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With a deep inhale and exhale, her hackles lowered.
“I suppose I can give you both because, well, my idea of long stories is probably your version of short ones. No offense, of course.”
“None taken.” The corner of Roxie’s lips tipped up. “Go on.”
She blew out a breath. “Joe Buchanan can do no wrong in my eyes because he saved my life. Literally. And not once, but twice.” She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, mirroring Roxie.
She wished she were still angry. Because anger was better than embarrassment. Would she always feel like an idiot when she talked about—hell,thoughtabout—her marriage? She hoped it would get easier, that the shame would one day cease.
Instead of meeting Roxie’s gaze, she studied the grain of the porch’s wooden planks. At last, she said, “I was in an abusive marriage. For years. It wasn’t all bad. At least, not at first.”
She liked to think she would have gotten out earlier if the relationship had started out as ugly as it had ended. But who knew? Preston had been so good at manipulating her, at making her believe that everything had been her fault, that she’d deserved it all.
“As the years went on, it got worse. Then, two and a half weeks ago, I came home from running errands, and he attacked me.” She hadn’t even made it fully out of her car before she’d been mauled. “It’s embarrassing to admit, but he’d hurt me before. Pretty badly sometimes. But never like that. This last time was... I thought he was going to kill me.”
Her heart galloped as memories flashed across her vision like a fucked-up horror film. She rubbed her arms, but her body continued to tremble.
“I guess I should backtrack. Prior to that day, Joe was an acquaintance at best. He and a female agent were posing as our super-rich, society-type neighbors, though I obviously had no clue they were undercover FBI agents until”—she indicated her bruised face—“all this. They’d lived next door for about a year and a half, and Joe and I had talked maybe a handful of times.”
Handfulwas an exaggeration. She and Joe had spoken just twice in the eighteen-odd months they’d been neighbors. Their first meeting had taken place in Joe’s front yard the week he and his pretend wife had moved in.
She remembered the exact timing not because of their captivating conversation, but rather the aftermath. When she’d returned home, it had been the first time Preston had given her a “real beating,” as he’d called it. Sure, he’d struck her before, but only a punch or just a slap. Nothing major.
Shame turned her stomach.Justa slap. Onlya punch.Nothing major. How could she have accepted that? Why had she stayed with him for so damn long? And why did she still downplay her abuse in her mind?
Stop. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing. It’s time to let go of the guilt and allow yourself to move on.
Her second encounter with Joe had occurred at a charity auction a few months ago. She’d tried to avoid him, but when he’d asked her to dance, she’d accepted. That had been the polite thing to do, and she was always polite. She’d naïvely thought Preston wouldn’t mind. After all, she’d danced with many men that night, including Preston’s boss, Mayor Downing.
When Preston had chatted with Joe after their dance, setting up a tee time for the following week, she’d thought everything was okay. But the moment they’d arrived home, she’d found out otherwise.
She cleared her throat and ignored the hammering of her heart. “When he attacked me that last time...” She fumbled for the words to describe the confusion, the chaos, the utter horror, but came up blank. “I don’t know how to explain it. One minute I was in the garage, then the next, I was in the house, and Preston was beating the living shit out of me.”
Alex remembered the devastating disappointment that the hours upon hours she’d spent planning her escape had all been for naught. Because her husband was going to kill her. In her own damn kitchen.
“Then, out of nowhere, Joe was there. Somehow, he pulled Preston off me and stopped him.” Everything after had been a blur. Police, doctors, FBI agents, nurses. “I woke up in the hospital the next day. I was still alive. So, yeah. You can say Joe’s on a pedestal.”
Roxie chewed her lip, processing Alex’s words. “You said Joe saved your life twice. If you don’t mind me asking, when was the second time?”
“After. When he sent me here.” She sighed. “I don’t recall being admitted to the hospital, but when I woke up, Joe was there. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. I don’t have any close friends, and my family...” Her chest tightened painfully, and her eyes dropped. “I haven’t spoken to them in years. I didn’t have anyone to call.”
Her face heated, but she continued, swallowing past the lump lodged in her throat. Everything was so damn embarrassing, so damn shameful. “Joe helped me get out. No questions asked. He found me a car, dyed my hair back to black, and gave me money and a single piece of paper with driving directions to this house. He told me I’d be safe. And here we are.”
Too scared to look at Roxie, too scared to see if there was judgment and disgust on the other woman’s face, Alex lowered her chin to her knees and stared at her hands, which were still locked around her shins.
“Jeez, Alex,” Roxie whispered with a loud sniff, rising from her chair.
She glanced up just as Roxie hugged her. When she tensed, Roxie hugged her harder.
For the first time since she’d started telling her story, a smile touched her lips, and the heavy weight on her heart eased.
Roxie let go and sat back down, wiping away her tears with another sniff. “Sorry, I’m a hugger. And obviously a crier, too. But damn.” Roxie looked at her thoughtfully. Alex tried not to squirm. “With all you’ve been through... you’re still standing. Don’t forget that.”
A tiny seed of hope took root in her chest. Her eyes welled, and she blinked back the rush of tears. Apparently, Roxie wasn’t the only crier. “Thank you for that.”
“I’m sorry I talked badly about Joe. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that Joe and I have a... strained relationship. Part of it is we’ve known each other for forever, and the other part is... well, strained. He knows how to push my buttons, so he does. A lot. And we tend to yell at each other. Again, a lot.”
Roxie shrugged. “In any case, I promise I’ll try to be better about criticizing him. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. But enough about me.” She clapped her hands, and a brilliant smile lit her face. “You’re pregnant! Congratulations!” Her eyes widened, flickering with panic. “Or, um...”
