Wrong Side Girl (The Girl Series Book 1) (8 page)

I’d been asleep. My mother was having another one of her parties. The kind of party where she got drunk and high and forgot that I existed. Not that she gave much of an indication that I was a living and breathing person with feelings and needs any other time. She was a drunk and saw me as a burden. Always had. The burden she’d been settled with when my father left us before I was even born. Almost every day, she told me that if it weren’t for me, my father would still be there, would never have left her. That hurt. My own mother was telling me that I was the reason that he left us, that he didn’t love me and didn’t want me. That I was unwanted and that my existence had destroyed my mother’s life.

“I should have never had you. If I hadn’t gotten pregnant, your father would have never…” That’s usually how far she got before she drowned her sorrow in another bottle of booze and I either locked myself in my room or hid in my spot for hours until I knew she would be out cold and it was safe to go back home.

But the nights she had people over to get drunk and high with were worse. Lately I had noticed that some of the men she had over were giving me leering looks. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what that meant. I knew why they came here every week, sometimes more than once. I knew that my mother used her body to pay for her addiction to alcohol and drugs. Everyone in town knew. But until a few months ago, those men had left me alone. They knew I was up in my room, but didn’t pay me any attention. That had changed when I had started to fill out, when my body was starting to go through the changes that would turn me into a woman. I had mentioned it to Cole and he had instantly gotten mad and worried, and had made me promise to always make sure that my door was locked. Always. Not just when my mother had company. Always. Just to be safe. I had promised him I would as I reveled in the fact that there was someone who loved me and cared about me.

I stumble but catch myself before I fall. I’m barefoot and in my pajamas. It’s cold.

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t pretend you don’t like it. I’ve seen the way you look at me. You’re dying to give it up and I’m only too happy to show you what it’s like to have a good time.”

Bile rises in my throat as I hear his words replay in my mind. I cough. Then I sob again. I can’t stop sobbing.

I know I was lucky. Lucky that he had been too drunk and high to overpower me. That I got free and ran before he had a chance to pull my shorts all the way down.

I shiver thinking of what would have happened. And in that moment, I hate my mother. Truly hate her. For not loving me enough to make sure I was safe. For not caring what happened to me. When I had stumbled down the stairs, intent on getting away as far and as fast as possible, she hadn’t even roused. I saw her lying on the couch, with two men, all three of them in some state of undress, passed out, just like I had seen her so many times since I was six years old.

I shiver again.

Disgusted.

Heartbroken.

Terrified.

It isn’t far now. I’m almost there. Almost to Cole’s.

Just get to him and he will make it better.
That’s the only thought I want to hold on to.

Get to Cole. He’ll make sure you’re safe.

Through the woods. Around the pond. Up the small incline.

There it is.

His house.

His window is dark.

I have to wake him.

I find small rocks and throw them at his window.

One. Two. Ten. Twenty. I don’t know how many.

All I know is that I need Cole.

So I keep throwing rocks at his window until I hear him ask, “Lizzy? That you?”

All I can do is nod. I don’t realize that it’s too dark outside for him to see me, but it doesn’t matter. A few minutes later, his back door opens and he is there. I run to him and cling to his body, my face in his chest, holding on tight.

That feels so good.

I start to sob again. Loud, body-wrecking sobs. They hurt my throat, but I can’t stop. Cole hugs me back and rubs my back, soothing me.

Up and down.

Up and down.

It helps. I calm down a little.

“Wait here,” Cole whispers, then lets go of me and goes back into the house. Not two minutes later, he comes back to me, a blanket rolled up under his arm. He takes my hand and heads towards the trees. I know where we’re going.

To our special place.

When we get there, he opens the blanket, moves me to sit on it, then sits down beside me and wraps the blanket around us, cocooning us in.

It makes me feel safe and I take a deep breath and slowly relax my body.

This is why I went to Cole. He makes me feel safe.

“Now, Lizzy, tell me what happened.”

I don’t want to. He’s going to be mad. But I know he won’t let it go until I tell him.

