Chapter 4
Violet loved the parade. But by the time the fireworks happened, she was fast asleep on Paisley’s lap.
“Baby, you want to see the fireworks?” Paisley asked, bending to speak in her daughter’s ear.
Violet slumbered on, as expected, and Paisley sighed. She was going to be so disappointed tomorrow.
But the booms didn’t wake her. The light shaking of her body when Paisley jiggled her didn’t either. When Violet was out, she was out.
Ethan sat beside them in his lawn chair, gazing at the fireworks as they cracked and boomed.
He flinched from time to time. She didn’t need to ask why.
She’d watched Trey do the same thing when loud noises startled him.
He’d said it was nothing when she asked.
She’d stopped asking the first time he backhanded her for it.
The other men sometimes flinched too, but none of them seemed angry about it. If anything, they hugged their women a little tighter. The only one who never seemed to react was Alex Bishop. He leaned back in his chair, watching it all as if bored somehow.
A woman had walked over to talk to them earlier. She’d been tall, blond, and she’d been holding hands with a guy who’d looked even more bored than Alex. Her name was Diana and her arrival was the only time Alex had looked anything other than perfectly cool. If anything, he’d seemed a touch angry.
Paisley recognized it because anger was something she was finely attuned to. She’d had to be to survive. Not that every man who seemed angry was also violent, but she had to act as though they were. Because survival and protecting her child were paramount.
When the fireworks ended, people were busy everywhere packing up their chairs and blankets, their coolers, their kids. Getting back to her car was going to take time. Driving home would take even longer. She sighed as she levered herself out of the chair with Violet’s body limp in her arms.
“We’re going into the Dawg while the crowds disperse,” Rory said. “It’ll be easier to get to your car then if you want to go with us.”
Paisley hesitated. It was already well after nine and she had to be at the library by eight in the morning to prepare for the day.
“I’ll take you to your car.”
It was Ethan’s voice coming from behind her. She turned. He had his hands shoved in his pockets as he looked at her and Violet. “I can carry her for you, if you want me to.”
Her mind rebelled. The last thing she wanted was Ethan carrying her child—but Violet was heavy and there was no way Paisley would make it the three blocks to her car without stopping several times to rest. Whether she did it now or when the crowds were thinner made no difference.
She supposed she could leave Violet here, go get her car, and return.
But if Violet did wake up, she’d be scared to find herself in a strange place without her mother.
“I need to get her home, so that would be great.” She turned to Rory. “Thank you for asking me to stay. But it’s been a long day and I have to be at work early.”
Rory’s gaze slid to Ethan. Her lips curled in a big smile. “No problem at all. I’m just glad you could join us today. Stop by any time if you want to chat or need anything. You can text or call, too. Hey, y’all, Paisley’s leaving.”
The guys waved and called out their goodbyes, but the women came over to basically echo Rory about stopping for a chat or giving them a call.
Paisley could honestly say she really liked these women.
They made her feel like Sutton’s Creek was a good choice, and not just because she’d needed to get far away from Trey.
Paisley hesitated when Ethan stood before her. “I can carry her if you get my bag,” she said.
“I’m not going to drop her, Payz.”
Her gaze darted to the others but nobody heard him shorten her name like they were old friends. “Okay, fine.”
He hefted Violet easily, laying her head on his shoulder and supporting her with an arm beneath her bottom. She sleepily wrapped her arms around his neck, and Paisley’s heart squeezed. He looked natural holding her—and she looked safe in his arms. Tiny, too.
Ethan was a big man. Tall. His arms bulged, but not from the task of holding Violet.
They bulged because he was well-muscled and fit.
He wore a Yankees baseball cap pulled down over his forehead and a Salty Dawg Tavern T-shirt that stretched across his chest. His hair curled against his neck where it hung below the ball cap.
She wasn’t used to seeing him with longer hair.
He’d always had a close-cropped military cut before.
She called goodbye to everyone one more time, waving. A frown creased Dr. Emma Sutton’s face as she looked at Ethan holding Violet. Paisley’s heart skipped. It doesn’t mean anything. There’s nothing to see.
