28. Harmony
CHAPTER 28
Harmony
I close the door to the bedroom, seeing just a bit of moonlight coming into the room. Wyatt is on his side sleeping without a care in the world, exactly the way it should be. I bend to kiss his cheek before slowly, on my tippy-toes, walking out of the room. I can hear shouting coming, but it sounds like it’s far away. I walk over to the top of the stairs, and I sit down on the step, watching out the window. I can see shadows moving back and forth. My eyes are on one shadow in particular, Brady. I would know his shadow in the dark, and even if I didn’t, I think my heart would. If he’s next to me, I can feel it down to my bones. My eyes stick to the scene unfolding outside. Half of me wants to run out there and watch, but the other half, the more important one, is making sure Wyatt stays far away from this and his father.
I look over my shoulder at his bedroom door, making sure it’s still closed and not that he got up and is sneaking, looking out. Something he used to do when we lived together. I take a deep breath, forcing away the memory of my son, looking like he was petrified as he listened to his father trash whatever glass he was holding as he went on and on about whatever was ailing him at the moment. My feet on the steps move, making my legs go up and down with all the nerves in my body. My stomach feels like I’m going to throw up while my hands shake on my knees as I wait for Brady to come in the door.
I can hear more shouting from Winston. I knew this was coming. I should have anticipated it, especially after the meeting with the sheriff.
We walked into the sheriff’s office. He sat behind his big brown wooden desk, which shone like he spent hours polishing it. The big leather chair he sat in was too big for the room, and he sat in it like he ruled the world. Pictures behind him of his perfect family, a wife who he married out of high school and who was best friends with Mrs. Cartwright. “Let’s all cut to the chase.” He didn’t even get up to greet us or introduce himself to Ryleigh, who just smirked before she leaned over the desk.
“Sheriff.” She put out her hand, and he thought for a second before he lifted his beefy hand. “I’m Ryleigh Richards. I’ll be representing Harmony Cartwright.” The minute she said my last name, I couldn’t wait to have it changed back to my maiden name. She looked at him and then at the two chairs facing his desk before taking a seat without being asked to. Something I don’t think he expected.
He leaned back in his chair, putting one hand on the armrest. His white hair on the side was combed back perfectly, the top of his head tanned from being bald. “There was no need for you to even come down here.”
“Is that so?” Ryleigh smirked at him, which made his jaw twitch. “And why is that?”
“We both know, young lady, she did it,” he states. “He said she did it.”
Ryleigh straightened her posture, clasped her hands together, and looked the sheriff directly in his eyes, and I have to admit, her game face was quite intimidating. It had me trembling a little. “Sheriff, you are well aware that I am Harmony’s attorney, so you will either address me as Attorney Richards or Mrs. Richards,” she corrected him, which, I think, was something no one had ever done. “You will give me the respect I deserve, and I won’t accept anything less. Also, I hate repeating myself. I tell my children this often and, unfortunately, adults often act like children. However, here we are. At the scene of the incident, Harmony made your deputy aware she had an attorney. I’m sure if you reviewed the incident report, as any good sheriff would, then you would’ve known that. Therefore, given the rules of civil procedure, you cannot question my client without her attorney present. So when you said there was no need for me to come down here, apparently, there was. But then again, I can understand your hostility, considering the close relationship that you have with the alleged victim’s family.”
“She vandalized his car.” He didn’t even acknowledge that she just said her name. “We’ve seen this time and time again. A scorned woman wanting revenge for her husband moving on. She might as well just confess right now.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” I quickly told him, and Ryleigh curtly shook her head.
“We have witnesses who saw you.”
“Interesting,” Ryleigh retorted, almost laughing. “And for clarification, these witnesses”—I could almost see the glee on her face—“are able to say without a shadow of a doubt that my client is the one who vandalized Mr. Cartwright’s car?” She asked the question but didn’t wait for him to answer. “It was in the middle of the night, wasn’t it?” He just glared at her. “And from what I remember when I was driving here, not all streets have the pesky little streetlights that are in the city.” Her head tilted to the side. “Which means, unless they were standing right next to her, it would be hard for them to know if it was in fact her or maybe another scorned lover. I have quite a list of women who have been scorned that I can give you, if you like.” She shrugged her shoulders. “All I know is my client was with Mr. Thatcher, and he can with certainty say she was in with him and didn’t leave the house.” My eyes almost bulged out of my sockets when I realized what she meant. She delivered the blow calm, cool, and collected instead of arguing with him. His eyes sliced over to mine after she told him where I was, and I could have sworn he called me a “wanton woman” under his breath. “Now, if you aren’t going to be able to handle this with professionalism and an open mind, perhaps it would be best to get someone else in here. You know, there are a lot of officials out there who would be all too happy to investigate an ethics charge.” I swear the second she said the words, I thought his head would explode like it did in the cartoons. His face even got red, and I could see then he realized he was done, and there was no way he was going to actually win this fight. At least this one.
The sheriff thought he was going to strong-arm me, but with Ryleigh at my side, he knew he couldn’t do anything. Which pissed him off especially with Ryleigh’s parting shot. “And after we’re done here, I’ll file a complaint against you with the proper officials, and you know the majority of them would be all too happy to further investigate an ethics charge.” I knew the minute I left the office he would be calling my in-laws, and they would not be happy. I also knew it would trickle to Winston. He would be called over to their house and belittled about how worthless he was. Something they did often, and after that, he would be out for blood.
Which is why he showed up here, like the coward he was.
