Chapter 25

25

Three months later…

I was leaning back on my elbow in the grass, legs straight out in front of me, Gracie straddling my chest, diapered tush on my belly. Garrett was sitting next to me, Christian in his lap taking a break from the swings.

“So I can talk to him whenever I want? Mommy, too?”

At my nephew’s question I tipped my head back, closed my eyes, and let the sun warm my face.

I love you, I thought. I miss you, Sister, every day.

“Any time you want,” Garrett said.

“But Mommy won’t answer?”

“No, Buddy. But she can hear you.”

This was relatively new, Christian asking questions about Slater and Analise. I thought this was healthy and I saw the relief on Garrett’s face the first time Christian asked a question about his mom and dad. I knew it was difficult for Garrett to say good things about Slater—it was for all of us, but we did. For Christian and Gracie, we could do anything. Me, Garrett, Mom, and Dad, we had this multi-generational co-parenting thing down.

Life was good.

No. It was better than good—it was freaking fantastic.

“Do you want to talk to Daddy with me?”

At that my eyes popped open.

“Sure. What should we tell him?”

“Umm…” Christian pursed his lips and twisted them.

Something that Analise used to do when she was little. That boy might look just like me but he had his mom’s mannerisms.

“Ah ah,” Gracie babbled. “Ah ah ah.”

“Shh, baby. Big brother is talking to Daddy,” I whispered.

“Da da da da.”

“Yep, Daddy.”

The first time I had to speak sweetly about Slater I thought I was literally going to lose my lunch. But each time I did it, it got easier. I just had to remind myself my only concern was for the kids. Period. The End.

“Why don’t we tell Daddy about the painting you made for Grandma?”

Christian looked less than excited so Garrett tried again.

“Let’s tell him about you and Grandpa fixing Grandma’s clock.”

My nephew was a hard sell so Garrett tried something else.

“What about Mellie taking you and Gracie swimming?”

Christian shook his head and offered his own suggestion.

“Tell Daddy about you taking me to the batting cages and me hitting four balls in a row and you teaching me how to be a first baseman.”

I mostly had Garrett’s back and some of his profile. So I couldn’t tell for sure but the way his body relaxed I figured his face had gentled on Christian.

His soft-spoken words told me I was right.

“You can play whatever position you want, Buddy. And we’re gonna try soccer, too.”

“You played first baseman. Auntie Mellie said that you were the best first baseman who ever lived and you could teach me to be just like you.”

I didn’t exactly say that but close enough.

“What else did your Auntie Mellie say?” Garrett asked.

I should’ve stopped this conversation, but I loved hearing my boys talk. Besides, what could Christian possibly tell Garrett?

“Well, I heard Auntie Mellie tell Grandma that she hopes she’s not really fat when it gets hot. Because Maryland is sticky.”

Oh, shit.

Oh, no.

“It’s getting late. You don’t want to make Cash wait on you guys.”

“Cash is King!” Christian jumped off Garrett’s lap and threw his arms in the air. “Does Gracie have to come with us?”

“Yep. Me and Grandma are getting our toes painted.”

Gracie tossed herself off my lap, landed on her hands and knees, and crawled after her brother until she remembered she knew how to walk. Then she was on her feet running.

Damn.

“Christian, grab your sister,” I said as I hopped to my feet.

Thankfully the park wasn’t busy so I wasn’t worried she’d run through someone’s picnic but we were close to the parking lot. Garrett was faster than I was getting to his feet and faster than Christian.

I watched him scoop up my niece and swing her around before he planted her on his hip.

He would be an excellent girl dad.

“Silly girl, where do you think you’re going?” Garrett asked a giggling Gracie.

Oh yeah, he’d be an excellent girl dad.

“Uncle Garrett, this weekend can we have a barbeque with the team?”

“Absolutely.”

“Will Easton bring his special wieners?”

“Bratwurst,” I corrected, doing my best not to laugh.

“I can’t say that word,” Christian told me something I already knew. “I like special wiener better.”

Of course, he did.

We were almost to the parking lot when Garrett fell into step beside me.

“Is there something you wanna tell me, Melissa?”

“Nope,” I squeaked.

“Nothing?”

“Nope.”

“I think you’re lying to me, Mrs. Davis.”

My heart soared.

That was me, Mrs. Davis.

Signed, sealed, and stamped. My new driver’s license had even come in the mail last week.

Garrett’s parents flew out two months ago after my parents closed on their new house to help them unpack. We had a huge party at our house under the guise of meeting up with his parents and mine. A judge came to the house, and I married the man I’d loved for more than half my life in our backyard. There was no aisle to walk down but still my dad placed my hand in Garrett’s. I had no bridesmaids, but Zane did stand next to Garrett when we exchanged vows.

Then we barbequed.

It was perfect.

Garrett was my husband. My parents lived ten minutes away, meaning my niece and nephew lived ten minutes away and we got to see them whenever we wanted.

See? Perfect.

And soon I’d give Garrett one more best day of his life.

Garrett beeped the locks to his truck and Christian took off to open the door.