Emma’s gaze slid to Paisley for a second, but then Blaze wrapped his arms around her. He bent his mouth to her ear and the moment was over. Didn’t slow Paisley’s pulse though.
“Which way we going?”
Paisley jerked her gaze to Ethan. “Toward the library. I’m parked behind it.”
They started walking with the crowds filtering out of the square.
Paisley kept her eyes on people as they made their way down the street.
It was habit to anticipate trouble. She thought it might always be, and that made her sad in a way.
She’d been trusting once. Convinced that people would be nice to her because she was nice to everyone else.
Didn’t work that way, though.
“Where are you staying?” Ethan asked when the crowd had thinned a little bit and they could hear each other.
“Aunt Hettie has a rental property in town. We’re staying there.”
Hettie wouldn’t let her pay for it, though.
She insisted the house had been paid off for years and she didn’t need the money since her last tenant had moved out a few months ago.
Plus it needed updating. Paisley couldn’t deny that it was helpful not to have to pay rent, but she hoped she’d be able to once she was divorced and her lawyer bills were paid off.
Hettie might not need the money, but Paisley didn’t expect to live free forever.
“She lives in that Queen Anne house on the corner of Oak and Line in the historic district. Beautiful house,” Ethan said.
“It is. But how do you know that?”
“She had Diego Hernandez out for some work recently. I moonlight with his crew sometimes.”
Not what she’d expected. “You do?”
“Yeah. I like construction work. It’s a hobby when I’m not too busy at the range.”
“That’s cool.”
“Keeps me busy.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes. “So where’s this rental property of Miss Hettie’s?” he asked.
“It’s in the historic district a couple streets over from her house.
It’s a small Craftsman on Chestnut Street.
” The houses on Chestnut were technically in the district, but they weren’t as grand as the homes just a couple of streets over.
Small houses, cozy, in need of renovation.
But she liked the district because there were old oak trees and sidewalks, children for Violet to play with, and a sense of community she hadn’t had anywhere else.
“You’re close to work, then.”
“Yes. It’s less than two miles, but it’s too hot to try and walk it.”
“Probably best not to.”
She shot him a look. “What do you mean by that?”
He glanced down at Violet’s head. She hadn’t moved a muscle. “I mean don’t make yourself a target.”
“I don’t intend to.” A chill slipped down her spine. Intended or not, she already was.
“Not saying you do, but protection is my specialty. Sometimes people forget to be careful when they think they’re safe.
You said he doesn’t know where you are, but in my experience that’s only as good as the people keeping the secret.
If you told anyone other than the court, those people are potential leaks.
But there’s also the fact you’re here, in Sutton’s Creek, working in a public space.
People see you. Know your name. And you never know how people are connected to others. ”
She shivered. She’d told no one where she was going, and she’d asked Hettie not to share it with the Fairhope family either.
Hettie knew she was getting a divorce, but not how bad it’d been.
But that didn’t mean the news wouldn’t leak at some point.
Aunt Hettie was eighty-three years old. She was mostly sharp as a tack, but she had moments when she was somewhat forgetful of what she’d said to whom.
She would tell Uncle John, her son, if she hadn’t already.
And he might talk to Paisley’s mother at some point.
If she resurfaced long enough to ask the question. Paisley often didn’t hear from her for months at a time while she went nomad. Then she’d be back, wanting to tell Paisley all about whatever scheme she’d gotten involved in or new boyfriend she’d met, etcetera.
Not that she would tell Trey anything on purpose, but Bree Allen was the kind of person who sailed through life a day at a time and didn’t think about the past or the future much at all.
She acted in the moment, which had always been frustrating to Paisley as a kid.
There’d been no permanence, no stability, with her mother.
She was just as likely to sell everything one day and move the next when Paisley’d been little, which meant a school change—if she got enrolled at all.
“I’m doing the best I can. I keep an eye over my shoulder at all times, watching for him. I’m exhausted from all the vigilance, but I won’t stop doing it. I can’t.”
