Bound (Bound Hearts #1) Read online

  “Yes, young lady.”

  She put her hand up to her mouth as if she had an actual cigarette and asked, “Do you have a light?”

  Growling, the officer slammed the door in our faces.

  She didn’t smoke and I thought it was funny as fuck. I was falling in love with her. Right in the backseat of a cop car. We sat there talking about nothing and everything while the cops were taking their time with our ID’s and I knew with my background it didn’t look great but right here, sitting in the back with Adelaide. I didn’t care. She made me feel more alive than anything in this world.

  Right then I knew. I was already gone.

  ‡

  One

  Adelaide

  “Gram, why did I decide to do the book convention in Houston?” I was packing to go home for the first time in over three years. Before that, it was seven. After dad picked me up from the jailhouse in our little town, I spent the rest of the summer feeling abandoned by Courtland. I saved up every penny I made at the part time job I had at the YMCA four days a week, to buy a one way ticket to Georgia.

  Where my grandparents on my mom’s side, took me in. They were the best thing that ever happened to me. Showing up, literally on their doorstep, was a surprise for them, but they welcomed me with open arms. When Grandpa Grant passed, I promised to take care of Gram, and become what I always dreamed of being. An author. Only I used a pseudonym, Phoenix Houston.

  After the first twenty rejections, I ended up friending a few indie authors on social networking sites. With so much help from them, and a will and determination I didn’t think I had, turned myself into a bestselling author of over thirty books. In multiple genres too. One of those friends came from Houston and had invited me to a week-long convention, where they did critiquing conferencing, panels, book signings, dinners, and the works. It was over in The Woodlands, so I didn’t have to ever stop anywhere near my folks place. At least until Aunt Maggie’s birthday BBQ.

  “Baby girl, I’m going with you. Your mama barely talks to me. Maybe we can finally settle our differences. Maybe you and your dad, well both Peggy and Geoff, can bury the hatchet as well. If they don’t want to see us? That’s their problem. Won’t keep us from having our fun. Will it?”

  Laughing, I knew Gram meant well, but sometimes intentions don’t turn out so well. Dad and I still didn’t seem to get along. No one knows what he did that night, or any time before. Not even Uncle Chet, JR, or him. Courtland.

  Never did I think Courtland would have abandoned me the way he did. Just a few days in jail and then bam. Gone. Just like that. No good-bye, hope you’re doing okay. Nothing. Which left me a little bitter, but then I was seventeen and he was twenty-two. I was nothing but a kid sister to him. That’s one reason why I had to leave. The other reason? Too horrifying and twisted for words. Escaping was my only option. I had been so close to committing suicide by the end of summer. If I hadn’t saved enough to travel to Georgia, I just might have. I had just enough to get a bus fair to the closest town and then hitched a ride to Gram and Grandpa’s house. Anything to get away. I couldn’t live like that. I wasn’t strong enough to endure more of the sick, depraved and shameful monstrosities that happened during that last summer in Granville.

  Granted, JR, Uncle Chet and Aunt Maggie loved having me over and had no problem with me staying there, but dad always found a way for me to be miserable. I never told Gram or Uncle Chet about the beatings or what dad did to me or mom. Especially, before I left.

  When I got to Georgia, I didn’t have any more bruises and I did my best to keep myself quiet and out of dad’s radar, so when I left, all I had to do was pack up when he was at the church and leave.

  Agh. I hate going down memory lane.

  “Gram. Nothing is going to keep us from having fun. We can go, visit and I guarantee that dad will have issues. He doesn’t know what I do, or that I have ink covering my body and the piercings. He would have a bitch fit and a heart attack. Which isn’t a bad thing-HEY!”

  Gram smacked my arm in jest.

  “Not nice. True, I never liked Geoff, but that’s not nice. Sorry baby-girl, I know he’s your daddy-

  “HA!”

  “Your daddy, but he always rubbed me the wrong way. Even for a man who claims to be a man of God. He just didn’t sit right with me. Even your Granddaddy, God bless his soul, didn’t care for him.”

