The Clover Chapel

by Devney Perry

  Before. It had to have been before, so at least that was something.

  She hadn’t stopped her attorney from drafting them but maybe that was just because of timing. She wouldn’t want to divorce me now, would she? How could she want to end our marriage when we were finally putting it back together?

  This all had to be a misunderstanding.

  But that didn’t ease the ache in my chest.

  Emmeline

  “I thought you wanted to go for a ride?”

  “Not anymore. Besides, you said there was no way you were getting on the back of my bike. So, no. No ride,” he snapped.

  Sometime between sex on my living room couch, Chinese food and cleaning, Nick had gotten pissed at me. I just wasn’t sure why.

  I had warmed up to the idea of riding with Nick. His bike was so big and shiny. And when I had pulled up and Nick had been straddling it, I’d flushed at how hot he looked.

  “Okay,” I said. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  The drive to Nick’s was tense and stressful. What could I have possibly done to make him mad? Was it the cleaning? He had offered to help, otherwise I would have been happy to do it myself. It didn’t make any sense that he would be mad, but I still got that dreaded sick feeling in my stomach.

  He pulled his bike into the garage while I parked and waited for him at the front door. His long strides around the side of the house and up the steps were done without eye contact.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you mad at me?” I asked when we were both inside.

  He stomped to the living room and reached behind his back and under his coat. From the waistband of his jeans he pulled out a manila envelope and waved it in the air.

  Shit.

  He had found the divorce papers. Probably when he was going through my mail. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  It was time for this discussion. Overdue, really. I just wished I hadn’t been a coward and had brought it up myself. I might have stood a chance at keeping Nick from getting enraged but there was little chance of that now. I could practically see the heat radiating off his body and the steam coming from his ears.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about those.”

  “Why?” he asked. “Why do you have these? Tell me it’s just because your attorney doesn’t know that we are together.”

  “Will you let me explain?” I asked, sitting on the couch. “Sit down. Please.”

  He huffed but sat.

  I’m sure there were better approaches to this conversation, and had I been the one to bring it up, I would have tried one. But now it was too late so I decided to get straight to the point.

  “I think we should get a divorce.”

  He shot to his feet. “You’re fucking shitting me!”

  “Please sit down so I can explain my reasoning.” I was trying to remain calm but my voice cracked.

  “I’m not fucking sitting down. Why? You said you wouldn’t leave me because I didn’t have money. Or because of my family. So, why?”

  “I’m not leaving you,” I said. “I just don’t want to be married.”

  “That doesn’t make any fucking sense. How can you not be leaving me if you want a divorce?”

  “I want to stay together. To keep dating. You’ll be my boyfriend.”

  “Your boyfriend? We’re not sixteen years old!”

  “We’ll still be together, Nick.”

  “And what? We date forever?” he asked.

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know. We date like other couples. If we decided to get married again someday, we can. This would just be a fresh start for us. Like hitting the reset button.”

  “A fresh start? What and the fuck do you think we’ve been doing since you moved here if it wasn’t starting from scratch?” He raked his hands through his hair and rubbed his face.

  “I don’t feel like we’re married,” I admitted.

  “What?” His hand rubbed his heart and the look on his face cracked mine.

  This was not going at all like I had hoped. Yes, I had expected Nick to be mad. But hurt? I didn’t want to hurt him.

  “How can you not feel like we’re married, Emmy?” he asked. “Did that night in Vegas mean nothing to you that you’d throw it all away?”

  “That night meant everything to me! Everything! I want to get rid of the nine years after that. That’s what I want to throw away. Nine years of us being apart. Nine years of heartache. Nine years of you fucking other women. For nine years, I pretended that maybe one day I could settle for someone else because the love of my life had crushed me.”

  “We’ll never get past it,” Nick said. “You don’t forgive me.”

