Dark Devotions by Nichole Greene

3

OLIVIA

“Olivia, baby, you have to stop. I only do this because you get so out of hand.” Tripp says as he stalks toward me. “Did you really think you could go to the police and lie about me?” He steps toward me. “I own the police and the DA. Don’t you get it? I run a charity that saves women from human trafficking. I would never abuse my own beloved wife.”

I walk backwards away from him. Away from those stone-cold eyes. I know this tone. The softer his voice gets, the angrier he is. He removes his belt, then his cufflinks. I try to keep the bed between us, but he crosses the room and blocks my path.

The slap is so fast that I never see it coming. Heat blooms across my cheek and tears fall from my eyes. I don’t know how I got here, but it is impossible to ever get out. He grabs my hair and pulls my head back.

“You ungrateful bitch.” He spits in my face. “You have no one but me. Your parents are dead. Your friends abandoned you.” He releases my hair and pushes me face-down on the bed. “Time to use you for the only thing you’re good for,” he says as he tears my jeans down over my hips.

I wake up from the awful nightmare covered in sweat and in an unfamiliar bed. My mind races as I fight to calm my breathing. I go through the steps that Lake explained earlier, which works to calm me down. Once I’m feeling steady enough, I get up to go get a bottle of water from the kitchen.

I fumble around looking for a light switch. Relieved as soon as I find and flip it on. Darkness isn’t quite as bad as tight spaces, but I could use a nightlight for sure.

“Can’t sleep?” Lake’s voice hits me like a punch to the stomach.

I gasp and clutch my chest, the reflex more pronounced as my nerves are heightened from the nightmare. “Fuck!”

“Sorry.” He stands up from the couch and walks into the kitchen light. He’s wearing a white undershirt and maroon sweatpants. When I look over his shoulder, I see a pillow and blanket. He notices my gaze. “Nolan and I both decided to stay here tonight. I gave Nolan the other guest room because I don’t sleep well, either.”

“Oh, thank you.” I walk to the refrigerator and grab a bottle of water. I offer him one, too. “Yeah, I have nightmares. While I was on my way here from LA, I didn’t sleep deeply enough to have them, but I guess I’m a little more relaxed here with you guys.”

“Until I scare you in the middle of the night.”

“Trust me when I tell you I’ve experienced much scarier times,” I say softly.

“I hate that I believe you.” He steps up to me and slowly cups my cheek. “I’m sorry we weren’t there to protect you.”

I let the warmth from his palm sink into my skin. I haven’t been touched in anything other than hate and malice in so long that I can’t get enough of their hugs and touches. At the same time, I’m terrified of becoming reliant on them.

“May I hug you?” He opens his thick arms to me.

“Yes,” I step into his embrace, “thank you.” I can feel every muscle in his back as my hands run up his spine. He feels twice as strong as I remember. I let my fingertips graze along his sides as I pull away from the embrace, but he reaches around and grabs my left hand. He gives it a squeeze and drops it, which is weird because he didn’t move my other hand.

“Let’s get you tucked back in.” He leads me down the hall to the room I’m using.

He turns on the lamp and surveys the tangled heap of sheets and the duvet. He frowns for a minute then turns to me. “Must have been a bad one, huh?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?”

Do I want him to stay?

I really think about it. It would undoubtedly bring me comfort and security to know that he was right there, watching over me as I fall asleep. I know I’m safe with him. I’m safe with all of them. That’s the one thing holding all my pieces together right now. The thing that holds me back is wondering how long they will be willing to help with my mess. I don’t want to become a burden to them. They didn’t ask me to come back into their lives. They didn’t leave the door open for me.

“No.” I slide back under the covers. “I’ll probably be okay. I don’t usually have two in one night.”

“Okay.” He leans down to graze his lips over my forehead. “There are three of us in the apartment. You’re completely safe here, remember that.”

“I know,” I say gratefully. “Good night.”

“Night, Liv,” he says over his shoulder as he gently closes the door.

I stay up for another hour worrying about whether Tripp has thought to start looking for me here yet. Surely he must have figured out by now that this would be the only place for me to go. He has all my money, my passport, everything. I don’t even know which account my inheritance went into following my parents’ deaths.

I decide to try to focus my energy elsewhere. My mind settles on one of my favorite memories with Nolan. It’s a beautiful way to beat back ugly memories.

“Here, Livvy, lay on this,” Nolan says, patting the blanket he’s laid out for us. “We’re going to eat this special,” he waggles his brows, “brownie and listen to some nineties alt rock while we cloud watch.” He breaks the brownie in half and gives me the slightly smaller piece. He grabs his ear buds, giving me the right and keeping the left for him. “Today your musical education continues with Nirvana and The Foo Fighters.”

