“So I guess we’re not playing nice.” I make my tone as flat as possible, hoping that I fool them into thinking I’m not affected. Not scared.
“It wasn’t nice when you left home without saying a word to us.” This from my dad, who is now frowning at me.
“I left a note. Which was very clear about the fact that I never wanted to hear from either of you again.”
My mom just laughs. “Oh Winsome, please. We’re your parents. You belong with us.”
I know she actually means that I belongtothem, not with them. It’s how they’ve always treated me.
“I belong here. In Star Mountain.”
“With Jonah Smith, right? Your new husband?” My mom smells blood and I’m not sure how to prevent a feeding frenzy.
“With everyone here—with my friends and at the horse rescue.”
It’s my dad’s turn to laugh. “Our little girl, shoveling horse shit in a field. I didn’t believe it until I saw the photos.”
Their P.I. is better than I thought, if they were able to get shots of me working at the barn. Maybe they used a drone or a very long range lens.
“You didn’t really think you could hide from us, did you?”
I say nothing, unsure how to answer my mom’s question. Because truth be told, I did think I could hide. I planned my escape carefully, and I thought I’d be safe in Star Mountain. I thought I’d outsmarted them.
“I wasn’t hiding,” I lie. “I quit my job and came here. I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“You cost us a hell of a lot of money, girl,” my dad lashes out.
Girl. The term he uses whenever he wants to belittle me—to let me know that I’m nothing to him. It’s not going to work anymore, though.
“Imadeyou a hell of a lot of money.” I lift my chin and stare him dead in the eyes.
“And you only had a career because ofme,” my mom says. “Don’t forget that.”
“I had a career becauseIworked hard. I was the one up on stage. I was the one in front of the camera. Don’t forgetthat,”I find myself snarling at her. I’ve never spoken to my mom like that before, and for a moment, I see shock register on her face.
But it’s gone in an instant. She snorts. “Looks like Winsome grew a spine while she was out here.”
“I did.” I cross my arms. “So either get to the point, or get the hell out of here. My friends are waiting for me inside.”
My mom reaches into her bag and pulls out a sheaf of papers. She shoves them at me and I grasp them by one edge, and tug them out of her hands. I skim read them.
“What am I looking at?” I’m pretty sure I know, though, and my heart is already starting to pound, blood already rushing through my ears.
“Divorce papers. For you and Jonah. All you need to do is sign on the dotted line, and you’ll be free.”
“And why would I do that? I don’twantto get divorced.”
“We know,” my father mutters.
“You’ll sign those papers and then you’ll come back to Alabama with us, because if you don’t, we’ll expose this sham of a marriage to the public. We’ll explain how Jonah Smith, an impoverished farm hand with dreams of making it big in the music industry, coerced our poor daughter into marriage as soon as he got wind of her hefty trust fund.” Ice cold fear grips my chest, but she keeps going. “We’ll tell them how he took advantage of you when you were vulnerable and alone, without your family for the first time. He got you to agree to the whole thing while you were drunk, and locked you into an abusive marriage. You’ve never been able to hold your liquor, Winsome.” My mom shakes her head.
“None of that is true,” I say through chattering teeth. The combination of the cold and the anxiety have me shaking.
“Yes it is. One, you and Jonah got married after an evening spent here. Two, you’d only known him for a few weeks at best. Three, it’s clear he needs the money, given the state of his homeand his car and his musical aspirations. Not to mention his mom’s cancer.”
“Bitch,” I breathe. Their P.I. is good, if they were able to figure all that out.
My mom just stares at me.
