Touch Me

  Evernight Publishing ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2015 Jenika Snow

  ISBN: 978-1-77233-466-1

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  TOUCH ME

  Jenika Snow

  Copyright © 2015

  Chapter One

  Freya Dresden stared at her stepmother, feeling small compared to the woman who intimidated her like no other. Even at the young age of fifteen she hated this life, hated that Meghan was the person she had to look at for a mother figure, a father figure, hell, the only family she had anymore.

  After her mom died when she was only three her father had remarried, had found the woman that he could spend the rest of his life with in the form of his personal assistant. Freya was happy her father had found someone, that he didn’t have to be alone.

  But then the unthinkable happened. Not only was she motherless, but she’d become fatherless as well, and the only person that she could rely on was Meghan in all her self-absorbed glory.

  Meghan had been sweet at first, trying to befriend Freya because she clearly wanted her father and his money. And then when a drunk driver had T-boned her father’s car one rainy night, Freya had lost her father at the tender age of thirteen. Two years after that and here she was, sitting across from Meghan, watching her sweet-talk to her new husband, Elijah.

  If Freya could have gone to live with a relative she would have, in a heartbeat, but she had no one else aside from this woman that didn’t want her, this woman that now had a legal responsibility because she’d married Freya’s father.

  “You’re not hungry?” Elijah asked Freya. He was a nice man, a man that for whatever reason thought getting married to a self-centered, mean-spirited woman like Meghan was a good idea.

  “No,” Freya said, pushing her plate of the burnt toast and the too-runny eggs Meghan had “cooked.” She stared at the food, her stomach churning. “I prefer my eggs a little less active and my toast a little less black.”

  Elijah started laughing, and that had Freya smiling. But the exasperated sound that left Meghan told her that her stepmother really wasn’t all that pleased with her husband and stepdaughter making jokes about her non-cooking skills.

  “I have to go to school anyway.” Freya couldn’t wait to turn eighteen, to just leave this place behind and let Meghan and Elijah have their perfect little life. They were still newlyweds, Freya assumed, seeing as they’d only been married a few months, but none of this concerned Freya. She tried to keep her nose out of everything Meghan related, tried to focus on doing well in school so she could get a scholarship and live in a dorm—far away from this life. She just wanted to forget about everything she’d lost, everything she was forced to gain, and just wanted be able to start over alone.

  “I’ll take you. I have to go to the office early anyway,” Elijah said, stood, and smiled down at Freya.

  “I’m okay to walk, really.” She grabbed her bag off the tiled floor and turned, making her way toward the front door. But before she could open the door Elijah was there opening it for her.

  “Ladies first,” he said and grinned. He was such a nice man, and Freya couldn’t understand why he’d want someone as self-absorbed as Meghan. Freya ducked her head, stepped out of the front door, and murmured a thank you. She was minding her own business on all of this and just focusing on herself. She had three more years and she could get out of this damn house and away from Meghan, this town, and all the memories of what she didn’t have anymore.

  They made their way over to his Range Rover. The fact that Elijah had money, and owned his own company, was most likely a very big reason Meghan married him.

  Once in the vehicle and when Elijah was on his way to her school, she let the silence surround her. She liked the fact that she felt comfortable when nothing was said, when she was alone. But it was also sad because when she was alone the silence descended on her and she thought about her mom and dad. She didn’t remember a lot about her mother since she’d lost her at such a young age, but she had a lot of memories of her dad, a lot of happy memories that she clung onto.

  “I know Meghan can be a … pill.” He chuckled softly. “For lack of a better word. Believe me, I know.”

  She looked her at him. Elijah was a big man, tall, muscular, with a head full of short black hair, and these green eyes that were so intense they almost seemed unreal. Freya knew an attractive man when she saw one, and Elijah definitely was. But the fact he married Meghan, a woman that was beautiful on the outside but ugly on the inside, made him seem not so attractive. But he was nice, and it wasn’t a good thing for her to judge him because of the woman he decided to be strapped with.

  “Can I ask you something?” Freya shifted on the seat, held her backpack in her lap, and saw him nod.

  “Yeah. I know we really don’t know each other, but I’m here if you want to talk. Believe me, I know what can go through a kid’s head. I have a few nieces and nephews,” he said and grinned.

  “What do you see in her?” Freya wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed to ask him that. She was honestly curious why someone would want to be married to a woman that only thought about herself.

  He was silent for a moment, but then he exhaled and glanced at her for only a second. “She can be difficult, I admit, but she’s a good person at heart. I have to believe she is.”

  Freya didn’t bother snorting at that. He clearly didn’t know Meghan the way she did, but he would. It was only a matter of time before he really saw Meghan for who and what she was: a woman only after a man with a fat bankroll and nothing holding him down. Elijah didn’t have any children, and she knew from hearing Meghan when she’d spoken to her father years ago, that she didn’t want any kids.

