Page 66 of First Time

“Nope. That was just me being me and attempting to achieve what I wanted.”

Becky’s light laughter warmed my chest. “You always get your way.”

Chantelle stared at her cousin as she snuggled into my pillow, her eyes sparkling with glee. “And this is by far the best thing I’ve ever done if I do say so myself.”

Wetness welled in Becky’s eyes when she glanced at me. “I’m going to have to agree with you on that one, Chantelle,” she murmured. The emotion pouring from her gaze hit me like an axe to the chest.

Me too, sweetness. Me too.

Chapter 26

Becky

Almost a week after the attack, I felt well enough to take a drive to Stephen’s house and collect what things I could—with a police escort.

Daniel held my hand as we walked up the crooked front walkway, the police sitting in their cruiser in the driveway.

Stephen had been missing since I’d pressed charges, the house supposedly empty, his car gone. With no job and no money, I couldn’t begin to imagine how he survived or where he’d gone. Like me, he had no family to speak of, but I, at least, had found someone who had my back.

My palm sweated against Daniel’s, my stomach twisted into knots as we entered the shack I had called home for many years. I stopped in the living room entrance, my gaze flitting over the shattered figurines I’d collected over the years, the smashed desk I had used to pay the bills. Papers scattered over the floor amidst the many paperback novels I had often escaped into.

The kitchen revealed more of the same, my grandmother’s old tin pie plates I’d had hanging on the wall as decoration bent in half and tossed on the floor. My mother’s glass casserole dish with the yellow flowers lay in pieces beside the sink. My throat tightened as I turned away.

Without uttering a word, I trudged up the stairs, hand still grasping Daniel’s in a death grip.

The bedroom mattress had been slashed apart, stuffing ripped out and thrown around the room. He had torn all of my undergarments. Knifed my jeans, shirts, and sweatshirts, and tossed over the floor. My box of old photographs from when I was a kid had been fetched from the top of our closet. The images scattered over the clothing had been X’d out in black Sharpie—forever ruined. Not one picture had escaped his handiwork.

Tears pricked my eyes, but I refused to shed tears. I wouldn’t allow Stephen the satisfaction of hurting me yet again with his actions.

For whatever reason, Stephen had left the bathroom alone.

But as with my clothing, Chantelle had insisted on new everything. I eyed my old hairspray, the brush I should have tossed long ago, and hair ties that had lost elasticity due to overuse and age. While I hadn’t expected to find anything of mine untouched, I had figured a walk-through would help me gain closure and also prove that I had nothing worthwhile keeping from my past.

Daniel and I made our way back downstairs, having achieved what I’d wanted.

“What about the basement?” Daniel asked quietly.

I shook my head. There was nothing there I wished to see again, nothing that might hold fond memories. Even if there had been, Stephen had proved my things wouldn’t have survived.

One of the officers climbed from the squad car as we exited the house empty-handed.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling at the gray-haired man, “but I’m afraid we wasted your time. There’s nothing left in there for me.”

Lips in a thin line, the officer nodded. “If you hear from him or see him, please get in contact with us.”

Daniel and I both shook the officer’s hand and climbed into his SUV, a huge sigh of relief blowing between my lips and causing me to sag into the leather seat. “I never have to go back there.”

“Never.” He put the car into drive and reached for my hand.

Smiling, my heart light, I squeezed my fingers around his.

Even though Stephen was still out there somewhere doing who the hell knew what, I couldn’t have been more peaceful. Happy. I finally understood the saying “free as a bird.” The sense of relief was almost as euphoric as the afterglow of a climax…almost.

“Want to grab go some lunch?” Daniel asked, removing his hand from mine to flick on the turn signal and take us back onto the on-ramp to the highway.

“Sure.” I could always eat no matter my state of mind, and I adored that Daniel didn’t care that I didn’t watch my caloric intake.

“What are you in the mood for?”

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