A Christmas Wedding. Tracy Wolff
from far away, followed by a crash and then, suddenly, she was free. Her lungs were on fire as she sucked in gulp after gulp of oxygen.
She could hear Steve whimpering behind her, could hear the slap of flesh hitting flesh. She struggled to her hands and knees and tried to get to her feet, but her legs felt like jelly.
“Stay there, Desiree. Don’t move.” Jesse’s voice bit off the words, and relief pumped through her. They were only five words, but they were the five sweetest words she’d ever heard. Jesse was here. Everything would be okay. She would be okay.
Another crash, another groan. She turned in time to see a bruised and bloody Steven hit the wall face-first. “Are you okay?” It was Jesse’s voice again, harsher than she’d ever heard it. She stared at him, watched his eyes burn with a rage so black it nearly frightened her.
“I’m fine, Jesse.” Her voice was hoarse, raw. Jesse snarled at the sound, his eyes taking in her torn dress and mud-streaked face, her bruised flesh and shaking body.
With a growl of fury, he buried his fist in Steven’s stomach. The power of the blow drove Steven to his knees and he knelt on the ground, retching. His clothes were now as torn and dirty as hers, his nose bled profusely and his arms were wrapped defensively around his stomach when Jesse reached down and grabbed him by the back of his shirt.
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