses his lips together, trying not to laugh. “The hell is wrong with you? Do you even like her?”

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m probably just fucked up because my father killed my mother, my sister died in a car crash, and my father slaughtered my pregnant girlfriend. I never sought therapy and tried to off myself, and then I started killing people for money.

I look at him, leaning back in my chair. “I can’t stop thinking about her. Margaret. I turned down Montana twice because I felt guilty about wanting her when Margaret died so young and in such a horrible way, and as soon as I allowed myself to go there with Montana, I lost all control and scared her. Then I made her feel like she didn’t matter to me because I couldn’t apologize, and I’m scared that if I open up to her fully that I’ll fall too hard too fast, tarnishing what memory I have left of Margaret, and I’mscared that something will happen to Montana and I’ll lose her too.”

Colt nods his head understandingly and sips his drink slowly. “You forgot about the part where you left her chained to my bed in tears.”

“I never said she was in tears.”

He gives me a knowing look which really hammers down how much I’ve fucked this up.

Colt looks off into the distance, rocking slowly back and forth. “Margaret wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life as a dead man, Gun.”

I finish my third drink and toss my bottle on the ground. “You didn’t know her.”

He lowers his voice, softening his tone. “I know I didn’t know her. But I know what you’ve told me about her. And if she loved you as much as you told me, she would hate to see you like this. She’d want you to be happy. She’d want you to let that ice melt off your damn heart.”

I close my eyes, and when the wind blows, I can almost feel her hand on my face and her hair wrapped around me. Tears stream down my face, and I lean forward, rubbing my eyes with my hands. “I miss her so much.”

“Some part of you will always miss her. That’ll nevergo away. That’s okay.”

I rub my nose with my shirt. “I want Montana just as much as I miss Margaret. I only met the girl a few days ago, and I don’t want to go to sleep without her ever again. And I feel so terrible because I feel like I need her more than I needed Margaret. Margaret needed me, but I didn’t need her. I need Montana. Is that wrong?”

He sighs and stands up, leaning against the porch. “It is what it is, man. Margaret and Montana are two completely different souls. Quit trying to compare the two and measure out your feelings for them. You loved Margaret. You were in love with her. However, she’s gone, and she’s not coming back. That doesn’t mean that love between you two doesn’t matter or that it wasn’t real or that you’re a phony for feeling how you do now.

“That girl upstairs is here, she’s breathing, and she’s hurting. And if you want to have any chance with her, you better get up there and right your wrongs.”

I stand up, not wanting Montana to stay up there another moment alone. Colton steadies me, looking me in my eyes. “Remove the cuffs, clean her up, and let her have some space. Take one of the guest rooms, and talk to her in the morning.”

I want to ignore him. I’ve spent the past four nights with Montana, and I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without her.

But I know he’s right. I do need to give Montana space. I’m in no condition to be honest with her or comfort her right now, and the last thing I need to do is make things worse. He holds out his arms, and I give him a quick hug before heading back to the front door.

“One more thing, Gun.”

I turn around, feeling the weight of the day catch up with me. “Montana is not Margaret. Margaret wasn’t Montana. There’s nothing right or wrong about that. Don’t try and make them be each other. They never will be.”

I give him one more nod, wiping my shoes on the mat before I walk back through the door.

22

Montana

My wrist aches, and I’ve spent the past hour and a half crying. Maybe two. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here like this. All I know is that when I get loose, I’m never speaking to Gunner again.

I look between my thighs, grimacing at my dried blood mixed with his cum.

He hurt me. He was aggressive. Way more aggressive than I expected him to be. And I can forgive him for that. I sat there, taking it, because despite the pain, I still wanted him. Though my body felt like it was being split in half, I wanted to help fill his need and satisfy his craving. I wanted his touch. I liked that he wanted me even if he wasn’t great at expressing it.

What I can’t forgive him for is leaving me up here like a piece of meat to rot. His words play back in my head, saying I lied to him. If I did, I didn’t mean to. It didn’t feel like the right time to tell him it was my first time. And I honestly didn’t think it mattered.

I don’t know if I’m just fucked up from his torture and brainwashing, but I would’ve apologized ten times over for not telling him if that would’ve made him happy. Then the cuffs were back on me, and it was like day one all over again when I had to prove myself to him. After all we’ve been through, he locked me back up and treated me like a stranger. I just feel used and discarded.

I was stupid to think he could develop feelings for me. Or that I could grow to like him. How could I like him? He’s evil. And I shouldn’t like him. He abused me and dominated me and treated me like a servant. I should’ve killed him last night in his sleep, taken his car, and ran.

If my father could see me right now, he’d tell me what a disappointment I am. That this is exactly what I deserve for putting another man first. That I asked for this. Earned this.

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