First Surrender (Chance Encounters #3)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Natalie

F ive years old…

“Mommy! Will you play princesses with me?” I’m bouncing up and down outside of the bathroom door while Mommy cleans the bathtub.

“Can’t you tell that I’m busy? I’ve gotta have this whole house clean by the time Ricky gets back or we’ll be homeless again. Do you want to be homeless?”

“No, Mommy.” I don’t know why we don’t have our own house. We always stay with Mommy’s boyfriends. They never let me have more than one or two of my toys because they say I’m messy and annoying.

“Go be useful and make yourself a PB&J. Make me one too.”

“Okay, Mommy.” If I make the best PB&J ever, maybe Mommy will play with me for a few minutes. I skip to the kitchen in my Pooh Bear sneakers, making the charms on the ends of my shoestrings jingle.

Mommy’s last boyfriend bought them for me, he was nice to me, and always wanted me to play special games with him, but then she said we had to leave. We came here the next day.

I’m almost done with the peanut butter when the front door swings open and Ricky walks in. He takes one look at me but doesn’t say hi. He’s not very nice. He never talks to me.

“Nicole!” He finds Mommy down the hall and they go into their room together while I eat my sandwich alone at the table. Mommy’s sits on a paper towel beside me.

It’s still sitting in the same spot the next morning when I’m getting ready for school. The bread is crusty but I pack it in my backpack anyway. If I ask real nice then the lunch lady might give me a new one. She usually does.

Ten years old…

“Mom!” She’s sleeping on the couch, her head lying on the arm of the sofa at a weird angle.

“What, Nat?” She grumbles but doesn’t open her eyes.

“Someone’s at the door. They’re asking for money.”

“Oh, hell.” She pushes herself up and crosses the living room. We’re in a trailer now, one owned by someone else. I’m not even sure who. I don’t know if she knows either. “What can I do for you, sir?” She asks the man standing on the other side of the screen door on the tiny wooden porch as she fluffs her hair.

“No one’s paying the lot fees. You’re behind by four months. I’ve tried being reasonable seeing you’ve got a child and all, but I run a business here. Someone needs to be payin’.”

“There must be some sort of misunderstanding, truly. My boyfriend’s driving a truck and won’t be back for another two weeks. He said he’d been calling and trying to pay.” From my spot across the room, I can tell she’s lying.

There hasn’t been a boyfriend here. It’s the only place we’ve lived in a long time where we don’t have to share it with a man.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. That’s not the case. If no one pays, you’ll have to leave.”

“Is there anything that I can do for you, instead? I clean. I’ll clean your house for free if you’d like.”

He looks at her closely, his eyes traveling the length of her. My mom’s a pretty woman even though she looks so tired all the time. Everybody always says it’s a shame I didn’t get her blonde hair or blue eyes. I used to like my brown hair but not much anymore.

My mom told me that I looked like my dad. I’ve never met him because she said he was no good. She wouldn’t tell me about him but she told me how much she hated him.

“Alright, you come clean and we’ll work something out.”

That got us another month in the trailer but we were moving again after that.

Fifteen years old…

“Connor, I don’t want to go to the party. I want to go home.” My date ignores my plea, driving the opposite way from my apartment building. Mom doesn’t know that I went to homecoming. She told me I didn’t deserve to go because I’d been back-talking her so much.

I only talk back because she makes me so angry. I don’t know why she’s made our life so hard. I’ve been at my school for two years and now she’s saying we have to move. I don’t want to move again and I don’t want to change schools. I have two more years of high school left and I’ve made some friends. Life’s been easier with friends.

“We’ll stop at the party for a few minutes to say hi then we’ll leave, I promise.” He puts his hand on my knee while he drives and I don’t hate it, but it’s not super comfortable either. It’s weird to have a boy touch me but he’s the first one who has ever shown me any real attention. He asked me to the dance and to be his girlfriend in the same week.

The party is at someone’s house but I don’t know them. They’re from a different school. There are kids everywhere wearing their homecoming clothes, but I don’t see any parents.

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?” I ask Connor as he tugs my hand along.

“Definitely. Come on.” He pulls me down some steps into a basement with fewer people. A few boys drinking beers are sitting around on a sofa.

“Hey, Connor.” One of them holds out his hand and instead of shaking it like I thought, Connor hands him a $20 bill.

“First door on your right.” The boy points to a door and Connor drags me to it.

“What are we doing?”

“Come on, Nat. I wanted us to have some privacy for once.” He pulls me into the half-darkened room. There’s a mattress on the floor and a table lamp in the corner.

“Connor, I don’t want to be in here. I want to go home.”

“Come on, sit with me for a minute. I only want to talk.” He pats the bed and I sit down stiffly.

