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“Of course, dear,” I mumbled, watching her start to sway. A few minutes later, she’d passed out on the couch. Thirty minutes passed, and she didn’t budge a muscle. She didn’t appear to be breathing either.
I hung up the phone and tossed it over my shoulder.
I think she’s dead. I think…I hope she’s dead. That’s a god-awful thing to say, but…I have no regrets. My conscience is clear.
Chapter Fifty
Kierra
“What do you think?” Jonathan asked, holding up a dress for me.
“Nah. I’m not feeling it.”
“What’s wrong with it?” he asked incredulously, running his fingers over the soft fabric. I cringed at the ruffles.
“How do I say this kindly? It’s giving…I sing enchanting songs that attract woodland creatures while baking bread from scratch.”
Jonathan gawked at the dress. “I think it’d look lovely on you.”
“Lovely or not, I’d prefer the Slasher crop top and sweats.”
“But,” he said, slowly approaching me with the dress, “my mother, who saved your life, I might add, purchased this for you,” he said softly, trying to guilt the hell out of me.
It’s working, but he can’t play the ‘you’d be dead if it weren’t for my mother’ card for much longer.
I grinned. “You’re an asshole.”
“I’ll take that as long as you still love me,” he expressed before caressing my lips with his. That was enough to make me forget about my injuries. I cupped him through his jeans with my free hand and groaned when he immediately put distance between us.
“Kierra…we can’t.”
“We can,” I insisted, closing the gap that separated our bodies. “You just have to take it easy.”
“The doctor said you must rest for three to four weeks before resuming normal activities. Truthfully, you look like you should be sitting.”
“I 100% agree—sitting on your face.”
“You’re impossible,” Jonathan replied with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not having any form of sex with you.”
“Is that your final answer?” I pressed when he crouched to help me step into the flowy trad wife dress.
“It is.” I sulked as he continued to dress me for the day. “We need to talk.”
My brow jumped in curiosity.
We need to talk has to be everyone’s least favorite sentence.
“Go on,” I cautiously urged as he maneuvered the dress around my arm sling.
“While you were napping yesterday, police showed up to perform a welfare check on my children.”
“Eliza,” I sighed.
“Unfortunately, but I think their appearance was a blessing and a curse. They’ll be able to testify that the children are, in fact, not being abused, and it shows how vindictive Eliza is. This incident will do wonders in court. However, I have some less than favorable news.”
“Okay. Hit me with it,” I urged.
“Let’s get you seated first.” I sat with Jonathan’s assistance and waited for him to drop a bomb on me. “Eliza alleged that you were physically abusing the kids.”
