Page 96 of Staying for You

“Sweetheart, you need to know the extent of how crazy Scott really is.”

“What do you mean?”

“He… well, he’s not a good person. And he was planning some pretty serious shit.”

She plays with the hair on the base of my neck and it almost makes me forget all the stuff I have to tell her. The extreme of his ugliness. “Like what?”

“Did you know he was socking away money?”

“What? Why? Like, he had a second account?”

“He did.”

“That asshole! Never worked a day — well, aside from being a damn hooker — in his life and he’s taking money from me?”

So, clearly, she didn’t know about the second account, which is good.

“He was. And someone else’s name was on it, too.”

“Who?” she asks quietly. I wonder if she’s afraid that Helen’s name was on it. It’s clear that if she brought her along, she feels she can trust her.

“Don’t know his name.”

“His?”

I brush my thumb across her cheek and kiss the tip of her nose then launch in with everything Sawyer told me. With each additional fact, she grows stiffer and stiffer, eyes bulging and breathing is heavy. Barely moving, I finally ask her how she is.

“Scott was going to have me killed?”

“Evidence is leading to that, yes.”

“Holy shit.”

“Need to throw up? That’s what I did when I heard.”

The corner of her mouth ticks up but otherwise she doesn’t show any emotion.

“I just… I can’t believe this.”

“I guess we can say with authority that you were right when you said he’s a fucker earlier.”

She nods but says nothing. I would guess she’s feeling a bit numb at the moment, which is understandable. To discover your husband had plans to kill you is an extreme shock, to say the least.

“This is too much.”

“Offer still stands for you to throw up.”

A single laugh bubbles out of her chest and then she snorts. “Stop making me laugh. This is insane! It’s like a book or movie! When he called asking for money after I found out he was a male escort, we were joking around! It was the first time we’d been able to do that in years and I was actually happy, thinking that maybe he and I would be able to move on without fully hating each other. Man, was I ever wrong. Who has this life? For real?”

I shake my head and help her sit up and follow her. When she gets out of the bed, I follow again, getting more and more frustrated by the cast on my lower leg by the minute. Instead of letting her go too far, though, I hold her tight and let her cry it out. Loud, angry sobs wrack her body, tears wetting my t-shirt. I don’t let her go. I made that mistake once and I won’t do it again.

Once she’s calmed down, we sit on the bed again and I explain, “Once Sawyer and Helen get back, we’ll discuss what the next steps need to be.”

“I’m not going back to Tennessee,” she announces and I know the look on my face is one of surprise and probably hope.

“Oh, you’re not, huh?”

“Nope.” She shakes her head, long hair swishing over her shoulders.

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