Page 34 of Little Dove

“I had to face them in court,” she whispers. “It was awful. Especially when their attorney tried to discredit me, saying that I was trying to seduce them, and that I was accusing them of a crime that they didn’t commit. The only thing they could beguilty of was giving in to my devilish temptation.” She gives a hollow laugh. “The Prosecutor ripped that to shreds, but it was enough to have some of the jurors and the judge looking at me sideways for awhile. At least until they saw the rest of the evidence; it was pretty hard to discredit the damage they did and the DNA they left behind. But they tried really hard to say I was the one in the wrong. Not the other girls, though. No, they were mistaken, just acting out, or agreed to sleep with Corey which can’t be used against him. But not me. I was a troubled girl that no one wanted, and they opened their home up to me, just like they did for so many other kids, but I was the only one that ever caused any trouble. The majority of the town agreed, and any sympathy I’d gotten was gone. Even in the group home.”

“And they still blame you?” I ask carefully. “That’s what you meant when you said you were accused of breaking up another marriage by sleeping with the father and son.”

“Yeah, they do, even after all these years. It doesn’t matter that the jury found them both guilty — a jury made up of completely unbiased strangers from the city, because there was no way of getting a fair trial if any of the townspeople were on it. They see me as the girl who broke up a family. I shattered their perfect illusion of a Church leader being above reproach, incapable of any kind of mortal sin. And they’ve been trying to get rid of me for years.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” I can’t comprehend why she’s stayed this long, and put herself through that kind of pain for so many years. Or how she’s managed to flourish as much as she has.

“I didn’t have the money, and there’s no easy way to get anywhere. The town doesn’t have a bus station. I could have walked, sure, but with little food or water, and no real experience surviving the kind of heat we get there, I didn’t even bother. I stayed in the group home and tried to keep out of the way and out of sight as much as possible. When I turned eighteen,I got accepted into the local beauty school. I thought it would be my new start, but it was much the same. No one wanted to work with me, not even the instructors, so I had to learn on my own. They couldn’t kick me out because I got tuition assistance from the government, and part of the rules for them to get the money was that I had to complete the course. But honestly, I’ve been thinking about leaving for awhile. I’ve been living in a hotel because no one will rent me an apartment, so I’ve been saving a bit there, but when you’re running your own business and people only come in to spew hate at you, money gets pretty tight.”

I hate that fucking town. How can any of them dare to treat someone this way? To treat achildthat way? Because she was a child. She was relying on adults to protect her, to believe her, and every fucking one of them failed. And then to hold it against her, even now? It’s been a fucking decade.

“You’ve been living in a hotel since you turned eighteen?”

She sighs heavily. “Mostly. No one really wanted to hire me, but eventually one of the diners in town got desperate for staff. They didn’t have any other options, and I got the job. I worked so hard, and I never allowed myself to be late or miss a shift. I even picked up extras when I wasn’t in school. I started making enough money to get a hotel room, and that’s where I stayed. There have been a few times I’ve had to sleep in a tent, when the hotel kicked me out so they could have the room for tourists, but once the summer tourist season was done, they let me rent the room again. And that’s been pretty much it, until I finally graduated and started apprenticing at one of the salons in town.”

“Did they treat you like shit there?”

“Sometimes,” she shrugs. “For the most part they ignored me or only allowed me to do the bare minimum. Eventually they let me start to help when they got swamped, and when they realized I was actually decently talented and a few people asked for meto do their hair certain ways, they let me do more. They still took all the money and never allowed me to have tips, but it was something. I grew a thick skin and didn’t let them bother me. Because if they knew they were getting to me, there’d have been no limits. It served me well, because when I opened my own salon and people started to come to see me, a lot of them told me they’d be surprised if I could do anything right. Many tried to find problems, and when they didn’t, they’d lose their minds and start shit with me.” She laughs softly. “I’ve been so nervous to come here, but now, saying all of this out loud, it’s a relief not to have to wake up and deal with that anymore, day after day.”

“Who was the man that was grabbing you when I came in?”

