Page 68 of Written with You (The Regret Duet 2)
Maybe because it had been a hot coal in my throat, burning and blistering for eighteen years.
Maybe because I’d finally broken the dam by telling Willow about the pictures we’d found but never reported.
Maybe just because I was pissed that he was acting like such a dick without knowing the first thing about her.
But, regardless of the reason, it was the truth.
“Excuse me?” he hissed.
I loomed closer, forcing him down one of the brick steps. “You want to act high and mighty now. You want to pretend she didn’t have her reasons to do what she did. You want to dismiss the fact that she’s a good person who made a stupid choice. But after the mall, you didn’t give the first fuck about lying when it suited your needs.”
His dark eyes narrowed. “That was different.”
“Right. Completely different because, last I checked, Willow didn’t kill anyone. Neither did she cover for a murderer even though it was gradually dissolving her soul like acid every single day for over half her life. And she sure as shit didn’t burn our only proof that Malcom had killed twelve people in the decade before the shooting all while I was still in surgery, fighting to stay alive after taking two bullets from that maniac. And I know you hate talking about this and you think we should just let it lie in the past, but what she did was not even close to the things we’ve done in the name of self-preservation. So, if you want to stand here, on my front porch, and condemn my woman for being a liar, then you’re going to have to acknowledge your own damn sins first.”
“Oh my God,” Jenn breathed. “Malcom killed people before the shooting?”
Trent’s entire body swelled, and his eyes filled with rage. “We’re just airing this shit out now? Doesn’t matter who’s around, huh?”
“She’s your wife. She should know what we did. You should have told her years ago.”
His face flashed downright venomous. “You tell Willow about this?”
I took the step down, forcing him back again. “I sure as hell did. And it was the best fucking decision I’ve ever made. I have been drowning in what that man did for what feels like an eternity. I’ve barely kept my head above water. Each time I try to catch my breath, the guilt slams me down harder. I swear to you, if it weren’t for Rosalee, most days I wouldn’t want to breach the surface again.
“But then came Willow. She doesn’t look at me like a monster. To her, I’m not Malcom’s son. Or the kid responsible for the shooting. I’m just me. Flawed, fucked up, and gasping for oxygen. And she’s okay with that. So you go. Get the hell off my driveway. Go home. Keep your secrets. But don’t you dare come here asking me what the hell is wrong with me. You know what’s wrong with me. And you, of all people, should know that when you find a single sliver of happy you hold on to it.” I paused long enough to catch my breath. “Get used to Willow. She’s not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. Do you understand?”
His jaw ticked as he held my stare. “Oh, I understand, brother. I understand completely. Maybe you deserve her after all.” Reaching out, he grabbed Jenn’s hand and gave her a sharp tug. “Let’s go.”
“Trent, wait,” she urged.
“Let’s. Go,” he rumbled, marching away, dragging her behind him.
She caught my gaze over her shoulder and mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I pointed at Trent’s back. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
She rolled her eyes and trotted to keep up with her husband. She gingerly got into the SUV while he stormed around, complete with slamming the door.
This wasn’t our first argument. It wouldn’t be the last, either.
But it would be the last until he could figure out how to accept my family.
A family that now included Willow.WILLOWCaven was in a mood as we drove to my house to meet the police. He held my hand and tried his best to cover it with a smile, but the pissed-off energy rolling off him was damn near suffocating.
He’d told me that Trent had showed up.
He’d told me that Trent had acted like a dick.
He’d told me that he’d told Trent to leave until he could stop being a dick.
None of these things surprised me, though I was rather excited about the latter because Trent was in fact a dick, so I didn’t think I’d have to put up with him again any time soon.
This was a huge relief.
So, while we rode to my house with pissed off rolling off Caven, my smile was genuine and my breaths were easy, though this did make me feel a tad guilty.
But only a tad.
As we pulled into my driveway, that relief disappeared and a giant ball of anxiety took its place. There was crime scene tape covering my front door and three police cars in my driveway. I’m sure old man Jerry next door was loving this. He’d probably already shoved a letter in my mailbox comparing crime before I’d moved in to crime after, including stats about his plummeting property value because of me. The man didn’t know how to recycle, but he could produce a strongly worded letter at the drop of a hat.
