Haven Bound

12. Chelsea

12

Chelsea

I barely got any sleep last night thanks to the combination of sleeping in a new place and unexpectedly getting an eyeful of Austin. When the alarm on my phone went off at six-thirty this morning, I was more than ready to get out of there and get home. Austin had already left for the day, but Ethan was just getting up as I was and offered to drop me off at home.

After a long hot shower, I put on a pair of faded jeans, one of my Buttersweet Bakery logo t-shirts and threw my hair up into a high ponytail. It would be so easy to let the deep ache in my chest consume me. An ache that only he can soothe. But, I’m determined to not spend the day thinking about him.

With as slow as the bakery has been lately, the burst of business today has been a welcome distraction from everything that happened yesterday. Ethan came by early this morning and refreshed the chalk writing on the window. He drew pumpkins, cinnamon sticks, and leaves in various fall shades to give customers a peek at what to expect on the menu with the change of the season. He’s been handling the window displays for me since the beginning, always including his name and Stolen Hearts Ink in the bottom corner so that all of Buttersweet’s customers would see his business name when they walk through the doors and know who did the window art.

Thanks to having spent a good amount of time after yesterday’s therapy session prepping scones, cookies, and mini bundt cakes, I was able to get everything baked and ready by the time Quinn showed up for her shift. We’ve had a steady flow of customers today and by the time two o’clock rolls around, I’m ready for a break.

I’m pulling out a fresh batch of pumpkin scones when Quinn pops her head into the kitchen space. “Hey, Chelsea, some flowers were just delivered for you! I set the vase on the back counter.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond and disappears back to the front of the shop.

Who the heck would send me flowers?

Leaving the scones to cool for a few minutes before I apply the cinnamon glaze, I quickly wash my hands and move to the front. "Some flowers" seems like a bit of an understatement when I see the size of the bouquet, the deep burgundy roses immediately sending a wave of nausea to my stomach.

“Quinn, who delivered these?” I ask. My voice trembles as I wipe my sweat-dampened palms down the front of my jeans.

“Uh, nobody I recognized,” she says as she fills a soft blue bakery box for a customer with an assortment of treats. “I think it was just a delivery person. There’s a card, though.”

Approaching the flowers, I see that there’s a small black card tucked in between a few of the roses. I clench and unclench my fists a few times, trying to steady my hands before I grab and open the card .

Remember who you belong to. xx - J.

The nausea swirling in my stomach intensifies. I swallow hard to force down the excess saliva and bile rising in my throat. My breath quickens as my mind fills with flashes of the way Jason grabbed me and tried to force me to leave with him the night before. I was so stupid for thinking that I could actually escape him. For thinking that he would willingly let me go.

I so rarely allow myself to even try to let my guard down the way I had last night. Of course, the first time that I do, I don’t even get to fully enjoy it. Not that I’m complaining about the way the night ended, though I wish that my panic hadn’t been what made Austin stay with me for the night. Cooking and watching movies together felt so much like when we were teenagers, and I knew that if I let myself, it would be all too easy to fall back into him.

The rest of my workday at the bakery seemed to drag by after Jason’s little reminder. Though Quinn had said that the flowers were dropped off by a delivery person, I wasn’t entirely convinced that he wasn’t lurking somewhere outside, watching me and waiting for me to leave the bakery for the night. The pastry cases are nearly empty now, with only about a dozen or so cookies remaining. I’m getting ready to box them up to be donated when the bell above the door chimes, signaling that someone has just walked into the bakery .

His blond hair looks disheveled, a few pieces hanging down over his eyebrow and hiding the piercing I know is there. He steps towards the counter and braces his tattooed hands against it, the USMC lettering across his knuckles on display. He leans forward slightly, his eyes raking over my body and sending a shiver down my spine.

Words have completely vacated my mind. I find myself struggling to force down the nausea that’s once again coursing through my body. I refuse to say anything that could potentially give him more ammunition against me. Instead, I do my best to keep my expression neutral, returning his stare. The longer he stares at me, the more I can feel sweat beading along my back and palms. My face flushes in fear and anticipation of what he wants or what he’s going to do.

“I’ll take everything you’ve got left,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips as he pulls three twenty-dollar bills from his wallet.

As if he hasn’t already taken everything.

I turn away to grab one of my signature blue bakery boxes, not having the strength to respond to his words with my own. I can feel his gaze locked on me, watching my every move as I fill the box with the remaining desserts. I’m doing my best to focus on getting them packaged up, but it’s hard to ignore a monster that’s standing right in front of you.

When I turn and set the box on the counter, I realize he’s no longer there. The empty room takes me by surprise. For the briefest of moments, I think that maybe he left. That thought quickly evaporates when I feel his ominous presence behind me. His hands grip my upper arms as he leans in close, his breath brushing against my neck and sending sickening shivers down my spine.

I’m too frightened to move .

The rational side of my brain is screaming at me to turn around and shove him away. But after the roses, the card, and now this… fear and anxiety leave me feeling paralyzed, both body and mind. My feet feel like they’ve been cemented to the floor, every single one of my muscles turning to stone.

His fingers dig into my skin, and I hear him inhale slowly. His breath shakes on the exhale before he groans and grinds into me, his erection pressing against my ass. Goosebumps pepper along my arms and down my back, my body trembling as I repress a shudder and swallow hard to stop the bile from rising in my throat.

I feel his right hand snake slowly down my spine before sliding the cash into my back pocket. His hand grips my ass as he grinds against me once more. “Just for you,” he whispers, stepping away from me. Releasing a trembling breath when the bell above the door chimes, I finally allow the tears to roll down my cheeks, watching him leave the bakery with the cookies and my dignity in hand.