Page 164 of Shamed
“The husband part.”
Her lips curl into a grin.
Once Jacob was finally declared “actually innocent” six months ago, we had a small ceremony in the courtyard of my mom’s building so she could attend with ease. Neither of us wanted anything extravagant, so it suited us just fine to be surrounded by the blooming flowers and the few friends we have.
The last several years have been tough for both of us—emotionally and mentally—so we wanted to wait until that part was over.
It took a long time with many meetings and public statements made by Jayne before anything was started, and then there was a lot of red tape to get through.
Accusations were thrown around, along with a heavy dose of hate.
Everything she already felt was amplified by the voices of many. She was once again in the spotlight, just like after the attack.
But she took it all in stride, accepting everything that was thrown at her, determined to clear Jacob’s name.
It turns out that the person who hit Dylan with their car was another woman he had assaulted at some point, and she was getting her revenge after being forced to stay silent.
I think her testimony was what really helped things.
I had owned up to my mistake in believing Jacob was guilty and ended up reaching out to both Campbell and Neil.
We aren’t friends, but we share the tattered remains of our past.
Campbell was actually the one to give me the address for this trip.
I tilt her chin up, my eyes brushing over the smooth skin of her face. “I’m amazed by your strength every day, you know that?”
Jayne’s face sobers a little. “I wouldn’t have been able to do any of this without you.”
“Sure you would have.”
She huffs a quiet laugh. “You know that’s not true, but thank you for the vote of confidence.” Determination fills her eyes as she looks past me in the direction of the town. “All right, let’s do it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I let out a shrill whistle, patting my leg, watching as our golden shepherd comes charging across the sand from where he was sniffing. “Come on, Sheppie. Let’s go.”
He circles the area, then trots beside us as we walk to the car.
It’s not until we’re driving through the streets, getting closer and closer to our destination, that I’m hit with true nervousness, and my hands turn clammy.
Maybe it’s Jayne’s constant shifting in her seat, or her hands fidgeting in her lap, that’s heightening my anxiousness.
While that’s probably some of it, I know it’s not entirely her doing.
Sheppie picks up on Jayne’s apprehension, giving her a lick on the shoulder every few minutes, as if to remind her he’s there, and she absently reaches back to rub his head.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Jayne blurts after another minute, sounding like she’s on the verge of a breakdown.
Pulling over, I kill the engine, the cheerful tune on the radio disappearing, replaced by Jayne’s heavy breathing. Her chest pumps up and down, fists stabbed into her eyes.
“I can’t. I thought I could, but I can’t. I’m sorry. Let’s just forget this. We can mail it.”
“Hey, come here. It’s okay.” I reach across, pulling her into my arms. “It’s okay. I’ll just put the letter in the mailbox, okay?”
“Or we can just send it,” she murmurs again, face pressed to my neck.
