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My mouth dropped open. “Isn’t there a storm shelter or something?”
“Not in Texas, they’re too hard to dig. Look, I’m sure this will all die down and be nothing, just like you said. I’ve seen plenty of bad storms. I just wanna be safe, okay? Okay?” he demanded again when I didn’t answer quick enough.
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Good.” And then he opened the door, the howling wind and battering rain ten times louder when he did.
I wanted to cover my ears. I wanted to go grab him and jerk him back inside. I wanted to scream at the sky for it to stop, to shut up, to stop.
But the next moment, Reece was gone, and I was left alone in the house, the sky and wind and rain roaring around me on all sides.
I knew I needed to do what Reece said, but I couldn’t help running to the kitchen window. The rain was falling in such thick sheets I could only just make out Reece’s figure as he ran to his truck, got inside, and took off down the dirt road.
It was moments like this I really wished I believed God was anything more than a fairy tale.
“Please, please protect him,” I whispered anyway. I turned around, then back to the window, then, when I knew I positively couldn’t see any speck of the truck’s back lights, I finally took a deep breath and started to head towards the inner bathroom closet.
Except that halfway there, the doorbell rang.
The doorbell! In a storm like this! Who on earth?
I hurried through the part of the house I rarely spent much time in, just to occasionally watch a movie with Ruth.
Maybe Buck was stranded out there on the wrong side of the house and had gotten locked out. I hurried faster. I needed to get him inside. He wasn’t my favorite person in the world, but frankly I wouldn’t mind some company to ride out this storm. Yeah, we had earthquakes in California, but a few minutes, tops, of shaking and it was over. Nothing like this roaring, thundering terror. How had I thought this was majestic? It was official, I hated Texas storms.
I yanked the front door open, ready to usher Buck in the house.
Except it wasn’t Buck.
It was my husband.
And he took advantage of my surprise, shoving the door open into me, and knocking me backwards off my feet before I could even scream.
He slammed the door behind him and looked down at me where I lay on the rug, shocked, astonished and about to piss myself I was so terrified. Lightning flashed up the windows behind him so that he looked like a demon straight from hell.
“Finally they’ve all left and I can get some alone time with my own fucking wife.”
17
I shook my head, refusing to believe he was here even though the pain in my backside told me of course he was, of course he’d found me.
Still, I stupidly asked, “How are you here?” even as I scrambled backwards.
I had to get to my feet. I knew from so many past encounters with him that if he cornered me on the ground, it was all over for the night. And this wasn’t just any night.
He advanced on me and the second I tried to get up he kicked me in the ribs, knocking me back down.
“How did I find you? That’s all you have to say to me?”
Another kick and God—
I doubled over with the familiar explosion of pain. Except a part of me had forgotten. Had actually believed that this part of my life was behind me. Stupid, stupid.
In the past, this is where I’d start apologizing, groveling, playing the insipid wife begging for scraps, trying to soothe his ego, anything to get him to let up sooner.
But I couldn’t muster her up. I just couldn’t. All that had been an act while the fury burned inside, with every blow I’d planned escape. That was how I’d borne it. But now— But now—
I’d never go back. I’d sworn it. I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
He stood over me, waiting for it, waiting for the simpering. Instead, I looked up at him and snarled, “I’d rather fucking die than go back with you, you crazy, evil fucking bastard.”
I saw his haze of rage and I tried to get up and run. I tried to grab for a chair to throw at him, but I’d barely gotten my hand around the bottom rung of the back of it before his next blow was landing.
It was a serious one, his fury unleashed. I’d known it was coming. I’d known there was no real escape even as, for once, it felt good to give into the fight response, to not just lay there and take it.
I looked up at him and laughed, tasting blood between my teeth. Thunder shook the house and as I looked up at my murderer, I laughed, feeling liberated for the first time in my entire goddamned life. “When you get to hell, I hope the devils roast you over an open spit.”
