I didn’t even look over at him. I closed my eyes and counted from ten backward down to one, before opening my eyes and facing him.
“That,” I pointed over my shoulder at the place we just exited, “was me trying not to get a woman killed.”
His face crinkled into confusion and anger. “How the hell was that? You saw the look on their faces. They’re scared as fuck of him. And we’re just going to pretend like he isn’t beating the shit out of his wife? What if you’d been by yourself? I saw the look he gave you before I stepped up.”
I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “He wouldn’t have done anything to me.”
“And how the fuck do you know that?”
I rolled my eyes skyward, hating this conversation. Hating that I knew all too well the inner-working of abusers.
“I just know it.” I didn’t want to explain all the details of my knowledge.
“That’s not good enough. How the hell do you know what that man is capable of? How do you know he wouldn’t have hurt you on the spot?”
“And what would you have had me do? Confront him on the spot?”
“Of course not. Call the police? You know that man is abusing his family.”
A sarcastic laugh escaped my throat, and I shook my head in disbelief. “You think it’s that easy, huh? Call the police? Or what? Why can’t she have one of her male relatives handle him for her, right?” I’d heard all those suggestions too many times to count.
“Well?” He looked at me as if that was exactly what Anne Marie should’ve done.
“You don’t get it,” I shook my head.
“Explain it to me. Why can’t she just fucking leave?” His voice was heated.
“Do you know the many ways abusers manipulate their victims?” I began feeling my anger rise. “Do you know they spend months—hell, even years—isolating their partners from family and friends, so they have no one to turn to in times of need? Abusers don’t hit victims on the first date. They wine and dine and are some of the most charming people you will ever meet in your life. All of that gains trust, all the while slowly gaining control over their victims. By the time the first hit does come, victims believe it’s their fault. So they try to behave better, dress more conservatively, not talk back, not get the attention of other suitors as to not set off their abuser’s jealousy. Anne Marie has been with her husband for years. She’s a stay-at-home mom, which means he has control of all the finances. She feels trapped—exactly how he wants her to feel.”
Xavier’s jaw clenched as he thought it over.
“So yeah, just telling her to leave sounds simple, but do you know when the most dangerous time in an abusive relationship is?” I fully turned to make sure I had Xavier’s full attention, waiting for him to look at me.
“When the victim tries to leave. It’s the time when an abuser feels most compelled to act out violently, because they’re losing control. Nine times out of ten, when a victim of domestic abuse is killed by their partner, it happens when the victim finally left and tried to move on with their life. And in Anne Marie’s case, it’s even more critical because she has a child with him. That increases the likelihood of violence and even death. So no,” I ran my hand through my hair, turning from Xavier to look out the windshield. “I didn’t tell Anne Marie to leave or call the police because I don’t want her or Noah to die.”
I pressed my back against the seat, feeling depleted after that explanation. I closed my eyes, waiting for Xavier’s response. It was quiet for a long moment until I heard the car start and we began pulling out of the parking lot.
I was too exhausted to open my eyes after that exchange. I was also worried about Anne Marie and Noah. It’d been nearly two months since I’d last heard from her, right before she left the women’s shelter. I saw the look of fear in her eyes when Michael asked how we knew each other. I feared what Michael would do if he found out I was a divorce attorney. I was afraid of it all, and I’d been fearing for her in the two months since I’d last spoken to her. Carrying the burden of fear was tiring, so after I’d spilled all that to Xavier, I felt drained.
Eventually, I did open my eyes, looking over at the man in the driver’s seat. His jaw clenched in a way that looked almost painful. I looked out the window to notice we’d passed the exit back to my place.
“Why’re we headed back in the direction of your home?” I questioned.
“’Cause I want to spend the rest of the day with you.” His voice was low, filled with something I couldn’t pinpoint.
“I thought you were going to visit your mom today.”
“I can go see her tomorrow.”
I teased, trying to lighten the serious mood, “Are you trying to kidnap me?”
He simply grunted and kept driving.
Chapter Fifteen
Xavier
Yes. No. Shit, maybe I was trying to kidnap her.
