"Claire." He says my name like a threat. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be. Open the door and we can talk like adults."
"Go away!" My voice comes out shaky and weak. "Leave us alone!"
"Us?" His tone shifts, becomes poisonous. "You mean, you and my son? And who does this house belong to? I see… You've already replaced me. Already found some new man to latch onto. What, was I not good enough? Not rich enough? You had to run off and find someone else?"
"It's not… That's not—"
"OPEN THE DOOR!" He slams against it, and I hear the frame rattle. "I'll break it down, Claire. You know I will. And then I'll find this man who thinks he can take what's mine, and I'll make sure he regrets ever laying eyes on you."
Oh God. He thinks Tom and I are together. He's going to hurt Tom.
"Mommy?" Jackson's voice, small and scared, comes from the kitchen doorway. "Why is Daddy here?"
Derek must hear him because he starts talking in that sickeningly sweet voice he uses with Jackson. "Hey buddy! Daddy missed you! Tell Mommy to open the door so I can give you a hug!"
Jackson looks at me, confused and frightened. "Mommy?"
"Go to the bedroom, Jackson. Now. Lock the door and don't come out."
"But Daddy—"
"Now!"
He runs, and I hear the bedroom door slam. The lock clicks. Derek pounds on the door again, all pretense of sweetness gone. "You turned my son against me! You poisoned him! You bitch, you fucking—"
The names pour out, each one a knife I've heard a thousand times before. Worthless. Stupid. Fat. Ungrateful. A litany of everything I've supposedly done wrong, everything that's my fault, every way I've failed him.
I'm frozen, my back against the wall, my mind spinning. What do I do? Call 911? Run? Try to reason with him?
My hand fumbles into my pocket, and I feel the card. Tom's card. The one with his cell number on the back. My fingers shake so badly I almost drop my phone. I pull up the keypad and dial, praying he answers, praying he can help, praying this isn't the moment where everything falls apart.
It rings once. Twice.
Derek is still shouting, still pounding. I hear wood starting to crack.
Three rings.
"Come on, come on, please—"
"Tom Harris."
His voice, calm and professional, breaks through my panic. I try to speak but nothing comes out except a sob.
"Claire? Is that you?"
"He's here." The words come out in a rush, barely coherent. "My ex… He's here, he's at your door, he's trying to break in, he knows about you, he's going to hurt you, I don't know what to do—"
"Lock yourself and Jackson in the bedroom. Now. I'm five minutes away. Do not open that door, do you hear me? No matter what he says."
"Tom, he's breaking it down—"
"Five minutes, Claire. I'm coming. Just hold on."
Another crash against the door, and this time I hear wood splinter.
"He's coming in—"
"Bedroom. Now. And Claire?" His voice is harder now, the sheriff voice. The voice of someone who's been in combat, who knows how to handle danger. "I need you to be strong for five more minutes. Can you do that?"
