Part 4 (1/2)

He turned to leave the room, and I slammed my palm against the counter. ”Not with me, though. Right?” I said under my breath.

He heard me loud and clear, though. He turned quickly and stalked toward me. Without a word, he grabbed my arm and dragged me up the stairs to our room. I wasn't sure if I was turned on or frightened. He'd been drinking, so I didn't know what the h.e.l.l he was thinking. He was angry, that was obvious, but something in the way he looked at me made me melt.

He pushed through the door and crossed the room quickly, kicking the door shut before turning and throwing me on the bed. ”Get ready for bed, Jenna.” He slid his pants down his legs and removed his s.h.i.+rt, tossing it into the corner on the floor.

He walked toward the bathroom without another word, and I stared at his back, confused. A few minutes after he shut the door, I heard the shower start and jumped off the bed with a huff. I pulled on some pajamas and climbed into bed, not sure if he planned on joining me or not, but hoping he would. Going to bed separately after an argument was a bad idea, so I figured I'd try to entice him a bit.

It was a little desperate, and maybe manipulative, but it couldn't hurt. I went back to the dresser and pulled out one of the outfits I'd purchased before our trip. I needed something to give me a little confidence.

I wanted to deflate the situation, and maybe something good would come out of it after all.

I got back into bed and the bathroom door flew open moments later, and Royal climbed into bed behind me. He was quiet and moved very little-it was unnerving. I turned over to see if he'd fallen asleep and found him turned, facing me.

He reached over wordlessly and brushed a strand of hair out of my face. His hand lingered, and he dragged his knuckles over my cheek. The intensity in his eyes made it seem like all the air had been sucked out of the room. He hadn't looked at me that way in years, and my poor heart just couldn't take it. Without warning, my eyes flooded, and a broken sob escaped my chest. Royal pulled me against him, ducking and holding my head with his large hand.

It was liberating to let it go, to cry and sob and relieve myself of the stress that coiled up in my stomach for so long. Being wrapped up in his arms was everything I wanted and for once, it didn't feel forced. It was real, genuine, and exactly what I needed. The distance and stress was just too much to bear, especially when I didn't have his arms to escape to.

It made me feel lost-invisible.

When I felt his breath wash over me, his hands on my skin, and his voice in my ear, everything was right. I was safe, loved, and secure. Everything that frightened or worried me disappeared. I wasn't sure why he couldn't grasp just how much I needed him.

”Go to sleep, Jenna,” he said quietly.

”I'm not tired. I want to talk.”

His lips on my neck were warm and tender but distracting. He reached over, pulling my leg over his hip and bucked himself against me roughly. I could feel his erection and my head fell back against the pillow as he started to grind against me. It was the smell of the beer on his breath that stopped me from enjoying his affection.

Was that what it was all about? He was drunk and h.o.r.n.y?

h.e.l.l no.

”Royal, stop.”

”Mmmm,” he hummed as his fingers trailed down my hip and dipped down between my legs.

I pushed on his chest, angry and confused. Didn't he realize I was upset? Was he so drunk he couldn't determine that I obviously wasn't in the mood for s.e.x anymore? I was enraged and disgusted.

”f.u.c.king stop! You're drunk! I can't go through this again.” I heard my voice crack and cursed myself for being such an emotional invalid.

He pulled away from me, his eyes dark and angry. ”f.u.c.k you, Jenna.”

I gasped, shocked by his hateful words. ”How dare you! I want to talk, Royal, but I'll wait until you're sober. Just go to sleep.”

Without another word, he did. The tenderness was gone, and in its place, coldness and silence wrapped around me while I tried to sleep.

Chapter 4.

”I'm going down to see my parents today. Wanna come?”

I looked over at Royal, hopeful that he'd come along. My parents had a way of making everyone comfortable and happy. I'd be good for all of us to relax a little and let go of some of the tension. You couldn't help but feel warm and happy around them. They were just goofy enough to blow away the worst kind of anxiety.

”No,” he said, not looking at me. ”I promised my mom I'd build some planter boxes for her garden today. I'll take Benji with me.”

”That's fine,” I said. ”We'll probably be there most of the day. We'll meet you at your mom's for dinner, though.”

”Sounds good.” He grabbed his coffee off the counter without another glance in my direction, not that I expected anything more out of him at that point.

I'd tried and tried to open up communication, but he was being a d.i.c.k. Not only that, I was still highly p.i.s.sed off about Lana. Changes had to be made, but every time I tried to sit down and have a real conversation, he put me off. One step forward, two steps back.

He turned before walking out of the room. ”See you tonight.”

I sighed, watched him walk out of the room, and shook my head. Frustrated didn't even begin to describe how I felt anymore.

An hour later we pulled up in front of the house and my mom was waiting on the front porch on her swing. As soon as she saw us she threw her book aside, smiled widely, and jogged down the steps to greet us.

She just couldn't wait.

”There's my girls!” She gushed like she hadn't seen us in years. It didn't matter if it'd been a week or a month; she was always just as excited.

”Hi, Nana,” the girls chimed in unison.

She kissed us all on the cheek and rushed us inside. ”Your gramps is going to be so excited that you're here! Are you staying for dinner? I could throw something together.”

I looped my arm with hers and laid my head on her shoulder. I loved my mom so much. The woman was too sweet for her own good. ”Sorry, Mama. We've got dinner at Sarah's tonight.” I barely suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.

”Oh, I see. So, what are you making?” She giggled and gave me a little hip b.u.mp. My mom was a smart lady.

”She's cooking. I'm not sure what, but she insisted she wanted to do it this time.”

”Well, that sounds very nice. However, I'd really like it if we could do dinner here next weekend.”

I gave her a sad smile. ”Sorry, Mama. It's Tara's birthday. Maybe the weekend after?”

She held the door open for me and shook her head. ”Guess I'll take whatever I can get.”

She was kidding; she never got mad. It still made me feel guilty. ”I promise the weekend after, and maybe we'll make it a weekend-the boys can go fis.h.i.+ng, and we can take the girls shopping. That'd be nice.”

The screen slapped closed behind us, and my father called out from the living room. ”Who's going fis.h.i.+n'? Roy come with you?”

He sat in his regular spot in front of the television, newspaper across his lap and TV table loaded with beer, the remote, his pipe, and his jar of peanuts. The living room was his planet. If he was home from work and not out fis.h.i.+ng, he was sitting in his chair watching TV.

”Hi, Daddy.”

I moved through the house and gave him a big kiss on the cheek and then patted the bald spot in the middle of his skull.