Defamed: Book Three (bxb) ✔️

Chapter Twenty-Four: Fight

Cameron Adair

My instincts were correct almost one hundred percent of the time. My body would tell me when something bad was about to happen, even if nothing felt amiss. I was using my boxcutter to slice open the tape of boxes in the room Carter graciously gave me to stay in, and every hair on my arm was standing at attention. My heart was racing, but nothing seemed out of order. 

Earlier, I called Alastair and asked him to stop by later because I had a weird feeling. He heeded the warning and told me he would do just that. I didn't want to bother Asher if I was wrong, but something in my brain told me that I wasn't. I wasn't sure what I was going to face today, or maybe I did.

Or maybe I was crazy.

But it was always better to be safe than sorry.

So, I continued sorting through the boxes as to what I wanted to donate and what I wanted to keep. I had far too many clothes, some with tags, meaning I never wore them. I could sell them to save more money for college. I still needed to hammer out the details with Asher, but I agreed to allow my husband to pay my tuition because I really wanted to become an advocate for those who went through what I did. 

It wouldn't matter. If I took out a loan, Asher would help me pay it off. I ended up relenting. He wanted to help me, and it had nothing to do with power. We were married. On a whim, at that. There had to be give and take on both sides. Hopefully, I offered enough for him. That I was good enough. I would strive to prove I was worthy, even if he continues to tell me I am.

My field of study wouldn't make me much money, but that didn't matter to me. The money didn't matter. It was what I could do to help others. I would be an asset; I could emotionally connect to the survivors of such attacks and help them lead a better life than what I gave myself. I might be here now, but I ruined myself before I pieced myself back together. And even still, I wasn't one hundred percent. I might never be.

My therapist had been notified of my career path and offered to help me through it all with evaluations throughout my college experience to make sure I continued to stabilize. Other than that, he was more than happy for me. He believed this job was a great fit for me, and I couldn't agree more. I knew there would be tough days, but I wanted to help.

As I tossed a coat on the sell donate pile, something stopped me cold. 

Humans know when there is a threat to their well-being. 

I heard the creek of Carter's front door, and I knew damn well it wasn't Alastair. I only called him five minutes ago. He couldn't get here that fast. It wasn't anyone I was comfortable with. And the time I swore would come had finally arrived. But I swore to myself I wouldn't be weak this time. If I knew anything, that speech I gave yesterday was definitely me lighting the fuse for his attack.

And now James was here.

I didn't lower the blade of the boxcutter as I slowly stood up. I pushed it into my pocket, and if it cut up my leg, oh fucking well. I wouldn't let him catch me off guard again. I knew he could find me. I figured he'd been watching me. He was waiting for a moment that I was alone. Completely alone, and he found it. Because I'd been with my brothers, or on campus, or at my apartment with my damn husband. I haven't been alone since the fucker went to jail.

Clenching my hands, I quietly stepped around the mess I made toward the hallway. When I peeked around the corner, I saw him. James. Canvasing the living room for whatever reason, but it didn't matter. His eyes roamed on every square inch of my brother's apartment. I let him have his precious moments. I might not be the strongest person, and I knew it when I called Alastair because of a bad feeling. When I asked him not to alert Asher because of a feeling. I trusted him to be here, despite not knowing how he particularly felt about me. He didn't question it. He said he would be here.