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“Yeah, hi. My name’s Amanda Taylor, and I was wondering if you’d be able to quote a job for me. My husband and I want to upgrade our staircase to oak, and my neighbor Sarah referred me to you.”
“Sarah Matheson?” He’d just done a staircase for her a few weeks ago. A few days before he’d met Christie, actually. Because that’s how he measured everything now. Before or after she’d come into his life and taken over all of the available real estate in his brain. In his heart.
“Yes. I love the staircase you did for her . . .” As Mrs. Taylor began describing what she wanted, Luke strode into the kitchen. He began opening drawers, searching for a pen and paper to take down the information. With Christmas less than a week away, he wouldn’t be able to fit her in until after the holiday, and he didn’t want to forget the details of the conversation when he met with her in person to quote the job. With growing impatience, he rifled through drawer after drawer. Finally, the last drawer was fruitful, pens sliding around on top of a pile of paper. He pulled a sheet and a pen out, scribbling furiously as Mrs. Taylor talked animatedly about newel posts. He paused, frowning, when he noticed what looked like a subpoena sitting on top of the papers in the drawer.
His appointment with Mrs. Taylor set, he hung up and slowly lifted the subpoena out of the drawer. It was clipped to the front of a file folder containing a thick sheaf of papers. A stab of guilt sliced through him. He knew he shouldn’t be snooping. But what if she was in trouble? What if she needed help?
He clenched his jaw, arguing with himself. After several seconds, his need to protect Christie outweighed his guilt, and he began reading, unable to tear his eyes away.
State of Oklahoma, Plaintiff, v. Brian Jeffery Mercer, Defendant.
To: Christine Elizabeth Harmon. You are hereby commanded to appear before the District Court of Tulsa County on January 15 at 1:30 P.M. to testify as a witness in the above entitled case pending. Failure to appear is punishable by law.
What the hell?
His heart beat a little faster, and he set the papers down in order to tug his sweater over his head. He opened the file folder and braced his hands on the kitchen counter. His eyes skimmed rapidly down the pages as he took in the details. From the summary included in the lawyer’s notes, he gathered that Brian Mercer was Christie’s ex-boyfriend, and she’d turned him in to the police for . . . what, exactly, it wasn’t clear, but whatever he’d done, it warranted felony charges of harassment. Protective anger surging through him, he shoved a hand through his hair and turned the pages. His vision narrowed just for a second at what he saw.
Naked pictures. Of Christie. A finger to her lips, she smiled coyly at the camera, her bare breasts fully exposed. The logo of a porn website appeared in the bottom left-hand corner, the words “Exhibit A” printed across the top of the photo. A few more pictures followed, the most provocative one being Christie on her knees on a bed, her hand between her thighs. Hands shaking, he flipped the pages roughly and found the transcript of a deposition. His eyes tore down the page, and after a moment, everything was clear.
She’d taken the photos privately for Brian. After Christie had ended their relationship, the slimeball had put them, as well as her personal information, on a “revenge porn” website. Because Brian had included her information without her consent, Christie had been bombarded with filthy messages via email, Facebook, even in person, and she’d contacted the police. When Brian found out she’d contacted the police, he’d sent the images to the hospital board, who had made it clear Christie needed to find a new position, and the sooner, the better.
He felt a little sick as his heart broke for her, for everything she’d been through, but also a little angry that she hadn’t told him about any of this as they built this new relationship. As she got close to his son. He’d shared the details of his past with her, but she hadn’t said anything. Not a single damn word. He’d opened up and left himself vulnerable, but she hadn’t been willing to do the same, and fuck, that hurt.
He glanced once at the bedroom door and then pushed away from the kitchen counter, not wanting to look at the files as he tried to figure out how he was supposed to feel about this. Not just about what had happened in Oklahoma, but that she’d hidden it from him. He paced to the window, looking out at the gray sky that promised snow.
They needed to talk about this. He needed to hear her side of the story. But he wasn’t going to wake her up with this. Not after the hours she’d been working lately. And this . . . his chest hurt as he imaged what she must’ve felt, going through all of that.
His phone buzzed again and he reached into his pocket.
“Hey, Luke. It’s Robin. I’m sorry to bug you so early, but Ethan’s sick. I think he might’ve picked up that stomach bug that’s been going around.”
His focus shifting from Christie to his son, he began tugging on his boots. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up, glanced once more in the direction of Christie’s bedroom, and shook his head. His mind swimming with sadness, doubt, and worry, he threw his coat on and walked out the door. He’d call her once he took care of Ethan.
Maybe by then, he’d know what to say.
It wasn’t until he was tucking Ethan into bed after a healthy dose of Pedialyte that he realized he’d left the folder open on the kitchen counter.
* * *
The sound of Luke’s truck roaring to life roused Christie from a deep sleep brought on by long work hours and the multiple orgasms she’d had the night before. She sat up, rubbing her sleep-swollen eyes. Maybe Ethan had called, needing him. Maybe a work-relating thing had come up. It was sweet that he hadn’t wanted to wake her, and she smiled as she threw her legs over the side of the bed, grabbed her robe and shuffled into the kitchen.
The smile slid from her lips when her eyes landed on the open file folder on the kitchen counter. A wave of nausea rolled through her.
Oh, God.
Shit shit shit shit.
He knew. Everything. And he’d left. He’d found out what she’d done, and that she’d lied about who she was to both him and his son. He’d uncovered her secret, and he’d walked out.
She stood, stone still, in her kitchen. She held her breath until she saw spots, and her pulse throbbed in her temples. With a gasping sob, she let it out and crumpled to the floor, her heart tearing itself to pieces.
For several long moments, she let the awfulness of everything wash over her: the pain, the humiliation, the helplessness, all clawing at her chest and leaving her feeling raw and ragged. Finding out Brian had put the pictures online, having to leave her job, and consequently the life she’d built for herself in Tulsa, had been awful. She’d lost friends in the process, their judgmental words cutting deep.
She took several shuddering breaths, and leaned her back against the kitchen cabinets, still sitting on the floor.
God, this hurt, and it was only going to get worse, because she needed to let him go. It was the right thing to do. She loved him, but she needed to say good-bye to any kind of future she’d foolishly hoped to have with him. She shuddered to think what would happen if people in the community found out, what that would do to Luke and his family. He and Ethan didn’t deserve that. She’d endured the stares, the comments, the barbs, and she wouldn’t subject them to that as well. She needed to protect them.
Closing her eyes, she took another deep breath, trying to picture what it would be like without Luke.
