Page 134 of Her Ex-Husband's Brother

She ignores him.

Jake shakes his head with an expression so painfully tender I could vomit. “She’s been delusional ever since she found my coin cleaner in the garage. She’s been under a lot of stress and we’re trying to get a diagnosis for Bipolar Disorder. We’ve had marital issues, but my brother’s been feeding into her manic paranoid delusions.”

August’s hands flex in the air.

I step in front of him before he can punch Jake again.

The mud sucks at my shoes, and for a second the ground tilts so hard I nearly go down. August’s hand catches my elbow, steadying me. The male officer barks something about stepping apart, but the woman lifts one hand.

“Hold,” she says.

One word, but one everyone listens to.

The female officer steps closer to the ditch, flashlight lowered so it isn’t blinding me.

“I’m Officer Treviño,” she says. “I’m listening. Tell me the part I need to know right now.”

I almost break right there. When Jake tells a story, people usually only ask if I might have misunderstood. They ask if I’m tired, or hormonal, or stressed, or not feeling like myself.

No one ever looks me in the eye while Jake is standing right there and asks for the truth like it might belong to me alone.

I swallow hard, then say, legs shaking from the effort of standing up, “I have proof.”

Jake’s mouth curves.

“Honey, we’ve been over this. The phone got a virus. Whatever was or wasn’t on it, we had to do a factory restart?—”

The phone is still in my hand, it’s true. Mud has dried around the edges of the case, and my thumb leaves a brown smear across the white setup screen.Hello, it still says, cheerful and blank as a stranger.

A laugh comes out of me.

It sounds half-feral, and Jake flinches before he can hide it.

“No,” I say. “No, you don’t get it.”

Officer Treviño’s eyes sharpen. “What do you mean?”

“It’s already online. I posted it on my insta before I ever left the house. Before he could wipe the phone.”

Jake stops breathing.

I see it. August sees it too, because his hand tightens around my elbow.

“It’s on my business Instagram,” I say. “Public account. I posted it before I left. He wiped my phone, but he didn’t wipe that. Anyone with a device can find it.” I give Officer Treviño my insta handle.

Treviño reaches for her phone.

Her partner shifts. “Treviño.”

“What? I’m checking a public post,” she says, eyes still on me. “These are immediate safety claims I need to verify. I’m not collecting evidence on my personal device.”

Jake rises a little from his knees. “Officer, she’s manipulating?—”

“Stay where you are,” Treviño snaps.

The command hits him hard, and he flinches.

For the first time all night, Jake obeys without making it look like virtue.