Chat Page 3

  By the time I had my hand under her shirt, she was pulling away, and I knew that her nerves had gotten the best of her. “Jason. I’m so afraid this will ruin everything. Please, please understand where I’m coming from here. We both know what happens after you sleep with someone. It just falls apart. Please.”

  I’d relinquished control, just as I always did, allowing her to change our future at that moment. We went back to being friends, and eventually grew even closer as the years passed between us.

  Never, ever, not in twenty-six years, had I spoken to Sandy like I just had over the chat. Had I ever jerked off and thought of her? I’d be a fucking liar if I said no. But I had no words for what had just happened between us.

  And then, guilt punched me square in the gut.

  Jack.

  Fuuuck. What had I done? As much as I barely tolerated the tool, I meant no disrespect to him, especially since Sandy loved him.

  She loves him.

  I touched my screen, texting a quick reply.

  Me. Don’t be sorry. I took it too far. My fault babe.

  Her text was almost instantaneous.

  Boss. You didn’t. You were doing really well.

  Okay, she was taking the whole life-coach attitude way too far.

  Me. Yeah? How well?

  I waited a second, and then slowly lowered to the couch as her text slid through.

  Boss. You made me come, Jason.

  My fingers froze.

  What?

  I was hard again in under two seconds.

  Barely managing to hold my phone without dropping it to the floor, I texted as I walked to my bedroom.

  Me. I did?

  Boss. Did I do anything for you?

  I exhaled sharply.

  Me. Are you kidding? I just got off in the shower, and I’m ready again.

  God, waiting for her text, I actually thought about smoking again. I hadn’t smoked in six years.

  Finally, finally, her text slid through.

  Boss. Jack just got home. I’ll see you in the morning.

  I stiffened.

  See you in the morning?

  Me. How many stars?

  Her text came through immediately.

  Boss. OMG. All of them.

  I grinned, oddly pleased with myself.

  All of them.

  The ding from Facebook chat sounded from my small living room, and I paced back to the laptop. Part of me wanted it to be Sandy again.

  Carissa was online, messaging me.

  I moved to the kitchen to grab another beer before settling in front of the laptop again.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sandy

  “How’d the presentation go?”

  Jack’s voice startled me. I adjusted the shower temperature a few degrees cooler, watching him move in the bathroom through the frosted glass door.

  “It was okay. I wasn’t clear on the retention numbers, but it was okay.”

  “Are you going to be in there long?”

  “No, I’m getting out now. Did you want to come in?”

  “No, I just want to talk to you.”

  “Give me ten minutes.”

  He closed the door, and I buried my face in my hands.

  Jason.

  They were just words. They meant nothing. Had I done exactly what he said? Had I pulled my skirt up to my thighs and put my hand between my legs?

  Yes.

  And it was hot.

  Were the words hot? His tone?

  Or the fact that it was Jason?

  Cringing, I turned the water off.

  I’d fully expected our chat to be completely silly, just as immature as it always was. I dried my hair, wrapping myself in the towel before reaching for my phone.

  Pulling up my Facebook app, I scrolled through our conversation.

  As I caught key words, I felt the inevitable throbbing between my legs.

  Squeezing my eyes closed, I swept my thumb across the screen until I found our conversation from a couple of weeks ago. We never chatted on Facebook; usually we’d call or text each other.

  Alexandra Quinn: Brew!! Katrina Wells is in jail! Drug charges!!

  And then I’d linked the article with her mug shot.

  Jason Brewer: Meth…. haha. Karma, you nasty bitch.

  Alexandra Quinn: It’ll be a lot easier to knock her teeth out now lol

  Jason Brewer: Easy tiger ;-)

  I twisted the doorknob, and Jack met me in the bedroom.

  “Hi,” he said, and I smiled, tucking the white towel tighter under my arms.

  “Hi,” I echoed. He bent to press a soft kiss to my lips, and I tried to stop the guilty thoughts that plagued my mind.

