by T. K. Leigh
“And how did she respond to being one last mess?”
“I wasn’t about to tell her I thought she was a mess,” he jokes, shaking his head as he takes a long swallow of his beer. “I may take risks on the mat, but I don’t have a death wish.”
I laugh, grateful for the break in tension, then turn my expectant eyes toward him. “So how did she go from not wanting anything to do with you to being your wife?”
“It wasn’t easy. After everything went down, she shut out everyone. She was in a dark place.”
“Yet you still persevered.”
“Hazel may be stubborn,” he says with a gleam in his eyes, “but so am I. If she truly didn’t want anything to do with me, I would have respected her wishes. I’m not one of those guys who thinks they know what’s best for everyone. But I knew Hazel. And I knew if I showed her the patience she deserved, she’d come around. Make no mistake. It killed me to stand back and watch her self-destruct. I’d never felt so helpless before in my life.”
I briefly close my eyes, nodding, knowing all too well how he must have felt. It’s how I’ve felt since Hazel stormed into my condo and I realized the truth.
“But I also knew Hazel needed to work through this in her own time and on her own schedule. There’s no hard and fast rule about how long you should take to mourn the loss of a loved one. Especially your own sons. So I did what I felt was best. I gave her time.” He gives me a knowing look.
I pick at the label on the beer bottle. “You heard us?”
He barks out a laugh. “Pretty sure all of Atlanta heard you two.”
I lean back on the couch, staring straight ahead. “I just don’t know if I can walk away. She’s in a pretty dark place, too.”
“I’m not telling you to walk away. I’m just saying that maybe you need to give her some time. And some space. She’s going through something none of us can truly understand. Trust me, it kills me to watch the life slowly drain from her. And if it’s killing me, I can only imagine how it’s eating you up.”
“I’ve always been a problem solver. But I have no idea how to solve this one. It makes me feel…powerless.” I shake my head. “I never should have let her leave that day. I could have prevented all of this. Then things would be the way they were. We could be happy. I could have my Londyn back.”
“You have to stop thinking that way. She did leave. You can’t bully your way into her life in the hopes of things going back to the way they were before. Forget about before. Before is gone. A distant memory. A mythical place that you’ll never see again. And the Londyn you knew, the one you fell in love with?” He raises a brow. “She’s gone, too, Wes. This entire ordeal has changed her. You don’t endure something as traumatic as Londyn has and come out of it the same.”
“But that’s the problem,” I interject, my voice becoming louder. “I don’t know what she’s endured. She refused to talk about it, leaving me to just my brother-in-law’s obviously twisted version of events and my own imagination.”
He places a hand on my shoulder. “She’ll open up to you. In time. It took me a while to figure that out with Hazel. I blamed myself, too. I still struggle with it. Still wish I had seen the signs earlier. But that’s the thing about women like Hazel and Londyn. They are strong and fierce. They refuse to rely on someone else’s sword to save them because they have their own. They won’t tell you about the demons plaguing them. They prefer to fight them on their own terms. In their own way. In their own time.”
“So I’m just supposed to sit on the sidelines while she breaks down? She needs to know people care. She deserves to know people care. That we believe her. That we support her.”
“And you still can. But do it in a way that shows you’re listening, that you respect her wishes, her need for space.”
“But—”
“I get it, Wes. Believe me. We may come from different backgrounds, but you and I aren’t all that different. Like you, I’ve always considered myself a problem solver. If I see something wrong, I fix it. Being faced with a situation you have absolutely no control over… It’s the worst feeling in the world. If you feel like you have no control, imagine how Londyn must feel right now. I guarantee it’s a lot worse than you.”
“Which is why I want to be there for her.”
“And you can be. By listening to her. By not telling her you think you know what she needs better than she does. By giving her some semblance of control over her life. Give her back the control to make decisions.”
“Even if they’re the wrong decisions?” I quip, my question coming out more biting and arrogant than I intended. But I can’t help myself.
“It may be the wrong decision in your eyes, but in hers, this is what she needs. Remember back in the summer after she told you the truth about her past? You gave her space. Didn’t you?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, slowly nodding.
“And how did that end up?”
“She eventually came around.”
“Exactly. Because you respected her wishes. Because you gave her the control to decide her own fate. Because you listened. Do that again, and I know she’ll come around again.” He brings his beer back to his mouth, taking a sip. “Trust me on that.”
Chapter Fourteen
Londyn
“You ready?” Hazel asks Friday morning as I descend the stairs into the kitchen where she and Diego wait, both of them dressed for the occasion — a button-down and dark jeans for Diego, a black dress for Hazel. It’s a strange sight, considering neither of them typically wear anything other than jeans or workout clothes. Then again, today will be anything but typical.
“Ready as I’m going to be,” I say with a smile, shifting toward the full-length mirror in the living room for one last check of my appearance.
I push a few curls out of my eyes, then smooth a hand down my cream blouse, adjusting the deep purple pants. These once fit perfectly, but now there’s room around my waist. Evidence of my lack of appetite this past week.
It’s been four days since I’ve seen Wes.
