Lilah stepped to my side. Cole came next to her and leaned against the sink, folding his arms across his chest. “Only you can decide how you want to handle this,” she said. “Are you done with the guy? Or do you want to give Estup . . . Booker some time? The way I see it, it boils down to a couple of things. How much do you love him, and is he worth the headache?” She smiled softly. “I think I know what you’ll say. But remember one thing, Tess. You’re in charge of you. Not a man. Not any man, or woman, for that matter. Take control. Do what you have to do to reclaim your life, no matter what that is. We’ll stand by you, one hundred percent.” Cole nodded at his wife’s words.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy.” Lilah chuckled. “I mean, we’ve had our troubles, but we worked it out. He even tracked down Sofia for me. If he hadn’t, I still wouldn’t know she was alive. But he can be infuriating, and stupid, and—”
“Who’s stupid, mommy?” Sofia padded into the kitchen, her curly hair a mess from her nap. She wrapped her arms around her mother’s legs and plopped her thumb in her cherub mouth.
“Did I wake you?” Lilah asked, smoothing down her daughter’s hair. Sofia nodded. “Sorry.” Lilah scooped her up and kissed her cheek.
“Where’s Uncle Book?” Sofia asked me around her thumb. It took me a second to interpret the muffled sounds.
“He’s at home.” I smiled.
“I miss him.” She snuggled in closer to her mother.
I waved to Sofia. “I’ll see you later, sweetie.” She wiggled the fingers of her thumb sucking hand at me.
As I drove away, all feelings of sadness leeched from my body as I thought about not only what Cole shared, but about Lilah’s words. For too long I’d let Garen overshadow who I was. For too long I pushed aside my needs to try to make a marriage with a violent creep work. I sacrificed my self-worth as he tore me down, little by little, every day, not even realizing it until the damage was done. What was I thinking?
I smacked the steering wheel. “Ouch.” I pumped my hand a few times. “I’m done. I’m done being stepped on, walked over. I’m done cowering. I’m not going to live like this anymore. Enough! Fear will not rule me another day.” I rolled down the window. “I’m taking my life back,” I yelled out. A couple of teens getting into a red pickup turned and gave me a mitten-covered thumbs up. Time to rescue Terese Layla Selleck.
I flipped a U-turn right in the center of town, disrupting traffic, and I couldn’t care less. My only focus now? Reclaiming. I drove straight to the county jail. The judge refused to set bail on Garen, citing him as a flight risk, so he sat in prison, rotting, as his injuries healed. The thought warmed my heart.
A detective led me to a sterile room after I filled out the visitor’s paperwork and went through an x-ray scanner. I almost turned and left as my old friend fear tried to wiggle itself into my heart.
No. It ends here. Today.
Two armed guards escorted Garen into the room in a wheelchair. He wore a bright orange jumpsuit, definitely not his color. He looked small and insignificant to me for the first time ever. I laughed out loud when they shackled him to the metal table between us. Not wanting to be any closer to him than I needed to be, I remained standing.
“My, my. How the mighty have fallen,” I chuckled.
“Hello, whore. Miss me already?” he laughed.
“I’ve come to let you know that I’m done with you. I’m done worrying and wondering if you are around the next corner waiting to attack me. I’m done hiding and letting your depravity dictate what I do, and how I feel. I’m done dealing with losers like you. Done. One hundred percent done.” I planted my hands on the table and leaned in ever so slightly. “I’m taking charge of me. And I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you die in this rat-infested hole. Capiche?”
He grabbed at me, but the table held him firmly in place. As did the guards who each placed a hand on his shoulders, punching him back down into the chair. Not going to lie, it was easier to be brave knowing he couldn’t reach me. One step at a time, Tess.
“You’re nothing but a bully. A cruel, depraved bully, who derives pleasure out of beating women. But never again will you hurt me. Never again will you control me. And the next man I give myself to will deserve me.” I turned around and patted my butt. “And you can kiss this goodbye forever.” One of the guards chuckled.