“That would be Ezra Boyd, Clay’s half brother. Their father wasn’t faithful throughout his marriage, and being the mayor of the town for a long time, he got away with it. Most turned a blind eye. He cheated on Clay’s mother and then eventually left them for Ezra’s mother. Ezra is about ten years younger than Clay, and he grew up rich and spoiled. While Clay may have taken the church path, the two of them are far too much alike.”

“Did he try anything with you?” I’m wishing I killed the fucker in her salon.

“He mostly saw me as someone to toy with. He’d flirt and try to see if I’d give in and go out with him, but every time I say no, he gets more and more angry. He doesn’t like being rejected, especially by someone he considers so beneath him. He thinks I should be trying to stay on his good side, considering who his father is and what I ‘did’ to his brother and nephew.”

“Has he ever grabbed you that way before?”

“Once, but it wasn’t anything like that. He tried to stop me from leaving a bar, but I wrenched away from him and another girl shoved me, thinking that I was trying to get in her way to get to him. He blames me for what happened to Clay and Corey, and part of the reason he keeps pestering me is to see just how farI’ll go before I break. He wants me to know I’m never far off his radar.”

Yeah, I’m going to enjoy making the son of a bitch pay. The first thing I’ll do is cut off every finger that ever touched her skin.

“You’ll never have to deal with him ever again,” I promise her.

“I hope you’re right,” she says sleepily. She’s starting to drift off, and soon enough she’ll be asleep. I briefly contemplate putting her to bed and finding somewhere else to sleep, but I dismiss the thought. I want to be close in case she has any nightmares. Still, as much as I want to hold her through the night, I’ll respect her wish to have the bed to herself. “Thank you, Lazaro,” she whispers. “You’re a good man. I’m sorry I can’t be what you want. If I could be that way for anyone, I wish it was you.” She burrows her face into my neck, wraps her arms around me, and drifts off.

If she wasn’t so tired and worn out, I know this would be happening very differently, but I’m not quite ready to let go of her yet. I sit and hold her for a little while longer, making sure she’s still in a deep sleep, just breathing her in as I replay everything she said over and over in my mind.

The problem is, I want her more than ever. Maybe that makes me an absolute bastard, but I don’t give a fuck. I want to take all of her pain away and replace it with good memories. I want her to know that she will never be treated horribly or disrespected again.

I meant what I said. Amara Stanley is going to be my everything, I just need to be patient. That, however, is easier said than done.

12

AMARA

I wake up slowly,luxuriating in the soft warmth surrounding me. Is this what heaven feels like? Because I can definitely get used to this. I give a soft sigh, nuzzling deeper into the pillow under my head. I don’t think I’ve ever slept on something this nice. When did the hotel get these? I can’t see the manager spending this kind of money.

I open my eyes and still, all my memories coming back in a rush as I realize where I am. I bolt upright in bed, looking around the room that I didn’t really pay much attention to last night. The gothic theme must continue in every room. However, this one feels a little less frightening now that sunlight is shining through the ornate windows behind me.

The floor is the same black marble as the bathroom, and across from me is a sitting area with a mostly black fireplaces and a long mantel. I wonder if it actually works. Then again, something tells me that this place is more for show than actualpractical use. There’s also a dressing area, complete with a gold mirror so large it takes up half the wall.

That leaves the bed, and looking at it, I realize it’s a California king. It’s huge. It makes sense though, because Lazaro’s large frame would need something this big to be comfortable.

The thought of Lazaro has me stiffening, as another wash of memories floods through me and what I’ve now told him. Not to mention, the fact that I fell asleep on him instead of demanding another room. Nothing like sending mixed signals. I look over at the other side of the bed, but it’s empty. The sheets don’t look like they’ve been disturbed. I carefully put my hand out and, yep, they’re ice cold. Does that mean Lazaro didn’t sleep here, or that he got up a long time ago and is off doing whatever?

No, he definitely didn’t sleep in here, because I’d have woken up. There’s no way I can sleep in the same bed as a man and not know it. So where the hell did he go?

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