“Let’s do this.” Jensen has a warrior mentality. He’s fearless. Always ready for battle. He saves people. He defends the defenseless.
But I’m positive he can’t save me right now.
Any hope I had of redeeming myself, any optimism I held for my future… gone.
We climb out of the truck and death march toward the front door, following my silent father inside. It’s past breakfast and the younger kids play quietly in the family room. Without saying a word, we head straight to the dining room.
Mom, Summer, and Kath are seated in the dining room, their hands folded neatly, their faces bleak and their eyes holding fear. They’re not afraid for my punishment, though—they’re afraid for my soul. Whatever retribution my father deems appropriate is going to be okay with them. I can see it on their faces.
The fact that my father has said zero words is an alarming testament to the fact that he’s beyond his breaking point. His anger subsided long before we arrived home, and it has evolved into a disturbing, quiet rage.
“I’m not going to ask where you were last night.” His statement throws a slight wrench in our plan. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you disobeyed me. You disrespected the house rules, and you disgraced Heavenly Father.”
My mothers are silent, judging us like a jury bred to side with the prosecution.
“From now until graduation, Jensen, you are to stay in Kath’s house. You will eat, sleep, and shower there. You are not to set foot near the main house, or Waverly, ever again.” My father’s voice booms, echoing through the dining room. I peer over his shoulder for only a moment to see Bellamy hiding around the corner, listening in. “You will look me in the eye at all times, Waverly.”
My eyes dart to my father’s, which are intensely stormy and send an uncontrollable shake to my fingers.
“Jensen, you are to pack your things and leave within the next forty-eight hours. You cannot stay here any longer. We have shown you kindness, hospitality, and generosity, and you have repaid us by leaving a squall in your path of unrighteousness and demonstrating blatant disrespect.”
I pull in deep breath after deep breath. This isn’t so bad. We’re both adults. We’ll figure out a way to be together again. I’m quite positive Jensen’s silently plotting how to carefully extract me out of the house along with him. Forty-eight hours from now, we’ll both be long gone.
“Kath, kindly take your son to your house,” my father grits. “He is not to set foot in this house ever again. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Mark.” Kath stands up, tapping Jensen’s arm and motioning for him to follow.
Jensen’s dark eyes lock in mine, and then his lips curl into an arrogant smile, one that assures me he’ll absolutely defy my father’s wishes.
Jensen loves me, even if he can’t say it, and I think my father knows. I think he knew long before either of us did. He saw it written on our faces before we had a chance to acknowledge any of it.
The click of the sliding door tells us Jensen and Kath are gone. I miss his presence already. He grounds me, gives me something to cling to when I’ve nothing else.
“And as for you.” My father’s words come from a dark place, his hands splayed on the table before me. He lowers his face to mine. “There’s only one solution for my wayward daughter.”
I tremble, weighed down by his fierce stare.
“You’re endangering your virtue, Waverly. You need to be controlled. If I can’t control you, then…” His lips tighten as he pauses. “I didn’t want to have to do this. Not yet.”
I know. I know in the deepest, darkest part of my soul. My eyes dart to my mother, silently pleading with her to stop this and ignoring every part of me that knows she holds no weight in this household.
“Your marriage has been arranged. Your husband has been chosen for you.” My father speaks like a judge, sentencing me to life in prison with no possibility of parole.
“No!” My voice is a shrill shriek, which I hardly recognize as my own.
He places his finger in the air to silence me. “Waverly, this is enough. You need to keep sweet and know that I am doing what’s best for you.”
“I can’t do this, Dad. I can’t. I can’t marry someone. Let me graduate from college first.” I’m pleading, desperate and frantic, losing any ounce of sweetness I once had. “I’m supposed to go to Utah. You said if-if I get a scholarship, I could go. I don’t want to get married yet, I—”
“Silence.” He raises his hand, threatening to slap my mouth into muteness. “The decision has been made. Bellamy will drive you. You’re to pack immediately. The car is fueled and ready for the drive.”
My sister appears from around the corner, like she’d been waiting for this moment. Her blank expression tries to hide her co-conspirator smugness, but I see it in her eyes. She’s known about this all along.
“You fucking traitor.”
I’ve never uttered words like that in my father’s house before. I brace myself for a slap across the mouth that never comes. I shut my eyes, recalling how it felt several years back when I’d accidentally broken a cherished vase that once belonged to my father’s grandmother. I lied about it, received five open-handed slaps across the mouth, solitary confinement for twenty-four hours, and extra chores for a month. Swearing in my father’s house is way worse than lying.
But the slap never comes.
My eyes peel apart. My father still stands before me. Unmoving.
I straighten my shoulders. “I want to talk to Jensen. I have to tell him goodbye. You have to let me see him.”
If we’re leaving immediately, I won’t have time to conspire with Jensen. How will I find him? How will he find me?
All this time, my father was laying low, waiting for one single lapse in judgment. Waiting patiently for me to slip up just once. He thrives off these opportunities, probably thrilled to be able to teach me a lesson and make me submit one last time. He lives to remind us all he’s in control.
