Page 137 of Misrule
Nothing?
He missed her. He missed having their family unit, but she didn’t know how to treat children. Kendall didn’t know how to treatanyone, especially those who loved and needed her.
He was sick to fucking death of her bullshit. If only she behaved…no! Fuck that. If onlys were done. Over with. He’d thought the same thing on so many different occasions. Made excuses for her.Believed her.
The blind trust he put in Kendall time and again made Johnnie wonder if he needed his own fucking head checked. Yet, he’d believed in her, given her the benefit of the doubt too many times to count because he trusted her words.
Goddamn her!
Fuck her!
He drank again and sighed, then picked up the book he’d purchased today. It gave insight into Behavioral Personality Disorder. It listed the characteristics of BPD and explored options.
It read like a checklist for Kendall’s behavior.
Explosive anger? Check
Fear of abandonment? Check
Out of touch with reality; extreme mood swings; and unstable relationships? Check, check, and check.
Uncertain self-image, suspiciousness?
Impulsiveness?
Self-destructive behavior?
It wasyes, check, fuck yeah, to all of the above. If she truly had been diagnosed with the disorder, then what? He wouldn’t take her word for it. She’d burned him too many times before. Still.Then what? If she didn’t take her mental health seriously, how could he? The ‘why’ was easy. He’d do it for their children. They deserved a loving mother. But he’d do it for Kendall. She deserved peace and happiness.
Sitting up, he set the almost-empty whisky bottle on the nightstand. Emily Riser’s business card caught his attention. She didn’t list her profession, but her phone number was big and bold.
She was a beautiful woman, resembling Megan at first glance. Then, with more clarity, he’d seen hardness in her eyes. Blue but cold as ice.
Johnnie rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe, he wanted to see that. Because she wasn’t Kendall. Or Megan. Maybe, he should give her a chance. See how he felt talking to another woman, outside of business, who wasn’t a family member or his wife. He rarely spoke to the club girls anymore. Kendall didn’t like him to.
He sighed again, then picked up his cell phone and the business card, dialing Emily’s number.
“Hello?”
Her voice was clear and authoritative.
“Hi, Emily. This is Johnnie. The biker.”
“Oh, heyyyy,” she greeted, sounding genuinely happy that he’d called her.
He smiled. “What are you up to?”
“Er, reading some reports,” she said around a small cough.
“Really? What type? What business are you in?”
Papers shuffled in the background. “Oh, mercy me! I’m not going to spend our time discussing business. How boring is that?”
Johnnie chuckled. “You’re right, sweetheart.”
“Are you calling to offer me a ride?”
The question oozed with insinuation. He thought about responding in kind, then changed his mind. “Not now.”