Her voice was close to cracking.
“I’m sorry you ended up with someone who hurt you.”
“Me too. Can’t change the past, though.”
There were so many things she wanted to say, questions she wanted to ask, but what was the point? Ethan had left, and she’d ended up with Trey. It didn’t matter why anymore.
“There’s my car,” she said as they walked around the back of the library to the parking lot.
She hit the remote to unlock it and opened the rear passenger door.
Ethan stooped to place Violet gently into her carseat, then clipped the seatbelt.
Paisley’s eyes pricked with tears at how gentle he was with her daughter.
Not only that, but the fact he’d belted her in so carefully.
She reminded herself not to read too much into it. It was only a seatbelt. Didn’t make him into a hero or anything.
He straightened, towering over her again, and she took a step back instinctively. A frown marred his handsome face. “Not going to hurt you, Paisley.”
She sucked in a breath. “You already have. But I know what you mean. I can’t help it though. It’s instinct, and I doubt I’ll ever get over it.”
He nodded. “Understood. For the record, the deployment was short notice and we went radio silent immediately. It happens in special ops. As soon as I could, I called you. You never answered, never texted. Except once.”
Her heart hammered. Sweat beaded on her skin. She didn’t want to have this conversation and yet she needed to. Maybe getting it out there in the open would heal at least a tiny corner of her heart. She would never be the same person she was before, but every step forward was a good one.
“It wasn’t me, Ethan. You sent Trey to tell me you were gone.
Well, he did that. And then he was there to pick up the pieces.
If you called me like you say you did, then I expect it was Trey who made sure I never got the calls.
And I expect he’s the one who texted you—because it damned sure wasn’t me. ”
The murmur of voices, the closing of car doors, the starting of engines as people got into their cars became a hum in the background as she watched the expression on Ethan’s face morph from denial to confusion to understanding before landing on hot, blazing anger.
She wasn’t scared of the anger. Not this time.
She knew where it was directed, and it wasn’t at her.
“Wait a fucking minute,” he growled. “What did he tell you?”
“That you’d had fun but you were moving on. That you were sorry you had to leave earlier than you’d anticipated, but it was best to make a clean break.”
His expression was a study in shock. Eyes wide, jaw hanging open. That only lasted a few seconds before fury returned in full force. “Jesus fucking Christ. That’s not what I told him to tell you.”
She believed him. His reaction was too raw not to.
All these years she’d wondered why she hadn’t been good enough for him, why he’d left her without a word, and how she’d had it so wrong.
He’d gotten a tattoo with her, for heaven’s sake.
Yet he’d dumped her like yesterday’s trash and sent Trey to do his dirty work.
But of course he hadn’t. It was Trey who’d lied.
Trey who’d orchestrated everything. She didn’t have the energy for anger after all these years of hell.
Instead, weariness wrapped itself around her heart.
She just wanted to go home and hide beneath the covers.
Maybe she’d cry, or maybe she was too numb.
“Then I guess you didn’t know Trey as well as you thought you did, huh? Because that’s what he said. And when I cried, he was there to comfort me. Such a helpful guy, that Trey.”
She couldn’t help the bitterness coating her words.
“I’m sorry, Payz. I thought—shit, I thought he was a decent guy. I don’t know why he lied to you.”
“You can’t figure it out?”
He stared. She continued on, recklessness spurring her forward. It was too big to carry alone anymore.
“Trey McCann only cares about himself and what he wants. I’m sorry you didn’t know that. Might have saved me four and a half years in hell if you had. Not that I blame you for my own lack of judgement.”
He’d gone utterly still. “Are you saying…? Is he the guy…?”
She closed the door gently on her sleeping child before she faced him again, her pulse tattooing despair with every beat.
“That I married him? That he’s the man who beat me black and blue and threatened to kill me if I ever left him?
That I’m terrified he’ll come after me? That he’ll hurt Violet?
That our lives are in danger every second of every day for the rest of our lives? ”
She dragged in a magnolia-scented breath and steadied herself.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. Welcome to the hell that’s my life.”