  “I do forgive you and I’m not blaming you or holding Vegas against you. What I’m saying is that I don’t want to look back at our married life together and have a gap. I want a real first anniversary. Not one ten years later.” Tears were now streaming down my face. Nick’s eyes were filled with anguish and pain. “I’m not doing this to hurt you. I’m doing this so we can have a real chance.”

  “The night I found you,” he said, “the night we got married, was the best night of my life. I locked every moment in my heart so I’d never forget a single one. Now you’re taking them away from me.”

  He was right. I was taking Vegas away. But I was taking the nine years away too. We couldn’t have one without the other.

  “I don’t want you to leave me, Emmy.”

  “I’m not,” I said. “I told you I wouldn’t. That’s not what I’m doing.”

  “Then why does it feel like I just lost you?”

  Wow, that hurt.

  I sucked in a ragged breath and thought about what I was asking. Was it worth the pain?

  No, it wasn’t. If this idea of mine was going to drive us apart, I wasn’t going through with it. I didn’t need a divorce to be happy. I just needed Nick.

  But before I could tell him any of that, the front door flew open.

  In stormed Dash, followed by another Tin Gypsy I hadn’t met. Dash walked right into Nick’s space and stood nose to nose with his brother. “You’re fucking helping us.”

  “Get out of my face,” Nick growled.

  Dash stepped back a foot and pulled at his hair with both hands. His friend had an equally frazzled look.

  Nick and I had been so consumed with our own drama, neither of us had heard the motorcycles outside approach.

  “You ever barge into my house like that again, I’ll put you on your ass, Brother. What are you doing here?”

  “Shit went down last night. Warriors attacked. A few of us were drinking at a bar, watching the playoffs. They grabbed Stone and took him outside. Before any of us even knew what the fuck was happening, they shot him. Fucking execution style, man. Just like Mom.”

  I gasped and slapped a hand to my mouth to keep from screaming.

  “Fuck,” Nick hissed. His hands fisted at his sides and his entire body tensed. “Fuck!” he roared. The noise was so loud and gut-wrenching I flinched.

  “Let’s go,” Nick ordered Dash.

  “Nick, no,” I gasped. “Don’t do this.” He wouldn’t forgive himself if he crossed that line. Enemy or not, this would torture him.

  “I’m going,” he said, following Dash and the other man to the door without looking back.

  “You promised you wouldn’t leave if we were fighting. And you promised you wouldn’t help them,” I told his back.

  He paused and turned his chin to his shoulder. “I promised my wife. You’re just my girlfriend.”

  To say that the last four days of my life had been miserable would be a titanic understatement.

  After I’d watched Nick speed away on his motorcycle, side by side with his brother, I had lost it. Crumbling to the floor, I’d had a complete breakdown.

  A part of me had thought Nick would come back when he got some space. After he had cleared his head and put a few miles betwe
en us. Maybe when he had realized that he’d just left me again.

  But hours later, I had still been alone and crying at his house. So I’d picked myself up and gone home. For the rest of the week, I had gone through the motions.

  I hadn’t heard a word from him since our fight. My calls to his phone had gone directly to voicemail and all my texts had gone unreturned. I didn’t know where he was or if he was being safe. His absence left me constantly nauseous.

  And on top of it all, I’d caught the cold that was traveling around my classroom.

  But despite my stuffed nose and hacking cough, I had gone to work every day. Staying home hadn’t been an option. I’d needed my kids to help me through.

  Now it was Friday and I was home. Alone. Stripping off my clothes, I took a hot bath, letting the hot water soothe my aching muscles.

  My head was fuzzy and my minor cold had taken a serious turn. Breathing was a struggle and I had a scorching fever. The cold medicine I had taken was starting to make me drowsy but I still couldn’t shut down my mind.

  It was consumed with thoughts of Nick and our fight.

  I had completely fucked up.

  I was the only person to blame for how I was feeling. Sick. Lonely. Depressed. This was all my fault. I should have talked to Nick about the divorce a long time ago. And though his parting words had been harsh, I had deserved them.