The front door opens as Brady comes in, and all I can do is stare at him. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, which is the complete opposite of what Winston would be wearing. Heaven forbid he wore jeans. With just Brady standing there looking at me, everything inside me settles. The nerves from my stomach are gone, and my hands stop shaking. His eyes find mine, and it’s as if I know I’m going to be okay. I’m going to be taken care of, which is something I shouldn’t be depending on. “He’s gone.” That’s the only thing Brady is able to say before his eyes go from mine to where the door is closed. “Wyatt?”
“Dead asleep. Didn’t hear anything,” I relay, getting up as Brady does a little sigh of relief before he makes his way to the staircase. He stops at the bottom step as I make my way down the stairs toward him. “What happened out there?” I ask when I get to the last step and we are eye to eye. His hands go to my hips, pulling me to him. My hands go his chest, my palms feeling his heart beating under my hands.
“What happened was he came here, and he was drunk.” I close my eyes but then open them when one of his hands leaves my hip and moves under my chin, my eyes opening to look into his. “He said he didn’t drive the car here, but we have it all on video, so he can’t deny it, no matter how many people the Cartwrights have in their pocket.”
I put my forehead on his. “Why can’t he just accept it and move on?” I question softly. “I mean, I know why he can’t but, for once, can’t he think of anyone other than himself?”
“They cuffed him and put him in the back of the squad car,” he fills me in. “Wanted to take my phone out and take a picture of it to frame it”—he grins—“but then Wyatt would see it.”
My heart soars every time he thinks about Wyatt because he’s shown my son more love in the two weeks he’s known him than his father has his whole fucking life. My hand moves to his face, wanting to kiss his lips, but stopping when I hear my cell phone ring from my shorts pocket. “That should be Ryleigh.” I pull out the phone and see I was right.
“Hello.” I put the phone to my ear, not moving out of Brady’s arms.
“Hey,” she says, “just got word he was booked, and he’s refusing to do a breathalyzer test. He says he needs his lawyer. If they push it, he might sober up, but from the video I just saw that Casey emailed me, it’ll be hard to talk his way out of that one.” I close my eyes. “I’m going to be on the phone first thing tomorrow, asking for an expedited court date,” she tells me, and all I can do is listen to her words. “He’s not going to bother you, at least no more for tonight. I’ll find out more in the morning.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.” I disconnect the phone and look at Brady, about to take a deep breath when the sound of a car approaching has him go on alert.
He turns and walks to the door, pulling it open. I make the mistake of following him but then stop in my tracks when I see Winston’s mother there. Her hair is perfect even though it’s almost midnight, her makeup applied with expertise. The perfect Southern lady, except her face has a scowl on it and the leer in her eyes when she sees me standing behind Brady. “They said you were staying here, but I didn’t believe it.”
“There a reason you are here, lady?” Brady steps in front of her, blocking me from her view. Which just angers her even more.
“I’m not talking to you,” she hisses. Brady is about to slam the door in her face, but she walks past him to stand in front of me. The outfit she is wearing consists of a long, pleated satin skirt, a satin top, with a little jacket tied at the neck. “I’m talking to her.” She ignores Brady, who comes to stand beside me. “How could you do this to him?” she asks. “To us, after everything that we’ve done for you?”
“How could I do this to him?” I repeat her question, confused by it. “What exactly did I do to him? Leave him?”
“You know full well what you did to him.” She advances on me and stops when Brady moves closer to the side of me. “You were nothing when he met you, and now…” She eyes Brady up and down, the disgust written all over her face. “You’ve gone and shacked up with a man who is just like you.” She puts her shoulders back. “Nothing.”
I don’t know if it’s the night I’ve just had, or the fact she just walked into Brady’s home. A home he took me and my son into without even blinking an eye. And he had to do all of that because of her son. All of this because her son and, if truth be told, because of her actions. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” I ask, moving around Brady, but he grabs my hip to stop me from getting too close to her.
“Lower-class bar owner who deals alcohol. Whose brother-in-law’s family had to bail out before they went bankrupt.”
“I’d rather be nothing with him,” I finally say, pointing at Brady, who squeezes my hip, “than with your son, who really amounts to nothing without his dad and mommy in his corner.” She puts a hand to her throat as if I struck her. “In all of this, you would think maybe, just maybe, you might think of someone other than yourself.” I shake my head.
“You will get nothing from us.” Her face is red with anger.
“We’ll see about that.” I raise my eyebrows. “I have a pretty good lawyer now, who doesn’t care what my last name is, or what your last name is. All she cares about is what is right and what is wrong.”
“I don’t care who you think you have on your side. Things can always change,” she threatens me, her voice rising. Brady is the one who talks next.
“You will keep your goddamn voice down,” he hisses. “Not that you give a shit, but your grandson is upstairs sleeping,” he tells her, and her eyes go from his to the staircase.
“It’ll only be a matter of time before he’s out of this hellhole”—she looks around the room again, looking disgusted—“and back where he belongs. We’ll make your life a living hell.”
“I’m glad you said that,” Brady finally says, “I would have told you beforehand that you are being watched in the house.” Her face pales. “Just like I told your son when he showed up here drunk out of his mind, driving. You lost one son to that; you would think you would make sure you wouldn’t lose another.”
“Why, I have never.” She takes a step back.
“Get out of my house,” he finally snaps, “before I call the police again tonight, and you and your son can share a cell.”
She turns on her heel, walking to the door and stopping. “You’ve fucked with the wrong person this time.” Brady makes his way to the front door, not waiting for her to say anything, and the minute she steps out of the door, he slams it shut behind her. And just to make sure she knows this is over, he turns the lock.