by Heather Lyn
It was the best night ever. Her words, not mine, but I have to agree.
Pulling into my driveway a few minutes later, I don’t bother putting the cover back on the Jeep before I head inside. Five minutes later, I’m stripping down and climbing into bed. Reaching over, I plug my cell phone in and notice a text waiting for me.
Nacole: Tonight was magical. Thank you.
Garret: You’re welcome. We’ll have to go to another sometime.
Nacole: Definitely. But this time I’ll plan the surprise.
Garret: You’re on.
Locking my phone screen, I set it on my nightstand and lie down, getting comfortable. Sleep doesn’t elude me for long, and when I do, I dream about a long-haired brunette, dancing her way into my heart.
CHAPTER NINE
Nacole
Nightmares plagued my sleep last night. I have one normal day, one day where I can be myself and start to feel like maybe this could be my life, and then Graham is right there, making sure I don’t get it. That my happiness stays far away.
Pouring myself another cup of coffee, my phone beeps, alerting me to another text message. I’ve avoided Garret long enough, so I reach across my counter and hold it up.
Garret: Are you working tonight?
Nacole: Yeah, at 6.
Garret: I’m pulling a double. Someone called in sick.
Nacole: Oh no. That stinks.
Garret: Jace is driving me nuts.
Nacole: Sorry :(
Garret: So, I was thinking. Dinner this weekend?
Nacole: I’ll let you know.
Moving my phone to the side, I drink my coffee in silence, trying to decide what to do. Last night was amazing. Not only was getting to see my favorite musician in concert incredible, but the company was just as great. Garret was a perfect gentleman all night, holding my hand and keeping me away from drunk concert-goers. I kept telling myself it’s just because he’s a cop, that he’s used to these types of situations, but deep down, the reason had nothing to do with his job.
Garret likes me—it’s obvious in the way he looks at me, the way he treats me. But it’s hard for me to believe he’s as amazing as he seems. Graham was kind and loving to me in the beginning too. I trusted him, and he shattered that trust during our marriage. Now I’m stuck, my brain and my heart wanting two different things. I want to move on, to be happy, but I can’t risk my heart. I can’t risk my whole self.
If Garret hurt me, it would completely destroy everything I’m working so hard to get back.
And I’m not sure it’s a risk I want to take.
§
“Hey, girl, come in.”
Almost a week later, I’m standing on Carmen’s front step, smiling as she ushers me inside. I didn’t take Garret up on his offer of dinner last week, and while he didn’t ask why, he seemed disappointed.
I got a call from Mitchell Hale yesterday, and we had a really long talk. I’m finally ready to take the necessary steps to end the chapter I left behind all those months ago.
I know Carmen was never married to her ex, but I need some advice before I file for divorce. Mitchell thinks we can present all the evidence and that will be enough, that I won’t have to go home and face him, but I’m scared. And I can’t let myself be with Garret until this is all behind me. It’s not fair to him.
I follow Carmen into her living room, where it’s cozy and warm. A bottle of wine and a couple glasses are on the coffee table, and Hunter pokes his head into the room as we’re sitting on the couch.
“Babe, I’m heading out. You ladies have fun tonight, okay?”
“Say hi to your mom for me?” Carmen stands from the couch to give her husband a hug, and I don’t miss the look on his face when he pulls her into his arms, the love that surrounds the two of them.
“I love you,” he says, and with a wave to me, he’s gone, leaving us alone.
Coming back over to the couch, Carmen plops down next to me and pats my knee. “So, now that we finally get to hang out, tell me. How was the concert?”
“It was really good.” I start gushing about the show, laughing when Carmen rolls her eyes at me.
“Well yeah, it was Blake Shelton. There is no such thing as a bad show if he’s performing. And you know that is not what I was asking.”
She pours us both a glass of wine but I shake my head, refusing the drink. With a shrug, she places the extra back down and turns to me.
“I know,” I joke, sitting back and tucking my legs under me. “It was a lot of fun, actually. We danced and ate really bad fair food, and he was the perfect date for my very first country show.”
“I’m glad, though I sense a ‘but’ coming.”
“But… I’ve flaked on him this last week. Something felt like it shifted that night and he was ready to ask me out. Well, I guess he technically already asked me out. But you know what I mean.”
“He wants you.”
“Yeah.”
Carmen trains her eyes on me, the faintest smile on her face. “And this is bad how?”
Sighing loudly, I lean back against the couch, resting a foot on the coffee table.
“I’ve only known him a month and a half, for starters. I’m not even legally divorced yet, and it certainly hasn’t been long enough to even entertain dating.”
“Says who?”
“Says….” She caught me. I can’t help laughing.
“See? There's absolutely no time limit, no law that says you can’t move on, find happiness in another person, a new life for yourself.”
“I know.”
“Nacole...”
“I’m scared, Carmen. And I think I need help.”
She leans forward to place her wineglass on the coffee table. “Help?”
“My lawyer wants me to see someone. And he also wants me to report the abuse so the divorce will go through no matter what Graham contests.”