  The more I’d replayed our argument, the more I’d understood why he had been so hurt.

  He’d left me in Vegas so I could be safe. He’d sacrificed his heart for mine and I had asked him to ignore all of that. And for what gain? So that we could just do it all over again?

  I didn’t need another wedding. Our ceremony at The Clover Chapel had been a dream. What we needed was time. Time to settle into a life with Nick. Time to build new memories that would outshine the years of being apart. Time to love one another.

  My actions had very likely taken away my possibility of getting that time.

  The bath water started to cool so I slipped out, shrugging on one of Nick’s flannels and going immediately to bed.

  Without the distraction of my students, I had no idea how I was going to make it through the weekend. My outlook was fairly bleak.

  Maybe if I kept myself loaded up with cold medicine, I might be able to sleep through it all.

  I heard the crash of breaking glass before the alarm.

  My head lifted up off my pillow but my mind was frozen, unsure of what to do. The NyQuil/Theraflu cocktail I had taken was doing its job and my head was fuzzy.

  The noise in my ears stopped just as soon as it had started.

  Strange.

  I must have been having a nightmare from the first break-in. The sounds of breaking glass and the alarm were all just a dream.

  It was a struggle to keep my eyes open so I let them shut as I face-planted back into my pillow. I forced myself to stay awake for a few more seconds while I listened for other noises, but the house was dead quiet.

  Moments later, I had almost drifted back to sleep when my phone started buzzing on the nightstand. This time I rolled over and scrambled to sit, desperately hoping the call was from Nick.

  But before I could reach the phone, all of the lights in my bedroom came on. I winced, throwing my hands over my eyes to protect them from the blinding light. My head swung to the door and my body jolted.

  I hadn’t dreamed the alarm. It had been tripped.

  Two dark-clad men came strolling into my room. Both were wearing black leather motorcycle club vests, but these were not Tin Gypsies.

  Panic consumed me as I tried to untangle my legs from my bedsheets.

  In a flash, one man jumped on me. My wrists were trapped above my head and his body smashed me into the mattress.

  “She’s a pretty one,” he said.

  He reeked of stale beer and cigarettes. I squirmed and twisted beneath him, hoping to get free, but he was too big. “Let me go!”

  “Quiet,” he said, adjusting his grip.

  He kept my arms secured against the headboard and started groping me with his free hand, yanking at the buttons on Nick’s flannel that I had worn to bed. With some of them coming loose, he grabbed my breast and squeezed so tightly I cried out in pain.

  “No! Please don’t,” I begged. I bucked and rocked my hips, trying to get free, but I couldn’t get any leverage. My feet, covered with huge wool socks, couldn’t get friction against my sheets.

  “Jinx,” the other man snapped. “Get the fuck off of her. Alarm tripped when you broke the glass, you stupid motherfucker. Cops will be here in a minute. Grab her and let’s get the fuck outta here.”

  “You’re no fun, Wrecker,” Jinx said, then sat back on his knees, still pinning me to the bed with his hips but letting my arms go.

  Then, in a flash, his hand came down, backhanding me across my cheek.

  Pain exploded across my face as it whipped to the side. My hands flew to my face, clutching my cheek as the sharp sting spread from one side to the other. The white spots started to clear and I had just opened my eyes when Jinx’s hand came down again. This time his fist pummeled my ribs.

  The air vanished from my lungs. Heave after heave, I struggled to suck in some oxygen as he laughed above me.

  Jinx climbed off the bed, talking to Wrecker about my jewelry box, while I rolled to my side and clutched my stomach. Tears poured down my face as the pain intensified. I had never been hurt like this. I had no idea just how much physical pain one person could inflict upon another.

  Then I was moving.

  One second I was writhing in pain on my bed, the next I was being carried out of my house over Jinx’s shoulder.

