Page 48 of Merging Wright

We glare at one another, chests heaving like two bulls preparing to charge. I’ll wrestle her to the ground, spread her thighs, and impale her with one hard horn if that would convince her she’s the only one I want to be with.

“What about you?” I raise my chin. “How do I know you’ll be faithful to me? I’m asking you to stay away from Myles, but you refuse.”

Her mouth gapes. She shifts her upper body to face me head on. “How dare you?”

I’ve seen Jane full of venom over the years—mostly aimed at me—and she’s ready to strike. She’s aiming for the heart.

And because two can play that game, I strike first. “Yeah, well, I know all about your tryst with Ripley Edgar.”

Jane’s shoulders fall while her breath hitches, like the wind was knocked out of her. Jesus, did I really do that to her?

“A tryst?” Her head flinches back before she purses her lips and lowers her eyes. “Is that what he said?” Her quiet questioning tone suggests I might not have all the facts. Ripley is an asshole, actually, and I should know better than to believe tales from him.

“Jane, I—”

“Well, if that’s what you think.” She holds her head higher, standing abruptly as her voice grows stronger. “I guess you don’t know me. Or anything about what happened between Ripley and me.”

“What did happen?” Ripley bragged for years about his office sidepiece. Then suddenly, he was marrying Kaye Hamilton, some influential society woman. When I joked with him about the office girl, he’d said she’d quit. Then he’d told me she’d give good desk head if I ever wanted to test her out. That’s when I learned he meant Jane. She worked for me. I wanted to punch him in the middle of The Athletic Club. Instead, I doubled down on my no-fraternizing policy and kept Jane at arm’s length for eight fucking long years.

When Jane doesn’t answer me, I ask another question. “Did you love him?” Everything in me hates that I’m asking. Even more so, I hate how she might answer.

She looks in the direction of the house. “Would it matter?”

“It wouldn’t.” Ripley is in her past. I have my own history with love. Still, I don’t like that she gave her heart to such an unworthy human being. Jane deserves so much better. She deserves more than me and the position we are in.

“Good night, Mr. Wright.” All the barbs in her tone are gone. Also gone is the playful woman challenging me to kiss her on our wedding day.

“Jane—”

She rounds the chair, arms wrapped around her middle, and rushes away from me.

I should chase her. I should let her be. I’m so torn before deciding that her putting distance between us is for the best. Because I’m struggling to keep mine from her, and one of us needs to be strong before hearts are broken again.

24

Playlist: “O-o-h Child” – The Five Stairsteps

(from Guardians of the Galaxy)

[Jane]

By the following afternoon, I’ve traveled the opposite side of Bridge Alley, finding a vacant bank building full of promise. Next to it is another vacant location and then Camilla’s shop, Trixie’s Trims. Beside her shop is The Barber Shop. Not a very original name, but I’ve learned that Landon Hobbs owns the place, passed down from his father and grandfather. At one time, Landon’s dad had been the mayor, and he found cutting hair was one of the best ways to learn what made the town tick or left people ticked off. The former mayor also developed ideas from suggestions made by the ole boys’ club. Landon keeps up the tradition as both a local attorney and part of the city council.

The final space on the block is a store on an angle, mirroring the strange structure of On The Curve across the street. A small sign on the closed door reads: Adventure Dex. The business isn’t open, but I peer through the window, noticing a disarray of kayaks and paddleboards balancing against each other, plus camping equipment haphazardly piled by one wall and half-full clothing racks of outerwear. The place could use a facelift like most of the other businesses in town.

Crossing the street, I head toward the sound of rushing water, where a giant deck rests on a plot of land overlooking the Kanawha River. The weather-worn wood planks are covered in light moss and damaged in spots. A gazebo might have once stood in this place. A broken bench lines one angle of the octagonal layout. A little person sits on another bench facing the water, kicking her thin legs.

Cautiously, I approach her. “Willow?” She swipes at her long, brown hair, disheveled and covering her face. “I don’t know if you remember me, but I was in On The Curve the other day. My name is Jane.”

Not another adult or child is present as I glance around us. “Are you here by yourself?”

She nods.

Concern tightens my shoulders. “Does your uncle know you’re here?”

“He’s sleeping.” Willow shrugs, her legs continuing to swing.

The days are blurring together, but being a Sunday, he must have the day off. And Willow probably shouldn’t be sitting here alone. I risk stepping closer to her and take a seat on the opposite end of the bench. “How did you get here?”