I hadn’t even tasted freedom before it was all washed away. Jensen was right. Everything was an illusion all along.
I succumb to hysterics, copious tears I didn’t know I was crying stream down my cheeks and fall into the table below. My face is red, puffy, and I’m screaming at the top of my lungs, though I’m not sure what I’m saying anymore.
“I’m sorry, Waverly,” Bellamy says, her arms folded and her demeanor painfully calm. “This is God’s will. This is for the best, really. It won’t be so bad.”
I hate her. I hate my sister. I will hate her the rest of my days.
“Jane,” my dad says, “take Waverly to pack her belongings. The car is leaving in thirty minutes.”
“No, no, no, no…” I wail, flailing as my mother pulls me up the stairs. We get to my room, where a suitcase is sitting open-faced on my bed. “I’m not going, Mom. You can’t make me go. Don’t do this. Please. Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
She ignores my pleas as she rifles through my drawers and closet, pulling clothes and neatly packing them into the suitcase as if I’m going on a pleasant little vacation.
“Brigham Young said that all women must submit to their husbands.” My mother breaks her silence with a convenient quote. “God gives husbands the wisdom and ability to lead us into his presence. We must trust our husbands to lead us on the righteous path so that we may gain entrance into the kingdom of Heaven. It’s the only way, Waverly.”
She zips my suitcase and stands before me. She’s never been a touchy feely kind of mother, but her hand cups my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. It’s only fitting that the first and only time my mother shows tenderness toward me is going to be the last.
“We’re doing this because we love you,” she says. Her lips form a pained smile. I don’t think she wants to send me away, but she doesn’t believe she has a choice. “Build up your husband by being submissive. He will take care of you for all of your days.”
I shake my head, refusing to believe this is real life. I pra
y it’s a bad dream, that I’ll wake up any second now.
“Your husband’s name is Harold McGill. You’ll be his sixth wife. He’s an extremely prosperous businessman with a lot of land and resources in South Dakota. He’ll take good care of you. He’s taken in wayward daughters before, and they’ve grown up to become perfect AUB wives.” My mother speaks as if I’ve won the jackpot of prospective husbands.
Bellamy slips into the room. “The car’s ready to go. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
I refuse to look at her, so I stare down at the blue carpet that’s covered my room for as long as I can remember. It’ll be the last time I ever see it, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Bellamy escorts me downstairs where my father and Summer stand by the front door to see me off. I don’t meet their gazes. I didn’t know it was possible for love to just vanish into thin air the way it has just now. Family bonds are supposed to be unbreakable, and if that’s the case, these people aren’t my family.
I stop before my father, staring over his shoulder just enough that he knows I can’t look him in the eye. “I never want to see you again.”
Summer gasps. “Waverly, don’t say such things.”
My eyes finally shift into my father’s. I say the one thing I know will hurt him the most. “You’re dead to me.”
My father doesn’t flinch or react. He extracts a heavy breath from the air, his shoulders as firm as his belief system. I’m sure he’s justifying this decision six ways from Sunday in his mind, believing this is all for the greater good. He probably thinks he’s saving my soul, and if that’s the case, there’s absolutely no changing his mind.
“I never want to see any of you ever again.” I spit my words at them, pointing my finger, my gaze darting from Dad and Summer to Mom. Their stares are weighted with pity and prayers. I can practically feel them saying silent prayers for my soul, asking Heavenly Father to forgive me for not knowing better and to forgive them for years of failed teachings. “Go to Hell. All of you.”
CHAPTER 27
“This is bullshit.” I slam my fist across the counter of Kath’s house the second I’m alone with her. “You know that, right?”
“Jensen.” Her body tenses. “You are not to speak about Mark or his decisions with disrespect.”
“You know he’s no better than Dad, right? He’s fucking Josiah Mackey 2.0, the delusional, polygamist version.”
“Jensen.” There’s more bark in her voice this time, which is funny, because I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Kath raise her voice before. “Do not make this worse than it already is. I think we all need to cool off for a bit. Why don’t you head upstairs and relax?”
“Yeah, because relaxing is exactly what I want to fucking do.”
My mother slaps me across the mouth, leaving a mild sting. Fair enough, I suppose, but it was worth it.
“I’m leaving.” I pull my keys from my pocket.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
I head outside, climb into my truck, and drive around town for what feels like hours. The shop is closed on Sundays, so I can’t go to work. Liberty is probably hung over as hell, so I can’t go there.
So I just drive.
And think.
This is just a minor hiccup. I’ll see pay one of the twins to slip a note to Waverly at breakfast, and we’ll figure everything out. A lot can happen in forty-eight hours. I can figure everything out for the both of us.
I return to Kath’s several hours later, a black Audi with Arizona plates rests in her driveway.
“No fucking way,” I mutter when I climb out. Approaching the vehicle with careful steps, I’m floored the second I notice it’s Juliette sitting in the driver’s seat. I rap on her window, startling her, and when she turns to face me, my stomach drops.
