Always A Pleasure [Book 2]

Fifty

Katherine woke up from an awful nightmare of her father. One where she was a teenager again, still stuck under his care. One where he nearly beat her within an inch of her life after she stayed out past curfew with her friends — something that any rebellious teenager would do. She just remembered gasping for breath, trying to breathe as her father hit and kicked her over and over.

She woke up in a cold sweat, realizing that night still hung in the sky and that she was safe, laying in bed next to Harrison. It was a little after four in the morning and Katherine could not get back to sleep, not after a nightmare like that.

Things were bad for her growing up, but she was grateful it wasn't as bad as her nightmare depicted. Sure, her father would hit her, throw her around, but he would never attack her so badly that she clung to life. But there was a lot of verbal abuse, and slaps across the face, and bruises on arms from him grabbing her so tightly or throwing her into furniture when he was drunk and upset. A punch here, a kick there.

The worst instance was when he pushed her so hard into the kitchen counter that it broke her wrist when she fell against it. She was in a cast for two months. She lied for her father, telling the ER doctor, and anyone else who asked, that she clumsily tripped on the kitchen rug and fell into the counter.

Only her and her father knew what really happened. She never told anyone the truth. No one. Until Harrison. Though she only alluded to it, not wanting to talk about it outright, he grasped the severity of what happened. It was devastating to her when Harrison told her grandmother about the incident, but in the weeks after, she felt a sense of peace about it. Someone else knew and her father couldn't hurt her anymore.

Katherine actually couldn't be sure her father even remembered breaking her arm. He was on a massive bender at the time and was fucked out of his mind on hard liquor and adderall — her adderall that she had been prescribed for ADHD. Though she was never actually able to take it because her father only filled the prescription selfishly. He either took it to get high or sold it for money to get drunk. She never had control over it.

Katherine made her way out of bed, trying her best not to disturb Harrison as he slept peacefully. She pulled on her black silk robe over her naked body before quietly slipping out of the bedroom. She made her way to the kitchen, flipping on the light, causing her to cringe from its brightness.

It was only four in the morning, so she thought maybe a bit of chamomile tea would help her relax. When she finally put the kettle on, she heard footsteps padding to the kitchen. A very tired, very naked Harrison made his way toward her, his eyes squinting because of the light. He was so beautiful. It took her breath away.

"Mon ange. What are you doing? It's late," he questioned as he brought his hand up to shield his eyes from the bright light in the kitchen.

"I just... I woke up from a bad dream and couldn't get back to sleep," she told him, feeling her cheeks flushing when she realized she didn't want to relay to him what the dream was about because it would give him another reason to try to convince her not to go visit her father later that day.

"Angel," Harrison cooed as he stepped up to her, wrapping his arms around her.

She melted into him, encircling him in her arms as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry that you had a bad dream. Do you want to have a chat about it?"

"Mm-mh," she hummed out her unwillingness to talk about it.

"Okay. You don't have to," he breathed, pressing a reassuring kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you," she murmured.