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That was not the right thing to say.
“Mypregnant woman, instead of staying the fuck in this room like I told her to, instead of believing me when I said I was going to handle it,stepped in front of a gun.”
It was all too much. All of these men yelling, pointing weapons, smashing things, telling me what I could and couldn’t do. Thinking that protecting me meant taking away my agency, locking me in rooms.
“Yes, I stepped in front of a gun foryou!” I screamed. “I stepped in front of a gun for you because you were calmly standing there, declaring your love for me like you were saying goodbye to me.” I stepped forward so I was right in his face. “I am not letting you say goodbye to me. I am not letting you take a bullet for me. I am not doing this alone.” I was screaming so loud now that my throat ached. “You are with me. I’m not a girl, I’m awoman.Onewho is not going to cower in a room while you might be in danger. I am not going to stand back and watch as someone waves a gun in front of your face. I am not an instrument in your story, that you save. I will save you. Whenever I need to, as much as I can so I do not have to live life alone.”
My chest was heaving at this point, and there were black spots dancing in my vision from how loud I was yelling. I didn’t feel at all like myself. I wasn’t myself. Screaming at people wasn’t really my thing.
But in for a penny, in for a pound.
“You want to smash things?” I asked, not registering that Elden was no longer scary broody, he was just plain broody
“Fine, we’ll both smash things!” I yelled, looking for something and focusing on the lamp, picking it up and throwing it across the room. Well, I tried to. It was still attached to the wall, so it landed on the bed disappointingly. So I pushed the nightstand itself over.
That crashed satisfyingly to the ground. Unfortunately, it took my coffee with it.
“There,” I declared, breathing heavily. “Now we’ve both smashed things.” I stepped forward, glaring at him. “Don’teveryell at me like that again,” I whispered. My voice was much shakier than I intended it to be, and all broodiness left Elden’s face. But it was too late. “Don’t youeverthink that because you’re angry you get to scream at me and smash things,” I added, tears streaming down my face. I wiped them away angrily.
Elden stepped forward, face stricken.
I held my hand up. “Don’t come near me.”
Elden stopped in his tracks. “Violet,” he murmured brokenly. His voice was full of apology. But it was too late.
I slammed the door closed when I left the room.
Sariah was waiting at the end of the hall looking concerned.
“I was waiting to see if the yelling and the smashing continued and I needed to come in to save you,” she explained. “I was also prepared for the yelling and smashing to stop and the makeup sex to commence.” She winced, looking at my face which was likely blotchy and tearstained.
She then scowled at the door. “Do I need to kill him?” she offered hopefully. “I know you just totally told off your stepdad for attempting to do that, but that was for him forgetting women got the vote and a right to make their own decisions quite some time ago.” Her gaze was hard at the door. “My offer comes from a place of womanly rage at a man for yelling at my pregnant bestie.”
“I need to get far away from here,” I said quietly, my throat sore from yelling, and I was also afraid that if I spoke any louder, I was going to burst into tears.
Sariah nodded, linking her arm in mine. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, then.”
We ended up in the next town over at a kitschy diner that made great malts and greasy eggs that I did not throw up in the bathroom, which I counted as a win.
My phone had been on the ill-fated nightstand, so no one could call me or track it, as I assumed Elden tried doing.
Sariah did not talk about the yelling match, which I was thankful about because I was not ready to talk about it.
I knew it came from somewhere unrelated to the events of today. It was triggered by them, sure. But it had been a fear response. One that had to do with my father. And I really,reallydid not want to unpack all of that right now.
Sariah, the angel that she was, kept me distracted.
“Okay, so I’ve been keeping up with the news in Garnett, because I’m officially enchanted by the way that town works,” Sariah said, sucking on her own milkshake.
“It seems to be glossed over by capitalist America, no big box stores, just family-owned businesses on main street. No gross developments like chain hotels or whatever, even though there’s a seriously fancy celebrity retreat not far away andreallygood yoga studios,” she waggled her eyebrows. “Then there’s thisthingat the center of the town. An outlaw motorcycle club that has endured throughout the years, without getting broken up by law enforcement even though they are definitely breaking a dozen laws, not to mention the laws of nature… How can that many hot guys exist in one place?”
She was really on a roll now, eyes bright with excitement.
“The club’s history itself is fascinating,” she continued, speaking enthusiastically. “Someone should write a book about it. Not just the history but the love stories. From what you’ve told me, they could make movies… Netflix would eat that shit up.” She tried sucking on the milkshake, but there was none left, so she frowned at the glass.
“Anyway, that’s not even what I’m talking about. I’m talking about how there have been three murders in the area so far.”
I startled at the direction the conversation had taken.
