“No, it wasn’t. I’m trying to find an appropriate consequence for another month of lost chances for my grandson. And I thought getting to know my future daughter-in-law might help me decide what tact to take. Because while a woman can withstand a certain level of injury while pregnant, I can’t help but wonder if that was my mistake last time.”
“So, get pregnant and the beatings stop?”
“If that’s a deal you’d like, I’ll take it under consideration.”
I scoff. “So, what have you discovered about me?”
A small grin hints at the corner of his mouth. “Enough for today, girl. But we’ll chat again soon, don’t you worry.”
“Understood.” I stand, looking at the sea of red around me. “Why roses?” I ask, trying to get a measure of the man before me.
“They were my first wife’s favorite.”
“Did you love her?”
He picks up his papers, back to mostly ignoring me. “I cared for her. But love is an uncontrollable thing. And I don’t much like things out of my control, Ms. McElroy.”
The path back beckons, but I turn to him one last time. “I don’t know if you care, but if you don’t want me to fail out of school—which would ruin the image I assume you’re curating—I need access to the internet and the opportunity to exercise regularly. Trips needs both as well.”
He flicks two fingers in my direction, leaving me uncertain what the result of my request might be, but at least I know I tried.
About halfway down the path, Trevor waits, leaning against a weeping willow. “Did you have a nice secret conversation with my father?”
“What do you think?”
“I hate secrets. I think that you and my brother are up to something, something besides fake fucking. If I’m being honest, I should have recognized that one sooner. This is your last warning. If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m more than willing to make you suffer until you do.”
I turn to the man in question. “What would you call last night if not suffering? I’m still here. I’m still standing. So, what canyoudo that hasn’t been done? Why wouldyouscare me when your brother and your father don’t?”
A gardener walks past, head down, and Trevor steps to me, wrapping his arm around my waist, yanking me against him, thepain in my cracked ribs making my ears ring, while I try my best to pretend I’m fine.
“That was just me tattling. But I know more about you, sister, than you do about me. There are advantages to being underestimated. This pain? Here, in your ribs?” He tightens his hold until a cough wracks through me. “It’s just the beginning.”
After one more brutal squeeze, he mercifully unhands me, marching down the path, glancing back when I don’t immediately follow. And after a coughing fit, I do. But he’s moved up my watch list. I can’t deal with Papa Westerhouse, not yet anyway, but one grown-up toddler with political power? That I just might be able to handle.
If I can stomach spending time with the asshole, that is.
Chapter 67
Clara
I’m deemed too injured for my scheduled conjugal visit with Trips on Wednesday night, and I’m grateful for many reasons. Despite my best efforts, I didn’t see any of the guys on campus, which has worry gnawing at my nerves. They should have been there, especially after Tuesday’s failed meet.
Not being able to check in is worse than I’d imagined when we hatched this plan.
In lieu of internet access, Smith brought me a pile of printed articles from my student portal, and a word processor that Trips’ dad must have used when he was in college. It took me forty minutes just to figure out how to turn it on. This isn’t what I expected when I asked for supplies.
Which means I’m going to have to take a risk, even if I shouldn’t. It’s been almost a month, and who knows what’shappened on the guys’ end? But I can’t plan anything risky until I’m healthy enough to not fuck it up.
So, I lay propped up in bed with my pile of papers and the highlighter I begged from Mary when she brought me my dinner and an ice pack, my hopped-up energy from being sedentary competing with bone-deep exhaustion from healing. The only break in the monotony is when I hear Mattie outside my door, but after a muffled argument with my guard, she leaves.
I’ll have to hear about her date later.
Silence is seeping into my soul here, and I don’t like it. As much as I hated Trips’ silence when I first met him, it makes sense.
How can you be free with your words when every single one, even the ones spoken in private, can be used against you? And after so long of staying quiet, I imagine finding your voice would be nearly impossible.
Thursday morning, I’m relieved when Falk jams Trips into the back of the SUV with me. I don’t worry about looking needy, about pretending he means nothing to me, and slide right up against him. When his arm wraps around my shoulder, careful of my healing torso, I fold into him, sighing at his comforting scent.