Garen went crazy, swearing, jerking on the cuffs trying to break free from his table, spittle flying everywhere with each word. I walked to the door. The goliath sized guard standing there that I hadn’t seen before smiled wide and nodded.
I glanced back one last time at Garen as he wiped the spit off his mouth with his shoulder, his eyes still wild with rage. “P.S. You suck in bed.” As if I had anything to compare him to since he was the only man I’d ever been with. I wanted to rub a little salt in his open wounds. Immature? Probably, but I just didn’t care. “Of course, a pretty boy like you shouldn’t have a problem finding a little love in here. Maybe you can learn a few things. I mean, any port in a storm, right?” I smiled and waved my fingers goodbye as he went ballistic again. The guard opened the door and offered me a subtle fist bump, while one of the two holding Garen pulled out a Taser. The last thing I heard walking out the door was Garen screaming in pain. What a sweet sound.
As I strutted across the parking lot of the prison, the words “This Girl is on Fire,” from the Alicia Keys song popped into my head. That was exactly how I felt. On fire. In charge. Free! “And I’m not backing down.” I didn’t even care that it was snowing . . . again. A rush of empowerment surged through me. I never wanted it to end. I wanted to scream from the rooftops: ‘I’m back!’ I settled for singing the rest of Girl on Fire at the top of my lungs as I drove out of the lot.
Next on my list: Booker Gatto. I hadn’t made up my mind completely about what to do about him after talking with Cole, but I had decided a few things. I went to the office building and straight to Devin, the patent attorney on the third floor’s office. An older woman dressed in a pink floral shirt sat staring down at her laptop, while Devin, dressed in a full suit, leaned over her pointing at the keyboard.
“Mom,” he said, his voice heavy with exasperation. “This key is the control key. Remember c-t-r-l is short for control.”
“Yes, yes. That’s right. Sorry, son.” She reached up and patted his cheek.
“It’s okay, Mom.” He straightened and turned to me.
“Tess.” He stepped forward. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Hello, Devin. I’ve come to ask you if your job offer was legit.” I glanced at his mother to see if I’d spoken out of turn.
She jumped up first. “Yes. It is. I’m filling in until he can find a new girl.” She took my hand. “My, you’re a lovely thing. My name’s Millie, by the way. Are you married?”
“Mom,” Devin said, his face turning red.
“I’m curious is all, dear.” She brushed her son’s protest aside with a wave of her hand. “Well?” she pressed.
“I’m single.” My answer received a large grin from her. Devin slapped his hand over his face.
“Let’s go into my office and talk, Tess, shall we?” He took my elbow and guided me through a second door, which he promptly closed behind me.
He agreed to match the salary that Booker paid me, and if I would start tomorrow, he’d offer his mother as a temporary secretary for Booker until he could hire a new one. He also offered to pay me to work an hour’s overtime each day for a couple weeks to train his mother. “Don’t want to leave Booker in a lurch,” he said. In my head I thought she’d need more than an hour a day training to function properly, but the idea of frustrating Booker helped me stay my tongue. He was about to get what he deserved.
Chapter 37
Booker
After a week of wallowing in self-pity, I hobbled to work, hoping that business would phase out the memories. I walked into my office, cane and all, to find an older woman in a blue floral print shirt sitting at Tess’s desk.
“Yes. That’s right.” I smiled at the gray haired woman, still confused. “Where’s Tess?” I asked.
“Oh, dear. I assumed she spoke to you.” She wrung her age-spotted hands. “My son offered her a job and she took it. She asked me to fill in until you could hire a permanent replacement. She’s showed me how to fill in many of your forms, and if I get confused I just call her and she walks me through it. She’s an amazing girl.”
“Yes. She is.” I ground my teeth together. I so deserved this.
I hobbled into my office, closing the door behind me. I hadn’t thought about Tess quitting. It was probably for the best.
Only it didn’t feel that way. I sat on the corner of my desk, growing angrier by the minute, so much so, I now owed seventy-five cents to that stupid curse jar. I hobbled over and grabbed the jar. Instead of adding quarters, I threw the thing across the room, shattering it and a picture frame.