“My mother had a party tonight,” I feel his body tense at my words. He knows what that means, knows all about my mother’s parties. The alcohol. The drugs. The fights. I had promised him to lock myself in my room and not open the door until the next morning. I had listened to him. But tonight, I must have forgotten to make sure the door was actually locked. “There were a lot of people at our house. More than usual. Lots of new people. I went up to my room like I always do. I thought I locked the door, but I must have…I went to bed and fell asleep.”

My body starts trembling now at the thought of having to tell him what happened next. Cole holds me tighter in his arms and starts rubbing my back again. I can feel his body is still tense.

“When I woke up, I was confused. I could feel someone was in my room, but it was too dark for me to see.” I’m crying again. “Then I felt someone touch my leg,” Cole’s body locks beside me. His hands on my back go still. I stop talking, afraid that he will get really mad at me for not locking my door. I hold my breath and wait.

“Please tell me you got away,” Cole says. He is angry. Very angry.

I nod my head and whisper, “Yes. I kicked and screamed and scratched until he let go. He was drunk. I ran as fast as I could to your house.”

Cole slightly relaxes and starts rubbing my back again. “Thank God.” Is all he says for a while. Then, “From now on, when your mother throws a party, I want you to come to my house. We’ll sneak you in the window and you stay with me where you’re safe. Promise me, Lizzy. As soon as you know people are coming to your house, you leave and come to me.”

“I promise,” I say, grateful that he will keep me safe.

We are again silent for a long while.

“I’m sorry, Cole. I should have checked to make sure the door was locked.”

“Don’t be sorry, Lizzy. It’s not your fault. It’s your bitch of a mother who invites those people into your home, making you unsafe.” He was still very angry. We sat for a little while longer until Cole got up from the blanket and held his hand out to me.

“Let’s go. You’re staying with me tonight.”

That was the first night I stayed in Cole’s room, in Cole’s bed.

But not the last one.

From that night on, I crawled through his window on a regular basis, at least once or twice a week, so he could protect me from my mother’s filthy friends.

Lizzy

I was standing on the deck of our little cottage, looking out at the ocean. It was beautiful. I loved the water. It had a peaceful and tranquil quality to it, which made me want to stand here watching it move and sparkle in the moonlight all night.

Cole had taken me to one of those little seaside towns just South of Boston. It was a cute little town with a main street straight out of a romantic comedy or a TV show, lined with shops and restaurants that I wouldn’t mind exploring at some point this weekend.

In the back of my mind, I was still thinking over the situation with Jesse and Chloe. During the meeting this morning with Taryn, we had discussed our options of how to get them off the streets into someplace safe. Jesse had mentioned that he was worried their father might be looking for them. I know this was how the system worked, but there was no way I would support Taryn in trying for a reunion, which was usually the first step. We had no evidence of abuse other than Jesse’s and Chloe’s statements, but the sad story was that sometimes that wasn’t enough. The system was terribly flawed and it wasn’t surprising that so many kids preferred living on the streets because most of the time they couldn’t get the support they needed. I had given Jesse my word that I would make them safe and I intended to keep it. Foster care was the other option. With Jesse being sixteen, it was still a long way until he was legal and could take responsibility for Chloe, so foster care was our best bet. Finding a good one was the tricky part. Another flaw in the system. Most foster parents didn’t care about the kids much, but were only interested in the money they got from the government for taking them in. So I needed to make some phone calls to see where we could place them. But for now, they were safe and sound. They were staying at the shelter and had agreed to meet with a counselor and start tutoring sessions next week.

