Page 204 of Pucking Wild

“So, what do you want, Tess?” she says, her words clipped. “How do I make this stop here?”

“You both need to agree to go to therapy,” I say without missing a beat.

Her eyes go wide. “Therapy?”

“Troy needs intervention, Bea. He needs help that you can’t give him. And you need help too. Because the way you love him is hurting him. He needs to be held accountable for his actions. Set boundaries. Enact consequences. A therapist can give you the tools to better engage with him. He needs you, Bea. You’re the only person I think he truly cares about. Help him.”

“So…what? We go to therapy and send you proof of our sessions?”

I nod. “Yeah—well, no. Don’t send the proof to me. After today, I want no contact with either of you. Send it to my lawyer. Biweekly sessions for the next year. Go, learn tools for managing a healthier relationship with your son.”

She arches a brow. “And if I say no?”

“Then I press charges.”

Her frown deepens as her lips purse. “And if I can’t convince him to go as well?”

“Then I press charges,” I repeat. “See? Boundaries and consequences.”

She considers for a moment. “Fine. Consider it done. Anything else?”

I smile, my eyes locked on the framed sea turtle poster behind her head. “Yeah…make a donation to Out of the Net.” I let my gaze slide back to her, soaking in her surprised face. “And whatever the number is in your head right now, double it.”

“Sea turtles?” She gives a sad little shake of her head. “I can see your time with me has truly taught you nothing. You have a knife to my throat, and your only demand is that I go to therapy and donate to this nonprofit?”

Her words settle deep in my chest, and I realize she’s right. Thirteen years in her shadow, and I survived. I’m still me. I wouldn’t say she taught me nothing, but her lessons have left only scars. I will heal. Iamhealing.

I beam at her, my heart feeling ten times lighter. “Yep. Make the donation, make it truly outrageous, and I’ll even issue a joint statement with Troy that you can share with all your friends and associates. We’ll say we parted in friendship and that our families remain close as I move on to pursue new philanthropic endeavors.”

She considers. “And the fallout? The press?”

“You can tell everyone about the donation,” I reply. “PFH gets the tax break and all the good press, while you avoid the harsh spotlight of a contested divorce. Most importantly for you, Troy avoids disbarment and criminal charges.”

“These are all things we get,” she says, that eyebrow arching in question. “What doyouget, Tess?”

I glance down at the signed divorce papers. “I get to be free.” Slowly, I look back up at her, meeting her eyes. “And I get to never see you again.”

67

“Wait…so that’s it? You’re just…letting him off the hook?” Rachel stands in the surf, her hands tucked in the pockets of her polar fleece.

Poppy stands at her side. Her long blonde ponytail is pulled through the back of her Rays hat. They’re both looking at me like I’ve got snakes for hair.

“Yeah, that’s it,” I reply, taking a sip of my hot chocolate. The February air carries a chill this morning, biting at my fingertips as I raise the travel mug to my lips. We pretty much have this stretch of beach all to ourselves.

“And you’re…okay with that?” Shelby presses from Poppy’s other side. She’s the one who brought us the hot chocolates. Our guys are all still in Cincinnati, helping Ryan pack up the rest of my apartment. They fly back this afternoon.

“I am,” I reply with a nod, and I know in my heart that I mean it.

The girls eye me warily, saying nothing as we continue our walk in the surf.

“Look, Icouldpress charges,” I explain. “I could take Troy to court for the stalking, the harassment. I could air every single piece of dirty laundry we shared over the last decade. But Troy would give as good as he gets. He would drag out every minute of it. He and his mother would try to bury me in delays and legal fees and counter claims. Don’t you see? Fighting him in court is just another way I let him win. I’m done letting him take up my time, my joy. He’s taken enough from me. They both have. Please, tell me you can understand,” I say, reaching for Rachel’s arm.

She pauses, slipping her hand out again to take mine. “Oh, honey, I do,” she says, her tone earnest. “I promise, I do. I mean, if it were up to me, I’d go totalGame of Throneson his ass. He hurt you, Tess. He hurt my friend. If I had my way, he’d be torn apart by a dragon’s talons.”

“Or a pack of wild dogs,” Poppy adds.

“Hey, what’s the myth with the man who has his insides eaten every day by a vulture?” asks Shelby.

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