Snowbound with the Santas (Forbidden Fantasies)

31. Rayne

31

RAYNE

S leep brings me no peace.

It’s like I’m back in that fateful night, reliving everything over and over in my dreams, and each time I think I wake up, I’m really back at the party with Ashton and it replays all over again.

And then, suddenly, my dream is different.

Suddenly, one of the people I killed is alive and they’re calling my name over and over, but I can’t get out of the car to see them. The seatbelt keeps me locked in tight, and no matter how I struggle, I’m not able to free myself. Panic rises and I can’t breathe?—

“Rayne!”

I bolt awake, drenched in sweat, with my heart racing and tension pulling through my skull. Archer is sitting a foot away on the edge of the bed and his face is somewhat sympathetic.

“Archer?”

“Are you alright?”

I push sweat-soaked strands of hair away from my forehead, then slide my hand around to the back of my overheating neck. “Mmhmm.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod, not trusting myself to say anything else in answer to that.

“I’m sorry to wake you.”

“How—” Dryness pulls painfully at my throat, and I screw up my eyes, coughing. When I open them, Archer has a cup of water in front of my face. I take it and drink deeply for a few minutes. “How long was I asleep?”

Archer shrugs. “Maybe ten hours?”

“Ten hours!” Heat flushes through me from head to toe. “And you didn’t wake me?”

“We didn’t want to. Seemed like you needed the rest,” Archer replies. “We would have let you sleep until you woke naturally, but we have to go.”

“Go?” Instantly, the burning heat inside me turns to an ice-cold chill. “Where?”

“The ski lodge.”

Oh, no .

My stomach drops and my head spins slightly. This is it. I’m being taken back there to face the music. My fear must be written all over my face because Archer moves his hand to my knee.

“Nick’s ex-wife has turned up,” he says. “And it makes no sense why she’s even here, but she’s been waiting since just before Christmas, and he can’t let her wait any longer.”

Amanda is here? My mouth falls open slightly as I try to think up a reason she, of all people, would suddenly be making an appearance.

Archer pats my knee and stands. “We leave in thirty.”

“Can’t I stay here?” I ask, my voice trembling despite how hard I try to avoid it.

“I know you’d like to.” Archer pauses at the door. “But if we come down the mountain without you, it will look…” He sucks in air through his clenched teeth. “I’m sorry.”

I nod slowly. Archer closes the door as he leaves, and I slump back into the damp pillows.

Shit.

Everything I’ve been avoiding is suddenly very much at the forefront of my mind. I have to go and face Ashton. My mom and Uncle Cecil. All those people who have likely been churning the gossip mill. The only silver lining is that I might get a chance to call Nina.

Right now, she feels like my rock in a storm if I can just get through to her.

I dress quickly and drag a comb through my hair, trying to look presentable. In the mirror, I’m a far cry from the glitzy princess who fled that party all those weeks ago. Sure, I look healthier. My cheeks are fuller and rosier, too. My skin is glowing, and the dark shadows under my eyes are long gone.

I look and feel like a different person.

Going back is a nightmare and one I can’t avoid.

I take a deep breath and head out into the cabin. Luckily, everyone is in a hurry to pack up so no one stops to question me. Frankie presses a sandwich into my hand and Nick flashes me a stressed smile, but all in all, it’s all hands on deck until we get into the Jeep.

Archer drives. Apparently, he’s the most trusted driver when it comes to driving in the snow. Nick lingers in the cabin, checking that the fire is out for the umpteenth time before he comes running out and jumps into the truck.

“Alright,” he sighs, slumping in his seat. “Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” Archer asks.

“Yeah. I dumped snow in the fireplace, so if we come back and this place is burned down, it’s definitely arson.”

“Alright.” The truck rumbles to life, and Archer sets us off on the trail down the mountain.

Silence lingers for around twenty minutes before Frankie clears his throat.

“Rayne?”

Here it comes. The thanks for hanging around, but uh, fuck off talk. I played it over in my head when washing up, and the ball of nerves in my gut has grown through every second of this long, drawn-out silence.

Slowly, I look over at him. “Yeah?”

“Listen. About what you said yesterday. The guys and I, we want you to know that we have your back but… but it would help a lot if we knew the details of what you were talking about.”

I wonder if they talked about who would be best to bring this up to me. Frankie is the softest of the three, so it makes sense to choose him.

“I can’t imagine how hard it might be to talk about, but you told us you killed two people and that’s…” Frankie puffs out his cheeks, and one hand taps gently on his thigh. “That’s huge.”

Can I tell them? The entire story has never come out of my mouth before. Parts of it have slipped out, either in arguing with Ashton or during the one mistake I made trying to tell my mother. But never all at once.

“Uhm…” I clasp my hands together in my lap and turn my attention to the snow-covered pine trees as they whizz by the window. “Well…”

I can feel Nick’s eyes on me via the rearview mirror, and I’m sure Archer is sneaking glances too. I’m out of options here. These men have been so kind to me. It’s about time I tell them the truth.

“When I was a teenager, I had a drinking problem. There’s no exciting reason for it. I come from a rich background. Alcohol has flowed since I was eleven, and sometimes, it was the only way to get a reaction from my mom. But when I was eighteen, nineteen… I tried to stop. And my boyfriend at the time, Ashton, didn’t like that.”

The more I talk, the less my voice sounds like my own.

“He was always a little violent, a little scary, but he seemed like the only person who cared about me. So I stayed much longer than I should have. Then I started to notice I was getting drunk more than I was drinking. Turns out he was spiking all my drinks. Nearly everything I drank for six months had alcohol in it. We had a huge fight about it, but eventually, he seemed to understand. He did keep saying I was boring sober. Then… one night…”

It’s no longer my voice. It’s something else that exists inside of me speaking these words. Pouring out this truth.