  Granddad. We lost him seven years ago. Mom didn’t even come to the funeral. I didn’t know him that well, we only vacationed here when I was a small kid and it was for one week. The first three years I was here, he became the father figure I longed for. Gram called him a good ole country boy with charm a mile wide with pride and honor twice that.

  If only I could find myself a man like that, I would be happy. Twenty-seven, single, and no prospects. Not that men didn’t try but I just couldn’t bring myself to stay with them. That and sometimes I felt as if I couldn’t. With all the bad shit that happened before coming out here, I didn’t know if I could share that with anyone besides my doctor. I had finally stopped taking anti-depressants. Sometimes I had bad days but I could normally stop myself from going into that dark place where all I see is my worst nightmare. All that shame, guilt, ugliness and dirtiness would cloud everything in front of me and drown me. I was so glad I could work from home.

  If I told guys what I did for a living, most just laughed and thought it was just a hobby. Which made for a swift good-bye. Any man who didn’t appreciate that, wasn’t worth my time. It took three New Adult genre novels before I made it onto the bestsellers list and Gram and Granddad threw a party for me. They were so proud of me.

  I always loved writing. In college, I got my degree in Creative Writing.

  “You’re gonna have lots of fun Gram. Are you all packed?”

  I would have thought even though Gram just turned seventy, she would want to stay here, but she was as active as any twenty year old. More active than myself. I was still curvy, a size eight and even though I had a nice hour glass shape it took me using my elliptical every day to maintain some sort of shape. My weakness? Cupcakes. One of my only friends here, Susie, owns a sweet Shoppe. She keeps me supplied in sugargasms, and I keep her in ready supply of steamy, sexy reads. She reads all my books before I published them. That was our trade-off.

  I had asked her to come with me but she said she was going to try and reconcile with her boyfriend. I thought he was a complete douche. Only from my past experiences, he seemed like a bad guy. But she was adamant, so it was me and Grams and the wide open road.

  Lovely.

  ‡

  Over the drive, Gram persuaded me to go and at least let them know I was here.

  Ugh.

  I tried getting her to come with me to see mom and dad, but she begged out saying she was ‘tired’. I dropped Gram off at the hotel and drove towards Granville.

  That woman must think I’m hoodwinked if she thought I believed her, but I’ll let her be this time. I did not want to go alone to my parents’ house, but I guess that’s what it looks like I’m doing. My parents live in this small town right outside of Houston, where there’s one of everything. One grocery store, a Wal-Mart, one barber, one beauty shop, one jail, one bar, one mechanic shop and one church. Where mostly everyone went to. If you didn’t go, you were an outcast and if you did, well you were certain to go to Heaven.

  Driving past these and entering the neighborhood, I drove past the church and I didn’t see dad’s car in the parking lot. Must mean he’s at home, and doing something I probably don’t wanna know. I imagine he hasn’t changed in the last three years.

  ∞ Three Years Previous

  “Dad, I just came home to see how Uncle Chet was after having his heart attack. Have you been to see him? I haven’t talked to Uncle Chet, or JR, yet. Mom didn’t answer my calls. I just wanted-

  Smack!

  He backhanded me. I made a promise I wouldn’t let no man manhandle me again. Or even think about striking out at me. Fuck. Looks like I
can’t get out of this merry-go-round of hell.

  I held my hand up to my cheek and he must’ve clipped me with his wedding band, because when I took my hand away, there was a droplet of blood. I ran my tongue around my lips and tasted that metallic copper of blood.

  Not this time.

  “Don’t you ever raise your hand to me again. I am a grown woman and I sure as hell am not that woman you beat on a daily basis. Where is mom? Speaking of her, where is she? Nursing any bruises? Or do you force your-AGH!”

  He had caught me off guard with a sucker punch to the stomach. Coughing from having the wind knocked out of me, I stared at Geoff incredulously.

  “I will press-

  “Get out of this house, you fucking cunt.”

  I held up my hands in surrender and said, “Gladly, oh BTW I hope you don’t kiss the cross you pray to with that sick fucking mouth of yours.”

