by Janie Crouch
“Leave her alone and I’ll go with you.” Marilyn kept her voice soft, but it wasn’t shaky. She was willing to bet Jared wouldn’t realize the difference.
“Marilyn,” Bree entreated. “No.”
She didn’t have time to assure her friend that she wasn’t going to leave with him. This would only work if Jared believed he had the upper hand.
“You leave Bree alone and you don’t try to have any contact with the kids. That’s the deal.” Marilyn took another step toward him, keeping her shoulders slumped, her posture dejected. It wasn’t hard—engrained muscle memory. She was conditioned to be that way around him. “You want me to go with you, that’s what you have to do.”
He didn’t like that she was making demands, but she had to keep him from shooting Bree until she could get close enough. “What’s to stop me from killing her right now and dragging you anywhere I want to go?”
“Because if you’re going to start killing, I’m going to start screaming my head off. I may not be able to stop you from killing her, but I will damn well make sure you go down also.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Look at you…” His voice was a sneer. “You get away from me for a few months and all of a sudden you’re full of sass. Don’t worry, I have lots of ideas of how to modify that behavior.”
She couldn’t stop her flinch, but she didn’t back away.
His fist with the gun flew at her face without warning, all his weight behind it. If it had connected, it would’ve broken her jaw.
But she knew it was coming.
So predictable, Jared.
She ducked under the punch, the first time ever. His massive momentum already had him falling forward since he hadn’t considered he might miss. She brought her knee up to his groin at the same time she reached up with both hands and clawed at his eyes.
His roar of agony was the most satisfying sound she’d ever heard.
Blinded, he tripped over Bree’s coffee table. Bree jumped out of the way as he fell back on her couch, landing on Bree’s wedding dress, dropping the gun.
Marilyn reached down and grabbed it, pointing it directly at Jared. Every lesson Noah had ever taught her was clear in her mind.
“You bitch!” Jared clutched his bleeding face. “You stabbed me with those claws of yours.”
Marilyn said nothing, just kept the gun trained on him.
“Congratulations, jerk,” Bree said. “You just graduated from assault and battery charges to attempted murder. You’re going away for a long, long time.”
Jared’s face turned purple with rage. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade, flicking it open with his wrist.
“I don’t think you’re really going to shoot me, Marilyn.” He stood. “I think if you had really wanted to get away from me, you could’ve done that. I mean, how hard would it have been to leave for good? You stayed in the same state I was in. That’s how I knew you didn’t really want to get away from me. That you remembered how I rescued you when you needed it.”
Marilyn’s hand with the gun began to shake. Was he right? Was there some part of her that had wanted to stay near him?
“Don’t listen to him,” Bree said. “You made the best decisions you could in the situation you were in. It doesn’t matter what happened then. It only matters what happens now.”
“If you take one more step, I’ll shoot you,” Marilyn said, but her voice was shaky.
“Come on now, sweetheart.” Jared took another step toward her. “We both know you used up all your bravery on that little self-defense move you pulled a minute ago. How about if our deal still stands? You leave with me now and nobody gets hurt.”
No.
No, she wasn’t that person anymore.
She widened her stance like Noah had taught her. The shakiness in her arms slid away. “How about if Bree calls the police and you are out of my life for good? You’ll never have me again, Jared. That teenage girl you rescued from the trailer park…? I’m not that same person. I know my value. And I’m way too valuable for someone like you.”
With a yell, Jared launched himself across the table, arm raised with the knife.
Marilyn didn’t hesitate. She fired a double shot to the chest the way she’d learned—the way Noah had taught her.
Shock blanketed Jared’s features before he stumbled back and collapsed onto the couch. Marilyn still pointed the gun at him in case he got back up.
Not a half second later both Bree’s front and back doors burst open, Tanner raced through the front, Noah the rear.
In a daze, Marilyn saw Tanner check Jared for a pulse. “He’s dead.”
Noah gently pried the gun from her fingers. She looked up at him. She hadn’t done it right. She should’ve never let him get her through the door. “You told me to attack at the beginning. That when he first saw me was my best chance for escape, but I froze. I froze…”
Noah pulled her against his chest. “You didn’t get him at the start, but you got him at the end. And when it’s all said and done, that’s all that matters.”
Her hands started to shake again. Noah led her over to the kitchen table, away from Jared’s body.
But she couldn’t stop staring at him.
He was dead. Jared was dead. She was never going to have to worry about him again.
Within a few minutes there was a flurry of activity all around her. Cops—Ronnie Kitchens and another officer named Whitaker—had arrived to officially process the scene.
That made sense. Tanner couldn’t do it because he was getting married in the morning and—
Oh God. Jared was lying on top of Bree’s wedding dress, bleeding all over it.
She stood so rapidly that the chair fell backward and clattered to the floor.
Multiple men spun around to face her, all of them—Tanner and Noah included—reaching for guns at their waists. They only relaxed slightly when they saw it was her who’d made the noise.
“You okay, gorgeous?” Noah took a tentative step toward her.
