“It’s my replacement cuss word,” he replies, but his mind is elsewhere. “I’m trying to stop swearing in front of kids.”
Well that’s adorable,I think to myself, despite the unnerving flashback.
“How are you doing after all of that? I mean, I know he hurt you in so many ways, but I would think something like finding your husband dead…” he trails off.
“And accidentally causing his death?” I finish for him, knowing it’s a partial lie. I’d rather he think it was an accident, just like everyone else.
Between my sister’s bathroom ambush at our father’s funeral to tell me she would drop everything in her life to help me get rid of Greg, and Tracy’s plan she literally gifted me, I knew the universe was sending me a message.
Yes, I killed the bastard. I prevented him from seeking medical attention, and I watched him die over the course of several days. It was far and away the most vile thing I’ve ever done and will ever do, and if hell is real then I’ll gladly suffer for eternity knowing I saved my daughters so they could have a better life.
Only Amber and Tracy know what I did, and I vowed they would be the only ones to know. It doesn’t matter that Jonah, a man I’m learning to trust, just smiled and told me it was okay if I killed him. It doesn’t matter if I grow to trust him more than anyone else in this world, I will never admitit to him. I won’t put that stress on someone else.
This is the kind of thing I take to my grave.
My eyes meet Jonah’s and I breathe. “Being free of him,” I say, “is the greatest gift, but it doesn’t mean I’m not haunted. I don’t trust easily, Jonah.”
“I know.”
“I swore off all relationships after him, and I especially don’t allow men in. Not in my home. Not in my heart.”
“I get it. You’re protecting yourself.”
“And my girls.”
“Did he ever hurt them?”
“No. He was close many times, but I always intervened.”
“But they saw how he treated you,” he hedges. “How he spoke to you?” I nod just once. “Then good riddance to that fff—”
The way he cuts himself off his own rage in order to stop cussing brings a smile to my face. “Just say it. You know you wanna.”
“Thatfucker!”
King pops his head up in concern in the aftermath of Jonah’s outburst and trails after him as he paces the living room. Hands on his hips, he weaves between furniture as his breathing picks up. A pink flush grows on his neck and spreads to his face. “Were the police never involved before then? Did you have anyone in your corner?”
“I called the cops on him only once. He was let off with a warning, and said if I ever tried that again he would take the girls away from me.” That’s completely true. I’m finding the hard truth is easier to spill to him than I thought it would be, but it doesn't mean I’ll reveal I killed my husband on purpose.
“You think he would have taken your daughters from you?”
I shrug. “He made me believe my parents and sister were the enemy. He took me away from them. Whywouldn’t I believe he could do it again?”
Jonah finally sits back down. “Was he like this before you got married?”
“No. He knew me since I was a little girl. Greg was my parents’ music producer.”
“What?” he exclaims. “How much older was he than you?”
“Fifteen years. He never made a physical move on me until I was in college, but by then he had laid the groundwork. I was completely in love with him. We got married after I graduated from undergrad. He put me through my master's and doctoral programs... supported me the whole way.
“Things started going downhill when the record label fired him. He convinced me my family was to blame, and he filed a restraining order against them. And when I told him I’d like to perform again, he convinced me that I was never truly talented, but rather I was an embarrassment.”
“There’s no fucking way,” Jonah growls, and he’s up once again, this time charging out of the room. Just when I’m about to get off the couch to find him, he rushes back into the room with a mandolin and a guitar in hand. “There’s no way you’re not talented. I’ve watched the videos of your live performances with your parents.”
“You have?”
He sets his guitar down and tunes the mandolin. “What do you wanna do first? Play or sing?”
