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The rest of the afternoon is spent with us wandering around the festival grounds, enjoying ourselves, taking notes. Kellan walks behind me the entire time, watching my back. It’s been that way ever since I opened up to him about my past in prison. It’s not hard to see he was once a Marine. And I feel safer knowing he’s there, even though I no longer have to worry about someone attacking me when my back is turned.
Noah and Avery stop ahead of us. Two uniformed cops approach them, and my heart stumbles and trips like a drunk. Both are blond. Both aren’t much older than me. Both look familiar, but at the same time I’m sure I’ve never seen them before. They didn’t work with my husband. They never hung out at our house.
They won’t recognize me.Even if they had worked with my husband—my very dead husband—they won’t recognize me.
They laugh at something Noah tells them.Too familiar. Much too familiar.
A memory of my husband hosting a barbecue for his friends plays in my head like an old-fashioned movie. Of them laughing. Of one guy looking at me the wrong way—with a friendly smile.
A smile I paid for many times over.
And he…I dig deeper. Close my eyes. I remember…I remember he was sent to prison. A good cop turned bad. That’s what my husband told me. My husband’s monstrous face looms in my memory.
So smug, so satisfied, so calculating.
I gulp down the memory, squeezing it past the obstruction in my throat.Always, always calculating.
A steadying hand rests on my hip. Troy. I can smell his fresh outdoorsy scent.
I open my eyes, and I’m met by Troy’s warm brown ones. Brown eyes that give me solace, that allow me to escape. I place my hand above his heart and walk myself through a relaxation exercise that Robyn taught me.
By the time I’m finished, I can breathe easier and the two cops have moved on.
“That’s better. Those therapy sessions with Robyn are paying off.” I silently thank Troy for connecting me with her. For not giving up on me.
He nods, his eyes filled with relief and something else. “That’s good. Glad they’re helping.” His hand moves from my hip. “What’s going on between you and Kellan?” The question eases over his lips like he doesn’t have a care in the world, but that doesn’t prevent my husband’s words from slapping me.Slut. Whore. Cheater.
I frown, grasping at the relaxed feeling like a drowning victim grabbing a slippery floatation device. “What do you mean?”
“It’s like he’s become your personal bodyguard.” Troy’s tone contains an odd note to it. Not jealousy. Disappointment. Disappointment he wasn’t given the position?
I release a small laugh that sounds shaky to my ears. “He’s definitely not my bodyguard. For starters, I don’t need one.” Not unless the media tracks me down. And so far, I haven’t seen any signs that they’ve succeeded there.
“Maybe you should talk to Kellan and see what he says,” I tell Troy, hoping he does the opposite and drops it.
Because I’m not ready to reveal my past to Troy. Or anyone.
I’m not ready to reveal how I didn’t fight harder to protect my daughter. Or how I spent five years in a maximum-security prison.
And I’m not ready for Troy to stop looking at me like he does…like I’m special.
53
JESSICA
June, Present Day
Maple Ridge
After Troy and I,along with his brothers and our friends, leave the festival, we pick up pizza and Butterscotch and head to my house. All of us except for Avery and Noah. They have other plans for the night.
The moment I step through the front door, a feeling something is off blares in me. Without saying anything to the others, I check the security measures I’d set up on the living room windows. None have been disturbed. I can feel everyone watching me, no doubt wondering what I’m doing.
The room looks exactly as I left it. Not a single book has been moved. Not a single piece of furniture shifted.
I continue through to the kitchen. Footsteps trail behind me. Without looking, I can tell they belong to more than one person. More like at least four people.
I inspect the door leading to the backyard. The piece of tape I stuck across it is no longer firmly in place.
