Page 1 of Bring Me Back
prologue
WILLOW
4 YEARS AGO
“Maybe you’ll staydown this time, Lily. You know better than to piss me off like this. You brought this shit on yourself. All I ever do is give and give for you and that fucking kid, and all you ever do is bitch and complain. Maybe if you weren’t so soft on him, he wouldn’t get in trouble like this.” My husband turns to stare Jaxon down, and my son cowers under his father’s rage.
There’s a saying about not crying over spilt milk. But crying is the least of Jaxon’s worries after he accidentally knocked his father’s crystal whiskey glass off the edge of the counter. The amber liquid splashed across the white vinyl flooring, and I felt the world stop turning. My son froze in place for only a moment before rushing to pickup the glass. He whispered apologies over and over as I rushed to his side, using paper towels to soak up the mess, careful not to cut myself. I silently shooed my son away, knowing what would come next as soon as Cooper came into the room.
“Wait!” It takes every ounce of strength I have to push the words out of my mouth. Blood is clouding my vision, trickling into my eye from a cut above my left eyebrow. “Coop, wait. It was my fault.” I’ll beg. I’ll plead on my knees to take every ounce of punishment he sees fit to inflict, as long as he never touches my son.
“I know it was your fucking fault, Lily. It’s always your fault. Can’t keep this fucking house clean, can’t keep this kid under control, can’t do anything without fucking something up.” He seethes, pulling my head back with a tight grip on my ponytail.
I don’t dare look him in the eyes. It’s like tempting a cobra to strike. He’s done a good job of avoiding leaving noticeable marks on my body since some of the guys in his motorcycle club, Satan’s Renegades, started asking questions. They all know what a piece of shit he is, and some have even offered to intervene. But in reality, how could they help me? What good would it do? I could run, but where would I go? I could fight back. I tried that once, and all it got me was three broken ribs and a steel plate holding my cheekbones together. Oh, and a lecture about how he shouldn’t have to pay my medical bills. When your daddy is the sheriff in a town as small asCrescent City, Mississippi, nobody asks questions. It’s the biggest cliché in the books. They all know, but nobody says a word. And why would they? You speak up, and suddenly there’s a bank foreclosure on your farm or a mysterious fire burns your business to the ground. Their hands are tied just as tightly as mine.
“I’ll clean it up, and I’ll make you a fresh glass. I’ll do it right now, Coop.” My voice sounds so frail I barely recognize myself anymore.
I know I wasn’t always this woman, this shell of the person I used to be. I was a force to be reckoned with, which is probably what attracted Cooper to me in the first place. When we were kids, he was the stereotypical bad boy. I think he felt like he had to be growing up in this town. Everyone wanted him, and he wanted me. At the time, that made me feel so special, but that feeling has long since faded. The first time he put his hands on me, I thought I had fallen into some horrible nightmare. That kind of shit happened to other women, weaker women, but not me. At least, that’s what I thought. He swore it was an accident, and he’d never do it again, but that was just the beginning of a decade stuck in hell.
He backs off, allowing me to turn over. I sit up slightly, trying to block his view of the mess behind my back. Seeing the mess always seems to make it worse.
“I’m sorry, Coop. I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up right now,” I say, holding my hands up in front of him defensively. Wrong move.
“What’s wrong, baby? You think you have to protect yourself from me? I’ve never done anything you didn’t deserve,” he snaps, crouching down to eye level with me. “Clean this shit up and get me a new glass, Lily. And clean up your fucking face. The boys are gonna be here soon, and nobody wants to see you like that. You’re ugly enough as is. It’s lucky for you I’m willing to put up with your bullshit.”
He shoves my shoulder hard, and I slip flat onto my back, impaling myself on the shards of glass behind me. It takes everything in me to suppress the cries of pain that instinctively pour from my lips. My eyes close tightly, and I pull my lips between my teeth. I don’t move again until I hear the heavy stomp of his boots retreating out of the room.
“I’m so sorry, Mama. I’m so, so sorry,” Jaxon says, over and over again like a mantra. I can see the tears streaming down his face and the anger barely banked behind his eyes. My boy, my sweet, kind-hearted, innocent boy, has watched his father use me as a punching bag for years. I know I should get up. I have to do something about my back before anyone else shows up here. But the weight of a sudden realization hits me harder than Cooper ever has.
