Chapter Twelve

I am dying a thousand deaths inside when we come up to Krista and Zack’s home. I used to love coming here. Turner loved coming here. The four of us always had such a good time together. I remember how excited my brother was when he bought this house as a wedding present for Krista. He drove her here blindfolded the morning before their wedding. I’ll never forget the surprised look on her face when he took off the blindfold and Turner, my dad, and I were standing out front holding a sign saying, “Welcome to your new home.”

Now as it looms closer, my heart rate starts to speed up. My worst enemy is sitting inside that house with my family and only one of them knows the truth. Trent puts on a mighty damn fine job of pretending to be his brother, I will give him credit for that.

I detest him, but myself even more for letting him touch me, control me, make me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling with anyone else except the man who put these rings on my finger. I stand there staring at them like I am learning their meaning for the first time. I am locked in my own personal jail and I will never be free. Every waking second makes me hate the person that I have become even more.

“Put your happy face on, Clove.” Krista snaps me out of my confusion as she takes a crying Nolan out of his stroller.

              “I think someone is getting hungry.”

I pat his cute little bottom as Krista places him up on her chest and he nuzzles his mouth towards her breast.

              “I think you’re right,” she coos at him as we enter the house.

Dad is the first one up as we walk through the door.

              “Holy shit, that boy has some lungs on him!” my dad exclaims as he tries to get Nolan’s attention.

              “He’s hungry, James, so I’m going to take him to his room to feed and change him.”

              “All right, dear, but bring him back out here so I can see the little man before I leave. He and I need to have a talk.”

              “Whatever, Dad. What could you possibly have to discuss with a two week old baby?” I question with a smartass look on my face.

Leave it to my father to put a much-needed smile on my face.

              “We need to start talking about me teaching him how to hunt.”

His face goes all serious and he pulls his pants up and puffs out his chest.

              “You did not just say that shit about my son, Dad.”

Zack enters the conversation from across the room where he has his feet propped up on the coffee table and a beer in his hand. His eyes are glued to the baseball game and yet he can still hear my dad.

              “I sure as shit did, boy. That kid has a firm grip on those little hands, which means he’ll be able to grip a shotgun real damn good.”

              “My kid is not hunting, Dad. And that grip he’s got means he is going to play some ball just like his dad did.”

Zack is totally egging my dad on now.

              “We’ll see about that,” Dad says as he takes his seat next to Zack and pats him on the leg.

The two of them bantering back and forth has me thinking how good it is to feel right at home. That is, until I feel arms snake around my middle from behind. Despite it being nice and warm outside, I suddenly go cold all over. The bristle on the back of my neck stands up as he leans his head on my shoulder.

“Hey baby. How was the walk?” He nips at the side of my neck.

              “It was great. I feel refreshed and thirsty. I’m going to get some water. Excuse me for a minute.”

Trent releases his hands and they drop to his side as he strides back and sits in the chair.

              “I need another beer,” I hear Zack say as I enter the kitchen.

              “Grab me one too, would you, bro?” Trent asks and my eyes grow wide as I think about what Zack must be feeling.

              “Dad, you need one?”

              “Nah, I’m good. I need to be going soon anyway, and you know two is my limit, son.”

I hear what sounds like a pat on the back or shoulder as I stand in the middle of the kitchen like a statue waiting for my brother.

              “Mother fucking piece of shit scum bag,” Zack mutters softly as he enters the kitchen. “God, Clove. This is fucking torture. You have no idea how much I want to arrest that fucker right now.”

Zack quickly darts my way and pulls me in for a hug.

              “I know, Zack.”

              “She told you everything, then?” He says as he steps away and goes straight to the fridge.

              “Can you grab me a bottle of water out of there?” I ask a little too loudly.

              “Yes, and you and I need to talk. Can you call me first thing in the morning at the office?” I question.

He nods his reply, twisting the caps off of both beers and taking a long, deep swig of his.

              “Hang in there, sis. I love you.”

              “I love you, too.” I whisper as he walks away.

For the hundredth time in a matter of days, I go pretend to be the happy little wife even though nothing seems to make me happy. I doubt if I will ever know the true meaning of that word again.

After hugs, kisses, and a promise to call my father for lunch, Trent and I are on our way home. His hands seem to be all over me the minute we hit the interstate and it’s making me enormously uncomfortable as his hands roam everywhere.

              “We’re going to crash if you keep that up, you know.”

I’m dripping with enthusiasm on the outside and yet on the inside I am fighting him off with everything that I have. Right at this moment I may be able to tolerate having his hands on me, but at least for tonight I am going to make sure that is as far as he gets.

With each new day I pray that this is the day Turner just walks through our front door, or he calls me and says he is okay. How nice it would be to pull into my driveway and walk into my house and there he is, waiting for me like he would do any other night when I would be out. I know it’s not going to happen.

My Turner, my love, and my life is somewhere out there suffering even more so than I am, and the thought of anyone hurting him has my heart numb. I am empty inside. If this is the end of my perfect marriage to the man of my dreams, I know I will not have the strength to move on from the loss of him.

There is no need to pinch myself to see if I am dreaming; this nightmare is so fucking real that it will forever haunt me.

Trent’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

“What are you thinking about over there, Clove? Did you even hear a word I said?”

“Eh. Nothing important. Just daydreaming.”

“About what?”

He keeps his head facing the road while his hand continues to roam up and down my thigh. I need to think of something rather quickly so he will shut the hell up and get me home. All I want is to crawl into my bed and pray like hell he leaves me alone.