  They rode the rest of the way in silence, and then when he stopped in front of her school she got out before he could say anything. She just felt like she was out of place in the only home she’d ever known. She hated that, hated that she didn’t belong anywhere.

  One day she’d be gone, and she’d say fuck it all. She’d start her own life, make a new one where she didn’t have to rely on anyone, and that would be the end of it. If she stayed here longer than she had to Freya didn’t think she’d survive, especially not with a stepmother like Meghan being the shadow that darkened her life, and reminding her that her father was no longer here, that her life was no longer the same.

  Chapter Two

  Three years later

  Well, Freya had done it, graduated, gotten that scholarship to a school away from this town and from Meghan, and was currently getting so drunk she couldn’t see straight. But this was what Freya needed, to just become oblivious of anything and everything.

  She’d come to the party with her friend Terra, but she couldn’t find her at the moment. The last time she’d seen her was when she was heading upstairs with one of the football players. So here Freya was, standing here watching people, getting drunk, but not feeling like she cared much because she was nice and loopy.

  The party she was at was at some guy’s parents’ house. They were out of town, so the house was filled with seniors and juniors, but also some freshman and sophomores had weaseled their way in. She thought even some college kids were present. The booze was flowing, the joints being passed around, and half the
student body at the party were either almost fucking, heading to one of the space rooms to do just that, or not caring about screwing right here out in the open. But then again she supposed anyone who was drunk or high didn’t care if people watched.

  There was a group of guys sitting on the couch right across from her, and she was pretty sure they were snorting coke.

  She stared at the lines they made with a credit card and at the mirror they were using as their surface foggy from the white residue. One of the guys rolled up a dollar bill into a tight cylinder, and then leaned forward and inhaled one of the lines through his nose. It was kind of fascinating to watch, but not something she’d ever want to try.

  “You want some?” The deep voice beside her had her turning her head and staring at the guy that stood a few inches from her. She’d never seen him before, and he looked pretty old, maybe college-aged. He grinned, his eyes bloodshot, glossy, and the smell of beer coming from his breath.

  “No, thanks,” she said and shook her head, looking back at the guys doing lines. “It’s just kind of interesting to watch, like I’m in the middle of Boogie Nights or something with all the drugs and sex happening.” She took a drink from her bottle of beer, finishing it off, and was about to go into the kitchen to throw the bottle away and get another one, when the guy that had asked if she wanted coke stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

  “Come on, just a line. I swear it’s like fucking heaven right up your nose. And dripping down the back of your throat.”

  “Sounds tempting,” she said sarcastically, “but I’m not into having heaven snorted up my nose.” She moved away from him and went into the kitchen where a couple was currently making out and groping each other. The girl was sitting on the counter, her legs spread, and the guy wedged between them.

  Freya went to set the bottle on the counter, but she was so drunk she didn’t calculate the distance right and it ended up crashing to the floor, shattering. She closed her eyes, feeling a wave of dizziness slam into her, and knew that she needed to go home. It was time to call this a night. She grabbed a rag, bent down, and started picking up the glass so no one got hurt.

  “Hey.” Terra’s voice was right behind her, loud to be heard over the music, and caused Freya to jump. She jumped, causing the piece of glass in her hand to fall, but not without cutting her hand in the process.

  She gasped, stood and turned to see Terra looking thoroughly mussed. Her red hair was a mess of waves around her face, and her cheeks were flushed.

  “Oh shit,” Terra said, grabbed the rag out of Freya’s hand, and held it to the cut. After a while of lifting the rag and placing it back on the cut checking to see if the bleeding was stopping, Terra finally breathed out and removed the rag again. “The bleeding stopped, and I don’t think it’s that deep.”

  “It doesn’t hurt,” Freya said and braced a hand on the counter to steady herself.

  “That’s ‘cause you’re wasted,” Terra said on a laugh. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  They made their way out of the house, with people staring at them and commenting on the bloody rag held to Freya’s hand. Once they were outside, across the street, and in Terra’s car, Freya looked at her friend. “You’re good to drive?”

  Terra snorted. “I haven’t had anything to drink, although I am a little bow-legged.”

  Freya groaned and closed her eyes, resting her head back on the seat. “No details, please.”

  Terra laughed, but didn’t respond. They drove the twenty minutes it took to Freya’s place, but it seemed like it took forever. By the time Terra parked in the driveway, helped Freya out, and they walked to the front door, Freya turned quickly and emptied her stomach. It lasted a few minutes, and when the dry heaving finally subsided Terra handed her a napkin.

  It wasn’t like Terra was her best friend, or even that close. They went to school together, but it was only when Freya started working at the local coffee shop, which was also where Terra worked, that the two started talking. And that had only happened this year.