  Jason.

  Jason, Jason, Jason-

  “Sorry I had to run back to the office. I promise to make it up to you,” he whispered, tugging at the towel. I looked down and gripped the cotton firmly.

  “Wait, you said you wanted to talk to me.”

  “I can’t talk to you while you’re naked?”

  “Jack.”

  He smiled, and I lifted my eyes to his. He was six-foot-tall, so to my five-foot-five, I had to tilt my head back to see him fully. His square jaw and dark brown hair gave him a classically handsome appearance, and I remembered my mom comparing him to a young Robert Redford when I’d first brought him home to meet my parents.

  That was Thanksgiving, three years ago. I’d met Jack at our annual sales conference. He was an independent insurance agent who had been invited to the annual sales conference based on the amount of production he’d given our company, and he’d wasted no time hitting on me that first night.

  “Alexandra?” he’d asked, his voice rising with a clarifying tone. I’d dressed to kill that night, trying to make the best impression in hopes of finally meeting someone worth my time.

  “Sandy,” I’d corrected, accepting the drink that he offered me. “Alexandra on paper.”

  He’d raised those dark eyebrows, and while I was sure he was going for charming, he came off as schmoozy, the kind of guy I’d almost expected to find at… well, a sales conference.

  “Well, Alexandra on paper, I’m Jack. And you look almost as good on paper as you do in person.”

  I’d realized at that moment that I was talking to Jackson Stone, the owner of Jackson Stone Insurance, Inc., and the same man I’d talked to more than ten times over the past year, on the phone.

  “Oh… Jack. Stone. I recognize your voice now. I can’t believe I didn’t realize it was you,” I admitted, flushing prettily- for his benefit.

  “Yeah, my PR photo isn’t the best.”

  “You’re better up close,” I admitted honestly, and my own schmoozy sales tone only widened his smirk.

  “So I already know so much about you, and you already know so much about me. Want to take these drinks upstairs?” he asked, straight forward, not one waver in his confident voice.

  I arched my eyebrow, tucking one hand under my elbow and taking a long drink with the other. “I should probably make you work a little harder, but the conference is only two days. So, yes, I fucking want to go upstairs. But first,” I nodded toward Jason, noticing his eyes were locked on me- and Jack. “Let me say goodnight to my co-workers. Okay?”

  He grinned. “Anything for you, Alexandra.”

  We slept together that night, and had moved in together within a month.

  And that was three years ago.

  And now, I’d waited- patiently- for Jack to ask me to marry him. If I glanced at a wedding dress for too long, he’d launch into a litany of reasons why marriage was the worst possible decision this early in a relationship.

  Early as in three years.

  He stood before me now, squaring his shoulders. “Okay. I’m going to just come right out and ask you. Try to hear me out, okay?” he began.

  My heart dropped into my stomach. “Oh my God. Oh God. If you propose to me right here, while I’m standing in our bedroom in a towel, I’ll kill you.”

&nbs
p; He froze, then exhaled a puff of laughter. “Propose? Alexandra, really?”

  I shrugged, lowering my eyes. “What? Okay, I probably wouldn’t kill you. I’d probably say yes, and ask what took you so long.”

  He shook his head once. “Now, that’s a lot further down the road, we’ve talked about that.”

  We’ve talked about that? I wanted to kick him in the shins.

  “Just tell me what you want to tell me, for fuck’s sake.”

  He winced at my language, but I ignored him.

  “I want to open an agency. In Florida.”

  I felt a cold, wet droplet of water slide down the middle of my back.

  “What are you asking me? That’s not a question,” I demanded.

  He smiled, cupping my face in his hands. “I want to move to Florida. With you. And open an agency.”

  I jerked away, turning toward the bathroom. “No.”

