I would’ve ran if I had anything to run to, not to mention I had no money or real resources of my own. So in the end, I did as I was told.
It was the worse year and a half of my life, from beginning to end, and I guess the reason why so many thought I would be put off men.
There had been no lead up to the abuse. Just out of the blue one-day wham, right across my cheek.
I think the first time he blackened my eye it was because some guy had looked at me. That was on our honeymoon.
After that, it became a regular occurrence. It didn’t take me long to realize that there would be no help forthcoming from his parental unit since his own mom sported a few shiners of her own from time to time.
It was another kind of hell getting away, small towns aren’t known for getting too involved when it mattered, especially if it meant going against the wealthiest family in the town.
So no, I'm not in the market for a relationship, but I wasn’t dead either. But I've learned enough to know I would never want to bring anyone else into the drama that is my life.
I expect to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, sleeping in fear. Even way out here, where I’d meticulously counted the miles and the hours between where I left and where I am now.
I might find some small pockets of peace and might even crack a smile here and there, but I’ll never know true happiness again.
My dreams of one day being a mother died a horrid death the day Lance Woods beat me to within an inch of my life and then shot me in the head.
I came out of the coma with my mind made up. Life had shown me what it had in store for me and it was not good.
First my mom ran off when I was barely a toddler, my dad had been neglectful at best, though not abusive in anyway, but still.
And then it only took Lance to round out the motley crew of fuck ups that played a part in my life.
So even though I didn't paint all men with the same tainted brush, I'd decided not to tempt fate any farther, and accept what life was telling me. I'm fucked.
No family, no kids, no career. The best I could hope for was that the jackass would shoot me from behind when he did finally hunt me down like he said.
Now here comes Caleb Dunbar. He's maybe ten years older than my twenty-two, though he still has that college boy charm thing going.
That wild mane of hair and those piercing grey eyes, that made up his movie star good looks will be hard to resist, but I'll do my best.
He'd gone out to have a talk with his men after leaving me in this room that was about the size of the house I grew up in.
Okay that's a slight exaggeration but not by much, this place is massive. Not for nothing, but I was embarrassingly aroused while in the game room.
All those trophies and hot as fuck pictures of him sitting on a horse with a rope in his hands. Wow! Don't get me started on the pictures of him decked out in chaps and spurs with an infectious grin on his face and the sun at his back.
I fanned myself and went into the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face, telling myself that it was the heat of the place and not my thoughts that had made me overheat.
I unpacked my few belongings, which took all of five minutes. I'd been in such a hurry to get out of town that I left everything behind, not that I had much to begin with.
My job at the daycare was about the only thing I'd miss from back there and maybe my dad who had really come through for me after Lance's sins had finally come to light.
It didn't quite make up for all the months that he'd doubted me about the abuse when I’d finally drummed up the courage to tell him, but it had been a start.
Now it looks like I was really and truly an orphan, since the man who helped me make my escape had drilled it into my head that there was to be no contact with anyone back home, not even dad, who was the only real family I had left.
I made my way down to the kitchen, not sure if it was okay to peek into the cupboards, but I needed to know what I had to work with.
Mr. Dunbar, uh, Caleb had said that the men took turns cooking down at the bunkhouse, but he said it in a way that told me he wouldn't mind if I took over that chore.
I don't mind, I love to cook, in fact I love keeping house, find it very gratifying. Not exactly a feminist notion but what the hell, it's who I am.
I was surprised to find state-of-the-art appliances and a well-stocked pantry. It was a gourmet’s delight and pretty soon I caught the fever as I trailed my fingers over marble counter tops and mixers and blenders that looked brand new, and started pulling out ingredients for baking.
By the time Caleb returned with the men in tow I had an apple and a cherry pie going, there was a roast defrosting and I was busy peeling potatoes and vegetables.
"Amanda, I brought the guys up to the house so you can meet them officially." He went around making the introductions while giving me looks as if he thought I would bolt any second.