‘Steve!’ Sarah stared stunned at her phone, her stomach turning inside out as she realised he’d hung up.
Thirty
Steve
Steve’s heart missed a beat when Laura walked into the kitchen as he ended the call. ‘I thought you were in the bath,’ he said, offering her a cautious smile.
‘I hadn’t got in yet.’ She looked at him, her eyes flecked with uncertainty, which immediately made him feel bad. He should be talkingtoher, not about her. ‘I came down for some wine. Was that Sarah?’ She nodded to the phone still in his hand.
His heart dropped. ‘You heard?’ he asked needlessly. It was obvious she had, but possibly not all of it. The look in her eyes now was one of mistrust, making him feel even worse. Did she really feel that way about him? Thathewas someone she couldn’t trust? Why hadn’t she felt able to confide in him?
Closing her eyes, she answered with a small nod. ‘She’s spoken to my ex-husband,’ she said, her voice flat, defeated almost.
A visible shudder running through her, she wrapped her arms around herself, and Steve’s chest constricted. She looked pale, so small and fragile, like a frightened child. What the hell had gone on in her life that was so terrible it had reduced her to this? Anger on her behalf simmering inside him, he instinctively took a step towards her, but she moved back.
‘I need to talk to you; to explain,’ she said, lifting her chin as if in defiance. Her eyes, though, were filled with such unbearable anguish it almost tore his heart from inside him. ‘I should have told you before,’ she went on, scanning his face as she did, as if trying to read his reaction, ‘but I didn’t know how. I was too ashamed. I …’
He heard her voice catch, and reached out to her, only for her to visibly flinch.
Shit. He sucked in a breath, his anger turning to quiet fury. Something had gone on between her and this bloke Sarah had taken it on herself to seek out. Something Laura was too embarrassed to tell him about. He had a sick feeling in his gut that he knew what it was.
‘Come and sit down,’ he said, his own voice tight with emotion as he reached gently for her again. She didn’t move away this time, though neither did she unclasp her arms from around herself as he guided her towards the table. Her body language was defensive. He could feel her trembling. What had this bastard, who was obviously spreading complete bullshit about her, done to hurt her?
After helping her into a chair, he fetched the wine from the fridge, filled a large glass and placed it on the table. ‘Medicinal,’ he said, giving her a reassuring smile as he pushed it towards her.
Laura smiled tremulously back, then pressed her hand to her mouth to suppress a sob, which exacerbated his fury.
‘I’m listening, Laura.’ He went to her, tentatively placing an arm around her shoulders. She didn’t flinch this time. He felt relief flood through him. ‘I’m here for you,’ he assured her softly, ‘if you want me to be.’
She answered with a more fervent nod and breathed deeply, trying to hold the tears in, he guessed, his heart plummeting another inch. Carefully he eased away from her, giving her the space he sensed she might need, and seated himself opposite her.
She reached for her wine, her hand shaking as she lifted the glass to her lips, her teeth clinking against it as she tried to sip. Steve watched, feeling a combination of sympathy and impotence as she placed the glass back on the table, wiping away a drip that had spilled from it with her finger and then staring intently at it. Not seeing it, he guessed, her mind on whatever horrors she was struggling to communicate.
He didn’t speak, waiting patiently instead until she was ready.
‘He was abusive,’ she said eventually, her gaze dropping back to her glass, her voice barely a whisper. ‘I’m thinking you’ve probably gathered that.’
Steve nodded, as her gaze flicked back to his, and swallowed. Still he didn’t speak. She needed time to gather herself. An aggressive reaction from him wouldn’t help her do that.
‘He wasn’t at first. He was kind and attentive, and I … I was in love with him.’ She shrugged sadly and dropped her gaze again.
Falling quiet, she ran a finger around the rim of her glass, and then looked back at him. ‘I can’t believe I actually agreed to marry him. That I was so naïve when the signs were already there. He wanted to make all the decisions around the wedding – when, where, how many guests we had. I didn’t get much of a say in anything.’ She faltered, her eyes full of self-recrimination, which shook him.‘He really ramped up the abuse once the “honeymoon” was over,’ she went on, with a scornful laugh. ‘Psychological abuse turned to physical abuse. I suppose it was inevitable really.’
Inevitable? Jesus.Steve massaged his forehead, held fast to his temper.
‘He put a lock on the bedroom door,’ she continued after an interminably long pause. ‘On the outside.’
He locked her in?Shocked to the core, he snapped his horrified gaze back to her.
‘Told people things about me that weren’t true,’ she went on, her eyes fixed firmly down. ‘Lies to explain my bruises. He didn’t want people to like me, didn’t want me to go out and see people, or for people to see me – for obvious reasons.’ She smiled bitterly. ‘He was very logical, very cold and clinical. All the while telling me that it was my fault he was the way he was. That I deliberately provoked him. My going out provoked him. Flaunting myself at other men provoked him. Being slovenly provoked him – he liked everything in the house to be pristine and dust-free. He would run his fingers along the skirting boards and picture frames. Woe betide if I hadn’t cleaned properly.’
She wavered, reaching shakily for her glass, as Steve forced back the words that badly wanted to spill from his mouth. The man was vermin, a complete and utter cowardly bastard.
‘Of course he would tell me every morning before the punishment started how much he cared about me. That he loved me. Couldn’t bear to lose me.’ She laughed cynically again, a laugh that turned to a sob that caught in her throat.
Steve swallowed back a sharp knot in his own. Enough, he thought. She’d told him enough. His heart banging so violently he thought his chest might explode, he pushed his chair back. If he ever had anything to do with the man, he would be responsible for murder.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ he said, his tone firm as he crouched down beside her, gently taking hold of her hand. ‘You didn’t provoke him. The sick bastard who did this is to blame, not you.’
