Page 6 of Save Me (Poison Ivy #2)

Four days later.

I sit on the couch, staring at the painting on the wall across from me as whatever-his-name-is stands in the kitchen, sipping a hot coffee and eating a muffin. The days have started to blur together and I lose track of time as the hope within me is crushed with every passing minute. I’ve made no progress solidifying an escape plan outside of trying to make a run for it again. It feels even colder in here today and I’m starting to question if not risking getting lost in the forest is actually a sign of sanity and not a lack of bravery. An icy shiver runs over my skin as the boathouse shakes from the wind; the blankets I wrap around me are no match for the cold that settles deep in my bones.

I look up as he tosses his phone onto the counter and gives me a bored look. He hasn’t told me anything about himself or his motives for doing this, but something tells me he doesn’t like being here. I’ve only heard snippets of his conversations with Rhett and Tanner when they swung by, my ear pressed up against the door to gather as much information as I could about the situation. From what I can tell, they’re colleagues and friends, yet his tone becomes even more guarded than usual whenever they’re in the room. And when I glimpse him after they leave it takes a while for his posture to relax, which gives me the feeling he doesn’t fully trust them or like them.

I’ve been here for almost a week and there has been no word from Jax. Whenever Rhett swings by he makes a show of loudly exclaiming how there has been nothing but radio silence from Jax. I know he’s doing it to bother me, knowing I’ll hear him even through a closed door, but it’s starting to get to me. His words slowly eating away at the hope I’ve tried to keep alive. No calls.

No texts.

No effort or change of heart to come and help me.

And every time the words leave Rhett’s mouth, I feel like a piece of me dies as the part of me that believes what he’s saying grows like a vine. My annoyance at Rhett’s visits quickly turns to anger, and his presence evokes a rage inside of me that I struggle to contain, a hatred that all my sadness and pain has fueled over the course of the week.

Thankfully, though, I’m about to have some time without Rhett here. It’s Thanksgiving today and I overheard Rhett saying he’s spending some time at his family’s hunting lodge and will be too occupied to “swing by” as he put it. I’m hoping that without him here I’ll have another chance to escape.

“Are you going home like Rhett?” I ask, my eyes finding him still in the kitchen sipping coffee.

“Hmm?” he responds, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Are you going home for Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah, I’m going home. My family isn’t close, but our presence is expected during the holidays.”

I feel a surge of hope bubble within me at the idea that I might be left unsupervised for the holiday, giving me an opportunity to find a way back to the city without being caught by Rhett or his friends.

“Your family sounds like mine,” I muse, trying to keep my voice neutral, not wanting to give away the plan that I’m already trying to solidify.

“One night for each holiday is what’s required, so that’s all I give. Dinner tonight and brunch tomorrow at the country club. I might not like my parents, but brunch at the club makes up for it.”

“My Thanksgiving plans are a little lackluster this year,” I joke quietly, but my smile feels forced and doesn’t reach my eyes. I would have loved to spend the holiday with Jax and Ryan, maybe even see Sam as well.

He watches me with a pensive expression on his face but doesn’t say anything.

“I’m getting tired… I’m getting really fucking tired of being here.” I’m surprised by my own confession, the words spilling from my lips before I realize I’m speaking out loud. “It’s been, what? Five days of this bullshit? Of me sitting here being held as collateral. And for what? Money that’ll never come because my boyfriend , the man I thought would quite literally kill for me, can’t be bothered to help me get out of here. What am I doing here if Jax isn’t bringing Rhett his money?”

He shakes his head, his chest seemingly deflating slightly. “I don’t know. Honestly.”

“Whatever. Have a good Thanksgiving. I’ll be here, obviously.”

I walk to the bedroom, not bothering to wait for him to respond.