  His face was blazing red with anger, and I knew I was dangerously close to getting into a fist fight with him (in which I knew I would probably lose-he always fought dirty). I turned and hurried out the door. Before pushing the screen door, I heard him say, “No, but you did. Didn’t you, little girl? Loved every second of me pushing it in that sweet mouth of yours. Want a quick taste before leaving? I bet you missed having a good cock in your mouth.”

  I made the mistake of looking down at his crotch and the noticeable bulge and my stomach turned over. He was getting off on talking to me like that. I had to get away. I threw up a little in my mouth and turned away.

  Fuck. I slammed the front door behind me and walked away. He knew the one thing I couldn’t deny. Even though I didn’t want to and it only happened when he forced me, I did the things he said. I never liked it though, as he assumed. The tears pooled in my eyes, but I didn’t shed not one. I waited until I got home to Hankerton. Then, I’d let them go.

  ∞

  I had foolishly gone back to Granville because Uncle Chet had a heart attack and I wanted to be there for JR and Aunt Maggie. I had stupidly thought that maybe I could see if things were different at the home front, but damn was I wrong.

  I remember going to the hospital that night, sporting a blazing red cheek, busted lip and my eye had already begun turning black and blue. And not to mention, a killer bruise on my ribs. Thankfully, JR and Maggie weren’t there. I had went into the recovery room and it was dark enough that Uncle Chet either didn’t see anything or too much on meds to recognize. I didn’t stay long and I told him I had a redeye flight back to Georgia that night. I was sorry I couldn’t stay. I missed him. JR. Aunt Maggie. They were the only family I had when I was here. I didn’t even have a chance to talk with them. I said my good-byes to Chet senior and never looked back. Granville was always such a difficult pill for me to swallow.

  Being a pastor’s daughter, there was so much I couldn’t do, and if I disobeyed, the punishments were severe. I have never stepped inside another church after that How could he teach the Word of God and then treat his family like we were possessions and slaves, among other things. The only good times I had was when I was with JR, (he hated Chet Jr. or junior so he made everyone call him JR) and Courtland. I tagged along with them because I didn’t have friends and even though he had very strict rules, dad allowed me to go to Uncle Chet’s, but I still had a curfew. Trust me when I say, if I went over curfew, I ended up black and blue. Hence why I didn’t have friends. I was locked in my room more times than I can count. I had to wear dresses every day or skirts and they had to be so long or else I was a ‘whore’ or ‘tease’. Yeah. How a father could say that to his daughter was beyond me. The saying ‘spoil the rod, beat the child’ was a motto in our household. Mother was too afraid of him to say anything, so I had to just take whatever came to me. That and she didn’t really seem to care enough.

  Uncle Chet told me once that his dad, a pastor before dad, was commanding and demanding of his sons. Uncle Chet didn’t know anything about Geoff and his tendencies to be more than just commanding. They were twins and he knew my dad was very similar to their dad, but in private, he had no idea what he’s done to me or to mom. I had wanted so many times to tell him but dad always promised me I would get it worse if I told anyone. Under his roof, it was his rules and all that bull-shit. Who would believe me when he’s the Pastor in this town? He was a ‘man of God’ and all that.

  Ha.

  What a fucking joke.

  If he didn’t like what you were saying, you got backhanded. If you did something he didn’t like, he took a thick leather belt to you. You didn’t make the kinda grades he wanted, you got a switch. When I turned a certain age, the abuse changed. I turned sixteen and he would do things to me that made me want to die. I was made to take him in my mouth whenever I did something ‘wrong’. He would tell me whenever I did something that it had to be this way. God wanted him to punish me this way. I didn’t really believe that. I read the Bible. Of course I did. When I tried threatening him, it was so much worse. My mother didn’t do anything to stop him. She had to have known. Our rooms might have been on different sides of the house, but there was no way she couldn’t have figured out why he didn’t go to their room until late at night. When I was arrested, and I got home, I could say things turned for the worst. He had told me before I ran out that he wasn’t my birth father, and as soon as the front door shut, was the first time he raped me. Taking my virginity.

