Burned

by Kelsey Cheyenne

  “I told Grayson everything.” It sounds as if The Bitch is speaking through a wind tunnel miles away. I’m faint. Sweat beads at my temple. Nausea rolls violently through my newly-occupied womb. I stumble back, gripping onto the kitchen countertop behind me hard enough to hurt.

  I thought this was my worst nightmare. This vision, seeing them together, the guilty look on Grayson’s face as his eyebrows pinch together and his mouth turns down. His indiscretions with other women were one thing. I thought nothing could compare to the stinging treachery of seeing the two of them together.

  Boy, was I wrong.

  The minute the handcuffs surround my wrists, I know for certain that this is it. This is as bad as it gets.

  I see red. The overwhelming fury overpowers me. The desire I feel to protect my baby and myself is stronger than I could have ever imagined. But nothing is as strong as my desire for revenge.

  Chapter 15

  I stay silent. It’s my right after all — at least, that’s what I was told. I pray Grayson has a good lawyer. He’s still my husband, after all, which means I’m entitled to his expert team of lawyers. He’s gotten into his fair share of shit at work. He should have a good attorney and there’s no way I’m going down for this. There’s no way I’ll let her win.

  You know what’s shitty about cell phones? You never have to remember anyone’s phone number. It’s a blessing every other day except if you get arrested and have to make that single phone call.

  Do you want to guess whose number I do remember? Taylor’s. I took out his contact to remain inconspicuous so I memorized it. A lot of good that’s doing me now. What are the chances that the cops will go through my phone for me to retrieve Grayson’s number? Probably not great. Fuck.

  I dial another number I have memorized, but I can’t remember whom it belongs to. I just pray it’s not Sage’s. I let out a sigh of relief when Kennedy answers. I guess her number has somehow stuck with me over the years, and I’m grateful. At least I’ve reached someone I know. I ask her to call my husband for me, and now I wait.

  And wait. And wait some more. After what seems like forever, my lawyer arrives and we chat. And then we wait some more until I’m interrogated. And then after I tell them my story — ahem, the truth — I wait some more. Jesus fucking Christ.

  I’m hungry, and I have to pee. Will they even believe me if I say I’m pregnant, or will they just think I’m making up a story to get special treatment? Will I have to take another test for them? This is such a freaking nightmare.

  I’m not allowed to talk to anyone because this is a murder case. Obviously, that also means I’m not allowed to leave. They’re holding me here, but I’m not officially charged yet. That’s what my lawyer keeps saying, anyway. They’re trying to push the holding time to keep me here longer without actually charging me or something. What. The. Fuck.

  I told them the truth. I told them it was all Sage, that she forced us all to help her get rid of the body. Does that make me an accomplice to murder? I don’t know what constitutes being an accomplice. It’s not like I helped her pull the trigger. I guess being an accomplice is still better than being a murderer? Are the charges different? I don’t even know.

  I hope Kennedy and Caroline aren’t mad that I had to tell the cops about their part in all this too. I’m assuming they have to get questioned as well anyway. So if I didn’t own up to the entire story, that could be problematic for me too.

  Fuck. They have to believe me. I can’t have a baby in prison. Plus, who would get custody of my child? It’s not like he or she has a father thanks to Sage. And with that bitch getting all chummy with Grayson, I will not allow my unborn baby to go to them. Over my dead body. I wince at my own internalized thoughts. Maybe that wasn’t the best choice of words.

  I scrub my hands down my face in frustration. This can’t be happening. Sure, maybe I’m in denial. I’ll have a bunch of bruises on my arms from pinching myself in hopes of waking up from this godforsaken nightmare.

  I don’t know how much longer I can take the waiting around. When the door finally opens, I’m hopeful. I’m being released, finally. I knew the girls would pull through and corroborate the story.

  My eyes brim with optimism and eagerness to go home so I can tell Grayson everything — no, so I can tell him the truth, the real story. Not the web of lies Sage spun to get back into his arms.

  “Mrs. Kinsley, come with me.”

