Page 44 of Between Dusk and Dawn

"Mommy?" I was looking out the window and saw a small red cut on the bottom of my foot. I tripped over a lot of cans of alcohol just to get to the front, which was probably why it was bleeding. No one responded.

The TV played in the background. I’d turned it off before I tucked myself into bed, but there was no one there. Then I heard voices outside.

I tiptoed toward the window that looked out to the front lawn. This happened almost every single night. My mommy and dad would go out with their friends, leaving me to fend for myself. Although I was only eight years old, I could make myself cereal for breakfast and even make Ramen for dinner.

I was trying hard to figure out how to get the peanut butter out of the jar to make a sandwich too, but sometimes the knife would get stuck inside because the peanut butter was so hard and expired. No one was there to get it out. At school, I learned this was not how everyone lived, but I was so scared of getting taken away from them that I kept our secrets quiet. I told no one that they drank and yelled at me all night long. I tried to be a good daughter and show them I could be better.

Once I got to the window, the voices grew louder. I peeked out to see my mother naked and my father screaming at another man. Mommy had bruises all over her neck that didn’t look good. Maybe I should go out and bring her a Band-Aid?

"You lying, cheating whore," my father screamed at her. Oh no. This didn’t sound good.

"I never wanted to be with you. You got pregnant and made me live with you. Now look at you," my father spewed. I wish I could tell you that was the first time another man gave mommy bruises on her neck, but it wasn’t. They often cheated on each other, whatever that meant, but the word was thrown around a lot.

I leaned back against the window, clutching my knees to my chest. Sometimes I wish I had someone who would just love me and protect me. When I grow up, I’d marry a prince. I would never allow someone to treat me like that. I would be with someone who loved me.

My head hurt.

No, it throbbed as the sun shone through unfamiliar windows, and I shifted on the unknown bed, desperate to wake up and grasp my surroundings. The pounding inside my head protested otherwise. The events of the night were a complete blur; all I could recall was being at a new bar, engaging with a couple of frat boys, some of whom got overly handsy.

I shot up, sensing a substantial weight beside me. The throbbing in my head subsided.

"Fuck," I mumbled, attempting to blink through the haze. A log cabin with large, rough-hewn beams created a cozy atmosphere. A central stone fireplace dominated the room, its warmth still lingering. A kitchenette to the side was adorned with wooden cabinets, and a quaint dining area completed therustic charm. A quick glance outside the window confirmed my location amidst tree trunks, indicating I was somewhere in the forest.

Pulling the comforters off, a cool breeze drifted between my thighs. Raising the strange oversized T-shirt I was wearing, I confirmed my suspicion of lacking underwear and pants. "Mother. Fucker," I hissed. How did this happen again? Groaning, I finally turned my attention to the person next to me.

If I had somehow landed in a cabin in the woods against my will, I would lose my mind.

"It's fucking cold," a man groaned as he grabbed the covers I'd taken off and pulled them back up. The force made me tumble backward onto the bed. I tried to get off, but only tangled myself in the undone sheets.

His long black hair was tousled, and his tanned skin was covered in intricate tattoos. Muscles defined his shoulders, then he turned around—Walsh Solis. Despite the bewildering situation, I couldn't deny the instant arousal I felt toward him. The familiarity of his presence and the sight of his body stirred something within me.

"Walsh," I whispered. Of course it was him. Who else would it be?

He brushed a lock of hair off my face. His go-to move.

"Madison," he uttered, his morning raspy tone caressing my name, each syllable wrapped in a velvety warmth. His brown eyes bore into mine, holding a love so potent it felt like an unbreakable bond, an intense connection that transcended the chaos of the situation.

"I was starting to think that maybe I’d gotten myself kidnapped into the woods, and now I think my intrusive thoughts were probably true."

The corners of his lips twisted into a slight grin before his hand wrapped around my neck and pulled me closer. His nose stroked my cheek.

"What happened last night?" I asked, trying to put a little space between us, but his grip tightened around me.

"You remember nothing?"

I shook my head. He sighed before letting me go and running his hands through his hair before groaning at the ceiling.

"We should eat breakfast before we talk about it." My heart hammered inside my chest as though it wanted to jump out. This wasn’t good. No. No. No.

My mind raced thinking about what could have happened. "We slept together."

It was the only conclusion I could think of. He knew it would upset me. I was sitting in his shirt with no fucking pants on, in bed with him. There was literally no other reason we’d have to have this conversation over breakfast if he knew it would upset me.

"Please."

He sat on the side of the bed, facing the wall, and his shoulders flexed. Part of me wanted to ask him more about his tattoos and what the intricate designs inside of them meant.

"Breakfast first," he stated as he stood and threw on a discarded shirt.

---