Page 69 of Fall to Me
I close my eyes and roll them behind my lids because I’ve told them this already. What the fuck do they want me to say?
“We have security and cameras all over this building. Can’t you check those to see how he managed to get in?”
Carter’s eyes flick to mine. He keeps watching me like he’s trying to figure me out. Like I’m truly not okay.
I am.
I’m more than okay, surprisingly. I’m not even scared of the asshole anymore . . . I’m pissed off and inconvenienced. Once reality sets in, I’m sure things will be different, but right now, that’s how I feel.
The officer directs his attention to Carter. “Is there anywhere you two can go tonight?”
“I’ve already left an entire state. I’m not leaving my home. If he wants to come back, he can fuck around and find out. I’m done playing his games,” I clip.
Carter exhales. He hasn’t said much, but the look he’s giving me says plenty. I know he’s worried about me, but I’m so fucking done with letting Jax control me. Done walking on eggshells. Done playing by his rules. I’m not rolling over anymore. I just want to live my life. I’m not the girl he left lying in the hospital two years ago . . . or the person I was two months ago . . . hell, I’m not even the same as I was yesterday.
“Can we file a protective order?” Carter asks the officer.
I laugh, manically. “He has to nearly kill me before anyone will do anything. The system is flawed. Isn’t that right officer?”
The officer looks to his partner, then back to me and says, “If you have his address, we can serve him with a protective order.”
“The only address I have for him is our old address back in Oklahoma. But he’s obviously here now, and I have no idea where he’s staying.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Graham,” the other officer chimes in. “Without an address, our hands are tied.”
Story of my freaking life. After a few more questions, the officers finally leave with a promise that they’ll be in touch. I don’t believe them. Somehow Jaxon gets away with everything.
The second the door shuts, I make my way to the guest room where all my things are and swing open the closet door. Standing on my tiptoes, I reach to the top shelf and take down the little box where I hide my pistol. The Smith & Wesson is light in my hands as I check the chamber. Carter rounds on me and tries to take the gun out of my hand.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asks.
I stare back at him, twisting away where he can’t take my gun away. “First, don’t ever do that again; it’s dangerous . . . and second, what does it look like I’m doing?”
“You can’t have that.”
“The second amendment and state of New York say I can. I have a permit. If he wants to come back, well then, he’ll be leaving in a body bag.”
Taking the gun to our room, Carter follows behind me. I put the gun in the top drawer of the nightstand and sit down on the edge of our bed. He visibly swallows and sits down next to me. I reach back for a pillow to put in my lap, then turn to him with one leg folded underneath me. Releasing a sigh, I peer up at him and run a hand through my hair.
“I thought when I moved here, I could leave the past behind. Start a new life. He beat me until I divorced him, then stalked me until the day I left Oklahoma. I knew . . . deep down I knew he would eventually find me. With Aspen being as high profile as she is now, I should have known that he would. I guess I wanted to believe I was too insignificant for him to actually show up here.”
“I’ll never understand how someone could hurt you. The thought of what you went through and then what happened today…” He shakes his head. “It’s suffocating. I literally can’t breathe even thinking about it. What can I do? What do you need?”
I toss the pillow and move to sit on his lap, burying my nose into his neck and inhaling his woodsy scent. His arms wrap around me, and it feels like I’m home.
“I need for our lives to be normal. I need a date with you. For you to not handle me with kid gloves.” I kiss his lips. “And I want to book a trip home to see my mom and dad.”
As his body stiffens, his hold on me tightens.
“Carter, I can’t live my life like this anymore. I refuse to run away from him ever again. I have lived the past two years running and being afraid of everything and everyone. My give-a-fucks have completely run out. I just want to live my life?—”
His kiss shuts me up.
“While you’re getting ready, I’ll book our flights. We can stay for the two days we’re off at Thanksgiving.”
Twenty-Three
Carter