  Chapter 16

  SAGE – After the Murder

  The drive to Grayson is long and lonely. I make a mental note to call my mother to see how Lennon is doing in the morning because I can’t break the news to either of them yet. I have my plan, and I need to stick to it. I’ll deal with my mother and daughter later. Secondarily, I remind myself I need to stop by the hospital and get checked out. Another inconvenience brought to me by Taylor.

  I have the radio blaring to drown out the negative thoughts, and I cruise happily toward the love of my life. I finally feel free. I’m no longer bogged down by obligation to a loveless marriage. I no longer have to feel guilty for my money and success. Grayson and Lexi were never meant to end up together, and neither were Taylor and I.

  Maybe I could have or should have let Taylor and Lexi be together so Grayson and I could move forward and be happy. But Lexi is selfish. She never would’ve let Grayson go. This was the only way to ensure she’s gone for good. Framing her as the adulterous, jealous murderer was the only logical solution.

  Before I go get my man, I need to go home first. I have to stop at my house and change out of these horrid clothes. Even still, as I peel the skimpy layers off my long limbs and toss them in the trash, I refrain from showering. I need to show up at Grayson’s a disheveled mess to really sell my story. I just wasn’t willing to do so in Lexi’s clothes.

  I need to give myself a pep talk to get into the mindset I need. I’m going to tell Gray that our spouses are sleeping with each other. I’m not going to tell him quite yet mine is dead. It’s all part of the plan.

  When I knock on the door, I do my best to look the part of a put-together mess. My cheeks appear tear-stained, and I laid off the makeup. It’s not like I really need it anyway. I knock rapidly on the door, frantically and loud enough to cause concern.

  Grayson has always been my rock. Ever since I met him, he’s reminded me so much of my brother I instantly felt comfortable around him. I’ve confided in him for everything. When I look at him, I’m home. He’s a light in my life, and I can’t believe I took him for granted.

  If I could take anything back in my life, it would be letting him slip through my fingers. If either of us ever made a move, made an attempt at a relationship, things would be so different. Taylor wouldn’t be dead. Lexi wouldn’t be around. I wouldn’t have Lennon, but maybe his fertility has changed over time, and she could’ve still been our accidental, little miracle.

  I hold my breath and allow the curtain of unkempt black hair fall over my face, shielding me from my harsh reality. What if Grayson doesn’t believe or want me? I didn’t exactly think this through — hell, I wasn’t even truly planning to murder my husband this weekend. But sometimes plans change, and I need to roll with the punches. Of course, Gray will want me. Who wouldn’t?

  Footsteps approach like heavy lead on the other side of the door. The outside lights illuminate and the curtain covering the windows moves to look out. I realize it’s late, so I’m sure he was sleeping. I feel bad about that, but I know he’ll forgive me for being so rude.

  He opens the door, the lock clicking out of place loudly. “Sage?” He wipes the sleep from his eyes. His hair is disheveled, but he even makes bedhead look good. Taylor never had bedhead. It’s like his hair was glued in place and no imperfections were permitted.

  He takes in my appearance. My yoga pants and old Harvard hoodie I never wear in public screams “help me.” He notices my glossy eyes, a side effect from the tears. His hand reaches out absentmindedly, and his thumb grazes lightly across my cheek to wipe a
way the remnants of emotion. I lean into his touch.

  “Are you okay? What happened?” The tender way his worry glides over my skin causes butterflies to erupt in my stomach. His voice is raspy from being woken up prematurely and emotion stirs deep in my core. I could always count on Grayson, and tonight is no different.

  He fumbles backward, realizing he’s still blocking the entryway, so he can open the door wider and swipe his arm in a motion that invites me in. I mutedly nod, keeping my head down and seemingly my emotions in check. I make my way to the living room and get comfortable on the couch, knowing full well he’ll sit close and console me.

  I fold my knees underneath me so I’m sitting on my legs. The sleeves of my hoodie are pulled over my hands, and I’m toying with the cuffs. Grayson sits beside me, far enough away we’re not currently touching, though that will change soon. I inhale a shaky breath, and he places a comforting hand on me knee. He’s so predictable, so easy — so reliable.