She pointed at the couch and started to cry, trying to get the words out about the dress around her tears. Oh God, Bree’s wedding was in hours and that beautiful gown was ruined. There was no way all that blood would come out.
Maybe Marilyn should try. Maybe she could scrub the blood out of the lace and tulle if she did it very carefully by hand. How many hours did she have until the wedding?
She took a couple of steps toward the couch, and all four of the men moved toward her, arms outreached.
“He’s dead, sweetheart,” Noah whispered. “He can never hurt you again. You don’t have to cry.”
She choked on another sob. This wasn’t about Jared.
“Marilyn, are you worried about being arrested?” Tanner asked. “There’s no need. Jared had a knife in his hand. And Bree has already stated he was charging at you when you shot. You’ll have to give an official statement, but that’s it.”
“No,” she finally got out. She looked over at Bree. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Bree said. “He’s out of your life for good. And I’m moving into Tanner’s house tomorrow anyway.”
Did Bree not realize the problem, either?
“Your dress… It’s ruined!”
Bree shrugged. “Yeah, I know. But I never liked it very much anyway. Still got that denim skirt? Maybe I can borrow that to get married in.”
26
Bree didn’t get married in a denim skirt, Marilyn’s or otherwise. The women of Risk Peak had banded together all night to pull off a miracle—a wedding dress made from pieces of their own wedding dresses. Bree walked down the aisle in a rainbow of white, a one-of-a-kind dress that suited her perfectly. She looked stunning, joyous. Everything a bride should look like on her wedding day.
Marilyn, though, couldn’t keep her eyes off the best man the whole ceremony. Noah was absolutely mouth-watering in his tux.
And he was definitely the best man she’d ever known.
The wedding recepti
on had been held in a park, informal and inclusive, just like the bride and groom themselves.
Everyone spent the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon just enjoying each other and the new couple. Word of Jared’s attack and his subsequent death had gotten around. In a town the size of Risk Peak, nothing moved quite so quickly as the rumor mill.
But there had been no whispers or snide remarks. Not here, not today. Not while two of their beloved own committed their lives to one another. As a matter of fact, Marilyn had received lots of extra hugs and smiles, silent support.
These people were her family. More of a family than she’d ever had the honor of knowing.
Her kids ran around laughing like hyenas during the reception, snapping all sorts of candid pictures due to the instant cameras Barb and Francis had given them. They had taken it upon themselves to make sure there was at least one photo of each guest placed in the scrapbook—the gift the women at New Journeys had made for Bree and Tanner. The kids loved playing photographer.
Especially Sam. She hadn’t seen his face light up in such a way in… ever. Perhaps a thoughtful gift meant to keep the kids entertained during a wedding would become a new, meaningful pastime for him.
She watched them chat and exchange photos and let out a sad sigh.
She was going to have to tell her children that their father was dead, just not right now.
To be honest, she had no idea how they would react. Certainly, it would be no real loss in their regular life. Jared might have been their biological father, but he had never been their dad. They’d had more examples of what a father should be from the men in Risk Peak than they’d ever had with Jared.
So yes, she would tell them that their father had died. When they got older and asked more questions, she would tell them that he died trying to escape from the police.
And when they were truly old enough to understand, she would sit them down and tell them the whole truth, or most of it. Because refusing to talk about what had happened between her and Jared did nothing but allow mistakes to fester and grow. Breaking the cycle started with her and continued with her making sure her kids didn’t fall back into the patterns.
This day was for enjoying a new beginning. In more ways than one.
She enjoyed herself. Enjoyed talking with friends from town and sneaking looks at Noah. Enjoyed stuffing herself on all the food and watching the bride and groom beam at each other.
It wasn’t until later that evening, long after her kids had taken candid pictures until they ran out of film, the bride and groom had left, and all signs of celebration had been cleaned up and put away, that Marilyn sat at her rickety kitchen table at New Journeys.
And cried.
She cried for that eighteen-year-old girl who’d married a near-stranger because she thought she would be getting a better life. She cried for all the mistakes she’d made when she was young and stupid, then cried more about the ones she’d made when she was old enough to know better. She cried because she’d never be able to truly ever regret what she’d gone through with Jared because of those two beautiful children sleeping in their beds dreaming of Polaroid cameras.
And she cried because not quite twenty-four hours ago she’d killed their father, knowing he would’ve killed her if she hadn’t. Maybe not last night, but definitely at some point.
She cried for all the things that never were, and for all the things that would never be because of that.
Eventually her tears dried. She stared down at the table knowing it had been a long, eventful twenty-four hours and she should probably go to sleep. But she didn’t want to.
She knew exactly what she wanted. Who she wanted.
She wandered out into the main part of the building and found Barb and Francis watching TV in the community room.
They’d done so much for her and the kids already, she hated to interrupt and ask for yet more help. “I know I have no leftover favors to ask you ladies, you’ve done so much. But I—”
Francis smiled over at her. “Oh, honey, as long as you are about to ask if we’ll keep an eye on the kids for the rest of the night while you go jump Noah’s bones, you don’t need to say another word.”