“Mature, Gatto, very mature.”
Chapter 38
Tess
Devin handed me an envelope. “Your first paycheck. You’ll note I’ve already given you a raise.” He winked. Devin loved to flirt. Not an overbearing, everyone thinks I’m sexy kind of flirt, but more of the nerdy un-suave kind, who stumbled over his lines. He tucked his hand in the pocket of his vest.
“You didn’t have to do that, Devin.” I took the check and slipped it into my purse.
“Yes, I do. You’ve gotten this place running smoothly in under a week. And you’ve done a great job training my mother.”
“She’s very sweet,” I said as Millie, his mom, walked in the door, laptop in hand, ready to go. She claimed to enjoy the lessons. I think what she enjoyed was expounding the qualities of her very available son to me.
“Sorry I’m a little late.” She smiled brightly, and gave Devin a peck on the cheek. “I made chicken noodle soup for dinner, dear. Your favorite. It’s in the crock pot on the counter, as usual.” With pink cheeks, Devin disappeared into his office.
“How are things going with Booker? Is he treating you well?”
“I’ve only worked with him a few days. He doesn’t say much, but he did break a jar that he keeps quarters in his first day back. He said he dropped it, but the picture frame on the wall was destroyed too, so I’m not sure what happened.” She frowned and lowered her voice. “He’s not a very happy camper. In fact, he’s rather grumpy. I hope he finds a new secretary soon.”
I pinched my lips together. Good, serves him right.
“He’s not like Devin, that’s for sure. My son is a good boy, don’t you think?” She put her laptop next to mine and opened it. A letter taped to the keyboard addressed to me fluttered out. “Oh, yes. About this letter. Booker went home early. His leg was bothering him, and he told me to take a long lunch. I went for a stroll down by the Erie Canal. Have you ever been there in the winter?” I shook my head. Millie and her tangents. You’d ask her one question and somehow she twisted the conversation around to canning peaches. “It’s lovely. You really should go for a walk. Devin loves the canal. I’ll tell him to take you. Devin,” she called out, straightening her purple paisley dress.
“Wait. What does that have to do with this envelope addressed to me?” I removed it and turned it over, wondering who it was from.
“Oh dear, lost my train of thought again.” She tapped her forehead with her fingers softly, which she did every time she forgot something. “After my walk I came back to the office. Well, you know how I keep the door locked whenever Booker’s not there. It’s kind of scary being on the top floor all alone. I mean, I could scream for a week and no one would even hear me.”
“Yes, very scary. Now, how did you get this?” I asked, trying yet again to put her back on track.
“It came flying under the door. Whoever it was didn’t even knock. Of course maybe they assumed since it was after five we were already gone.” She hit the power key and sat back, waiting for her computer to boot up. I’d told her several times she didn’t have to power it all the way down each time she closed it, but she kept forgetting.
With time to kill as she tried remembering her password, I opened the letter, surprised to see who it was from. I reread it three times, trying to get past the uncomfortable feeling it gave me. I reached for my phone, then changed my mind. I may have moved past Garen, but it’d be a while before the paranoia ended. The letter means nothing. I’m overreacting.
“I have a question about one of the court documents Booker wanted me to file today,” Millie said.
Crap. “Hold on a second.” Unable to shake the feeling, I grabbed my new cell phone, another milestone to celebrate my breaking free from the past, and called Booker. I decided to tell him what the note said and he could do what he wanted with the information. The call went straight to voicemail.
I tucked the phone and the letter in my purse. Great. I’d have to drop it off on my way to Maggie’s. I hadn’t seen him since that horrible day at his house. Part of me was excited, just a little. A larger part hated the idea of seeing him again. Maybe I should just tape it to his door and ding-dong ditch him. I shook my head at the junior high prank. We were both adults. We could talk to each other without it being awkward. Yeah, right.
Millie babbled on about the court document she needed help with. It took her all of two minutes to swing the conversation around to Devin and his being a straight-A student all through college. I tried to concentrate, but my mind wouldn’t let the weird, cryptic letter go. I vacillated between telling myself I’d read too much into it, to feeling the need to go and show it to Booker sooner than later.