“We were at a party for one of his friends and I got drunk. Ashton was spiking my mocktails, and then when I was drunk, he was basically pouring alcohol down my throat. I remember at one point, he was just holding my mouth open and pouring the drink in and I just… swallowed. And then he forced me to drive. I don’t really remember how I ended up in the driver's seat. I think he hit me and it briefly sobered me up enough that I thought I could drive. I was so wrong.”

I pause, and no one speaks. I can’t take my eyes off the passing trees as if they can somehow hold my secret and freeze it for all time.

“So I drove. And I crashed into someone. And I mean, I really crashed into them. They were side on and I just plowed right into them. My arm ripped open, which is how I got this scar, and Ashton got a face full of glass, which is how he became blind in one eye. And then Ashton took the fall for it. Turns out, he wasn’t drunk at all.”

Frankie tightly clears his throat.

“He swapped our places, said he was driving and placed all the blame on the other car. Both occupants died and there were no street cameras on that road, so it was his word against… no one, really. He got away with it. I tried—” My throat closes briefly.

“I tried to tell the truth, but each time I did, he would talk it away as my being so drunk I didn’t know anything. But I knew. I knew what I did. And then he just held it over me like this… this weight. Any time I acted out, he would mention it. Any time I wanted to leave him, he threatened to go to the cops and tell them I was a violent drunk who forced him to lie and that I’d actually clawed his eye out to keep him quiet. I did try and tell my mom, but she couldn’t look past the alcohol.”

A dry, wheezing laugh escapes me.

“Then Ashton finally got bored of me, found some new, pretty thing to chase, so I left. I cleaned myself up, changed my name for a while, and changed states. Became a teacher because… well, part of me thought I could make up for what I did by helping and teaching the next generation. I’ve tried so hard to make up for it, but then I came here and Ashton was here. First time I’d seen him in years, and he knew exactly how to make me feel small and weak. So I ran to my mom, planned to tell her the truth , but she was snogging my uncle, and everything felt like too much so I just got in a Jeep and drove.”

“Your Uncle ?” Frankie gasps.

“Not a relation,” I clarify quickly, turning to look at him. “He’s just a family friend.”

“Oh.” Frankie nods.

“So…” I suck in a deeper, calm breath and for some reason, it’s easier than I expected. So is the next one. “That’s it. I’ve never told anyone that story.”

“Holy shit,” Nick murmurs. “Rayne, I… I am so, so sorry.”

“What?” My brow shoots up. “Why?”

“Why?” He turns in his seat to face me. “What do you mean, why? You were drugged and forced to drive a car. You were placed in a dangerous position by someone who was supposed to care for you, and then, instead of doing the right thing, he just saw another way to terrorize you.”

My heart skips a beat. How can Nick see it that way after what I did? “But I killed those two people.”

“No,” Archer bites out. “That scumbag did. You were drugged . Everything that happened after that is his fault. That blood is on his hands. You… Rayne. You’re not a murderer.”

“Yes. Yes , I am. Those people died because of me. I was driving, I was?—”

Frankie’s hand covers mine. “No, Rayne. Would you blame someone who was sedated for burning down their house? No, the culprit is whoever sedated them. Forcing you to be so intensely intoxicated that you don’t know what you’re doing? He was sober and forced you behind the wheel. He’s the killer here, not you.”

“But… but I?—”

“I know it feels like it,” Archer says, and his voice is rough. “It feels like it’s your fault because you were there. Those people were harmed and you feel the weight of that responsibility, but you were acting under the guise of another. Of someone you trusted. That situation is on them. Not you.”

As tears spring into my eyes, I get the feeling Archer isn’t just talking about my past. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t.” Nick’s face is soft and sad. “He abused you, hurt you, then drugged you and forced you to carry this awful secret for years. Then he pops back up like a fucking weed. But Rayne… I know what happened was terrible. I understand that. But any court would recognize that you were drugged. He was the one in charge. That accident was his fault.”

“He’s lucky he only lost an eye,” Frankie spits out, and his hand tightens on my wrist. “We’ve got you, Rayne. You understand? We’re here for you.”

“We’ll take care of it. No matter what he says,” Archer growls.

A sudden exhaustion washes over me and my eyelids become so heavy that I close them.

Is this real?

Maybe I’m still dreaming and this is wishful thinking.

They’re not angry. Not accusatory. They’re understanding. Sympathetic.

I sob softly and cover my mouth. Frankie’s arms wind around my shoulders and Nick’s hand clasps my knee.

“How,” I gasp, opening my eyes. “How will we stop him from telling everyone?”

“I don’t think we can,” Archer says. “That fucker’s clearly a psychopath to some degree.”

“Men like Ashton will do what they want,” Nick agrees. “But we can maybe smash his face in some more. And then help you deal with the fallout.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper between my tears.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Frankie murmurs. “We’ve got it from here.”

The rest of the drive passes quickly, though my heart sinks as soon as we pull into the ski lodge. Someone must have informed those inside because I’m halfway climbing out of the truck when I hear a terrible screech from my mother.

“Rayne!” she screams, hurrying toward me with her skirt bunched up in one hand. “Oh, my Rayne! My daughter! My daughter!”

Uncle Cecil follows behind her, along with a few other people and some of the lodge security. This might be the most emotional display my mother has ever given me. She’s a few feet away when a cry rises up, but it's not from her.

It’s from Frankie.

“You’ve got to be kidding— you son of a bitch!”

Out of nowhere, Frankie suddenly leaps forward and attacks my Uncle Cecil in a complete rage.