“I think that sounds like a great idea. If you’d like, I can give you the name of the woman I went to see after Craig was arrested for attacking me. She was incredibly helpful, and while I only saw her for a couple months, she really helped me.”
I smile and nod, eyes misty. Carmen leans over to squeeze my hand, then picks up her glass of wine. “Now, give me all the dirty details about our resident Walker brother.”
Laughing, I settle in for a night filled with laughs and memories, ones I never thought I would get again. And surprisingly, I don’t feel any heaviness on my chest. Instead, I relish the moment, grateful I found her and finally have someone to confide in.
§
“Graham, you promised,” I argue, tossing the dishcloth on the counter.
My husband’s green eyes glare at me over the kitchen island, his body tight and rigid with anger.
“I did not, Sadie. Do not put fucking words in my mouth.”
Shaking my head in frustration, I turn away from him. He’s hell-bent on ruining tonight for us, and I refuse to let him spoil my mood. We’ve been married just over a month, and something's wrong. Every night he comes home angry with me for something I didn’t do, and every night I go to bed wondering what's changed. What happened to my kind and caring partner?
“I just wanted tonight to be special, Graham. You’ve been working so hard, and I just wanted to take you somewhere nice.”
“Well, unlike you, I work my ass to the bone every single day. Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, the last thing I want to do when I come home is take your lazy ass out to dinner? Did you ever think that maybe I wanted my wife to get off her ass and have dinner waiting for me? Huh, Sadie?”
His voice grows louder with each word, and I turn around to find him strolling toward me, his face red with anger and the muscles in his neck cording.
“I’m sorry, Graham, I just—”
“Exactly. You just. I didn’t marry you to fucking think, I married you because it was easy. Cancel the reservation and make dinner yourself, I have work to do tonight.”
Tears spill down my c
heeks, and I lift a trembling hand to wipe them away. Graham has never spoken to me like this, and I absolutely refuse to let it happen. Squaring my shoulders, I walk up to him, hands on my hips.
“Screw you, Graham. I have no idea what kind of bug is up your ass tonight, but—"
I barely have time to react when he spins around and backhands me right across the face, the harsh sting making me cry out, my hand shooting up to cover the reddening skin he just hit.
“You do not get to talk to me like that. Do I make myself clear?” He spits out the words, and I can do little more than nod, tears falling down my cheeks, each one a small representation of the pain in my heart. Graham stalks away, his office door slamming shut a moment later.
Wiping my tears away, I bustle around the kitchen, doing exactly as he said. In my mind, I plan to pack my suitcase when he leaves in the morning, disgusted with him. How dare he? Not once in the years we’ve been together has he ever hit me. But he never will again.
I wipe my eyes with a tissue and look up at Dr. Klein, the psychiatrist Carmen told me about. Her warm brown eyes are sad as I recount the first time Graham ever hit me. When I first came in about an hour ago, I couldn’t stop twisting my hands together with nerves, but I found myself incredibly comfortable with her. I haven’t confided in her about my current situation as much as I would like, but she asked me what I came to talk about and I answered with Graham, so there we have it.
“So, up until then, your husband had never put his hands on you?”
“No.”
“Did he ever raise his voice during arguments like that?”
Shrugging, I blow my nose and crumple the tissue in my hand. “I mean, yeah we got into arguments. What couple doesn’t? But he’d never treated me that way, and he most certainly never hurt me.”
“I’m very sorry you went through that, Nacole.”
“Sadie,” I tell her, my voice quiet yet steady. She gives me a questioning glare. “My full name is Sadie Nacole Ward. I’ve been going by my middle name since I moved here.”
Dr. Klein nods at me. “As a way of starting over, but not forgetting.” It’s a statement, not a question, and she couldn’t be more correct.
“Nacole was my mom’s name. I’m an only child, raised by a single mom. She was my best friend, my entire world.”
“Was?”
I let out a shaky breath, and a few more tears blind my vision. “She died in January. Graham and I were supposed to have dinner with her, but he bailed last minute as we were leaving. He had business to go deal with, so I went over myself. She was already gone when I got there.” Burying my face in my hands, I cry softly, the image of my mother dead something I can never erase from my mind, the painful reminder there every single day when I look in the mirror.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, mopping at my face with a fresh tissue.
“There is nothing to apologize for,” Dr. Klein tells me gently, a sad smile on her face. “This is why you’re here, Sadie, to talk about what you’re feeling. I’m here to listen.”
“Thank you.” I take a deep breath, calming myself down.
“You’re welcome. It sounds like it’s been a hard year, but also a long time coming.”
“Yeah. I guess the real reason I’m here is I want to start reclaiming my life. Moving here has changed everything, and I want to be able to have real relationships. But every time I start opening up to people, letting myself go, I clam up. I start retreating into myself.”
“And why do you think that is?”
“I don’t trust anyone,” I state, sitting up straight, determined not to hide anything. I know this is a place where I’m totally safe, so I can speak truthfully. “I know it’s not fair to say that, but it’s true. I guess I trust people as well as I can, but I want to be able to completely. I want to have friends, a good life. And I’m afraid I won't be able to.”
Dr. Klein sets her notebook on the table in front of us and leans forward on her knees, reaching out to squeeze my hand. “Can I ask you something?”
