That time it wasn’t my voice. It was Jackson’s. I tried to recall his instructions from when he had me pinned to the gym floor all those weeks ago, demonstrating a self-defense move. But every time I tried to remember what he’d taught me, fear sliced me apart, splintering the memories into mismatched puzzle pieces. There was no way I’d be able to get myself free. Not now. This was real. It wasn’t pretend.
My heart beat so fast, I feared the muscle would seize up any moment. Every breath I took stuttered from my lungs as my vision blurred. I didn’t want to cry, to show weakness, but the longer he held me down, the more my panic ripped through me.
“How many times did you fuck him?” he asked, grabbing at my flesh and making me wince. In the twelve minutes since Jackson left, Mitch had physically hurt me more than he had during our entire marriage.
I was fully exposed, but I couldn’t focus on my embarrassment right now. I had to calm down enough to formulate a plan and pray I could execute it. But how could I do that with my life literally hanging in the balance?
You can do this.
I can’t.
You have to.
“I didn’t do anything with him,” I lied, unable to control the shakiness of my voice.
“You’re lying. I saw the way he came to your defense when I showed up. He wouldn’t do that unless you let him fuck you.”
“You’re wrong. He’s my boss. He was only looking out for me.” I pleaded with my eyes, but he looked right through me.
“I know what I saw.”
Think, Sophie. What can I say to make him hear me?
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. When he didn’t respond, I uttered the words again, this time raising my voice. “I’m sorry, Mitch.”
The haze that covered his eyes disappeared, and he looked at me. Not past me. “What are you sorry for?”
I unclenched my jaw and released a breath, reminding myself I had to sound believable. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better wife to you. I’m sorry I ran away after the baby died.” Every word I said was a knife through my heart, but I kept going. “I never should have left you.” I held his gaze as my tears spilled over. “I love you. And I want to come home.” My stomach turned with the fauxadmission, but if this worked, it would be worth the disgust that slithered through every part of me.
A ghost of a grin lifted the corner of his mouth but fell away seconds later. Did he believe me?
“You want to come home?” His tone was riddled with skepticism. “You regret leaving me?”
“I do.” I flexed my numb fingers. “Can you let go of my arms?” I softened my expression as best I could and even smiled at him. “Please.”
He waited a moment before finally releasing me. I held the smile as my arms fell to the bed. I stretched my limbs, then massaged the muscles to get the blood flowing freely again. Testing the strength of my arms, praying they’d hold up for what I had planned, I mentally ran through the steps Jackson taught me.
“Once you come home, you’ll tell your lawyer to forget about the divorce papers, right?”
“Of course.” I cinched my robe as best I could, all while keeping my eyes pinned to his. His eyeline dropped to my chest but didn’t linger long. “I promise. I’ll call him tomorrow and tell him we’re staying together. That we’re going to work on our marriage.”
Mitch leaned in close and pointed at me. “If I find out you’re lying or you ever try to leave me again, I’ll kill you.”
I didn’t react to his threat. “I belong with you. I know that now.”
He leaned back and narrowed his eyes, studying me, probably wondering if I was lying or not. In the end, he must’ve believed I told the truth, because he sat up straight, all while continuing to pin me to the bed with his weight.
I was still exposed from the waist down, and if Mitch wanted to, all he would have to do was yank down his zipper and force himself on me. The thought alone drove me to act, and as soon asMitch’s posture relaxed, I said something I never thought I’d say to him again.
“Can I kiss you?” I asked, needing him closer for this to work. He didn’t like to kiss, but I hoped he’d see this as another win for him, reducing me to someone he perceived to beg for his affection.
He roughly ran his palm over my mouth before he leaned down, and right before his mouth touched mine, I crossed my arm over my chest and grabbed his forearm. Then I put my other hand on the side of his neck, placed my foot on his pelvis, pivoted and raised my other leg so it rested above his armpit. Before he could react, I shifted my foot from his pelvis and wrapped my leg around his neck and locked my ankles together. Thankfully, Jackson had made me practice this move many times, and everything came rushing back. Mitch started to say something, but I moved too quickly, both of my hands now on his forearm. I raised my hips and used my leg strength to flip him onto his back. I kept hold of his arm, remembering that Jackson said in this position, I could break it, which was understandable, as I was perpendicular to his body and his arm was extended. I didn’t want to break his arm, but if I let him go without executing the move, I wouldn’t be able to get away from him quickly enough. And once he caught me, I truly believed he’d kill me.
Mitch let out a piercing scream as I twisted his arm. The sight of his contorted face and clenched teeth made my heart race faster as a surge of adrenaline coursed through my veins. My muscles tensed, and a rush of heat washed over me. With a deep inhale, I mustered up the courage to extend his arm even further, twisting it unnaturally. Suddenly, a bone-cracking snap echoed through the air, sending a shiver down my spine. A battle of guilt and triumph ensued as I tumbled off the side of the bed. The sound of his arm breaking was nothing compared tothe sound that erupted from his mouth. A sound I’d never heard another human being make.
He writhed, screamed, and shouted. I got to my feet, snatched my cell from the dresser, and ran toward the front door. I was on the landing two seconds later, hurrying down the steps and praying I didn’t trip and fall. Cinching my robe, I rushed toward the back of the gym, hoping it was still open. I got my answer when the handle turned. I fled inside, tears streaming down my cheeks as I searched for someone to help me. I tumbled into the main part of the gym, and there were people everywhere working out. No one noticed me at first, but then a few tossed their glances my way. One woman stepped off her treadmill, but before she took a step toward me, Trevor came around the corner.
He was in front of me several strides later. “Sophie, what happened?” He attempted to touch me, and I flinched. Tears continued to coat my cheeks, but I couldn’t speak. My body trembled. “Where’s Jackson?” he asked, clenching his jaw and flaring his nostrils. I didn’t blame him for thinking somehow his friend was the cause of my distress because what other explanation could there be for my state right now? All I could do was shake my head, though, hoping he understood that Jackson had nothing to do with why I was hysterical right now. “Come with me,” he urged, placing his hand lightly on my lower back and guiding me toward the office, where we’d have privacy.
