16. Harmony
CHAPTER 16
Harmony
I get home and walk to the back door, opening it, and lean in to unbuckle Wyatt’s belt. He stirs, getting up and doing me a huge favor by waking and walking up the stairs instead of me carrying him. Which is becoming almost impossible these days since he’s growing like a weed. I open the door as he walks up the steps and follow him to tuck him into bed. “Sleep tight, my love.” I kiss his cheek before walking out of his room.
Going downstairs to drink something instead of going to my bedroom, I pull open the fridge and grab the sweet tea before finding a glass. The whole time, I’m thinking of Brady and the way he looked tonight. It’s been almost a week since he kissed me, a week that every night when he walks me to my car, I want him to kiss me.
I pull out the stool, grab my phone, and see that Ryleigh texted me during the night, which is weird since it’s Saturday.
Ryleigh: Forgot to text you last night to let you know that I filed a response to the summons. Did I mention how much fun this is going to be? Because it is! Also, if he shows up and threatens you, you need to call the police immediately, first and foremost, to protect yourself and Wyatt and to also make sure that a report is filed. This is just more evidence to help support your case that he’s not only an abusive husband but an unfit parent.
I shake my head at the same time I hear the car door slamming. This time, it sounds too close to be Brady’s. I push off from the counter and walk in the darkness to the front door. I don’t have to wait for long before the sound of feet stomping up the steps and the pounding starts. “Get the fuck out here!” he roars. “I know you’re in there, you fucking bitch.” I inhale and then open the door, which is one of my biggest mistakes. I should have known from the way he was talking that he was fit to be tied. I should have left the door closed, but instead, he pushes his way in, shocking me and making me almost fumble as I rush to get away from him. I’m slipping when he grips my upper arm and yanks it so hard, all I can do is cry out in pain. “You got a lawyer.” His face is red as he makes sure that we are almost nose-to-nose. “You think you are going to get a penny from me?” He twists his hand even more, and I can’t help but cry. “It’ll be a cold day in hell before you get even a penny from me.” I don’t have a chance to say anything to him before he’s ripped off me. I see Brady grab him by the scruff of his neck with one hand, and then the other arm goes around his neck in a chokehold. His feet barely touch the floor as he’s carried to the door.
“Get off me.” He tries to wring himself free. “My attorneys are going to hear about this.”
“Call the police.” Brady looks at me. “Don’t think twice about it. You call them now,” he commands, and I rush to the kitchen to call them. My hands shake as I hear the sound of the door being slammed shut.
“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” the operator says.
“My name is Harmony Cartwright,” I sob, putting my hand to my mouth before the phone is taken from me.
“This is Brady Thatcher,” he states. “Hey, Sharon. Winston Cartwright just attacked his wife.” He looks at me. “Yeah, I had to pull him off her.” He nods at me. “We’ll be here.” He puts his phone down at the same time I hear Wyatt.
“Mom?” His voice is shaking, and I see he’s on the steps, holding on to the railing. “Mom”—he walks to me—“did he hurt you?” he asks me, and at that moment, I feel like the biggest failure. Letting him see this is something I will never forgive Winston for, and I will never forgive myself either.
“No, honey,” I assure him, taking him in my arms and wrapping them around him. “I’m fine,” I lie as we hear more car doors closing. He gasps, and his head turns to the door.
“I’m here, buddy,” Brady comforts, putting his hand on Wyatt’s shoulder, leaning to look him in the eyes. “I’m not going to let him hurt her, yeah.” He gets up and moves his head to the side. “It’s the deputy.”
He walks over to the door, leaving us both, and I can’t help but notice how we are both shaking. “It’s okay.” I try to calm myself for my son’s sake.
“Mommy, he hurt you,” he notes at the same time Brady opens the door and the deputy comes in.
“Are you here alone?” Brady asks him, and he nods. “Not going to happen,” he clips. “Call in someone else.”
“What are you talking about?” he asks, and Brady shakes his head.
“I’m talking about the fact that you and Winston are a part of the same country club,” he explains. “I want someone else.”
“It’s the middle of the night,” he complains, and another car door is being slammed. This time, I put Wyatt behind me, just in case it’s Winston, but it’s not. It’s Charlie, who looks at us with his hands on his hips.
“What’s going on?” he questions as if he didn’t just roll out of bed.
“Asking for a different deputy,” Brady informs him, then looks at me. “Go pack your stuff.” I don’t move from my spot because I can’t. “You aren’t staying here.”
“I need to sit down,” I answer him honestly, afraid my knees are going to give out on me, and I’ll end up on my ass.