When Cole had knocked on my door to pick me up, I had been on the phone with Jimmy to make sure they were both there and hadn’t taken off. Jimmy had checked on them while I stayed on the line and assured me he would keep an eye out for me over the weekend and call me with updates every night. Rainey, one of my full-time colleagues, and Marie had promised to do the same thing during the day shift. So everything was under control. But for some reason, I was anxious, as if somehow I knew something was going to happen, as if there was something I had overlooked. On our way down here, I had told Cole the whole story. He knew how much I cared about my kids, how much of myself I involved into their fight for a better life. He understood why I did it. Why it was my calling. He hated it when some cases didn’t work out that great, when kids disappeared, or I couldn’t gain their trust, or I couldn’t help as much as I wanted, because he knew how much it took out of me. When that happened, he never complained, though. He always supported me when I needed to talk things out or needed him to get my mind off things. And I loved him for it, for being such a good friend. Now it felt even better when I told him how worried I was about Jesse and Chloe, how much it had hurt when they had told me their story, and he took my hand in his to softly brush his lips over my knuckles or squeeze my hand in reassurance. It felt natural and familiar.

On that thought, I felt arms snaking around my waist from behind and lips at my ear softly tracing the shell. That felt natural, too. It was odd that even though neither one of us were used to being in a relationship, these little displays of affection came to us naturally. It didn’t feel awkward, but instead felt easy and almost instinctive. Maybe it had to do with the fact that we had known and trusted each other for so long. I didn’t want to overthink it, though. I wanted to enjoy it.

“What are you thinking about?” Cole whispered as he was nibbling my ear.

“You actually,” I said on a giggle.

“Yeah? What about me?” His hands started moving on me over my shirt, stroking my belly, one hand going up my side almost to my breast, the other going down to the edge of my shirt then lifting it just enough for him to touch the skin there. I tipped my head back to rest it on his shoulder and reveled in the full-body shiver his touches caused.

“How natural it feels when you touch me. How easy it is to touch you back,” I breathed on an exhale.

“You’re damn right it is. Now that we broke the seal, all I wanna do is touch you, all I can think of is kissing you.” I lifted my head a little and reached for his mouth. When our lips connected, we both groaned in relief. His hands were getting serious, exploring, touching, feeling, gently groping. Both were under my shirt now. The skin-to-skin contact there for the first time jolted me into action and I opened my mouth to him, snaking my tongue out to touch his. His hand had found my breast and squeezed lightly, his thumb caressing my hard nipple, causing me to moan against his tongue.

That’s when things got out of control. Cole broke the kiss just long enough to turn me in his arms so that I was facing him, then he lifted me up with is hands at my behind, leaving me no choice but to hold on to his shoulders and wrap my legs around his waist. Without breaking the kiss, he shoved his hands under my shirt at my back and walked us inside, straight to the bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed with me straddling his lap and kept on kissing me. Deep searching kisses, leaving no part of my mouth untouched. It felt like a branding, a claiming, a promise of more to come. My hands were all over him, were seeking as much contact as possible, but not finding enough. As quickly as possible, we divulged each other of our shirts.

It was frantic.

Desperate.

Utterly delicious.

When Cole’s hands went to unclasp my bra, he leaned back to look at me. “Let me see, baby. I need to see you,” his voice was strained with need. His eyes were roaming across my now naked chest, which, it sounds silly, made my nipples harden even more.

“God, Liz. You’re so beautiful.” He leaned down and took me in his mouth. He wasn’t gentle, but I didn’t care. It felt great. No, it felt fantastic. He licked and sucked and nibbled, stimulating me, turning me on so much that I started moving on him, grinding my sex against his hardness. By the time he focused his attention on my other breast, my panties were soaked and I needed him inside me.

“Cole,” I urged. But he didn’t stop. He kept right on devouring my breast. I started undoing my pants. I needed them off. I needed him to touch me there.

Now.

Cole took my hands in one of his and held them behind my back, making me arch and practically shoving my breasts in his face in the process. “Soon, baby. I promise. You’ll get my cock soon. I need to claim every inch of your body first.” I wasn’t sure I could hold out that long. Watching him ravaging my breasts, unable to touch him, was hot, so hot I couldn’t do anything but watch in fascination as I kept moving on him, rubbing my heat against his hardness, seeking friction. I was close. So close.

God, how ridiculous. It was like my body had been waiting for his touch to come alive.