Marilyn could feel her face heating. “Actually, I wasn’t going to provide quite that much detail but yes, that’s basically what I was going to ask. How did you know?”
Barb shook her head. “We’re older, honey, but we’re not dead. We’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Now, go get him.”
She wasn’t nervous until she actually pulled up at the ranch and got out of her car. She stood there as all the insecurities hit her. Not that she didn’t want Noah. God, she wanted him more than she wanted her next breath.
But she should have handled this better. It was so presumptuous of her to just show up here unannounced for sex and expect Noah to just perform.
She laughed a little hysterically. She could’ve at least offered to take him to dinner first. Or hell, called to see if now was a good time. It had been a long day for him—
“You just going to stand there in the dark and laugh, gorgeous?”
He was sitting on his front porch. Almost like he’d been waiting for her.
“Maybe. I’m trying to decide if coming here was a mistake.”
“I see. Are you coming here to tell me you’re leaving town and never want to see me again?”
She laughed again, still a little hysterically. “No, definitely not.”
“Then I can already tell you that coming here wasn’t a mistake.”
She took a step closer. “But you don’t even know why I’m here.”
The slight squeak of the porch swing broke the silence as he stood. “I know it’s not a mistake.”
She walked toward him, confidence growing. Of course, he felt that way. She felt that way, too. There was no reason he could come to her that she would consider a mistake.
“Oh yeah? What if I’m here to chat your ear off?” She couldn’t hide her smile now, even though he probably couldn’t see it.
He chuckled. “Still not a mistake.”
He was already there when she got to the porch steps. “What if I’m here to cry my eyes out over all the drama in the last week?”
He walked down the steps slowly until he reached her, then trailed his fingers down her cheek. “Again, not a mistake.”
She stepped closer, her fingers running across his waist and along his sides, the feel of his T-shirt soft, but the muscles below so hard. “And what if I’m here to say I want to be with you tonight?”
“Are you sure this is what you want? Because there’s no hurry. We have all the time in the world.”
She urged him closer. “I don’t want to wait. I want you. I want us. That’s why I’m here.”
She could see his smile in the moonlight, this one so much more genuine and easy than the stiff ones he’d used a few months ago when they’d first met. She liked to think she had something to do with that.
“Then that’s definitely not a mistake.”
His hands came up to cup her shoulders, then slowly slid down her back to her hips. He bent his knees so he could get a good grip on her upper thighs. Next thing she knew, she was hoisted up against him. Her legs automatically wrapped around his hips and her arms wrapped around his shoulders.
Their lips met.
Like the other times, it was a melding of the mouths—deep, passionate, intoxicating. But different now because they both knew that this was just the start.
He walked back up the steps and through his front door, kissing her the whole time as he carried her weight easily. They made it all the way to his bedroom and to his big, king-sized bed with their lips still joined. He didn’t even stop kissing her as he gently laid her on the bed, his hand tenderly catching the back of her head so he could ease her onto the pillow.
“I love that you came here to me,” he whispered, his lips trailing down her jaw over to her ear. Her breath caught as they moved down the side of her neck. �
��I love that you’re the only woman who has been in this bed with me. The only woman I’ll ever want in this bed with me.”
She knew the tender words didn’t come easy for Noah, that he was making a huge effort on her behalf. “Show me, Storm.”
She loved the groan that fell from his lips as she reached up and caught his neck with her lips—kissing, licking, gently biting.
He pulled back to look down into her eyes. “I’ve only got one rule.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re honest with me. If something feels wrong, or you’re uncertain, or we need to slow down or speed up, you tell me.”
“I will. I trust you.”
He grinned and began unbuttoning her shirt, kissing across her collarbone. “Good. Because I trust you, too. And I’m not going to treat you like you’re damaged or breakable, because you’re not.” His lips continued to make their way down her chest, to the tops of her breasts. “You’re a survivor, a warrior, and have a strength that’s utterly humbling to me.”
She arched her back and he reached behind her with one hand and unhooked her bra. Her shirt and the scrap of lace underneath were gone from her body seconds later.
She arched into him, a breathless sigh falling from her lips as his mouth found one nipple and began to play with it, sucking, nipping gently, teasing and taunting. Her fingers threaded into his hair, keeping him pressed against her.
“Your body is a gift,” he said as he worked his way over to the other breast. “One I will never take for granted.”
She was panting by the time his lips left her breasts and made their way down her stomach. He pulled off her shoes and socks, then unbuttoned her jeans and eased them down her hips along with her underwear.
Before she could even have any doubts or concerns about how long it had been since she’d been this intimate with anyone, how much her body had changed from giving birth to two children, he eased her legs open and kissed her reverently—right at her very core. “So beautiful. Every single inch of you.”
All she could do was lay there in wonder as he took his time pleasuring her, figuring out what she liked with his fingers and then his tongue. Her hands clenched the sheets as she called his name over and over as the world exploded into a kaleidoscope of color around her.