Chapter Eight
Havingto call your teenage babysitter to tell her you can’t come home yet because your husband tried to kill someone and is now sitting in jail isn’t the worst thing I’ve had to do, but it wasn’t great. Here I was, supposed to be a full-fledged adult with responsibilities and people who look up to me. But alas, I called Lola on the way to the police station, hoping that they’d be let out quickly.
We were told they’d be there overnight at least, so it was better to go home and see in the morning. I hated the idea of leaving Tate in there, but my hands were tied.
I could hardly sleep, worrying about Tate. I prayed that he only got some slap of the wrist type charge for drunk and disorderly. Dallas read my mind the following morning as we ate breakfast. He stabbed at the eggs Lola had made for him and raised his fork to his mouth.
“Better hope Ronny doesn’t try to press assault charges. Tate fucked him up.”
I sighed deeply and took a bite of toast. I wouldn’t put it past him. He was badly bruised inside and out. I imagined both men were still fuming in their respective cells. I grimaced, thinking about what Ronny’s face must look like today. I was sure his nose was broken this time.
“What happened exactly? We were all having a great time last night. And then I go out for a quick smoke and come back to him trying to rip Ronny’s throat off.”
I hesitated in telling him. It was embarrassing. Ronny voiced my own dark thoughts. He hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true last night and that hurt the most out of all of it. I glanced at the living room. Lola was giving Cara her morning bottle, rocking her lightly as she ate.
“He didn’t like that Tate called me her mom.”
“Oh, fuck him!” Dallas exclaimed with a mouthful of food. I blinked at his reaction. He went from amused to pissed in an instant. I was taken slightly aback. He swallowed his food and wiped his mouth roughly. “I don’t care who’s... fuckin’ vagina that baby came out of. She’s your kid. He’s lucky I didn’t hear him say that shit. I would have joined in on the ass kicking.”
His words were reassuring, in their own, vulgar way. The rational side of me knew his words were true, but still, I wondered if it was okay to be Cara’s mother. Ronny could sense that and took his opportunity to hit me where it hurt.Time and time again.
“You know what? He can stay there a while. Fuck him. I don’t know how you dated him for so long. He’s a dick.”
“Aren’t you letting him live with you?” I reached for my coffee. I took a huge gulp of the warm liquid. He snorted and did the same.
“Yeah, but he’s tolerable when he’s not around you. I swear it’s like a switch gets flipped when you’re involved. What did you do to him?” He raised an eyebrow at me, but his smile couldn’t be helped. I raised a finger and shook it vehemently.
“Oh no. I was not responsible for that. You forget the person he was with before me. Tierney was just as crazy as he was.”
“Oh, sweet, sweet Tierney. Man, I wished I had hit that when I had the chance.”
I scoffed. “When did you ever have the chance to sleep with her?”
He stuck his tongue out and took another sip of his coffee.
“I could have if I wanted to. Are you ready to go see who’s the least expensive one to bail out? Want to take bets?” He leapt up, with all the energy of someone on a much higher stimulant than just coffee. I wasn’t quite awake yet. I needed another cup before we started the day.
I finished my breakfast of toast with raspberry jam and then stood up to go. Despite having a full stomach, I still felt queasy. This whole thing was such a mess. I had a feeling I knew exactly which one was going to get more penalized for last night, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Was it fair?
They let us bail both of them out. I took Tate, but I refused to pay for Ronny’s release. His words still echoed through my head.
Considering the tense situation Dallas and I drove to the jail separately so that we could leave separately. Tate was let go first, so thankfully I didn’t have to see Ronny before we left.
He was still in the bloody clothes from last night. His white shirt was now mostly a deep maroon color. I couldn’t believe how much blood there was. It was slightly smeared on his arms, face, and even in his hair. How was there so much?
When he was released, he came out slowly, head still down. He didn’t say much as they did the required paperwork for us to go. I couldn’t help but notice his muscles remained tense, as did his face.
When we were finally in the car alone, he relaxed, pushing his blonde hair back. He grimaced when he felt the dried, crusted on blood matted in the bright yellow strands.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked. I gave him a look but kept driving.
“No? Why would I be? Ronny was being a dick.”
“He was threatening to press charges,” he added. I figured as much but said nothing. “I broke his nose.”
“That’s where all the blood came from?”
He looked down at his shirt and frowned.