  “Where the hell did this come from?” Freya asked and chuckled.

  “My pocket. You’re glad it wasn’t used.”

  Freya groaned. “Nasty.”

  “You’re good to get inside by yourself?”

  Freya nodded. “I feel better now.”

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

  Freya straightened. “Yeah, I feel a lot better now.” After finally convincing Terra she was really okay, she waved at her friend and watched her get in her car and leave. The sound of Meghan yelling came through the front door, and Freya groaned softly and closed her eyes. In the three years since Meghan and Elijah had been married it slowly progressed to where Meghan was a bitching machine. But then again she’d been this way with her father, all the way up until he passed away.

  Freya turned and made her way to the porch. She not so gracefully sat down on the cement step, not about to go in there right now. She might be drunk, and able to blissfully walk through that landmine, but no way in hell was she going to let it ruin the buzz she had going on.

  It was only about five minutes before the sound of stomping feet came closer to the front door. It eventually opened and slammed against the wall, but Freya didn’t bother turning around. Instead she leaned her head on the banister next to her, closed her eyes, and waited for everything to pass. But she couldn’t tune out the sound of Meghan bitching at Elijah once more.

  “I am so sick of this bullshit, Elijah,” Meghan all but shrieked. “I can’t live like this where you are never home because you’re working all the damn time—”

  “And how do you expect to buy your Louis Vuitton purses, pay for that brand new Mercedes, or all the other shit you have to have?” Elijah said from inside, in a calm, collected voice.

  “And you,” Meghan spat out. “God, you are worthless, coming home drunk and making the porch reek like fucking puke. College can’t come soon enough for your ass.” Meghan stormed down the porch, away from Freya and the house, and a few minutes later was peeling out of the driveway.

  Freya lifted her hand and flipped Meghan off even though the bitch didn’t see her. It made Freya feel marginally better, so she supposed that was something.

  A second later the sound of Elijah coming toward the front door stirred Freya slightly, but she was feeling nauseous again, and didn’t bother moving to look at him.

  “How much of that did you hear?” he asked after several seconds had passed. He moved onto the step beside her, sitting down.

  “All of it,” she said softly, not really caring about their fight, because she knew she was about to throw up again. Turning her head, feeling humiliated that she was about to puke right in front of him, she braced a hand on the banister and just let it all come out.

  But what surprised her, as she was in the middle of dry heaving in between throwing up bile, was the fact Elijah reached out and grabbed her hair, keeping it away from her face. She would have thanked him, but her body ached, she was embarrassed, and the burping sounds that came from her intermittently had all conversation ceasing with her.

  “You’ll feel better once it’s all out,” he said softly, and started rubbing her back.

  “I don’t think so, because nothing else is left and I still feel like shit.”

  He started chuckling, and after a moment he helped her up and into the house. “Come on, sit down and I’ll get you some water and ibuprofen.”

  Once inside she sat on the couch, closed her eyes, and heard him leave to go into the kitchen. The sound of him opening the cabinet, the bottle of pills being opened, and of him turning on the faucet, seemed so overly loud she actually groaned. When she was about to lie down he came back in the living room and touched her hand.

  “Here, you’ll feel better after you’ve taken these.”

  Freya opened her eyes, took the pills and water he offered, and once they were swallowed she rested her head on the couch. For a second she just stared at him.
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  “Why do you stay with her? She’s such a bitch.” Freya didn’t care if she was being bold. She might have thrown up until nothing was left, might not be as drunk as she was, but she was still pretty buzzed and wanted to know.

  He didn’t answer right away, but he did sit in the seat across from her and brace his forearms on his thighs. He stared down at the ground for what seemed like forever, and then ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

  “I don’t know if she ever planned on telling you this, or if even I did. I know you’re leaving for college in the fall, and getting away will be so good for you.” He leaned back on the chair, his dark hair mussed from him running his fingers through it. His eyes seemed lighter, more sympathetic even. “We aren’t staying together. In fact, I’ve already gotten the paperwork for a divorce. I’m already looking for another place, because I can’t stand to be here with her anymore.”

  She sat up a little straighter. “She didn’t act like you guys were getting a divorce, not with her screaming at you even.”

  He shook his head. “I was going to give them to her tonight, explain it all, but she started acting like, well, herself.” He exhaled again. “I haven’t been happy for a long time, and although I shouldn’t even be telling you these things, I know you haven’t been happy either. We’ll both be breaking away, Freya.”

  She didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say.

  “She never treated you right,” Freya finally said and leaned back again. “No one deserves to be trapped with her self-righteous, self-absorbed ass.”

  He smiled lightly, not really an act that was humorous, but kind of sad. “She has some self-esteem issues, and I think once she address those she may be able to have a good life.”

  Freya rubbed her eyes. “I don’t care if she ever has a good life. She’s an awful woman.”