Page 1 of How to Trust a Hellhound (Hellhounds of Paradise Falls #4)

Josh

I sat on the kitchen floor leaning against the cabinets, tears streaming down my face, my head buried in my knees.

“I can’t take this shit, Josh. I really can’t. It’s always something with you. It’s fucking ridiculous,” Rick ranted.

I couldn’t even look up at him. He would see the tears, and he’d only get madder when he did. Crying always set him off.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, and I couldn’t help the hitch in my voice.

“Jesus fucking Christ, are you crying now? Fucking seriously?” he said, and I heard his voice coming closer.

Shit. He grabbed my arms, dragging me up. I winced—there would be bruises later.

“Fucking look at you. Sobbing because, what? I didn’t tell you that you have a nice ass? I didn’t tell you how much I love you today? I had a hard fucking day at work, and all you can think about is yourself,” he yelled.

He shoved me back into the cabinets, a handle digging into my back. I winced in pain and couldn’t help the little sob that escaped.

“Fucking absurd,” he muttered, walking away .

“I just asked… I just needed…” I started, but Rick interrupted me.

“ I just asked, I just needed ,” he mocked in a high-pitched voice. “You’re always just needing. That’s the fucking problem, Josh. I don’t know anyone else who would put up with your shit.”

I don’t know where the anger came from, but it was just so unfair, and I was tired of it. “I just wanted something nice!” I burst out. “Is it so horrible to ask my boyfriend to say something nice to me? To make me feel appreciated?”

He slammed his hand against the wall, making me jump, but I didn’t back down.

“I just wanted some time with you where we weren’t arguing.” I laughed tearily. “I guess that’s too much to ask for.”

“Fucking bullshit, Josh. Maybe if you didn’t constantly come at me this wouldn’t be a fucking argument.

You know I’m in a bad mood. You know I had a rough day.

I fucking told you that, and then I come home to your bullshit.

You’re always off galavanting with your fucking friends and ignoring me, whether or not I need you.

Maybe you should ask them to say something nice, since you put them before me all the time.

” He stared at me, his face angry. “What about what I need?”

That wasn’t fair. I always listened to him complain. I always tried to support him. I’d gone out less with my friends because I knew he didn’t like them, but I wasn’t willing to give them up, and he hated that. I only went out with Toby and Sebbie when he wasn’t around.

“I always try to be there for you. If you don’t think so, then why are you even with me?” I said, unable to stop the tears no matter how hard I tried.

“I have no fucking idea why I’m with you sometimes, Josh, because I have to deal with shit like this all the fucking time!

It’s always you, you, you. You’re whiny, boring as fuck, and an uptight control freak.

You’re lucky I’m with you, because no one else would deal with your issues.

I sure as fuck don’t get anything from this,” he yelled .

“You don’t seem to think that when you’re fucking me or spending my money,” I muttered resentfully.

I knew the moment the words were out that it was the wrong thing to say. His face went totally flat, all expression gone. He walked over and shoved me against the counters, the handle digging into my back again. I refused to look away, though.

“What did you fucking say?” he asked.

I should’ve dropped it. I knew money was a sore point with Rick. I knew it was. But I couldn’t seem to help my mouth. I was crying, but I was mad, too, because I wasn’t wrong this time. At least I didn’t think I was. Not totally.

“It’s like I’m the bank of Josh and you’re just here to make withdrawals,” I spat out.

The slap whipped my head to the side, and god, it hurt. I barely had time to process the sting before Rick grabbed my wrist, pressure tight, like he was grinding the bones together. He pulled me into the bedroom, pushing me toward the bed. I managed to keep my balance, just barely.

He started dragging shit out of my closet, throwing clothes at me.

“I spend too much? What about all your expensive clothes? What about your fucking hobbies—never too much to spend money on your hobbies, is it? Going out to dinner with friends—plenty of money for that, isn’t there? Or maybe they’re more than friends, hmm?” he ranted.

I slid down, leaning against the bed, crying as clothes were thrown at me, some landing on me, some landing next to me. I huddled down and covered my head as the barrage continued, hangers occasionally hitting me.

“And I give you exactly what you want in bed, so don’t act like that’s some kind of hardship.

You’re a selfish prick, Josh. I can’t deal with your fucking attitude and drama,” he yelled, and then the rainfall of clothes stopped, and I heard him walk out of the room.