  “I don’t know where to begin.” I keep my head down and wipe fake tears off my cheeks. I clear my throat, willing my story to come out raw and believable. Gray waits patiently for me to begin. “I caught Lexi with Taylor.”

  “What?” My words are soundless and can’t even be heard, despite the silence of the late night hour. I dare to look at Grayson’s handsome face. His forehead is puckered with confusion, and his lips pull down in a frown.

  “Lexi and Taylor are having an affair.” This time when the words leave my mouth, I make sure I’m looking him in the eye so he doesn’t miss a word. He has to hear this.

  The worst part is watching the words reach his ears, as if I’m visualizing them floating into the tiny canals. His face pales and twists, cycling through confusion, hurt, and disgust.

  Watching his reaction, there are a few things I don’t quite understand or believe. For one, his wife told a high tale about his infidelity and a slutty assistant or two. As I’m watching him break before me, I don’t believe he ever strayed despite what Lexi thinks. Secondly, if he were to stray, why would he be so cliché to go after an assistant? Of course, up until a few months ago I thought my marriage was happy. But if Grayson would’ve approached me, I’m not sure I would have or could have turned him down.

  He barks out a laugh devoid of all humor. “How do you know?” He grits the question out through clenched teeth.

  I scrub my sleeve-covered hands down my face. I shake my head vigorously, as if I’m attempting to forget the painful images. “Grayson, you know Lex has always hated me. I tailed Taylor to what I thought was a weekend away with Caroline, but he drove to your beach house. Then Lexi showed up. She gave him a key. This whole time I thought it was Care, but it wasn’t.”

  I divert my eyes from his face because I can’t bear to witness the devastation. “There’s, uh, more.” I grimace as his hand grips tightly on my thigh. The hand that was previously there for comfort is now digging painfully into me, bruising my leg. Didn’t he ever hear the saying don’t kill the messenger? “She’s pregnant.”

  Part of me is glad to give him this news. Lexi ruined my marriage, so it’s only fair I do the same to hers. But the other part of me, the part that feels so strongly for him and only ever wanted to protect him, hates this moment. I hate that I didn’t and couldn’t protect him from her. But this, knowing how desperately he wanted a baby, and how he was so devastated to discover he’s the problem, this has to kill him.

  “Ow, Grayson, you’re hurting me.” He glances down at the hand digging into me. His eyes are unfocused, but he quickly removes the hand from my leg. His face, which had drained of all color, now has a greenish, sickly appearance. He scrubs his hands down his face, covering his nose and mouth in shock.

  “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” His words are soft but volatile, and they make me cringe. The anger radiating off him is enough to cause me to shudder.

  “I’m sorry.” I’m clutching my stomach. Not only is this moment making me nauseous, but the after-effects of the miscarriage are worsening as the adrenaline of the day wears off. I need to get to the hospital. “Grayson.” At the sound of my voice, he snaps out of his thoughts. When he sees me clutching my stomach in obvious pain, his concern returns full-force.

  “What aren’t you telling me, Sage? What the hell else is going on?” His eyes are wide, and his hand is back on me — on my back this time.

  “I need to get to the hospital. I had a miscarriage.”

  Chapter 17

  Grayson holds my hand the entire drive to the hospital. I call some of my colleagues, and they know to expect me. I know the medical side effects and what happens to a person mentally and physically in the aftermath of a miscarriage. I know how long the body takes to heal, what damage could occur, and why the loss likely happened in the first place.

  But knowing these things doesn’t prepare you in any way for actually experiencing the loss firsthand. There are a myriad of emotions running through me, probably another side effect of the hormones.

  Euphoria and despair aren’t normally coexisting reactions to a women discovering she’s pregnant, or so I assume. I wanted another child since I had Lennon, but my husband would never budge on the issue. A small part of me had hoped the news would be eye-opening in a good way — that maybe he would finally be excited to have another child. But knowing he was cheating on me truly put a damper on what was supposed to be good news.

