Page 155 of Her Wicker Guardian

“No.”

The answer comes out hard enough that several people nearby go quiet.

“I threw it away.”

Trent’s face flushes dark red. His jaw clamps hard enough to bunch the muscles along his cheek, and his eyes narrow on me with a fury I recognize immediately.

“It stopped being our wedding ring when I threw it into that fire.”

Locke looks down at the narrow break in his chest again. I can see the question in the way his fingers hover beside the exposed gold, but before either of us can say anything else, Trent steps toward me.

“This is fucking insane.”

I’m looking straight at the man who once could ruin an entire evening with the way he said my name, and I don’t want anything from him. Not an apology. Not approval. Not even an explanation. His anger is right there on his face, and for once it belongs entirely to him.

“I spent years pretending our marriage was normal because I was afraid of what would happen if I told people the truth about you.”

Trent’s face goes red. “Rachel.”

“No.”

That word again, easier now. “You don’t get to use that voice with me anymore.” I pause, then realize that isn’t quite true. “Actually, use whatever voice you want. It doesn’t work on me anymore.”

He steps toward me. Locke remains where he is, watching Trent with absolute stillness.

Trent sees it. So does everybody else.

“You came here because you thought you could still make me leave with you.”

“I came because you’re making a fool of yourself.”

His mouth opens, but I don’t let him speak.

“No. You came because I stopped answering your phone calls. You came because you still think you can control me.”

Around us, the square has gone strangely quiet, but I don’t care. For years I kept my voice down so nobody would hear. I’m done with that too.

“You don’t own me.”

Trent laughs again, but there’s nothing convincing in it now. “Jesus Christ, Rachel.” His voice brims with disdain.

“You don’t get to touch me, and you don’t get to tell me who I’m allowed to be with. I said no. That should’ve been enough.”

For one beat, nobody moves. Trent’s face has gone mottled with anger, but the crowd around us is no longer his to control. Locke stays beside me, one hand still near the break in his chest.

Then Aaron Pike reaches us from somewhere behind the crowd, and I’ve never been so happy to see a deputy in my life.

“All right,” he says. “That’s enough.”

Trent turns on him. “He attacked me.”

Aaron looks at Locke, then at Trent, then at the phones pointed directly at all of us.

“No,” Blair says pleasantly. “He really didn’t.”

“I saw it,” a man somewhere behind us calls. “You grabbed her first.”

Trent looks at me. “I was trying to get my wife out of here.”