There was muttering and yelling from the other room, then the sound of things being knocked around.

Something smashed, and something else fell.

When the front door slammed, I jumped at the sound.

I didn’t try to hold back my crying anymore, and the sobs made it hard to get a deep breath in. He’d left.

He’d left, but he’d be back. And then what?

An apology. Maybe. Maybe flowers and dinner out. Maybe make-up sex, where he gave me “exactly what I wanted.” Although I didn’t even know what I wanted anymore, because it was like nothing I did ever made Rick happy.

Or maybe there would be more yelling until I apologized, if it was really my fault.

I couldn’t even tell anymore. Yeah, I knew I wasn’t the easiest person to be with, but I’d had a long day, too, and I just wanted…

something. Cuddles, or a kind word, or even a fucking “I love you.” I wanted more than rough sex, no matter how much I might usually like it. I wanted a connection. Closeness.

I’d known Rick was in a bad mood. I’d been able to tell the minute he’d walked into the house.

I’d tried to cheer him up. I’d even playfully offered him a cheer-up blowjob, but he’d just rolled his eyes.

And okay, yeah, maybe that had hurt my feelings, but nobody likes to be rejected, and he hadn’t even been nice about it.

It took me another few minutes to pull myself together and stop sobbing. I was cradling my wrist, and my face hurt. There were clothes all over the floor, and I wasn’t sure what kind of chaos was waiting for me in the rest of the apartment.

I was just so tired.

I couldn’t do it anymore. I tried and I tried, and it was never enough. I was never enough. Maybe Rick was right and I would never find anyone who would put up with me, but at this point, I thought being alone might be better anyway.

A sob escaped me, then I clamped it down.

I got up and walked into the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face and then holding my wrist under the faucet. I looked in the mirror, and a gasp escaped me at what I saw .

There were fingerprints on my cheek. I knew my back and arms would be bruised, but Rick had never slapped me before. I laughed wetly. First time for everything, I guessed.

What the fuck did I do now?

My face was a mess, my apartment was a mess, my fucking life was a mess.

Eventually I shut off the water. I wondered vaguely if my wrist was broken. The pain only seemed to be getting worse, and I could see that it was swelling. What did I even do?

I picked up my phone, and then I stared at it.

Seb was having a rough week—lots of dead bodies.

He’d freak out if he saw me hurt. And Toby, well, Toby would freak out and then get his scary-ass boyfriend to go threaten Rick or something, and that was the last thing I needed.

Then he’d definitely be convinced I was having an affair with one or both of them, and I couldn’t deal with that.

I stared at my contact list, and there, right at the top, was the name “Amanda - Work.” Aiden had put that in my phone. Aiden, who had said I could call him if I ever needed to.

I hit the call button.

Aiden didn’t show up alone—he had his big-ass dog with him, Fluffy. I was kind of thankful for that, because I didn’t know when Rick was coming back or what kind of mood he’d be in. Fluffy had a cute name, but he was fucking huge, and he would intimidate anyone, including Rick.

I let them in, and as soon as Aiden saw my face, he gasped and Fluffy growled. I put my hand up to my cheek self-consciously, and then Aiden noticed my swollen wrist.

“Josh,” he just said, and there was so much in that one word—sympathy, understanding, comfort, sadness.

I looked up, blinking and trying not to cry .

“Ok, then. Let’s get what you need packed, and you’re coming to stay with us,” he said matter-of-factly, like he could tell I would break down with any more conversation.

“I can’t impose on you guys,” I said, looking back at them.

“You can, and you will,” Aiden declared.

“No. I’ll get a hotel or something. I can’t stay with you guys,” I reiterated.

Aside from imposing, I thought it would also be awkward. I didn’t even know Aiden that well—I wasn’t even sure why I’d called him, except he’d seemed like he would understand.

Fluffy sort of grumbled a bit then, bumping into Aiden’s leg. Aiden looked down at Fluffy, and he seemed to be thinking. Finally, he said, “We have a spare cabin on the property that’s currently empty. You’ll stay there, not some hotel. And then we’ll be nearby if you need anything.”

I looked at him, and he seemed totally sincere in the offer. I didn’t remember a cabin on the property, but I’d really only been to Toby’s house, and I knew there were other houses in that area that Toby’s boyfriend and his brothers owned.

“Ok,” I finally agreed.