  “No?” he called after me, and I could hear the heat rising in his voice. “No? The business that I’m writing there is fifty-seven percent more preferred than what I’m doing in Ohio, West Virginia, and both the Carolinas put together! My retention rates are at over ninety percent, with homeowners-”

  “Shut up! I don’t want to hear your sales figures! I want to hear you tell me why I should drop my entire life to pick up to move to Florida with you. My parents are here. My job is here. My life is here, Jack!”

  “You’ve got no room for advancement where you are. If you move with me and work for me-”

  “Whoa. Whoa. Are you fucking kidding me? Work for you?”

  “Well, yes. I’ll need you on the front lines, quoting customers, getting business in the door while I-”

  “You need a secretary. You don’t need me.”

  He caught me by the arm, his eyes glazing over. “Stop walking away from me. Go over there to the bed and sit down. I expect you to respect me, and listen to me.”

  I wrenched my arm away from him and slammed the bathroom door, twisting the lock.

  He pounded on the wood with a reaction so unexpected that I jumped and shrieked.

  “Open this fucking door right now, Alexandra, or I swear I will break it down.”

  I knew Jack’s temper, and playing games with him when he was angry would be absolutely stupid.

  But I knew myself, too, and couldn’t help but laugh at the closed door. “Really? Break it down? With what? Your handy ax?”

  He began beating against the door.

  In utter panic and disbelief, I grabbed for my phone from the bathroom sink, texting Jason as fast as I could.

  Help me

  I knew what was about to happen.

  I’d pushed him too far, and I was going to be punished for it.

  I’d done everything right; he texted me and told me he was on his way home, and I’d canceled dinner plans with Jason and come straight home.

  I’d never called for help before. Not one time.

  Jack had hit me twice in our three years, and both times he’d been devastated.

  The first time was the night of Elaina’s bachelorette party. I’d come home too late, had drank too much, and had tried to push Jack away when he wanted sex. He slapped me then for the first time. I know I’d fought him, and I remembered him pinning me against the wall.

  I know that I told him no, but he forced himself on me anyway.

  As more than a year passed, I’d convinced myself that, as bad as his temper could be at times, he’d never hurt me like that again. I wasn’t stupid, and I was well aware of the consequences of staying in an abusive relationship. But he wasn’t abusive; what had happened had only happened that once, and I learned very quickly to respond immediately to Jack, no matter what time it was, no matter what I was doing.

  The second time, he’d hit me because of Jason.

  I’d made it clear that my friendship with Jason was simply that; a life-long companionship that was strictly platonic. After Elaina had left him, and Jason came over, we’d spent the night watching the movies, talking, and drinking.

  Jack had been in Miami that weekend, and when he came home, I told him about Elaina leaving Jason and that Jason had spent the night.

  That time, he hit me across my right cheek and eye. I barely had time to recover from the blow before he slammed me against the wall, tearing at my clothes and forcing into me before I was ready.

  I’d zoned out, waking sometime later when he was pressing ice to my face, apologizing on his knees, in tears.

  We went to counseling together. I told the psychologist everything that had happened. Jack described how he felt that making love to me after his outburst would fix everything.

  I’d remained silent after that. On the way home, I asked him if he knew the difference between make-up sex and rape. He’d given me a look that sent a chill down my spine.

  “If you ever say that word to me again, we’re through, Alexandra. I won’t have my own girlfriend accuse me of rape.”

  I started on some anti-depressants after being convinced by the psychologist that I was clinically depressed. I went off the meds within two months, and Jack became the most loving, doting boyfriend on the face of the earth.

  Sometimes, I’d push him, testing the waters, waiting for him to explode. I needed to know that it was over, that the man who I loved was there and the monster that I’d met wouldn’t show himself to me again.

  I screamed and dropped the phone as the entire door tore against the hinges, and everything happened in a blur of particle board and noise. He had his hands on my upper arms, and in seconds I was on the bed, barely gripping the towel to my chest.