It only takes a few minutes for his talking to turn into leg rubbing. His hand goes higher and higher up my thigh until he reaches the hem of my tulle skirt. My dress is a hand-me-down from a local church, but it’s sparkly and pretty. I only got it because it was cheap and Connor offered to buy it. Plus, my mom didn’t have to know. She’d tell me how hideous I look in it anyway.

“I don’t want to do anything, Connor.”

“It’s okay. We’re boyfriend and girlfriend, this is what we’re supposed to do.” He kisses me sloppily and even though I don’t have any other experience, I know it’s not like this in the movies.

His hand moves until he touches my panties, his fingers fumbling with the material. I don’t want him to do this, but I don’t want him to be mad. He’s my first boyfriend, maybe I am supposed to do this.

When a finger finds my opening, he shoves it in and I squirm away. That did not feel good. Again, I don’t think that’s how it is in the movies. The women are always moaning and smiling, this doesn’t feel like that.

“Come on, Nat. Let me touch you.” He kisses me again and pushes my shoulders back until I’m lying down. He takes my panties off and I turn my head to the side so I don’t have to look.

He fiddles with me, pushing a finger in and twisting, then another. It doesn’t feel good. When something blunt pushes at me, I tense. “What are you doing?” I try to squeeze my legs shut but his body is in the way.

His hip bones are jabbing into my inner thighs and his pants are shoved down to his thighs.

“We’re making love Nat, like boyfriends and girlfriends, remember?” His penis nudges me again but doesn’t enter me. It can’t, everything’s too dry.

“I don’t want to.”

His eyes narrow and he huffs. “I took you to the dance, didn’t I? Asked you out? I’ve been real good to you, right?”

“Um. Yeah,” I whisper.

“All of that and you won’t do this for me? Why are you being so selfish?”

He’s mad. I don’t want him to be mad at me. Am I being selfish?

He has been the only boy to ask me out. Maybe no one else will ever like me…

I nod my head and turn it to the side again. My whole body trembles as he shoves his way inside of me. It burns. Each time he moves it hurts but I hold my breath to avoid making a noise until I can’t stand the pain.

“Connor, it hurts. Can we stop?” My distress doesn’t even slow him down, I want him to stop but I’m afraid to disappoint him. “Please!”

He doesn’t stop. Not until his eyes roll back in his head and plops back on his heels. The condom that I didn’t even know he was wearing is filled with his release and coated in my blood. He only looks at me for a second before he pulls his pants up and leaves the room.

If he is my boyfriend then why doesn’t he care that he was hurting me? Why didn’t he stop?

The tears stream across my temples and dampen my hair as I lay in regret. That’s not how it was supposed to be.

Present.

My calf is cramping. My knee is bent at an off angle, so I stretch it, trying to ease the ache until I realize my leg is draped across something hard and elevated, making my eyes ping open.

A hip. My leg is draped across Jackson’s hip.

Not only that, my entire body is lying on top of his with my hand plastered to his face.

I peel myself away but not subtly enough because he blinks awake and looks at me. There is no immediate surprise on his face, he’s not at all concerned by my body on his.

My other leg is tangled in the sheet and I can’t get loose. I thump back onto my pillow in defeat, too exhausted to fight it. My eyes sting from all the crying.

There’s a soft cramping in my stomach but I’m not feeling as fragile as I was before. I’m still sad, but I think the nap helped.

“What time is it?” I ask the ceiling.

“Six.” His voice is low, sleepy. It makes me want to curl back into him, but I refrain. “Should I be at all concerned by Dec’s wellbeing?”

I snort. “No. He went to Charlie’s after school. His mom will bring him back here first thing in the morning before his sister’s ballet recital.” Charlie’s mom, Sienna, has been my saving grace since Dec’s been in school this year. She’s saved me on more than one occasion.

“See, told you that you were a good mom. I was worried that he was standing outside waiting for us to unlock the door.” It’s a silly comment and it makes me huff a laugh, but then a sad sound escapes my throat and I don’t stop myself this time from rolling back toward Jackson. He welcomes me with open arms, pulling me close again. “I’m sorry, that was stupid. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper against his neck. It was a lighthearted comment, I’m just emotional. I settle against him and sigh with contentment, suddenly feeling something against my thigh.

“I’m sorry about that, too.” He reaches down and adjusts himself so his dick isn’t poking me.

The worry in his voice makes me laugh. This time a real, from the belly, laugh. I have to take a few deep breaths to regain my composure. A few more stray giggles escape before I can completely contain myself.

“Do I amuse you?” He asks sarcastically, making me sputter another laugh.

“Yes, actually. You do,” I reply honestly. In one way or another, he always amuses me. That’s why it’s usually so fun to fight with him.