Sooner won. “Millie, can we do this tomorrow? I forgot about an important appointment I have at the . . . dentist.”
I grabbed my purse and coat, dashing out the door before she said a word. I jogged down the stairs, two at a time, and groaned when I saw the snow. “Why do I still live in this frozen wasteland?” I quickly scraped off my car while calling Booker one more time. Again, the call went straight to voicemail. Grumbling under my breath that I should let it go, I drove out of the parking lot toward Booker’s. Nik may be crazy, and a major drama queen, but she had it right. Loving Booker was an incurable disease.
Chapter 39
Booker
I dragged myself out of bed, not an easy task with a mind full of painkillers. I grabbed the bottle and flushed the rest down the toilet. I’d live with the pain instead of a foggy brain. I made a cup of my favorite hot chocolate and drank it way too quickly in an effort to wake myself.
“Six p.m.,” I complained, frowning at the clock. I’d slept the entire afternoon. Still needing to shake the foggy effects of the painkillers from my head, I dressed warmly and went outside to shovel today’s layer of snow off for the millionth time this season.
It took me thirty minutes to shovel half the driveway that normally took me ten. Canes and shovels don’t play well together. I knew I could call Seth or Cole. Either would have come in a heartbeat, but keeping busy meant no time to think about Tess. I planted the shovel in a snow bank next to my house near the front door and hobbled to the shed for the snow blower. I had no idea if I had the strength to handle it, but I was about to find out.
Just removing the machine from the shed turned into a joke. I huffed and puffed like an old man. I stopped to wipe the sweat from my face. Swallow your pride and call Seth.
“Hi, Bookie.” Nik’s voice startled me.
I reached out for the side of the shed to steady myself. I didn’t want to see her right now. Or ever, really. Without looking up, I said, “I thought you were going to New York. I know you cashed the check.” She cashed it the day I gave it to her. Same ol’ Nik. Couldn’t handle money.
“I made it all the way to New York, even stayed a few days before coming back.” She sighed. “I
’ve made a life changing decision.”
“What are you talking about?” I turned to her. She stood ten feet from me, dressed in an expensive looking fur jacket and furry boats. Only her outfit didn’t have my attention. The pink gun she pointed straight at me did. Why is my life full of crazy people?
“If I can’t have you, nobody can.” She lifted the gun higher. “Give me your gun. In case I miss the first time. I still remember how fast you can draw that thing.”
“I didn’t wear the gun to shovel my driveway, Nickel.” I used my pet name for her, hoping to calm her down. The girl had irrational thinking down to a science.
She stomped her foot. “Now you call me Nickel? I’ve been asking you since I got out of jail to call me Nickel and you wait until I have a gun pointed on you to do it.”
I decided to try charm next, even if it meant throwing my species under the bus and surrendering my man card. “Nickel, I’m a guy. Put us all in one room and we still only have half a brain between us.” I smiled widely. “Come on. Let’s go inside where it’s warmer. I’ll make you some of that hot chocolate you like.”
“Give me your gun.” She pulled back the hammer on hers to emphasize she meant business. She was the second person in less than a month to do that to me. Anger boiled inside as I unstrapped the gun. I kicked it into a snow bank.
Big mistake. Nik fired her gun. Luckily, she missed. However, in my rush to get away from her, I stepped back with my bad leg—well, the worse of the two since neither was in great shape—and fell into a snow bank, opposite my gun.
“I loved you, Bookie. I’m a changed woman. I would have been a good wife.” She wiped away tears with her opposite hand. The gun stayed shakily on me.
“Nik, I’m sorry. Really I am. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you broke my trust. I’m having a hard time overlooking that, especially with a gun pointed at me.” I worked my way to a sitting position.
“It doesn’t matter now.” She tugged her hat and scarf off and tossed them to the ground as she unbuttoned her coat.
Unbearable (The Port Fare Series) Page 30