Page 37 of Saving Ren

I pant out my breath in short gasps as I fight the burn at the back of my eyes and the tingle in my nose. My jaw trembles, but not a single tear falls.

“I fucking hate you, Jason East, you will not beat me,” I tell my reflection through gritted teeth.

My lip is split and swollen at the bottom right corner and swollen in the middle at the top. The bruises along my jawline are yellowing, but fresh purple and blue covers my cheek and eye, which is almost swollen completely closed.

My hair’s natural curl has won the battle with the straightened version I wore last night after the steam from my shower earlier made it damp. It’s piled on top of my head in a messy bun, and I attempt to apply some order by tipping my head forward and combing it through with my fingers. This hurts my ribs and I have to hold my breath as I do it. Even holding my arms above my head to put my scrunchy back in has to be done slowly.

I want to cry again. Not because I’m in so much pain, but because I’m angry and frustrated. Right now, I hate my husband.

I don’t get it. I’ll never get it. He’s my husband. Even if he’s fallen out of love with me, why this?

I take a few more moments, gently tracing the cuts and bruises with my fingertips.

When I get my emotions in check, I freshen myself up.

There’s a new toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, moisturiser, face wipes, and deodorant sitting next to the sink, and I use them all.

Still looking as rough as fuck but feeling marginally better I go out to the bedroom and carefully pull on the trackie pants and hoodie Jo had lent me earlier. My breath catches, and I let out a groan as I slowly raise my arms. The pain in my ribs feeling even worse now than it was a few minutes ago. I’ve obviously slept past the time my meds were due, making almost every move I now make painful.

Sitting back on the edge of the bed, I struggle to push my feet into my UGGs without bending over and pulling them on. How the fuck I managed to do it last night, I’ll never know.

Looking at my phone, I’m shocked to see it’s just after seven, meaning I’ve slept around eight hours. I also note another thirty-seven missed calls from Jay, along with twenty-two text messages, two of which are from my boys.

I don’t have it in me to talk to my kids right now, but Jay has apparently spoken to them. Not wanting them to worry, I fire off a text.

Me:I’m safe. I love you and will call tomorrow and explain everything. Please don’t worry xoxo

Keeping my phone on silent, I slide it into the pocket at the front of the hoodie and head to Jo’s kitchen.

Chapter 13

Gabe

FollowingJo along the hallway of her home into the open plan, kitchen, meals, and dining area, I’m greeted with a cautious half-smile from the brunette who was out with her and Lauren last night.

“Jem, you remember Gabe from last night?”

“Hey.” I smile and offer a chin lift, receiving a nod, chin lift, and a lip twitch in response. I watch her eyes slide to Jo as she slowly shakes her head.

“What?” Jo questions.

“This is not what she’d want. If she wakes up and finds him here, she’s gonna be so pissed off with you.”

“He brought Prosecco,” Jo announces, holding the bottle up in response.

“Is that what got you past the barricade?” Her dark blue eyes land back on mine.

I shrug. “That and my charm and good looks,” I respond with a wink.

“She’s too easy to bribe. A cheap bottle of grog and a few words from a dude with a face like yours are all it ever takes to get Jo to say yes.”

“Fuck you, Wilson, it’s Brown Brothers King Valley, my favourite. I wouldn’t have let him in if it was any old bottle.” Turning to me, Jo bats her lashes. “Ignore her, Gabe. Now, can I get you a drink? I think you’re gonna need it for what I’m about to tell you.”

Curious at her words, I nod slowly. “Sure. . . have you got a bourbon?” I ask while making myself comfortable on a stool at Jo’s bench next to Jemma.

“Of course. You want that over ice?” Jo asks while pulling a bottle of Makers Mark from a cupboard.

“Yeah, please. Why am I going to need a drink?” I question while watching her fill the glass with ice from the fridge’s dispenser. She slides the glass and the bottle in front of me.