I brought this upon myself. I deserve to carry it and have it weigh me down for the rest of my miserable life. I deserve it. I welcome it, and I crave the guilt. Rolling over onto my back, one silent tear rolls down my cheek. How pathetic is that? Just one tear. Am I all cried out? Who the fuck knows anymore? One thing I do know is I will never be the same person I was before.

When my mind clears, I hear the shower running. Suddenly it turns off and I hear the squeak of the shower door opening. I listen to the noises of Trent moving around in the bathroom as he opens and closes a few drawers and then starts up an electric razor.

I pull the comforter over my hand to try and drown out the sound of him using my husband’s personal things. He is wearing Turner’s clothes, using his toothbrush. It’s sickening and maddening all at the same time. I just want to curl up in a tight ball and cry and scream and lash out thinking about every aspect of this.

Once the razor shuts off and he is silent for a few moments, I pull the comforter back down and close my eyes, pretending to still be asleep. I hear the door open when he enters the bedroom. He rustles around in the closet for a bit and then I hear him at Turner’s dresser opening a drawer and then closing it again.

The end of the bed dips as he sits and that is when I open my eyes and stare at the back of his head, watching him put on socks and shoes. Visions of me crawling up behind him and stabbing him right in his fucking back have me smirking. God, I have never thought about killing anyone before in my life! Yet I welcome the thought of actually doing it more and more these days as my face twists into its now perpetual scowl. Yeah, if looks could really kill he would be so dead right now.

“Have a great day,” my chirpy voice startles him.

“Shit, babe! You scared me. Sorry if I woke you.”

He stands and comes around to my side of the bed.

“Oh, I need to get up anyway and get ready to go see your mom.”

His jaw tightens and his lips twitch slightly as I study his reaction. He regains his composure as he bends down and kisses me on top of my head. He’s singing a different tune than he was a few hours ago when he had his dick up my . . . God!

“Don’t forget to tell her I said I will give her a call very soon.” He grins and steps away.

“I’ll make a pot of coffee and grab a bagel or something and leave you to your day then.”

“See you for dinner then,” I holler after him as he walks out the bedroom door.

Damn, I hope today I get the answers I need to lead me closer to finding Turner so I don’t have to sleep another night in the same bed as this man.

I wait about fifteen minutes or so to make sure he is gone and then I hurl myself out of bed and rush into the bathroom. I take the quickest shower known to mankind, paying extra attention to my backside. I feel sick to my stomach for enjoying myself. I need to keep reminding myself that it wasn’t me who allowed him to do what we did. It wasn’t me. I am a pretending to be someone I am not, just like he is. If I don’t keep telling myself that over and over again, I am not going to survive this and I will never find Turner, ever.

Picking up my towel and haphazardly drying off, I rush around the bedroom. I am going for comfort today, putting on a pair of denim capris and a pale yellow tank top. I stand in front of the mirror and braid my long hair off to the side. I waste no time brushing my teeth and applying minimal makeup. Finally, I slip into my black flip-flops and race downstairs to the kitchen.

I dump the remaining coffee out of the pot, afraid to even drink it. It could be poisoned for all I know. After seeing the picture of Turner and what this man has done to his own brother, who knows what the hell he would do to me? The man has no conscience at all and there is no way I trust him.

I shoot a quick text off to Melody letting her know I am on my way, then I grab my purse. I am out the door and on the road within thirty minutes of climbing out of bed. Setting my phone to hands-free, I hit my brother’s number and he answers right away.

“Thank Christ you’re all right, Clove. I have been worried out of my fucking mind all damn night.”

I hear a hint of uneasiness in his tone. My nerves suddenly jump all over the place.

“What? Why?”

“My sister is living with a damn criminal, that’s why. Shit, Clove! If he had any hand in what happened to his brother, what makes us think he wouldn’t do the same thing to you, or worse? It’s time you get out of there and come and stay with us.”

“Are you serious, Zack? I am not leaving there. What if they kill him? Neither one of us would be able to forgive ourselves.”

I can’t even wrap my mind around the fact my husband could die over this. Dread so deep fills my mind and my body that I start to cry.

“Clove, listen to me. They want something and they are not going to kill him until they get it. Now I am not taking no for an answer. You are coming here and I fucking mean it. Do not go back to your house. You’re my sister and I need you to be safe while we investigate this. I should have never let you go back with him in the first place, even though I have Martinez following you.”

His voice sounds a little calmer at the mention of his partner’s name. I look in my rear view mirror and yup, there is Martinez in his black SUV following a few cars behind me. My tears continue to fall and I let them, not giving a shit what I look like anymore.

I drive in silence as I listen to my brother’s instructions. As soon as I am done talking to Melody, I am supposed to go straight to his house. Anxiety and panic set in and I start to shake. Can I do it? Can I live with myself knowing I could be risking my husband’s life?

“Fine. Zack. I will be there, but I do have to stop at the house. I have absolutely nothing with me. Besides, Trent is at the office all day and like you said, Martinez is following me. I will run in and grab what I need and be back out within fifteen minutes,” I promise, the tone of my voice letting him know I am not negotiating this with him.

“You’d better be here by noon, Clove, or so help me God I will come and get you myself,” he demands.

“All right, all right.”

“And stop crying, sis. You’re going to get the answers we need from Melody, I just know you are, and it’s going to put us even closer to finding out where Turner is.”

I take a deep breath and listen to my brother try to calm me as I pull into Melody’s drive. Martinez parks across the street. Climbing out of my car and nodding in his direction, I move with purpose. Fuck me if I don’t look up and Melody is standing on the front porch looking worse than I know I do.

Melody has betrayed both Turner and myself and as I transfix my gaze on her, she recoils as if I have just bitch slapped her . . . which is exactly what I will do if she doesn’t give me one hell of a damn good reason as to why she has never told her son the truth all these years.

I continue to stay distant and cold as ice as I approach her.

“Good morning, Clove.”

Her voice is unsteady and unsure.

“No. I wouldn’t call it a good morning at all, Melody. Would you?”

I glare murderously.

“No, I guess it’s not. And most likely never will be again, by the look on your face.”

I say nothing as I pass her by and open the door to her house. She follows right behind me, and when I enter the foyer of her home my throat instantly goes dry when I see all the familiar pictures on the wall and fireplace mantle of Turner and myself. My eyes land on one of them and at lightning speed my legs have me standing in front of it.

“That photo has always been my favorite of the two of you.”

“Yes. Mine too.”

I feel her stand close behind me. I continue my survey and precious memories flood my mind of the day this picture was taken. Turner and I were so young and carefree then. It was taken by his mother about three months after we started dating.