Chapter 9 #2
I swallow against the ache building at the back of my throat.
For a long time after I married Cal, I tried to hold both versions of him in my head at the same time.
The man who courted me hard and fast, who made everything feel urgent and inevitable, who looked at me like I was the only thing in any room worth seeing.
And the man who started making comments about my clothes, then my friends, then how often I called my dad.
The man who asked where I’d been in that tone that sounded casual until it didn’t.
The man who got irritated first, then angry, then cold.
The man who decided all we needed was each other and slowly went about cutting away everything else until that almost became true.
At first it was so small I could explain it away.
He didn’t like my friend Tessa because she was “messy” and “always in our business.” He thought my father was too overprotective and needed to understand I was married now.
He didn’t love that I still drove out to the chapter sometimes without telling him first because it made him feel like he came second.
It all sounded reasonable if you looked at it one piece at a time.
A husband wanting to prioritize his marriage. A husband getting frustrated. A husband asking for respect. By the time I understood each small thing was part of the same machine, I was already inside it.
I pull my arms around myself and look at Lexi again. She’s humming under her breath, tongue peeking out in concentration as she fills in the roof of her house.
“I can’t keep doing this,” I say quietly. “I can’t keep waiting to see how close he gets.”
“You won’t.” The certainty in my father’s voice should help. Instead it makes my eyes burn.
I press my lips together and nod once because if I try to speak I might humiliate myself.
His hand lands on my shoulder, heavy and warm. Not soft, because my father has never been a soft man, but steady in a way that reminds me I came from people who stand their ground.
“The man coming to get you is solid,” he says after a moment. “He’s trusted. He can handle himself. And Cal’s people won’t be looking at him.”
That gets my attention for all the wrong reasons. “Why not?”
“Because he’s not obvious.”
That is not reassuring in the slightest. “You realize saying that out loud does not make me feel better.”
The corner of his mouth moves. “Didn’t think it would.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because I’m telling you this is the best option I’ve got right now, and I’m not going to dress it up. He’ll get you where you need to go, and he won’t make noise doing it.”
I scrub a hand over my face and immediately regret it because I still haven’t gotten used to not wearing makeup. My skin feels naked. Exposed. “Do I get a name?”
He studies me for a second before answering. “Joker.”
I stare at him. “You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“That’s his road name?”
“Yes.”
I almost laugh. It comes out more like disbelief. “And I’m supposed to hear that and relax?”
My father crosses his arms over his chest. “You want me to lie and tell you it’s Michael?”
I give him a look.
He gives me one right back.
For a second, despite everything, something almost normal passes between us. The kind of dry exasperation I grew up on. Then it fades, because nothing stays normal for long anymore.
“When do I need to be ready?” I ask.
“He’ll be here after dark. We’ll move you out the back.”
I nod again, though my stomach is tying itself in knots.
“Okay.”
My father’s hand squeezes my shoulder once before he drops it. “We’ll get you fixed up so nobody looks twice.”
That phrase makes something cold slide down my spine.
Nobody looks twice. Once upon a time I would have laughed at the idea of making myself small on purpose.
I was never the shy one. I was never the girl who blended into walls and kept her head down.
Even after Cal started working on me, there was always a part of me that resisted, that wanted to throw my shoulders back and remind the world I belonged in it.
Now the idea of being forgettable feels like armor.
He leaves after another minute, ducking down long enough to kiss Lexi’s head and promise her he’ll see her before bed. The second the door shuts behind him, the room feels smaller again.
I sink back onto the couch and stare at the opposite wall.
Joker.
The name is ridiculous, which would be funny if my life did not currently depend on a man I have never met with a road name that sounds like a threat and a dare at the same time.
Lexi climbs onto the couch beside me with her doll and leans into my side. “Mama?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Where are we going?”
I smooth her hair back from her forehead. “On a little trip.”
“Is Papa coming?”
“Not this time.”
She thinks about that. “Can Bunny come?”
The question is so earnest I almost laugh for real. “Yes. Bunny can come.”
She nods like this is the only detail that really matters, then rests her head against my arm and keeps watching the cartoon.
I hold her closer and stare at the television without seeing it.
By the time one of the women my father trusts comes to help me get ready, the sun has started slipping lower outside the little window. She brings a plastic bag, a baseball cap, sunglasses, and the kind of gentle expression people wear when they know enough to be careful with you.
“I brought options,” she says.
I hate that word almost as much as I hate temporary.
Still, I stand and let her hand me the oversized T-shirt, faded and shapeless enough to hide most of my figure. My jeans are already plain. My shoes are old sneakers instead of the boots I used to wear. She sets the blonde wig on the table and unclips it with efficient hands.
“It’s cheap so it might be itchy,” she says apologetically.
“That seems on brand for my life right now.”