He flicks through his extensive lists of music on his phone until he finds what he’s looking for. A familiar guitar riff fills my ear. I take a bite of the brownie. The pot aftertaste is kind of weird, but I’m going with it.

“Right now we’re listening to what is arguably Nirvana’s most famous song, ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit.’We’ll move through the popular songs and into the more obscure stuff as the day goes by.”

“How long are we going to be out here?” I have to tuck my school uniform skirt under my legs because the breeze keeps making it flutter up.

“All day. Why?” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Do you have somewhere else to be?”

“Nope.” I notice a cloud and point at it. “There’s a giraffe.”

“Looks like a dick to me,” he says seriously.

We laid out there that day for hours, laughing and listening to music. It was always our thing. I remember looking over at his profile and thinking about how crazy it was that I ended up becoming so close with them. I was fifteen and had a crush on each one of them. My relationship with Nolan was always a little different though, his status as a scholarship student and my background of having been homeschooled made us both black sheep.

Not that anyone would have messed with us, Sawyer and Grant were royalty at that school, and Lake was athletic and popular, especially with his dark, broody good looks. The three of them shielded us. My uncle was rarely around, a retiree from Wall Street, so I spent most of my time with my boys.

I fall asleep with a sense of comfort I haven’t felt in years, at peace knowing Lake, Sawyer, and Nolan are here if I need them.

* * *

The next morning, I put on a pair of athletic shorts from Nolan that fit slightly better, as he’s the thinnest of the four. I pull Sawyer’s hoodie on and inhale deeply at the masculine scent that lingers on it even though he said it was clean. I brush my hair out and put it back in a ponytail.

Sawyer is shirtless at the stove making breakfast, and my suspicions are correct about him filling out as a grown man. His muscles bunch and ripple as he cooks. I’m starting to feel feelings that I thought I’d never feel again. A little bit of desire, especially for the man who was my first.

“Good morning, Livvy.”

I turn to Nolan with a small smile. “Morning.”

He’s giving me a lopsided grin while he holds out a cup of coffee for me. He’s also shirtless, his lean runner’s body strong and sinewy. He flexes his abs and chuckles when he catches me looking which causes a blush to color my cheeks.

Get a grip, Olivia.

“Don’t make her uncomfortable, Nolan.” Lake says from the kitchen table. He’s actually dressed. His black utility pants and long sleeve black shirt scream ‘don’t mess with me.’ He looks over at me. “Did you sleep better the rest of the night?”

“I did.”

“You didn’t sleep well?” Sawyer turns around to question me.

“Just had a nightmare. I’m fine.”

They all share a look before Sawyer looks back to me. “My doctor is coming this morning, and if you give me your sizes, I’ll have some clothes brought here for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can look up the nearest thrift store and get some clothes.”

“We don’t think it’s a good idea for you to leave the apartment for a couple days. Just in case Tripp thinks to look for you here.”

“Oh.” I didn’t think about that, but they might be right. I look around the apartment, a couple days to rest here wouldn’t be bad. “Are you sure it won’t be an imposition?” I ask Sawyer. “I don’t want you guys to change your lives or schedules because of my problems.”

“Liv,” Sawyer sets down the spatula and walks over to me, “you are our priority right now. Getting you divorced, keeping you protected, we’ve already discussed it, and we all want to help you.”

I’m assuming the ‘we’ he is referencing is the three sitting in the kitchen with me. Grant doesn’t seem to care one way or another.

“We’re going to keep our regular schedules so as to not tip anyone off, but you are welcome to stay here, with us, as long as you need or want.”

“We’re each going to give you keys to the four apartments, so you can move between them freely.” Lake stands and walks over to me. “I have to go to work at my compound upstate. I’ll check in tonight once you have a phone.” He kisses my forehead and walks out with a wave for the guys.

“I’ll pick up a phone and get it set up for you,” Nolan says as he leans against the counter sipping his coffee.

“Thank you. As soon as I get my inheritance back from Tripp, I’ll pay you guys back for everything you’re doing.”

“Don’t even worry about that. Between the four of us, we have more money than we’ll ever be able to spend in this lifetime.”

“It’s pretty crazy, huh?” I glance back and forth between them. “That you guys are so successful and still so close all these years later.”

“Some bonds never break.” Nolan pins me with a heavy look. I know, without a doubt, he’s talking about him and me.

