AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What is this, Harrison? Tell me what I am fucking looking at here,” I grit out, my blood starting to boil as Harrison looks over my shoulder.
“Domestic violence. Partner violence. Abuse, broken bones, verbal altercations…” he murmurs, as he grabs the file, looking through each page, his forehead creasing with concern. My heart hurts, my head hurts. I am pulling my hair as I start to pace again, the nervous energy I felt before now replaced by the anger swirling in my body at someone having their hands on her.
“I knew it. She told me Jeremy was violent, but I didn’t know it went on for years! That he is Rosie’s father!” I almost scream, angry at myself. Murderous when I think about the situation.
“Where is she now?” Tennyson asks, and I stop pacing.
“Having lunch with our mother,” I state, and all three of them look at me as though I am mad.
“I have so many questions about that, starting with why?” Tennyson asks, basically shouting.
“She came here talking about wanting to make amends, meeting Em properly, not wanting to make the same mistakes as she did with Beth,” I say, my eyes flicking to Harrison, and I see his jaw clench.
“She seemed to genuinely want to talk with Em, so I spoke to Em and she agreed, given that we are now moving forward and being together for real.” It made sense at the time, now I am doubting everything.
“For a smart guy, you are so fucking stupid sometimes,” Tennyson bites out before slumping back onto the sofa, his head in his hands.
“Where did they go?” Eddie asks, looking at me with concern. The dread I felt about them being together earlier is now mixing in with what Beasley said about my mother before he left and the new information I found out on Em’s history. I feel like I might vomit.
“Four Seasons. Ralph is waiting outside for her and said he would call as soon as he had her,” I offer them, and all three of them look at their watches.
“It is four thirty in the afternoon,” Harrison states, and I look at him in disbelief. I have been so preoccupied with everything that I totally forgot about the lunch. It is odd, since Mother is always quick to eat, and I am sure she would have been quicker than usual with Em.
My cell phone rings then, and I pull it from my pocket.
“It’s her,” I say, showing the boys the screen, Em’s name appearing.
“Well, fucking answer it,” Tennyson grits out to me, and I do.
“Em, hey. Is everything okay?” I say, my breath coming out in a big rush.
“Ben?” Rosie’s little voice comes through. “Ben?” she says again quickly, and I can hear her crying.
“Rosie? What’s wrong?” I ask, now on high alert. With my brothers beside me, I put her on speaker.
“Ben, the bad man is here. He is hurting Mommy. You need to come help us,” she says, her voice panicked and distraught.
I look at my brothers, and Tennyson has already sprinted out the door, Harrison on the phone.
“I am coming, Rosie. Where are you? Are you in danger?” I ask her as we all follow Tennyson, running down the hallway to the elevator.
“I’m hiding under my bed, and I’ve locked my bedroom door, just like Mommy told me to,” she says, sniffling, her voice wavering. The poor thing is scared out of her mind.
“That’s good, Rosie, you stay there. Tell me what you can hear. Tell me everything.” My brothers and I reach the basement, Tennyson organizing our ride.
It is then I hear it. A gunshot, and my whole world crumbles.
CHAPTER FORTY TWO - EMILY
I have no idea what time it is, or even what day.
My head is swollen, bruised, my body sore and damaged. My clothes ripped. I lie on the hard linoleum floor next to my dining table as my ex sits across from me, eating what appears to be ramen noodles. My eyes flick to Rosie’s door, and I see it still shut, and I wonder how long she has been in there.
She knows not to come out. She knows to remain in there until I get her.
I lick my dry lips and hiss a little, a cut at my mouth tasting metallic. I slowly and quietly take some breaths, centering myself, trying to figure out what has happened. I look over my body, and from what I can see, I am intact. Purple welts run up one arm, and my legs have bruises and marks. My head is throbbing, but I can wiggle my fingers and toes, and my underwear is all exactly where it should be.
Looking up at Jeremy, I see him watching me. His eyes remain on mine as he slurps another forkful of noodles. He is playing with me. Drawing this out, waiting for something.