I’m lucky. In the back of my mind, I know it’s only a matter of time before he puts his hands on my boy. Jaxon is big for his age, and that’s probably the only thing that’s kept him safe this long. I’m lucky. LuckyCooper hasn’t killed me and left my son to fend for himself in this cruel hell. But luck always runs out. And I’m already running on empty. Jaxon helps me to my feet, and I feel trickles of blood soaking through my shirt. I can’t be lucky anymore. I have to be brave.
“I need you to help me, baby. You’re gonna pack anything you can’t stand to leave behind, and I’m gonna get cleaned up.” He’s scared, and hell, so am I. But I’m far more scared of being ripped away from this boy forever than I am of anything else in this life.
“We’re getting out of here.” I say, determination and steel in my voice.
Cooper passes out before the sun sets. Before it comes up again, my son and I are two states away and that much closer to a new life.
one
Four years later
The buzzof tattoo machines typically drowns out the incessant sound of my mind telling me to be scared, to stay on edge. At any moment, Cooper could show up and drag me back to the hell I ran from all those years ago. It takes conscious effort to remind myself every day that he can’t find me.
I showed up in Grovewood, South Carolina, with a black eye, a dozen barely healed bruises, and all my belongings shoved into my backseat. My sweet 13-year-old boy was just as full of anger as I was, and we were only looking for somewhere to spend the night. The universe had other plans in a diner just after midnight.That was the night I met Breaker, a moody but incredible friend and talented hacker. After dumping all my dirty laundry at his feet, he gave me a brand new life with a brand new identity. He found me a job at Grovewood Ink as a receptionist, opening the door for me to really build a life here for my son and I.
I stripped away every trace of the girl I’d been, cutting my long, wavy, bleach-blonde hair to my shoulders, dying it back to my natural light brown, adding streaks of purple as a small rebellion just for me. Over the four years we’ve spent here, I've picked up more than a few tattoos on my once-bare skin. I was embarrassed to show Elijah, one of the owners here at Grovewood Ink, the scars across my back. But I’m grateful he didn’t ask questions when he tattooed a large lily flower between my shoulder blades. It was the one piece of my old life I wanted to hold on to. I think all of my friends have come to their own conclusions about my past, but only Breaker, Jaxon, and I really know the truth.
As much as I wanted to ask Jaxon to change his name for protection more than anything else, I couldn’t ask him to do that. I had already taken so much from him, uprooting his whole life just to keep us both alive. I couldn’t imagine taking that last piece from him. Even though I never asked him to fill the role, Jaxon has always considered himself my protector. He did his best to stand up to his father, even when I begged him not to. It’s always been my responsibility as his mother toprotect him. He's already seen the lengths I would go to just to make sure he’s never in danger, and I hope one day he’ll understand I did the best I could with a horrible situation. The guilt I carry for ever bringing him into a home like that will haunt me for the rest of my life, but I can’t look back. I can only build a better future for us both now, and hope he appreciates it.
Jaxon isn’t a complainer, and he never really asks for much. Art supplies and a motorcycle are the only things he's ever actually asked for from me, and I’m happy to keep him fully stocked on art supplies. Logically, I know there’s no connection between motorcycles and the kind of man Cooper was. I’m surrounded by wonderful men here at Grovewood Ink who love their wives fiercely, and their motorcycles have never changed that. I've even considered taking a quick trip or two on the back of Helo’s bike, but try telling my heart there’s no correlation, even if it’s an inanimate object.
Helo, the tattoo shop’s business manager and one of the first people I met in this town, has been a genuine friend to me when I needed it most. I met him when Elijah and Everett, the shop co-owners, hired me to work at the front desk. He was in charge of all my new-hire paperwork, and I’m sure my utter lack of information was absolutely no help to him. Even though Breaker told me the identity he built was foolproof, I didn’t take any chances. I gave Helo as little information as possible and shut him down when he pushed for anything else.It’s almost funny that now he’s the first one I call whenever I need something, no matter how big or small. Over the few years I’ve been here, he's come to my aid time and time again, but I don’t let anyone close enough to see behind the walls I worked so hard to build.
The bell over the front door rings, and I watch my entire world walk across the threshold. Even at seventeen, I still see my baby boy every time I look at Jaxon. The first time I held him in my arms, his golden brown eyes mirroring my own, I knew I would go to the ends of the earth to protect him. He stands over six feet with the broad shoulders of a man, but in my heart, he’ll always be my baby.
“Hey, honey. How was school?” I ask, clicking through the last few appointments of the night to see if anyone cancelled.
“It was fine. Remind me to thank Helo again for his help in trig. My teacher said I’ve shown ‘great improvement’ or whatever the fuck that means,” Jaxon says, dropping onto the couch in the waiting area.
