by Kayt Miller
“I’ll get this back to you,” I say pointing to the cup.
“Don’t bother. I never use that one.”
“Oh, okay.” I look around the floor for my shoes and see them in her hand. I take them and slip them on. I look up and see she’s made her way to the door. This is getting old. She doesn’t need to escort me to the fucking door. “Jesus,” I mutter.
I stomp down her steps and yank the door open. I look over at her and see her eyes are shiny. Is she going to fucking cry? So I ask, “Are you going to fucking cry?”
She pulls her shoulders back and lifts her head proudly, “No. Of course not, goodbye, David.”
“Is this because I said you had a big ass?”
I watch her wince at the words.
“Well, I’ve got news for you, honey. You do have big ass. You’ve got a big everything. It’s not a fucking secret, Jesus.” I run my fingers through my hair. I can’t deal with this low self-esteem bullshit. “Goodbye! Have a good life!” I say loudly. And good riddance. What the fuck did I do wrong? Women! They’re all the same! I slam the door as soon as I’m on her front step. I hear her engage the locks and I’m out of there. I stomp down the street to my car. I hit my key fob, slide inside, slam the door shut and squeal out of my parking spot on the street. “Fucking women!” I mutter.
Chapter 18: Cassandra
I know what you’re thinking. I was overly sensitive when he told me to ‘Push that big ass out, honey,’ but I can’t help it. When it comes to comments about my size, a whole slew of bad memories rush back to me. Every time a guy told me I was fat, or ugly, or gross crawls back into my psyche like a spider in a web. In my heart, I know he didn’t mean it that way, but I can’t help how I reacted. I’m just glad I waited until the door slammed behind him for the tears to fall.
I slowly walk back up to my kitchen to grab my cup of coffee and my box of tissues when I hear pounding on my door. “Shit!” I growl. Apparently, he’s not finished saying what he needs to say. I stomp back down the steps, unlock the door and yank it open.
I’m about to say something rude when I see who it is. It's not David, but I wish it were. In his place stands Jennifer Flynn. At six in the morning she looks like she’s ready to go to a garden party in her tight, sleeveless, floral sheath dress, five-inch stilettos, perfectly coifed hair, makeup and nails, and an expression that screams mean girl. “Jen?”
“Well, hello Mama Cass.” She moves past me pushing me as she goes. Her heels click and clack as she stomps up my steps uninvited.
I do not need this right now. “Can I help you, Jennifer? How did you find out where I lived?”
“David told me.” She looks around my home then stares daggers at me, “Did David buy you this place?”
“No!” I’m going to kill David. I walk to my kitchen and around the counter so something separates us. “What do you want, Jen?”
She sets her five hundred dollar Michael Kors bag down on the counter and follows me around to stand directly in front of me... I’d like to keep moving but decide to stand my ground. “I came to find out how long my husband has been fucking his fat ass assistant. By the looks of this place, I’d say it’s been a good long while.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, piglet. How long have you and Dave been fucking?”
“We haven’t…” I don’t get the rest out when she interrupts.
“I just watched him leave your place. Unless you were working on some big investment deal, oh wait, you don’t work for him anymore. So, why was he here all night long?”
She was watching my house all night? “It’s none of your business, I want you to leave.”
She steps toward me and I back up further until I’m cornered. The only way out is behind Jennifer. “You listen to me you fat fucking pig, I will not sit back and let my husband fall victim to a whale like you. His idiot brothers are too far-gone to listen, so it’s up to me to help him preserve his reputation. He can’t be seen with the likes of you,” she says poking my chest with her red claw-like fingernail. “He’s my husband and…”
“You’re divorced.” I spit.
“Do. Not. Interrupt me. Lard ass,” she shouts. She presses me back until the counter is cutting into my lower back.
It hurts. So much so I attempt to push back, but the skinny bitch is stronger than she looks. “Back off, Jen.”
“Or what?”