Four days since he poured his heart out to me, showing me the engagement ring he bought.
Four days since I pushed him away to protect him from being pulled down with me.
Four days that I’ve questioned whether I did the right thing.
At first, I was surprised he didn’t rush after me, bang on the door, demand I listen.
Then I remembered how he gave me space all those months ago after I’d finally shared my past. He’d given me time to realize that what we have is bigger than my deepest fears. To show me he’ll respect my wishes, despite the personal cost to him.
I have no doubt he’s doing the same thing now.
Once I’m content with my appearance, I turn toward Hazel and Diego, nod, then we all leave my condo.
The car is eerily silent as Diego drives us toward the courthouse, all our minds and hearts consumed with what the day will bring. The second that gun went off and Nick collapsed on top of me, I knew there would be no avoiding this. It doesn’t make it any easier to accept that no one believed me.
Again.
Justice isn’t blind. She’s dead, run over by power-hungry men.
As we near the downtown area where the courthouse is located, my heart rate increases, palms becoming sweaty. I close my eyes, taking several deep breaths to calm my nerves. Sophia told me today is only a formality. That it’ll be over in five minutes. But in those five minutes, I’ll have to stand before a judge as a slew of charges are read against me, then enter a plea.
“Holy shit…,” Hazel exhales, cutting through my thoughts.
I peer out the window as the courthouse comes into view, trying to make sense out of the scene in front of me. This isn’t a typical Friday in downtown Atlanta. There has to be something else going on.
Hundreds of people are assembled in front of the courthouse, with even more overflowing across the street in Liberty Plaza and by the capitol building. Most of them are women, many of them
holding signs.
“What is this?” I ask, wondering if they’re protesting some statute the governor is slated to sign into law today.
But when I scan the messages scrawled on the poster boards, I know that’s not why they’re here. That I’m why they’re here.
Believe women.
I don’t want a rape whistle. I want change.
If you are not outraged, you are not paying attention.
You are not powerless.
#LondynStrong
We will not be silenced.
The way I dress is not a yes.
I march so my daughter will never have to say #MeToo.
With each sign I read, the more I’m overcome with emotion, tears welling in my eyes.
All week, I thought I was alone. Thought no one could possibly comprehend what I’m going through. Sure, Hazel, Diego, even Wes have done everything to remind me that they support me, believe me. But it still felt as if the world was against me.
Until now.
“You okay, Lo?” Hazel asks, peeking back at me from the front seat of Diego’s truck.
“I just… I didn’t expect anything like this to happen,” I answer with a quiver, dabbing at my eyes.
“People were outraged after the DA held that press conference saying he was filing charges against you but not Nick the Prick. This case has certainly caught the public’s attention, and not because of the fact that the media initially thought it was some mass shooting at a public shopping district. Because of your story, Lo. All these women want justice for you.” She reaches for my hand, squeezing it. “Like I’ve told you, you are not alone.” She holds my gaze for a beat.
“I’ll drop you off here and come find you once I park,” Diego interjects as he comes to a stop in front of the courthouse. He jumps out of the truck, rushing around to open my and Hazel’s door.
The second I step onto the sidewalk, cameras flash around me, hundreds of people calling my name. It was one thing to see it all from the comfort of Diego’s truck. Now that I’m in the midst of it, now that I hear their words of encouragement, now that I see the hope and determination in everyone’s eyes, I’m overwhelmed with an emotion I can’t quite describe.
“What am I supposed to do?” I whisper to Hazel, blindsided by this show of support.
“Just wave, I guess.”
So that’s what I do. Once Diego drives off, I raise my arm, waving at the assembled crowd as I mouth thank you. Then we turn, making our way toward the entrance of the building as Sophia comes rushing out.
“Oh, good. You’re here. It’s all pretty incredible, isn’t it?”
“It is,” I admit as she escorts us toward the front of the security line. “Will it help my case at all?”
Once our purses have been scanned by the X-ray machine and we’ve cleared the metal detector, Sophia faces me. “Public opinion can be helpful. And I’m sure it makes you feel somewhat vindicated. But I won’t lie to you. People on the street can shout and protest all they want. Once you’re inside that courtroom, all that matters is the evidence.”
“Oh.” My shoulders fall, any hope I’d felt evaporating as quickly as it appeared. I know all too well the evidence against me is pretty ironclad. Any proof of my version of events is weak, at best. Apart from a few bruises that can be explained as simply an indication of our struggle over the weapon, it’s my word against his. And Detective Trager made it pretty clear they believe him, not me. At least the DA does.
Sophia clutches my hand, squeezing it. “Have faith. This is far from over.”
I grit a smile as she leads us through a maze of hallways, people assembled around each of the various courtrooms, checking a screen with docket numbers outside each door. I barely pay attention as she explains what will happen for what feels like the tenth time. I nod every so often so she doesn’t think her words fall on deaf ears, but my mind is elsewhere.
“This is us,” she announces as we come to a stop outside a pair of double wooden doors.
I glance at the screen to the right, my last name at the top of the docket list.