Another car door slams, and I look toward the door, and they knock on it. “Hey, Pat,” Charlie greets the guy who is dressed in the same uniform as the first one. He looks around and earns a glare from the deputy who got here first.
“What are you doing here?” he asks him.
“Was in the area when the call came through,” he says. “Did you take her statement?”
“I just got here,” the deputy replies and turns to me.
“She needs to sit down,” Brady barks from beside me, walking me to the living room. Wyatt never leaves my side as I sit on the couch and tell them both what happened.
“I want a restraining order,” I declare, shocking everyone in the room, including me. “Do I call my lawyer?” I don’t know how it works, but I know I don’t want him near me or my son.
“We can issue an emergency protective order,” Pat says to me, earning another glare from the other deputy. “It’s a domestic case.” I nod at him.
“If there is anything else,” Brady says from his spot beside the couch, “let us know.” He looks at us. “But we should get Wyatt in bed.”
They must sense this means the conversation is over. “She needs a case file,” Charlie notes. “Her lawyer will want it.” They nod at him, and the deputy, who I’ve learned is named Jonah, hands me a card with his name and report number under it. They walk out, and Brady and Charlie share a look. “You want me to wait here for them to pack a bag?”
“I’m good,” Brady assures him.
Wyatt gets up from the couch, grabbing my hand. “We need to pack a bag,” he tells me.
“I don’t think your dad will come back tonight,” I try to reassure him.
“Let’s go, then,” Brady urges, “you can grab stuff tomorrow.” He reaches for Wyatt’s hand, who slides it in his, and I know he isn’t going to sleep unless we leave. Brady takes the keys from me, locking the door. Charlie is on the steps as he walks in front of us toward Brady’s house.
“Thanks for coming, Charlie,” I say to him when he heads toward his truck. He nods at me as he gets into the pickup, but he doesn’t leave until we walk up the steps to Brady’s house.
“Welcome to my home,” Brady invites, trying to sound cheerful like he didn’t just rip my ex off me. “There are four bedrooms upstairs.” He walks straight to the staircase on the side. “You guys can pick whatever room you want.”
“Which one is yours?” I ask when we get to the top of the stairs, and he points to the room at the end of the hallway.
“Go pick which one you want,” I urge Wyatt as he lets go of Brady’s hand.
“Brady,” I say his name in almost a whisper.
“Not now.” He avoids even looking at me, and all I can do is close my eyes. “Right now, you have to get your boy in bed.” He stops with his shoulder touching mine. “And I have to go downstairs and take a shot of something and remind myself why it wouldn’t be a good idea to find Winston and break all his fucking teeth.” I gasp, and he walks back down the steps. “Sleep tight, Wyatt,” Brady tells him before he walks down the steps.
“I’m going to sleep in this one,” Wyatt says from the room, and I walk over and see that it’s fully furnished—the big queen-sized bed in the middle of the room with a night table on each side.
He kicks off his shoes and climbs into bed, and I walk to him, not sure what to do. “Are you okay?” I ask, sitting on the corner of the bed, and he nods.
“Yeah,” he mumbles as his eyes start to close. I rub his hair with my hand, waiting until he’s snoring softly before getting up and walking out of the room. I look down the hallway, seeing the door to Brady’s room open, but then hearing noise coming from downstairs.
I walk down the steps and find him in the kitchen, the bottle of whiskey in front of him with an empty shot glass. His hand is outstretched at his side on top of the counter, his head hanging. “Hey,” I say, and he looks up, and I see his face looks like it’s being ravaged.
“He out?” he asks me as my feet move on their own toward him.
“Yeah,” I confirm, stopping beside him.
“I need to take pictures of your arm,” he states, his voice sounding like it’s going to crack, “for evidence.”
“Brady.” I put my hand on his arm, and he shakes his head so my hand falls away.
“He put his hands on you.” Every single word he says feels like he’s being tortured. “So hard I heard you cry out in pain from inside your house.” He turns to face me. “I ran there so fast, and when I saw him, I saw black.” I close my eyes, and my hands move to his face. “I should have?—”
“You should have done none of that,” I counter softly. “If you had, then he would win.” I look into his eyes. “I’m tired of him winning, Brady.” I step even closer to him. “I’m tired of him winning.”
“He’s not going to win this time.” His gruff voice sends shivers down my spine.
“When I saw you, I knew I would be okay,” I admit to him. “I knew that you would take care of me.” I swallow down the lump. “I…” I trail off. “I…” I get on my tippy-toes. “I feel safe with you,” I say right before my lips find his.