  Making matters worse was finding out that bitch was pregnant too. It didn’t just hurt Grayson. It hurt me too.

  I know there was likely something wrong with the pregnancy to begin with. It wasn’t just a stress-induced miscarriage. And I only made light of the situation and brushed it off because of the adrenaline and anger coursing through my veins that made me numb to the pain — both the emotional and the physical.

  Grayson has been holding my hand since we left the house. He stayed in the room even through the exam, offering unwavering support. We’re in the hospital for what feels like ages, but eventually, we’re free to go.

  “How are you feeling?” He asks me after we’re seated back in his car. He turns his body so we’re facing one another and starts the car to turn on the heat, though we stay parked in the hospital lot.

  “I’m … fine.” I keep my eyes down and my voice soft.

  “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying to me.” He puts the car in drive and heads back to his house.

  I don’t know what to expect when we get back to his home. I don’t really want to go back to my place yet — my home with Taylor. I know Grayson is still upset about Lexi, lord knows why. He’s better off without her, but still, I throw the dreaded question back at him. “How are you feeling?”

  Now he’s not so eager to talk. “I’m … fine.” He’s mocking me, which causes him to smirk at his cleverness, while I roll my eyes for the same reason.

  It appears we’re both going to remain tight-lipped about our respective spouses and their affairs. Truthfully, I’m relieved. I don’t want to have to think about them or what happened or the fact that I’m officially a single parent. Plus, the less I say, the less likely I am to accidentally spill that I murdered my husband. Not that I make mistakes, but I am a bit frazzled so it’s still a possibility.

  The ride to the house is silent but for the radio quietly playing a classic rock station. I’m running out of time to talk to Grayson about so many things. The accusations Lexi made against her husband’s fidelity are still gnawing at me. Gray tells me everything, so I don’t know why he wouldn’t have shared this particular tidbit.

  In mere minutes, I’ll have to head home and my opportunity to get closer to him will dwindle significantly. I curl my fingers into a fist and then uncurl and flex them repeatedly. My wedding ring pops out of the sweatshirt cuff every time I straighten my fingers and it makes me nervous and self-conscious. The ostentatiously large diamond was a recent upgrade Taylor gave me for our wedding anniversary. Ironic, considering it was mostly my money used to purch
ase it, and I can’t wear it during surgery anyway.

  I slip the rings off and set them in my palm. The weight is unnatural in my hand and my finger is lighter, bare, peculiarly so. I stare at them and mourn the loss of the last decade of my life. I mourn the loss of the baby, of the future I always dreamt of for Taylor and myself. I grieve over the newfound loss of my friends because I know things will never be the same with them.

  I’m sure I can win them back over. If I can win over Grayson, I can surely win back the girls too. But it’ll take some time. It’s just another plan I need to come up with. Kennedy and I work together, and I’ll wear her down again just like I did the first time. With her on my side, Caroline will fall right into place. I’ll have my life, and Lexi will lose it all.

  I stare at my hands lost in thought for a while. I don’t notice that the car stops moving. I don’t feel Grayson’s palm stoking my knee comfortingly. He clears his throat, and it barely registers.

  I remove the simple chain necklace I wear to work. I put my rings on the chain like I do when I leave them behind for surgery. Now, I refasten the chain around my neck and adjust to the weight of the rings resting on my collarbone. It’s bizarre, but it’s the best I can do right now. I probably should’ve removed the rings when I first found out about Taylor’s affair, regardless of who the mistress was, but I always held onto hope. That hope is dead. Just like Taylor.

  A tear falls, leaving a round, wet spot on my left thigh. I push my palms into the sockets of my eyes, wetting the sleeves of my sweatshirt. The emotions coursing through me are varied and vast, giving me whiplash with how fast they breeze through me.

  I shake my head, my raven hair spilling over my shoulders, forcing the unrelenting thoughts to take a backseat, even for just a moment. I sigh heavily and pinch my eyes shut before looking at Grayson. We’re back at the house, and he’s merely staring at me, unease etched on his gorgeous features.