Sawyer turns with three plates of biscuits and gravy. “Let’s eat,” he looks pointedly at me, “especially you. While we do, send a text to my assistant with your size and clothing preferences.” He hands me his phone, opened to a messaging app.

Three hours later, I’m staring at a bedroom full of designer bags. Everything from athleisure to fancier dresses, multiple pairs of shoes and sets of matching lingerie, a purse, and enough cosmetics to fill the bathroom counter.

“This is crazy, Sawyer.” I look at everything spread out. “I definitely didn’t need this much.”

“Sure you did. Nolan is on his way home with your phone, too.”

Both of our heads turn when there’s a knock at the door. He smiles down at me. “That’s Dr. Lawson.”

I follow him out of the bedroom andhe opens the door to an older woman with her gray hair pulled back in a sensible bun. She’s holding a leather bag in two hands in front of her. They speak quietly for a minute before she moves toward me.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Sandra Lawson. Sawyer called me in to check you out.” She smiles warmly at me. “Shall we go speak privately?”

“You can use the other guest room.”

All of the comfort I had earlier evaporates as I lead her down the hall. A wave of nausea hits me, the anxiety of having to show her my bruised body and describing the abuse I’ve been subjected to is almost too much to handle.

She goes to close the door behind her, and I hold out a hand to stop her. “Leave it open a crack, please.”

“Okay. I’m going to start with the basics,” she says with a calm and reassuring tone. She takes my blood pressure and pulse. As she’s listening to my heart and lungs, she places the stethoscope on my injured ribs, causing me to wince. “Did that hurt?”

“Yes, I think I might have bruised or broken a rib about a week ago.”

“How?”

“My husband,” I look down and pause, too embarrassed to witness her pity, “he hit me.”

“I see. Can you tell me about it?”

“Yeah, he, uh, pushed me into the door frame, and when I fell, he kicked me in the ribs.”

“Could you remove your shirt and lie on the bed so I can have a look?”

I pull my shirt off reluctantly. I’m not wearing a bra, so I hold my arm in front of my breasts. I jump when her cold fingers touch my side.

“Sorry, I should have warmed my hands up first. Is all this bruising from that attack?”

“No, there’s some from a few days before that.”

“How often was he hitting or hurting you?”

“It varied. Sometimes once or twice a week, sometimes he’d go months without hurting me physically.”

“Was he abusive in other ways?”

“Yes. In all ways.” I keep my eyes fixed on the wall behind her in an attempt to keep myself held together.

She frowns and nods, pressing against me in a different spot that causes me to cry out in pain. “I’m so sorry,” she says softly.

“Liv?” Sawyer pushes the door open, stepping inside with frantic eyes.

“Sawyer,” I squeak as I lift my hands to cover my breasts again.

“Fuck, sorry.” The words leave his lips, but his eyes stay on me. A mixture of emotions flits across his face as he looks me over. I can see the worry in his eyes at how thin I am, and then the anger hits as he notices all the bruises. He storms in, fury wafting off him in waves. I should be scared, if he were Tripp, I would probably curl in the fetal position at this outburst, but I’m oddly calm. “Did he do that?”

I nod, my eyes never leaving his.

“I’m—”

“You’re going to leave the room so I can finish the examination.” Dr. Lawson steps between us. “I won’t tolerate you upsetting my patient.”

“Liv,” he looks over her shoulder at me, “we’re talking about this. Today.”

“Brutes,” she says as soon as he leaves. “Good luck with those boys. I’d really like to see you come in for some x-rays, but Sawyer has already said he doesn’t want you to leave the apartment for the time being.” She pulls off the gloves she was wearing. “I’m fairly certain you have at least two broken ribs, but if you’ve managed so far, you’ll probably be okay. I want you to call if anything starts to hurt worse or feel different—if you start having shortness of breath or anything.”

“I can do that.”

She pulls out a bottle of pills and hands them to me. “Take one of these, with food, every four hours for pain.”

“Is this legal?” I ask, completely puzzled as to why she wouldn’t just give me a prescription. “For you to give me pain meds like this?”

“Legal?” She tilts her head as she looks at me. “How well do you know these boys?”

“We were friends a long time ago... Incredibly close friends.”

“Well, you might have things to tell them but make sure they fill you in on their activities, too, okay?”

“Yeah,” I pull the hoodie back over my head, “I will.”

“I’ll come by in a few days to check on you. In the meantime, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

“Thank you.”

I take a few minutes to steel myself for the inevitable conversation with Sawyer. Now that he’s seen the state of my body, I know the urgency is only going to increase for me to open up. I just need another day before I give them the whole dirty, awful story.