Or what? “Just back off. There’s nothing going on…”
She pushes me so hard my head slams back into the wall. Screaming, she shouts, “I watched him leave your place at five thirty in the fucking morning, cunt!”
I make one more attempt to push her off me. Luckily, I catch her off balance, and I’m able to rush past her out of the kitchen. When I turn around, pain shoots through my eye and nose. I fall to my knees from the shock of the blow. I lift my hand to my face and feel wetness. Blood. I look up and see a crazy Jennifer Flynn her eyes bulging out of her head, and her fist clenched like she’s going to take another swing at me.
I swing my leg out and around catching her ankles as it goes around. I hear her yelp and see her knees buckle then watch her fall to the ground. I crawl over to her and grab her hands so she can’t hit me. I straddle her scrawny hips. “Don’t you ever hit me again, you bitch! Don’t you ever come to my home again or I will end you. Do you hear me?” I spit the words out and watch the blood drip off of my face onto her pretty dress.
“You’re ruining my dress, fatso.”
I lift my body up with my legs then slam myself back on top of her. She grunts from the force. “I said, do you hear me?”
“God, yes. Get off me. You’re suffocating me.”
“Good.” I release her hands and throw my leg over and off of her. As I’m pulling myself upward, I feel her claws dig into my face. “Jesus, why?” I scream bringing my hand up to my cheek. “Why do you have to be like this? I did nothing to you.”
“You’ve fucked my husband,” she growls.
“You. Are. Divorced. You crazy hag.”
She screams like a psycho banshee and runs at me like she actually wants to kill me. I back away right before she can make contact. It also happens to be right at the top of my stairs. She loses her balance and falls down the three tiled steps to the entryway. God, I hope she broke something, an arm, a nail, anything.
I reach for my phone and dial the cops. “9-1-1. What is your emergency?”
“I was attacked in my own home. She’s still here. Send someone fast.” I list my address and hear her moan.
“You fucking fat cunt,” she growls. She pulls herself up to her knees. One of her fancy shoes is on the stairs, the other is on her foot, but the heel is broken.
“And you’re a psycho. No amount of dieting is gonna cure that,” I spit back.
She lets out a blood-curdling scream as she charges back up the steps. She’s limping but still fast for someone who is obviously injured. I step backward attempting to get away from her, but I’m not fast enough. She launches her body into the air wrapping her fingers around my neck. We fall to the ground me on the bottom, her on top. Her claws are digging into my neck, and her legs are wrapped tightly around my waist. Why didn’t I run into the bathroom and lock the door? I’m such an idiot. If I get out of this alive, I’m taking some damn self-defense classes.
She’s got such a tight grip around my neck that I’m having difficulty breathing. How did I let this happen? I’m stronger than this. This is all David’s fault. I swear I’m going to kill him. It's a shame I love the asshole so much. If I didn’t, I’d believe my own threats. I gasp for air, as things around me grow foggy. I hear pounding and voices shouting off in the distance then a loud crashing sound. More voices surround me. Shots. Gunshots? It’s the last thing on my mind as everything fades to black.
Chapter 19: David
I’m scowling when I get to work. When Gretchen sees me, she has the common sense to stay away from me this morning, thank fuck. I stomp into my office
and slam the door behind me. I rip my jacket off and throw it on my couch. I get to my fucking ergonomic chair, and all I want to do is throw it through my fucking floor to ceiling windows.
Of course, I don’t do that. But I do toss the fucker into the middle of my office. I drag one of the chairs from in front of my desk to my normal spot. It’s too large to fit under my desk, but I don’t care. I toss my feet up on my desk and grab my tablet computer and set it in my lap. Logging into my email, I see several from Lester about a meeting this morning. “Jesus, I’m in no mood for a fucking meeting.” All I want to do is think about something other than Cassie. Something other than the most amazing sex I’ve ever had––the most amazing night of my life. I need something to take my mind off of her.
When my cell rings, part of me hopes it’s her. Maybe she’s calling to apologize for kicking me out––for treating me like garbage. I pick it up and see Hank’s name on the screen. “Great.” I hit the green circle, “What?”