With black and blue eyes so swollen it’s a wonder she can see, she begins to sob. She climbs out, throwing her arms around me like I’m some kind of lifeline. The bump on her nose tells me he broke it again, and dried blood resides in the gash across her bottom lip.
“You should’ve left him.” I brush her hair from her eyes. I forgot how small she is, how delicate. “I’ve been telling you that for years.”
“I never wanted to leave you,” she says, wiping away tears carefully. She protected me from him when she could, but I know I would’ve been fine without her. “I thought he loved me.” She laughs, dabbing tears. “I’m a stupid woman.”
“Don’t say that.”
“You look good, Jensen.” She licks the dried blood from her lips. “You look healthy, strong.”
What she’s saying is she’s not used to seeing me without so much as a bump or bruise.
“You doing okay?” she asks.
I don’t have time to get into it with her. “More or less.”
“Good for you.” She cups her hand above her eyes, shielding the morning sun.
“What are you doing here, anyway? You know you could get in a lot of trouble coming here.”
“I had nowhere to go, Jensen. I finally left him. For good.” She holds my gaze with those helpless, puppy dog eyes, the ones that lured me in each time. We were both broken and fucked up in our own ways, suffering years of abuse at the hands of the men who were supposed to protect us. She’d mentioned one night that her daddy used to touch her when she was little, and I’m certain that Josiah knew damn well how to give her just enough of his bullshit-flavored love to fill the void that left her emotionally stunted.
“There’s got to be a women’s shelter around here,” I say.
“I don’t want to go to one of those,” she says without hesitation.
I want to help her. I do. “You can’t stay here. Kath wouldn’t allow it. Plus, there’s no room.”
And I’m not in a position to be asking personal favors at the moment…
“What about your sister in Provo?” I ask.
“She won’t speak to me.” Juliette hangs her head. I know she had a falling out with her sister years ago, though she never went into detail. I get the feeling she’s been a disappointment to a lot of people over the years, but she’s a product of the cards she’s been dealt. No one should blame her for that. Underneath her fake boobs, stripper-blonde hair, and layers of caked up makeup, she’s got a heart of gold. People prey on women like her because they’re easy targets.
“Why don’t I help you?” It’s the best I can do. “I’ll go with you, kind of help explain the situation. Mediate a little. Once she sees you, once she hears what you’ve endured over the years, she won’t be able to turn you away.”
Juliette’s shoulders rise and fall as she sucks in a long breath. She hangs her head, her shoes scuffing against the pavement of the driveway.
“But first, let’s go file a police report. Josiah Mackey might own the Charter Springs police department, but he doesn’t have any weight up here.”
We head to the police where they take Juliette’s statement, give her a fresh change of clothes, and photograph damn near every square inch of her bruised and battered body.
It’s a long process involving tears and retellings of harsh memories neither one of us wanted to recall, but there’s a spring in her step when we walk out, and I know we did the right thing.
“I don’t think I could’ve done that alone.” She flicks the business card of her assigned caseworker as I walk her to her car. She’s going to meet with her first thing Monday, and she’s been told this lady will help her find housing and hook her up with other resources to help get her on her feet.
“Just promise me, no matter what, you’ll never go back to that bastard.”
“I promise.” She drags her fingers across her chest, making an “X” and then crosses her fingers. For whatever reason, I believe her this time.
“Ready to go to Provo?”
She combs her nails through her hair, sweeping her platinum hair into place and staring toward the sunset. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
CHAP
TER 28
“I’m on your side, you know,” Bellamy says after a solid half hour of silence. Her hands grip the steering wheel of her Toyota, perfectly placed at ten and two. She’s been checking the rearview mirror every other second, and by the way she’s acting, you’d think we’re being followed.
She’s on a mission, one of my father’s loyal minions. I should’ve known not to trust a girl with secrets as deep as they are wide. I wouldn’t put it past her to have been conspiring with him all along, waiting for the perfect time to arrange my marriage.
It makes sense. She didn’t want to be married off, so she put the heat on me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were feeding my father’s paranoia about Jensen and me this entire time.
I hate my sister.
I stare out the window, my head against the glass. If I could sit further away from her, I would, but her car is small and there’s no escaping. Maybe when we stop for gas, I’ll run. It would be insane and desperate, but it might be the only way.
“Waverly,” she says, “everything’s going to be okay.”
I huff, rolling my eyes. I shut them for a minute. They ache and they’re still very much swollen from my fit of hysterics this morning.
“You have to trust me,” she says.
I laugh, though it’s more of a cackle. “You’re delusional if you think I’ll ever trust you again.”
She merges into a westbound exit lane. I could’ve sworn Mom said I was going to South Dakota. “Isn’t South Dakota northeast? Why are we going west?”
“I told you. Trust me.”
CHAPTER 29
Right now, somewhere in Charter Springs, an arrest warrant is being made for Josiah Mackey. The Charter Springs Police Department may have been able to sweep his dust under the rug for the last decade, but not anymore. Now that another department is involved and human services employees in Whispering Hills have been assigned to the case.
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