  “No! Help!” I screamed, kicking and punching at his back. The pain in my ribs and face got worse with every one of my movements but the adrenaline running through my blood was spurring me to fight.

  The phone call must have been from my security company, meaning a deputy was on their way. Maybe if I could delay long enough, I would be rescued. But nothing I did slowed their escape.

  Jinx carried me outside with haste. I squinted in the dark, hoping to see lights coming down my driveway, but all I saw was an upside-down black van.

  The cold night air nipped at my bare legs but I didn’t let the chills stop my fight. I kept screaming and fighting. If I could squirm free, maybe I could run into the woods and hide.

  “Let me go!” I wailed, using all of the energy I had to hit Jinx. But my struggle was in vain.

  “Enough,” Wrecker shouted from my side.

  I lifted up my head just in time to see his tattooed fist coming straight toward my temple.

  And then everything was black.

  Nick

  This was the worst fucking week of my life.

  I had royally fucked up with Emmy and left her. Again. The one thing she had asked me to do was stay, and instead, I’d run.

  And why? Because she had been honest with me about our marriage? Because she felt differently about it than I did?

  Of course she would want a fresh start. Our nine years apart had been spent thinking entirely different things.

  I had thought she’d be happier and safer without me. I’d spent my time remembering her with longing. With love.

  She had thought I’d abandoned her because she wasn’t good enough and that I didn’t care. She had spent nine years remembering me with pain. With hate.

  I hadn’t even listened to her explanation. I’d been so enraged that I had shut her out and said cruel and unforgivable things.

  I was a motherfucking asshole.

  At least I’d kept my promise not to help Dad start an illegal fire. Even though I was in Clifton Forge, I’d made it clear I was here for Stone’s funeral and nothing more. Well, the funeral and to get smashed each night. Drunk was the only way I could deal with what I’d done to Emmy. What I was still doing to her.

  Emmy had called these past few days but I had ignored the phone. Her voicemail messages had pleaded with me to ca
ll her back. Her texts were much the same. I longed for the sound of her voice but dreaded what she would say.

  I didn’t want to hear her tell me that we were over.

  She would never forgive me for this. And when she left me, it would be completely justified. The end of our relationship was my fucking fault and she had every right to divorce my stupid ass.

  “Drinking already?” Dash asked, walking into the Tin Gypsy party room.

  I grunted. Yeah, I was drinking already. It was only six o’clock in the morning but today I was getting plastered and passing out. Hopefully before ten.

  The party room was where the Gypsies entertained their guests. It housed a fully stocked bar, and for the last four days, it had been my home.

  The three-hour trip to Clifton Forge on Monday night had cooled my temper. The minute I had shut off my bike, I’d thought about climbing right back on and going home. Getting on my hands and knees while begging Emmy to forgive me.

  But I had been too much of a coward. Too afraid she would say no. So I’d gone straight into the Gypsy clubhouse and had gotten drunk.

  A beer was tipped to my lips when my phone rang. Digging it out, I was surprised to see Jess’s name. I had expected Emmy.

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  Emmy and Gigi had probably gotten together this week and now the Clearys knew all about how much of a prick I was. Jess was probably calling to ream my ass for treating her so badly.

  That or something was wrong at the station. I had called a couple of my volunteers and told them I had a family emergency. They were all taking shifts covering the station until Monday.

  “Brick,” I answered.

  “Where the fuck are you?”

  “In Clifton Forge.”

  “Get home. Now,” he clipped.

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Your wife was almost abducted at four o’clock this morning.”

  The second the words registered in my brain, I was off the stool and my beer bottle was flying across the room. It crashed against the brick wall. Glass and foam sprayed over an old worn couch.

  I wasn’t drunk but I swayed on my feet and dropped to my ass. Sitting on the concrete floor, I put my head between my knees and tried to breathe but the air wouldn’t stay in my lungs. The pressure in my chest was too tight.