“You need to get to Rush River North.”
“What? Why? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Cassie. She’s been attacked.”
“Attacked? Who? When?”
“Jesus, bro. Get here. I’m in the ER.” I hear the phone click off and I’m out of my seat so fast the laptop tumbles to the ground. I jump over it and race to the door grabbing my jacket on the way. I throw open my door and shout at Gretchen as I pass, “Emergency. Need to get to the hospital.”
“Bu… but you’ve got a meeting with Uncle, er, Mr. Ingot.”
“Reschedule.”
“He’ll be mad,” she says with her hands on her hips.
“I don’t give a fuck. I said it’s an emergency!” I take off at a run to get to the elevator. If it takes too long, I’m going to take the stairs down two at a time. The gods must be listening because it chimes open in seconds. I hop on and hit the ‘L’ button for Lobby.
I pull my phone out and call Hank. When his voicemail picks up, I say, “Call me. Tell me what’s going on. Is she okay? Who attacked her?” I hang up and watch the numbers on the elevator as they descend. It takes forever. Once they open on the street level, I run out to the sidewalk to grab the first available cab. A bright yellow sedan stops and I hop in, “Rush River North Emergency. Fast!”
The taxi driver squeals out of the spot and guns it. The hospital is close by, but there’s a lot of traffic this time of morning. That doesn’t seem to impact this taxi driver because I’m there in ten minutes, maybe nine. I toss a hundred dollar bill at him and run in the door. Hank is nowhere to be found, so I text him letting him know I’m in the waiting area.
Hank: Be out in a few minutes.
I sit in a seat, but that’s not going to work. So I stand and pace back and forth. When that, apparently, annoys an older woman, I sit back down. The cycle begins again. “Jesus, where are you, Hank?”
“Here. I’m right here, Dave.”
I look over and see my big brother exiting a security entrance. I get up and meet my brother halfway. As soon as I’m close enough I ask, “What’s going on? What happened?”
Hank walks to an alcove in the back of the ER waiting area. Hank sighs, “A neighbor heard her scream. She called 9-1-1. When they got there, she was unconscious and severely beaten.”
“Who the hell beat her up?”
Hank rolls his head back and forth like he’s trying to release some tension. He takes a deep breath, “Jen. It was Jennifer.”
“Jennifer who?”
With one brow arched, Hank deadpans, “Jennifer Flynn you dumb ass.”
“My ex? Why? Why would she attack Cassie? Cassie’s only ever been nice to her.” I shake the thoughts from my head. “Why?” I ask again.
“You tell me. Why would Jennifer feel the need to attack Cassie? How did she even know where Cassie lived?”
I blink at my brother because I know the answer to both of those questions. “She must’ve followed me there last night. That’s how she knew.”
“Last night?” asks Hank. “Why would she wait until this morning to knock on Cassie’s door?”
I blink a few times before I respond. When I tell Hank that I spent the night at Cassie’s place, he’s going to want the entire store. “I spent the night at, um, Cassandra’s.”
“You stayed the night with Cassie?” Hank rolls his eyes. “Jesus, you’re fucking with her head, man. If you don’t love her…”
I ignore his forthcoming lecture, “How is she? Where is she?”
“Who? Jen?”
“No. Cassie. Is she okay?”
Hank shakes his head, “I haven’t seen her yet, but the ER doc says she’s in bad shape––beat to hell. Broken nose, deep-ass scratches on her face, bruising on her neck.”
“Bruises on her neck?”
“Yeah, the cops got there in the nick of time. Jennifer was on top of her strangling her.”
“You’re fucking with me.” That can’t be possible. “What about Jen?”
“Cops shot her.”
“What?” I screech.
“Leg wound. A through and through. Missed everything vital. Treated her and released her into police custody. Wish they’d have put her down for good but,” he shrugs, “We can’t have everything we want.”
I nod in agreement but don’t say it out loud. “Where is she now?”