“Court will open in about ten minutes. I already talked to the clerk. She’ll call us first, since I have another hearing scheduled for eleven. If you want to freshen up or take a minute, the ladies’ room is right around the corner.” She points in the general vicinity.
“Thanks.” I begin to turn.
“I’ll come with you,” Hazel offers just as her phone rings. She pauses, looking at the screen. “Hold on. It’s Diego.”
I nod, standing off to the side, listening to their conversation in Spanish. Then she lowers her cell, covering the microphone. “He can’t find the courtroom. He somehow ended up over in the civil court. I’m not surprised. This place is like a friggin’ maze.”
“It’s okay. Go find him.”
“I’ll be right back.” Returning the phone to her ear, she walks back the way we came, rattling something off in Spanish, probably making some joke about his horrible sense of direction.
Once I’m certain she’s headed the right way, I excuse myself from Sophia, walk down the corridor, and slip inside the bathroom. All the buzz from the busy courthouse disappears behind the closed door, silence surrounding me.
I make my way toward one of the stalls and lock myself inside. Closing my eyes, I draw in a deep breath, taking a minute to collect myself without Hazel, Diego, or Sophia psychoanalyzing every single facial expression, blank stare, or long exhale.
After several deep breaths, the sound of the door opening cuts through, noisy conversations from the corridor filtering in. I snap my eyes open, glancing at my watch. Five minutes until court opens.
Pulling myself together, I step out of the stall and move toward the line of sinks. After washing my hands, I check my reflection one last time, then make my way out of the bathroom at the same time as the door to the men’s room across the corridor swings open.
I glance up, about to excuse myself, coming to a hard stop when my eyes lock with the individual exiting. My brain tries to tell my legs to put one foot in front of the other and leave, but I’m frozen, the familiar scent of leather and citrus like an evil spell cast over me.
On instinct, I reach for the Medusa pendant. My good luck charm. My talisman.
Despite the way I pushed Wes away, I still find myself reaching for this necklace whenever I need reassurance. And right now, as I stare into Nick’s cold eyes, a sly smirk playing on his lips, I need that reassurance.
The door to the ladies’ room opens, hitting me, and I snap out of my stupor, jumping to the side.
“Ah, there you are, darling,” Nick booms. I follow his line of sight, watching as Julia emerges.
“Julia…,” I exhale, momentarily forgetting everything that’s transpired. “How are you?”
She glances at Nick, as if tempering her response. Then she holds her head high, avoiding my gaze. “As good as can be expected.”
“Are you sure?” I press, unable to stop myself.
On the outside, she looks the same as always. Blonde hair impeccable. Stylish clothes. Makeup carefully applied. But there’s a nervousness about her, at complete odds with the woman who’s become like a sister to me over the past several months.
“Of course we are.” Nick turns from me, his intent gaze focused on Julia, a silent warning in his eyes. “Let’s get back to your mother and father. No need to worry them about why it’s taking so long.”
Without protest, she nods, allowing him to lead her away from me.
“What did he do to you?” I whisper to myself as they retreat. And there’s no doubt in my mind he’s hurt her. Maybe not physically, but he’s manipulating her mentally. I know it.
As they’re about to round the corner, Julia glances back at me, our eyes locking. It only lasts a second, but in that moment, I can practically hear her cries for help, begging for someone to finally see the truth. To see the monster hiding behind the perfectly groomed blond hair, dapper suit, and cunning smile.
Or do I only wish I could?
Chapter Fifteen
Londyn
“All rise.”
I follow Sophia’s lead, standing as a short, balding man in dark robes enters the courtroom and makes his way toward the bench. Once he’s seated, the bailiff indicates it’s okay for everyone else to re-take their seats.
As I lower myself back to the long, wooden bench that reminds me of an uncomfortable church pew, I glance around the courtroom, as I’d been doing prior to the judge entering. I shouldn’t feel downhearted over the fact that Wes isn’t here. I didn’t exactly invite him or make him feel like I wanted him to come. But a part of me hoped he’d be here anyway. It would make the fact that Nick and Mrs. Bradford sit less than twenty feet away, their eyes trained on me as if I’m some sort of hardened criminal who should never see the light of day again, more bearable.
“That’s us.” Sophia touches my arm, and I snap my eyes toward her.
With an encouraging nod, she stands, and I do the same, my heart thrashing in my ears as I follow her up to the defense table.
I remain standing beside her, as she’d instructed, when I sense a shift in the room’s energy. I subtly glance over my shoulder, expecting to see Nick glowering at me with his vindictive smile. Instead, I watch as Wes strides into the courtroom, bypassing his family and sitting directly behind me. He meets my gaze, his blue eyes comforting. Relief rolls off me, a warmth filling me at the thought that he is here. That he hasn’t given up on me.
“Appearances?”
At the sound of the judge’s voice, I face forward once more.
“Sophia Mercer for the defendant, Londyn Bennett, Your Honor,” Sophia states firmly.
“Bridgette Hawkins, Assistant District Attorney, Your Honor,” a tall woman adds from the table on the opposite side of the courtroom. The stack of files in front of her gives the impression I’m just one case of many she has to deal with today.