Suddenly I was just so tired. Not like have-a-nap tired, but more a bone deep weariness, like everything was just too much. Like I could just go lay in bed for a few years because I was so exhausted with life. It all seemed like too much.

Luckily, Aiden took over. He didn’t comment on the broken stuff in the apartment, and he found his way into the bedroom, not making a comment about the clothes all over, either.

He managed to find bags and a suitcase in the closet, and he started emptying out drawers and picking up clothes and packing.

I knew I should help, but I sat on the bed, sort of dazed, cradling my wrist.

Aiden kept up a steady stream of conversation the entire time, telling some story about Q arguing with a customer.

He emptied the drawers and took some of the clothes from the floor and closet.

He even went into the bedside drawers, didn’t make a single comment about the sex toys, and then made his way into the bathroom, still talking loudly, this time about Jude and the sheriff and their ridiculous flirting, some of which I’d seen.

He kept up the chatter as he made his way into my home office, apparently packing everything up in there.

I knew I should help, but I had very little that was actual paper—I kept everything digitally.

Fluffy stayed with me, and I was comforted by his presence and by Aiden’s voice talking loudly from the other room, even if I wasn’t really processing what he was talking about.

By the time he had a suitcase, duffel bags, and my work laptops and stuff all packed, he was finishing a story about his boyfriend eating dog biscuits, explaining that really they were the same recipe as cookies so it wasn’t a big deal.

Fluffy was just patiently waiting, occasionally glancing at the door as if he was listening for Rick.

“Ok then. The guys will come get the rest of the stuff,” Aiden declared, and then he ushered Fluffy out the door, dragging the bags out with him.

I heard the front door open and shut, and then Aiden walked back into the bedroom.

“Do you need anything else? Anything you want to bring that’s important to you? ”

I thought Aiden had grabbed most of what I needed, so I shook my head no.

“Let’s get some ice for your wrist, okay?

” he asked, and he went to the kitchen, where I could hear him rifling about.

He came back with a hand towel and a ziplock bag filled with ice, and he placed them on my wrist. I gasped a little, because it really did hurt to touch, and then he helped me off the bed and out the door.

“I don’t have shoes on,” I muttered stupidly.

“I grabbed them. They’re in the car,” Aiden replied, like it was perfectly normal to walk outside in socks. Fluffy and my bags were in the backseat, and I wasn’t sure when Aiden had done all that. It didn’t seem to really matter, either.

He opened the passenger door, helped me into the car, and got in the driver’s side, and off we went. I just leaned my head against the car window.

What was I doing?

Rick was going to come home and find me missing, and then he’d be really mad. I winced at the thought.

If I was lucky, maybe he’d stay out tonight. He did that sometimes when we fought and I made him really angry. I shouldn’t have said the bank of Josh thing. I knew I shouldn’t have. I made more than him, and it was always a sticking point.

I was such an idiot.

“Hey,” Aiden said, distracting me. “Do you want to go to the ER? Or can one of the brothers take a look at your wrist? They have some… training.”

Yeah, I remembered Toby saying something about Dexter maybe being in the military (after he’d decided Dexter probably wasn’t a serial killer), and since the brothers all looked nothing whatsoever alike, maybe they all had that in common.

Wilder seemed like he had some kind of military background, and maybe the guys followed in his footsteps.

They were all incredibly well-built, handsome men.

“Yeah, they’re okay,” I said.

I didn’t really know most of them, and they were a little intimidating, but I didn’t think Toby would let any of them hurt me. Dexter was nice, if a little weird, and I knew he’d help.

Was I really gonna do this? Was I going to leave Rick?

I looked down at my wrist, red and swollen. It wasn’t the first time Rick had hurt me, but this seemed different, maybe because everyone could see his marks this time. I couldn’t just ignore it and pretend it hadn’t happened.

I didn’t think there was anything left to salvage in the relationship. Maybe there hadn’t been for a long time.

Unfortunately, I didn’t think Rick would agree, and I got a sick feeling in my stomach just thinking about it. I wasn’t sure he would let me go easily, and I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to stand up to him. It was probably why I hadn’t left him already.

I was just so damn tired. My face and wrist were both throbbing, and my eyes were heavy and ached from crying.

Aiden seemed to sense it, because he said, “Just close your eyes and rest a minute. It’s okay, Josh. You’re safe.”

Safe. I was safe. I don’t know why I believed him, but I did exactly as he said, closing my eyes and letting myself rest.