Page 68 of Shadow Dance

“Yeah, crazy,” I agree, pushing gently on his chest.

He catches my hands, folding them between his. “Were you surprised?”

“Very,” I say, wiggling beneath his weight. “Callum, can you get off?—"

But he leans down, landing a wet kiss on my mouth. “I know it’s been a hard year for you,” he slurs, surprising me. I wasn’t sure he’d noticed. “But it’ll all be worth it. You’ll see.”

Part of me wants to ask him what he was thinking, randomly asking me to marry him when he’s the reason it’s been a hard year. But a small voice tells me to just go along with it. I don’t want to piss him off, not when he’s drunk like this. “Okay,” I say, kissing him back for a second before giving him another small push.

He kisses my neck, grinding into me a little. “Don’t you want to celebrate?”

“Yeah, but I feel kind of weird doing this here,” I say, which is partly true. “Let’s celebrate once we’re home.”

“You can’t be serious,” he gripes, pulling back to look at me. His voice is tempered, but I can see his annoyance by the light coming from the bathroom. “You used to be down to fuck anytime, anyplace. Remember when we did it in the bathroom during your grandma’s birthday? You sure didn’t mind then.”

It hurts, the way he slings the memory at me like a stone. He makes it sound dirty.

“Feels like you never wanna fuck anymore,” he complains, shifting. I can feel how hard he is. “I hope this isn’t the way it’s gonna be from here on out.”

I don’t know why he cares when he’s been getting it from someone else, maybe multiple someones, for a while. I guess it only bothers him when it’s convenient. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.” I say, hoping that if I stall for long enough, he’ll pass out in a drunken haze.

“Then I’ll do all the work,” he whispers playfully, tugging on my panties as he tries to pry my legs apart.

I push his hand away from my underwear. “Please don’t.” He ignores me, so I shove him off and clamp my knees shut. “Stop it, Callum,” I say, proud my voice doesn’t shake. “I don’t want to do it tonight!”

Grabbing my hands and holding them over my head, he gets my panties off. “Stop wiggling,” he says, laughing a little.

“I’m not joking,” I say. “Stop it, Callum.” But it’s like he can’t hear me. The harder I struggle, the more he holds me down and I realize that he means to take me by force, maybe worse than the other time. A wave of panic barrels up my body, threatening to pull me under. I can’t just lie here.

I can’t.

I can’t.

“Stop!” I gasp, bucking my hips with everything I’ve got. Somehow it works, and the second there’s enough space between us, I draw my legs in and knee him in his abdomen.

Callum grunts in pain. He wraps one hand around my neck,slapping me with the other so hard I lose my breath. For a moment, I feel nothing at all. Then my face grows prickly and hot, followed by a deeply intense ache that brings tears to my eyes.

“Shit, shit, shit … baby I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he chants, reaching for my face.

“Get off me,” I sob. My face feels like it’s on fire, and now I wonder if he backhanded me. It was a brutal smack either way, but he wears rings, and how he hit me will determine if I’m cut or bruised.

“Maeve.” Callum’s voice shakes as he rolls off me and stands beside the bed. “I’m so sorry. Swear to God, I never?—”

“You promised,” I cry, choking on snot and tears as I run for the bathroom. “You promised you’d never do that to me.” I shut the door and lock it, ignoring his pathetic pleas and apologies.

I’ve never been hit before, not in the face. I never fought in school. The pain is shocking, the humiliation worse. I stay in the bathroom all night, making a bed of bath towels on the floor.

Dario raisesan eyebrow when he finds me in the hallway the next morning. “Might want to put some ice on that,” he says mildly, sipping coffee as he walks out onto the patio.

Lowering my eyes, I dart into the kitchen before anyone else sees me and steal a few painkillers from the pantry. Last time we visited, Gigi gave me one for a headache, so I know she keeps them there.

Thankfully, the house is as still as a tomb today. Gigi and her girls are out shopping for Black Friday and Callum is passed out. My stomach cramps every time I think about him and what happened last night which is nonstop. Even if I were able to think about something else, the tenderness around the right side of my face wouldn’t let me forget. Nor would the stiff achiness from lying on the freezing tile floor all night.

We aren’t supposed to leave until tomorrow, but I can’t stay here. Things have been disintegrating for a long time, but last night was the final nail in the coffin. My coffin, if I don’t get the hell away from him somehow. Popping two Tylenol, I drink a glass of water from the faucet and return to our room.

Callum is in the shower when I get back, so I sit on the bed and wait for him, picking at the hole in my jeans. He doesn’t take long, his eyes widening slightly when he sees me. “Hey,” he says uncertainly, toweling his hair.

“Hey. I’m going to call an Uber and head home,” I say. “Just wanted to let you know.”

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