I needed six-year-old energy.

“Please don’t ding my car with the door,” I called.

“What’s ding?”

“Be careful not to hit your aunt’s car with the door.”

“Okay!”

So, he’d be a great boy dad, too.

I helped Garrett get the kids buckled before he opened my car door.

“I’ll meet you at home after I drop off the kids.”

“Perfect. See you at home.”

Since the kids—or more to the point Christian—was watching, Garrett gave me a peck on the cheek. His mouth got close to my ear and he whispered, “I already knew your secret.”

He probably did, because he noticed everything.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He kissed my temple, pulled back, and caustically tossed out, “I do the laundry, baby.” As he walked away.

Damn period panties!

Of course he noticed there were none in the laundry.

Whatever. So he knew. But I was still waiting for the right time to tell him.

I got my car started and knew Garrett wouldn’t move until I backed out so I went first. I turned left out of the parking lot toward the nail salon. Garrett turned right toward the indoor batting cages. I was at a red light patting myself down for my phone. When I couldn’t find it I started having a mild panic attack. We no longer lived in the days of free cellphone upgrades when you signed a new contract. Oh, no, phones now cost more than a freaking TV and mine was brand-freaking-new.

After five minutes of searching, I realized my phone was not in my car. I was going to be late meeting my mother. But so be it, I wasn’t losing a thousand-dollar phone.

I parked in the same space I’d just pulled out of and ran—okay, who was I kidding, I jogged—to the patch of grass I’d been lying on, and bingo.

There it was.

I bent forward to pick it up but before I could reach it, I felt a sharp prick on the side of my neck like a bee sting. I lifted my hand to swat it away then everything went black.

* * *

A faraway smackingsound woke me.

Like a leather belt hitting a palm.

Leather on flesh.

Fire seared through me.

Another lash across my back.

“Time to wake up.”

Thwack.

I rolled to my side, curled my knees into my chest, and brought my hands up to cover my face.

What was happening?

Smack, smack, smack.

The pain was so intense I felt my stomach churn. I tilted my head to the side and threw up all over the cement floor.

“Wake up!”

“I’m awake,” I coughed. “Please stop.”

“Get up!”

Get up? How the hell was I supposed to get up when my back was on fire?

A kick to my head landed, stars danced, and my cheek scraped against the puke-covered concrete.

From there I didn’t have to worry about getting up, I was yanked to my feet by my hair. My feet were moving only because my scalp begged me to follow whoever was yanking me around. My shins hit something hard, and I was shoved down.

“Sit.”

I sat.

I chanced raising my eyes and came face-to-face with a very, very enraged Steve Metzbower.

“We can do this the hard way or the easy way, Melissa, choice is yours.”

If every inch of my body hadn’t been screaming out in pain, I would’ve commented on his very cliché opening. But he had a belt and he’d demonstrated how painful leather slashing skin could be.

“Wha..what?” I stammered out.

“Pull up your cloud,” he demanded and shoved my phone in front of my face. “Here, take it.”

I lifted a hand to take it, all of my concentration on my phone. I didn’t see the punch to my temple coming.

My whole body jerked to the side from the force of the punch. I slid my left foot to the side to stop myself from falling out of the chair. A strangled scream mixed with a sob tore through me.

“Shut the fuck up and pull up your pictures.”

“Pictures.”

“Goddamn, you were always a stupid bitch. Who doesn’t save pictures on their phone? Open your picture storage.”

Before I could tell him it was a new phone he shoved it at me again. This time I took it and swiped the screen.

“And who doesn’t lock their phone? Stupid bitch!”

I’d had the phone less than twenty-four hours; there was nothing on this phone yet that required password protection. I didn’t even have email set up. Nothing. It was literally a blank phone.

I had my phone.

Suddenly, hope washed over me like a wave, making just a little bit of the pain recede.

Garrett could track me.

All I needed to do was buy time.

I was pretending to scroll through my phone when I noticed Steve had put it in airplane mode. Could Garrett track my phone in airplane mode? How long would he need? Could I just turn it off then right back on and would my phone bing or blip or, fuck, whatever it’s called?

I turned it off then turned it back on.

“Hurry the fuck up.”

“I have a lot of pictures, Steve, what are you looking for?”

Smack.

Pain ricocheted across my face.

“Well, I’m not looking for wedding pictures of you and that asshole Garrett Davis, that’s for fucking sure.”

How did he know we were married?

Was that how he found me?

“The night your stupid ass snooped around the farm. You took pictures.”

Oh, shit.

I turned the airplane mode off again and lied, “I didn’t take pictures. I was there but I was just seeing if Slater was there. He wasn’t and I left. That’s it.”

Two consecutive punches landed. The first one made me pitch to the side. The second one knocked me back onto the concrete.

Bright lights danced in my vision, tears silently fell as I curled into a ball trying my best to protect my baby.

I felt the first smack of the belt and I curled tighter, tucking my knees under me, giving him my back as a target.

By the third time the belt came down I was gagging. The fourth strike I closed my eyes and hoped Garrett could track my phone.