*

I look at the lake, at the ripples of water that dance as the wind skirts across it. I’m standing with my face so close to the glass that my warm breath fogs up the window. I wipe it clean with my sleeve, the old fabric itchy against my arm, wishing I could be anywhere but here. I make my way to the bed where I lay down under the blankets and spend the next few hours drifting in and out of sleep, nothing to occupy my mind except Rhett’s words playing on repeat in my head as tears well in my eyes.

I’m not worth worrying about.

He doesn’t want me.

He doesn’t love me.

He’s not coming.

The more I repeat the words the faster and shallower my breathing becomes, and it’s as if the hope I was holding onto has been replaced with a blade, sinking deep within my chest, right underneath my collarbone.

I clutch onto my chest as the tears spill down my face and a sob escapes my lips. Something inside me breaks—it feels like there’s a trench within my heart, a cut so deep that I wonder if it will ever heal.

I close my eyes, listening to the sound of the wind as it batters the boathouse, the wooden walls of the room groaning against the force.

At some point, I’m startled by the sound of a door slamming and I jolt upwards, finding my bearings in the dim room.

How long was I asleep?

I sit up, utterly exhausted. I’m tired of being here, tired of waiting for someone to find me. I can’t help but feel scared and helpless as I’m stuck within these walls, and I hate feeling this way.

And then it dawns on me.

I can rescue myself.

I’m not some damsel in distress waiting to get rescued by a knight in shining armor who’s not coming. I can try and leave again. If I can’t do it myself, then I’m going to try and get someone to help me.

The words leave my lips as I storm out of my room. “I’m not just going to sit here and wait—”

I stop short. Because instead of who I thought I’d see sitting out here, Tanner stares back at me.

“Oh, I think you will sit here and wait, Evi .” He sneers.

My name on his lips sounds like an insult, and I’m uncertain in his presence. His body radiates nothing but hatred towards me, the way he glares at me, his eyes looking me up and down, filled with nothing but anger and disgust.

He takes a long swig of rum—from a bottle that’s already partially empty—before sitting it down on the glass table heavily. He leans back, never taking his eyes off me as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

“So, how’s it feel to be unwanted by everyone?” The words drip from his lips like poison and I inhale sharply, my stomach suddenly rolling with nausea. He reminds me of Rhett, wielding his words as weapons just to make me feel inferior in his presence.

I shake my head, trying not to let his words get to me.

“What? Nothing to say?” His eyes continue to roam over me before he laughs to himself, taking another sip from the bottle in his hands. “It’s funny that you’re suddenly so quiet. Rhett always told us the only time he could shut you up is when his dick was halfway down your throat.”

His words hit me like a slap across the face. I feel my cheeks go red, and I clench my fists at my side, willing myself to ignore him, to not give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s struck a nerve.

He takes another gulp, exhaling loudly, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I can’t say I’ve ever been in your position before… to have no one want you anymore. To have your boyfriend decide you’re only good for one thing, and you’re not even good enough at that for him to bother coming to get you.” He laughs to himself. “And now to have Rhett not even want you anymore—but I can’t say I blame him, it’s not like you bring much to the table.”

My ears are ringing as I swallow down the anger that is now threatening to overflow. I am so tired of these guys thinking they can treat me this way—speak to me this way—and never face any consequences for their actions.

“I bet it feels pretty shit to be you right now,” he taunts.

Before I can stop myself, I wield angry words back at him, my tongue just as sharp as his.

“It probably feels just as good as that eye of yours,” I snap, gesturing to the scabs that have formed around his brow after I sunk my nails into his flesh earlier this week. “It looks like it was deep. I wonder if it will ever fully heal or if you’ll be left scarred… though I don’t think it will matter much. It’s not like you were a looker to begin with.”

His face goes red and he lets out an angry huff, picking up the bottle and chugging for a few seconds.

“Watch yourself,” he snarls as he stands up. “Don’t think for one second that I haven’t forgotten about the other night. Remember what I said? An eye for an eye, Evi, and it’s time to pay up.”

Shit.