Page 197 of My Ruthless Husband

She smiles, warm and gentle, and it’s almost like my mom is right there with me.

“You take care, okay?” she says, her voice soft, motherly.

I nod once, barely meeting her gaze. “Thanks. You, too,” I mumble, turning back to my bike. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my face blank.

I swing a leg over my bike and push off down the street.

As soon as I’m out of sight, I throw myself into pedaling, pushing so hard my legs scream in protest with every shove. Thewind bites against my face, merciless as I ride. It stings my eyes, and I grit my teeth, pushing faster, welcoming the sharpness. My vision blurs, and I tell myself it’s just the wind tearing up my eyes.

I push myself harder than I should, my calves burning, my lungs aching, but I can’t stop. I pedal faster, and faster, until the tears fall in streaks down my face.

I pedal harder even though I’m not moving forward from that day four years ago. I go faster even though I know I’ll never outrun the past.

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I make a stop before heading back to the Samsons’ house, dragging out each second as much as I can before stepping into that place again.

When I finally make my way to the yard, I spot Caleb and his pack of friends huddled together by the porch. Caleb, a year older than me with a smirk, spots me and strolls over, his friends close behind.

“Well, if it isn’t our little money-maker,” he smiles.

I clench my jaw but keep my hands at my sides, ignoring him. I move to pass him, but he steps in front of me, blocking my way. “Come on, Damian,” he taunts, reaching forward to pat my pocket. “Let’s see how much you earned today.”

His dad is out on the front steps, lounging with a beer, and I know better than to push back. I just stand there, looking past Caleb, feeling my hands curl into fists at my sides as he digs into my pocket and pulls out the crumpled bills I’d just worked for.

Caleb waves them around, his grin widening as he turns to his friends. “Look at this, boys. Damian’s got himself a little bonus. Too bad he doesn’t know how to share.” He pockets the money with a mocking laugh, and they all file back to their game.

I don’t say a word. I won’t give them the satisfaction. With a tight breath, I drag my feet through the door, the familiar smell of dust and stale air hitting me right away. It’s the same as it’s been for two years now.

I push past the hallway, hearing the muffled sounds of Caleb and his friends yelling outside.

I check the bedrooms, kitchen—empty. The bathroom—no sign of her.

I make my way through the house, my boots thudding against the worn floorboards. It’s quiet, almost too quiet. I pass the door to the backyard, and for a moment, I think I hear something. A soft voice, hushed.

I stop in my tracks, listening for a second. It’s coming from outside.

I pull the door open just a crack, careful not to make too much noise. And there she is. Summer. Sitting on the grass, her heterochromia eyes glittering in the light, her messy brown hair falling into her bruised face.

She’s not alone, though. There’s a small kid beside her. A boy, maybe her age, no more than seven or eight. He’s got his head down, his body slouched as if he’s trying to make himself disappear. His clothes are a little too big, and his hands are clasped tightly in his lap.

His fear is thick, palpable. It reminds me of how I was placed in a home after...

I watch them for a second, not wanting to interrupt. But then Summer looks up and sees me standing there. Her face lights up like I’m the only person in the world. “Damian!” she calls, her voice high-pitched.

I keep my expression flat as I walk toward her, but something tightens in my chest when she grins like that.

In my own fucked up way, I came to care for her because she reminds me of the baby sister I never got to meet, the one who never got the chance to take a breath, to live.

I stop in front of her, watching as she looks up at me with those two-toned eyes of hers. I reach into my pocket and pull out something and let them drop into her lap without a word.

My eyes soften as I watch her face break into a surprised grin as she lifts the candies and colorful hairclips. Her eyes go wide, and she beams up at me. “Thank you, Damian!”

I just grunt, turning to leave, but something makes me stop. I glance back at the boy sitting beside her, his head still down, shoulders hunched. I notice the faint bruises along his cheek and jaw, marks I know all too well, and I let out a low breath.

He hasn’t moved much. He hasn’t said a word this whole time, his hands nervously twisting together in his lap.

I don’t know if it’s because of me or because of Summer, but it’s the same kind of fear that I’ve seen too many times in my life. The kind that stays with you, burns itself into your bones.

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