Hank glares at me. He looks at his watch, “Your psycho ex-wife should be getting booked for assault with intent right about now.” Hank looks up at the ceiling then back to me, “Cassie needs to get a restraining order against that bitch as soon a possible.”
“She will. I’ll be sure of it. Can you get me back there to see her?”
“I’ll try.” Hank stands and walks back to the ER. All he has to do is flash his badge, and they let him pass.
I only have to wait a few minutes when I see Hank walk back out. “What the hell did you do to her?”
“What do you mean?”
“She doesn't want to see you.”
“What? Why not?”
“You tell me. What’d you do to piss her off?”
I lay my head back on my seat and sigh. “I may have told her she had a big ass this morning.”
“Jesus, dude. You’re a fucking tool.”
“I know! I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. What do I need to do to get me back there?”
“Well, when Sophie was brought in, I told them she was my fiancé. Worked like a charm.”
“Sounds good to me.” I stand up and march over to the admissions desk. “My fiancé was brought in tonight. Cassandra Darrow. I need to see her.”
A few minutes later, I’m buzzed back into the Emergency ward searching for room 6B. When I get there, I open the curtain and stop dead in my tracks. My heart pounds out of my chest and my stomach drops. My woman is in bad shape. She looks like she was run over by a truck. I feel sick all of a sudden.
“Cassie?” I whisper doing my best to keep the emotions out of my voice, but it’s impossible. “Baby?” I whimper as a tear slides down my cheek. I walk over to her side and watch her sleep. She’s got tubes in her nose and IVs in her arm. I’m responsible for this. “This is my fault, honey. I’m so sorry.”
“You should be,” she mumbles, “That wicked witch of an ex-wife almost killed me.”
I can’t help it, but I chuckle. Her one good eye squints at me, and it’s not a happy look. “You told her where I lived?”
“No. I think she followed me there.”
“Makes sense. She knows you stayed all night.” She winces in pain when she tries to move a little bit. “Everything hurts. God, I hate you so much right now.”
It’s my turn to wince. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, honey.”
She lets out a breath that looks painful, “I know. It’s not your fault. It’s just the pain talking. She’s crazy––scary crazy, David. She needs to be in a mental hospital.”
I chuckle.
She turns that one good eye on me again, “I’m completely an
d utterly serious. She’s clinically insane.”
“She’s just jealous.”
“If you think she did this to me out of jealousy, you’re mistaken. She’s… trust me. She needs help.”
“We’ll get a restraining order against her.”
She attempts to scoff, but it comes out weak, “That will not stop her, David.”
“I’ll protect you.” And I will. It’s time I step up and do right by Cassandra. She deserves my full attention. Was that another scoff? She doesn’t think I can keep her safe? “You don’t think I can keep you safe?”
“No. I’m sure in that alpha male mind of yours you think you can, but you can’t be with me 24/7. It’s just not feasible.”
“Yes, I can,” I say a little defensively. I’ll just have to prove it to her.
Chapter 20: Cassandra
I spent the night in the hospital. The doctor in charge of my case wanted to make sure I was breathing and swallowing without pain before he’d release me. While I hated the hospital bed, I didn’t mind staying because I felt safe.
I can’t explain it––I’m not used to this fear and uncertainty. I grew up on a dairy farm in a little town in Iowa. Nothing bad happened to people there unless you count your mom running off with the milkman––no joke. She ran off with the dairy sales rep for our county. I haven’t seen her in sixteen years.
What I feel today is unease about being alone in my home. I know Jennifer is in police custody. Hank Flynn told me that. I also know that I need to press charges to prevent her from getting out anytime soon and my attorney will need to file a restraining order against a very unstable person. David doesn’t believe me. He thinks she’s just jealous. That, my friends, was not jealousy. That was a textbook example of cray-cray.
I’m lost in thought when my nurse, Nancy, steps in my room, “Time to get you ready, honey. Doctor Mann said you’re good to go.”
“Oh, okay. Um, great.”
She looks over at me and smiles, “You okay, sweetie? Do you need anything?”