  Even thinking about it now, I could feel myself gag and want to pull over to vomit. I had told Gram and Gramps when I showed up that I had a bad home life in Granville. I didn’t go into particulars. I felt too ashamed. They suggested I take therapy and at first, I was too scared to talk to someone about what happened. I wasn’t comfortable with that. I didn’t take the advice right away. It took me almost six month of straight up nightmares before admitting to maybe seeing someone. It was worth a try if it helped me get over the terrors. The first few sessions with Doctor Gillian, I really didn’t say anything. Too nervous, I guess. Then, after a few silent ones, she just asked little simple questions. Easy questions. Nothing probing. It took a year before I opened up. Once I did? I unloaded everything. Family, Granville, the move to Georgia…Courtland.

  I started taking an anti-depressant. After nine years, I was finally ready to be off of them. I hadn’t have an episode in over a year. Thank God.

  When I came back to Hankerton three years ago, I had many sessions dealing with the rage and guilt and shame.

  Pulling up into my parent’s driveway, everything seemed quiet and peaceful. Eerily quiet and peaceful. I told Uncle Chet I wasn’t going to be here until tomorrow. Since I drove here though, I felt this sense of responsibility to my mother, even if I really shouldn’t. I did want to see her even though she never really wanted me very much. Geoff sometimes took his rage out on her. I cared. Mostly.

  Uncle Chet raised horses, so their house was at the edge of town, on huge grass farmlands. He would throw Aunt Maggie one hell of a BBQ and it could, or would, last all day and night. He was getting on in years but he loved having the town people come over and have a good time. He didn’t care what kind of walk a person was on. If you wanted a good time, his place was the place to be when there’s a BBQ.

  Parked, with the SUV off and keys out of the ignition, I still hadn’t opened my door. I felt my knuckles grip the steering wheel tightly. Saying a quick prayer to give me strength, I got out and walked up onto their front porch. Swinging back the squeaky screen door-honestly, can’t he get that fixed?-and knocked on the front door.

  After a few minutes, I knew someone was checking the peephole. I could just feel an eye on me, the door swing inward and I was presented with the face of my mother.

  She didn’t have a smile on her face. Looking at her, it seemed like she was dead inside. There was just nothing there.

  “What you doing here girl?”

  Here goes.

  “Hello, mom. How are you?”

  She pulled up her collar, in which I saw the beginnings of a bruise. Shit. What
did I walk into?

  Two

  Courtland

  Damn. It was another long ass day at the garage and I was getting tired of going home alone. Same shit, different day for the past two years. Not that I minded working at the garage. I loved it, it was where I felt at home, and most at ease with myself. I loved tinkering on cars. After completing two tours in the Marines, I was done. I wanted out. Not that I wanted to go in the first place but it was that or jail. Jail was not an option. The Marines gave me a lot of opportunity. I got to see the world. I did long for home though. Until that letter.

  After all the hearings and court shit I had to deal with, I was shipped off on the first available flight to boot camp in Lejeune. The one and only time I wrote Adelaide, I got a letter stating to never speak, call or try to get in touch with her. That I was nothing, but a two-bit loser who would never amount to anything. That laid me low. I never would have thought she could stoop to that. Maybe getting arrested changed her mind. Hell, it was her damn fault for wanting to go into that field. I don’t regret it, but she could have at least been more polite.

  Anytime JR tried bringing her up, I shot him down. I didn’t want to hear a damn thing. She was probably like any other vagina. Not worth my time. I ended up being exactly what everyone thought, at least to the ladies. I banged a different chick anytime I had an itch and they never came to my home. That was one rule I made up front. Home court advantage was not the way to go when you want chicks scratching an itch, then leave on the fly. Sometimes they felt like cuddling. I wasn’t really a cuddler. I was good to every woman I was with, but they knew the score with me and vice versa. Women don’t marry men like me. If I was still in the Marines? Eh. Maybe. Badge Bunnies are what we call them and they only wanted one thing. Take a guess. They all knew they’d never get a ring from me so, their house was fair game.