“I know what I said. I also know what I’ve done. And the two aren’t the same.” He gives a casual flick of his wrist. “You didn’t want to. Said you’d prefer to leave it all in the past. But ...” He pulls away and shoves his hands into his pockets, almost rockingon his heels. “There are always consequences, Ryan. Without them, how do we learn?”
“No.”
“I punished that fucker in the bathroom for making you feel powerless. And maybe the fact that he didn’t get away with it means next time he’ll think twice. Next time, he won’t push it further—impose his will in much worse ways. Same goes for Pete, though on a much grander scale.”
My heart sinks, but not for what he’s done. For what I might’ve driven him to.
“Consequences,” he adds. “There should always be consequences. For breaking the law, breaking promises, bending rules. Or what’s the point?”
“You’re not—”Judge and jury, I was about to say.
“Would you like to see him do to his wife what he did to you?”
“It’s not my place to police him.” And she’s not my responsibility.
“It’s not my place either. But don’t confuse my motives. I’m no knight in shining armor. It was pure ego. I wanted to hurt him, and so I have. Ruined him for what he did to you. See?” He holds out his hands. “Not so perfect after all.”
“This changes nothing, Matt. In fact, it makes my point. I did this, didn’t I? I’m the catalyst for all this ugliness.”
The look he sends me is pure disgust. “You want to play the martyr, you go on ahead. Because fuck you for doing this. For leaving me. You’ll always be the missing part of my life.”
“Maybe you should fight me.”
Consternation flickers on his brow. Confusion, maybe.
“Not fightforme. Fight to protect our child,” I say, pressing my hands to my stomach. My heart beats out of my chest as the things he’s said and done begin to swirl through my head. Without me, he wouldn’t have been pushed to this. This is not who he is.
“What are you talking about?”
The ugliness bubbles up inside, my admission. My confession. Am I really going to tell—share the secret I have held inside me all these years? Reveal my black soul and admit to the act of retribution there is no repenting for?
“I don’t deserve all this ... goodness.” I press my hands to my belly as my eyes fill with tears and my heart with shame. “I don’t deserve to be happy, and I don’t deserve to be a mother. Not when I killed my own.”
Chapter 40
Matt
In front of me, Ryan begins to shake, the tremors running through her body almost seismic.
“Oh, God.” Her hand moves in slow motion, rising to her face. “I’ve never said that out loud before.” She presses her fingers to her lips as though she might be sick.
Immobile, I can’t make sense of what she just said.
Was it a birth thing?
She grew up with her mother—she said she left. Which means ...
No. She’s no killer.
Killer.The word rebounds from the walls of my brain as I recall her heated reaction in October when I playfully called her that—and when those fucknuts from Dreyland called her the same.
Killer queen. Dynamite and—
Ryan staggers to the sink, reaching it just in time. She begins to retch, her distress this time spurring me into action.
Three long strides, and I’m holding her hair, rubbing her back, making soothing noises as she contorts herself. Her belly and height make the job a difficult one, the meager contents of her stomach not helping much either.
“It’s okay,” I say, over and over. As she retches. As she sobs. “Here.” I grab a towel and press it into her hands. She puts it to her face, her shoulders still shaking.