  “Nothing pisses me off more than you walking away from me,” he growled, climbing to straddle me on the bed. I moaned, trying to wriggle out from underneath him.

  “I’m sorry! I was just mad- Jack-”

  He struck then, while I was in mid-sentence. Across my left eye and my cheekbone, and the rush of pain stole my breath. My sinuses felt like they’d exploded.

  And suddenly, I couldn’t inhale.

  His wide hand clamped over my throat. “How in the fuck do you expect me to marry you, when you won’t even fucking listen to me?” His free hand shifted the towel aside and jammed between my legs. I gasped for air as he shoved at least two fingers inside me, too deep, and I winced in pain.

  I worried about the text I’d sent to Jason, praying that I hadn’t actually hit send, that it didn’t go through, that he didn’t see it- anything to keep him from coming over and finding me like this.

  “Are you listening?” He choked me, and I moaned, trying to nod. He removed his hand and dropped his mouth to mine, kissing me hard. I tasted blood from the pressure of his mouth.

  When he finally let go of my throat, I gasped, sucking in air around his face. He locked his wet fingers on my jaw, forcing my mouth open. “I’ve invested three years of my life into you. Into this relationship. If I say we’re moving to Miami, we’re moving to fucking Miami. Are we clear? Alexandra?”

  He was fumbling with his belt, unzipping his pants.

  From somewhere deep inside, I gathered all of my courage. I knew that I wouldn’t survive him doing this to me again. The humiliation of him forcing himself on me only added to the pain of him hitting me, and I couldn’t live through it.

  Not again.

  “We’re not clear,” I cried, choking on my own sobs. “I want you gone,” I ordered with shaking words, my throat burning with each attempt to speak. “You swore never again. You promised,” I breathed, watching him back away from me.

  “Wait. Wait,” he began, cringing, trying to pull me against his chest. “Honey, wait. Please. I’m sorry, I was just… you walked away, I was angry… but I’ll calm down now. Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to hurt you, please-”

  “No,” I whispered, inching back toward the headboard. “You have to leave. Now. Please, get out,” I tried, keeping the overwhelming horror and heartache at bay for as long as my central nervous system would allow. I knew that,
at any moment, I was about to feel the full shock and impact of what had just happened.

  “I live here. With you. This is our home. Alexandra, please-…,”

  The pounding on the front door of our apartment startled us both. He flew off of me, barreling toward the living room. I ran for my white bathrobe, tying the belt tightly around my waist.

  I heard male voices from the doorway, and I knew Jason had gotten my text.

  “Get the fuck out of my way. I want to see her.”

  Before Jack could respond to Jason’s demand, I hurried into the living room, pasting on the brightest smile I could manage. “Jason! What are you doing here? I’m sorry, I thought I told you I can’t have dinner… Jack’s home, and we’re… we’re spending a quiet evening alone,” I forced, brushing at my cheeks with the back of my wrist.

  He took one look at me, and then Jack, and no force on earth could have stopped Jason’s fist from slamming into Jack’s face. He barely had time to recover before Jason reared back and punched him again, this time knocking him down.

  “Her nose is fucking bleeding,” Jason roared, a guttural growl that I’d never heard come from his chest before. When Jack tried to sit up, Jason delivered a kick to his side, and Jack groaned in pain.

  I touched my nostril and pulled my hand away, staring at the thick, red blood on my fingertip. “Jason,” I tried, but he turned to me, pointing at nowhere in particular.

  “I want you to call nine-one-one. Right now.”

  “What? No, you don’t understand-”

  “Sandy. He did this to you before. He did this to you again. I told him that if he ever hurt you again, I’d break his fucking neck and have him arrested. While I’m working on his neck, I want you to call the police. Right now. San.”

  His tone had slowed, almost hypnotic to my ears. His voice reminded me of everything about my life that had ever made me happy; cookouts, campouts, school dances, baseball games… he was always my voice of reason, my oasis.