I nod. “Of course.”
“You told me you were referred to me by someone you knew, someone who wants to help you start your life over, correct?”
Carmen’s smile appears in my head, images of our girls' night last week standing out in my head. “Yeah.”
“Sounds to me like you’ve already made a friend, Sadie. Now you just need to work on believing that you deserve these things.”
Biting my bottom lip, I nod at her again, in full agreement. And when I leave her office thirty minutes later, I feel the boulder lying across my shoulders slowly starting to inch its way off. I know I have plenty of work to do, and a ways to go, but Dr. Klein is right.
It’s time to start believing in people. Myself especially.
CHAPTER TEN
Garret
“Shut up, Brody. My dance moves did not scare her off.” I slap my brother on the back of his head, but he just chuckles and skirts around the kitchen island. Hanging out at my place after a work shift, I’m trying to get Brody's opinion on what I did wrong with Nacole, but the fucker can’t stop giving me shit. He’s about to get his ass kicked if he doesn’t watch it.
“Chill out, bro. I’m just messing with you. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”
“Brody….”
“But really, man. Two weeks since the concert and you’ve barely spoken to her. Yep, definitely your dance moves. Fo sho.” Brody ducks when I take a swing at his head and laughs again, stepping onto my back porch with a beer in hand. Groaning, I grab my own and head out after him.
“What are you, fucking fifteen? And who the hell even says ‘fo sho’ anymore?”
“Your amazing brother does, obviously.” He folds over in a bow and I roll my eyes.
“Well, amazing brother, tell me. How awesome would it have felt if Lindsey stiffed you the first time y’all went out?”
Brody’s eyes narrow at me as he takes a pull from the bottle. “Screw off, man.”
“Exactly. It would've sucked. So either shut the hell up or help me, because at this point, I’m ready to throw her a bone and get down on my knees.”
Brody chokes on his beer with laughter, and I think back on my words. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, man. Grow the fuck up.”
Turning on my heel, I go back inside while I finish my beer, heading right for the fridge to grab another. When I shut the door, my brother is behind me.
“Sorry. I’m being a dick, and that’s not fair. I had to fight for Linds, in more than one way, and I can’t imagine her not being by my side. I’m sorry. I wish I could help, or had some insight into Nacole, but if I’m being honest, even though she’s worked for me the past couple months, I know boo about her.”
“Yeah, I know, man. I just don’t get what happened. I like her, and I thought maybe we could’ve been good together. I’ve spent the last decade on my career, working my ass off to make something of myself, and now I’m a month away from the detective’s exam. I don’t know. Maybe I’m pathetic, but I really like her.”
“So call her. Pretty simple thing to do, if you ask me.”
“Yeah, maybe. Now let’s go fire up the Xbox so I can kick your ass in Call of Duty.”
Brody finishes his beer and drops it in the trash. “You’re on.”
I follow him into the living room, his words ringing loudly in my head. I’ve spent weeks just letting her slip through my fingers, not that I have any control over it. If she doesn’t like me, she doesn’t. I’m a thirty-three-year-old man, not a teenager who can’t handle rejection. But I also need to grow a set and find out once and for all.
§
“Nashville PD. Open up!” Slamming my fist against the door, I lean toward it, trying to hear any commotion inside. Jace stands next to me, trying to look in one of the windows. We received the call only a few minutes ago for a reported domestic disturbance, but the apartment is silent, and nobody is answering.
“What do you think?” Jace asks, and I shrug, lean
ing my ear against the door. The sound of something crashing perks us both up, and I resume my pounding on the door. A woman cries out, and I jump into action. Stepping back, I don’t waste a second before I kick the door in, the thin wood cracking open easily. Keeping a hand on top of my secured gun, I head straight for the commotion, shouting to announce our presence.
A young man is in the tiny kitchen, his hand wrapped around a woman’s neck, her face littered with cuts and bruises. Jace shoves past and grabs him, wrestling him down to the ground. Helping the woman out of the area, I radio for them to roll an ambulance and have her sit on the couch. She’s crying and frantically trying to pull her ripped shirt over her body.
“Ma’am, I’m Officer Walker. What's your name?”
“I’m… I’m Alison Grady.”
“Miss Grady, can you tell me what happened?”
She looks over her shoulder as Jace hauls the man from the apartment, reading him his rights as they go.
“He’s my boyfriend, Lance. I don’t know why he was so mad.” She buries her face in her hands and I gently pat her on the shoulder as I kneel in front of her. She tearfully gives me the rest of her statement, and I fight not to blow my cool the entire while. I hate nothing more than pieces of shit who beat on women. Scum of the earth. I’m glad Jace got to him first.
The paramedics arrive a few minutes later, and I step aside while they check her out. Helping her out to the ambulance, I tell her Jace and I will be by later to check on her. With a tearful smile, she reaches up and hugs me hard.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“Only doing my job, ma’am.”
Tucking my notepad in my pocket, I head over to the squad car where Jace is waiting, the piece of shit cuffed in the back seat.
“She okay?” Jace asks, and I shrug, tapping the roof of the car.