EIGHTEEN
HAYDEN
BOSTON
DECEMBER
Apparently not the blonde woman in my apartment, though.
The now-fired security guard, Jake, had a financial arrangement with her to look the other way.
Behind me, Ruby is spitting mad that I made her wait. I didn’t do it out of care for the woman in the apartment; I did it because I brought the cavalry with me—Detectives Anthony and Ramirez.
I felt torn at the hospital. Ruby is on the phone telling me she’s about to beat the woman in my apartment, but I didn’t want to leave Emerald. My wife made the decision for me. She didn’t even know what was happening, but she still waved me toward the door— go help my sister.
Moving before I even registered it, I stepped back to Emerald’s bedside and pressed a kiss to her head. “I love you.”
Emerald just flipped me off, but there was a small lift to her lips, like she was smiling.
My mind was going a mile a minute as I caught up to Aisha and Ramirez in the hospital lobby while trying to keep Ruby from going nuclear. The detectives and half the hospital staff looked alarmed as I sprinted toward them like an unleashed bull.
The next thing I knew, I was in the back of Aisha’s car, red and blue lights flashing, siren screaming, as we tore through the narrow Boston streets toward the apartment.
“Go in first, confirm she doesn’t have permission to be here, and we’ll go from there,” Aisha says as the lock clicks open. I nod, my heart slamming in my chest as I quietly step into the apartment.
I sniff as soon as I walk through the door. My wife’s perfume hits me first—that sweet scent that always makes my mouth water like some fucked-up Pavlovian response.
As if she just sprayed it out here.
Nothing seems disturbed, at first.
The basket Emerald made me is still on the counter, but then I see it. By the coffee maker, my favorite mug—the Wizard of Oz one Linda gave me with the Emerald City on it—is there instead of in the cabinet where it should be.
With pink lipstick on the brim.
My blood boils.
The three people behind me keep their steps light, Ramirez nodding that he’ll stay by the door, blocking the only exit in and out of the apartment.
A muffled noise from the bedroom reaches my ears. Ruby’s face sharpens, and she takes a step in that direction. I’m already there, charging down the hall, with Aisha close behind. The bedroom door is cracked, and when I peer inside, my rage ignites.
You have to be fucking kidding me.
Britney.
Wearing my wife’s silk green robe. One of her birthday presents last year. The same robe I’ve peeled off my beautiful Emerald more times than I can count. It’s tied to some of my happiest memories.
Now it’s ruined, tainted by this deluded little psychopath posing for her camera attached to a ring light. The fucking absurdity of it makes me blink, hoping that this is all just a messed-up nightmare.
But, no, Britney is reclined on the bed, flipping through one of the books Emerald keeps on the end table, seemingly pretending to read it.
“What the fuck?” Ruby hisses from behind me, seeing the same thing I am.
Britney slides off the bed and strolls over to the camera, reviewing the pictures she just took.
What takes me by surprise is the sickening ease in the way she moves through the room. When I scan the bedroom, my jaw clenches even tighter. Emerald’s perfume bottle is out of place on her vanity, giving me the reason for the scent being so strong.
This witch is wearing my wife’s clothes and perfume in our bedroom.
My patience snaps in a violent instant, and I storm through the door, heart thundering in my chest.
Britney screeches in surprise, stumbling back and sending the ring light crashing onto the carpet.
“Hayden!” She trips in the ugly heels she’s wearing, eyes darting around the room. “I can explain!”
“Making yourself at home,” I growl, glancing around the bedroom I left this morning. The bed is unmade and rumpled because I couldn’t focus on anything but the meeting this morning. I don’t sleep well unless Emerald is beside me.
I’ve had to do it for the past seventeen nights now, running on very little sleep and a tidal wave of fucking rage.
“How did you get in here, Britney? ”
“...the—er—security guard... he let me in...” Britney’s voice trails off as she sees my real sister-in-law behind me, accompanied by a woman flashing a detective badge on her belt. Her eyes go wide.
“And why would he let you into mine and my wife’s home?”
“I told him I was Emerald’s sister,” she says lamely.
“Yeah, that would be me,” Ruby chimes in, waving her fingers at Britney. “Ruby Osgood. Annie Wilkes, is it?”
Britney sneers. “Excuse me—”
“The guard said you’ve been doing this for the past six months,” I cut in loudly, making Britney jump. “Paid him cash to look the other way and not check IDs. Oh, and you apparently had him delete security footage, too. Question: What the fuck is wrong with you?”
That question seems to set her off. Her blue eyes burn as she stomps her foot.
“There is nothing wrong with me,” she shrieks. “I’m exactly what you should have had in the first place, Hayden!”
Baffled, I blink, trying to make sense of her words.
“Don’t look at me like that!” she shrieks. “Someone had to help you, because you weren’t going to do it yourself. I did this for you. ”
“Oh my God,” Ruby says, sounding genuinely appalled. “She really thinks she’s in fucking Misery.”
“You’re miserable with her, and everyone can see it but you,” Britney adds some huskiness to her voice, shrugging her shoulders. “I was giving you a clean way out. I know you want it.”
I frown, looking at Ruby glaring daggers at Britney.
Aisha looks like she wants to step in, but then stops, tilting her head like she’s curious.
At my lack of response, Britney rolls her eyes .
“Your little wife is cute, but... she’s so boring.
You’re a hockey God, Hayden. You belong with someone of my caliber,” Britney purrs, undoing the tie at her waist. “She doesn’t fit this life, Hayden.
I do. Don’t you want that? Someone who understands?
Who loves hockey as much as you? Someone like me. ..”
She peels the robe off her body, revealing the skimpy lingerie she’s wearing underneath. It’s not one of my wife’s— thank God. It’s black lace, sheer, and so goddamn trashy that Emerald would scrunch her adorable little nose up at it.
Britney makes a show of dropping the silk to the floor, running her hands over her body, and pressing out her chest. As she stands there, preening like a show pony, expecting me to just fall to my knees because she showed me some skin, I do the only thing I can.
I laugh.
Her smile falters.
I laugh louder at that.
It’s not my rumbling belly laugh that only Emerald can get out of me.
The sound is cold and empty. I’m not a cruel person. I don’t like laughing at people or making fun of them. I was on the receiving end of that too many times as a kid who was reading two grade levels behind.
But this is just so fucking ridiculous, and this woman is so deluded that all I can do is laugh. At her.
Ruby snickers behind me, but Aisha—the professional—keeps her narrowed eyes locked onto the intruder.
Britney’s smile has dropped completely, and instead, she looks pissed. The pointed angles of her face have sharpened even more, and she crosses her arms over her chest. All the earlier bravado is gone.
My laugh dies after about a minute, the ridiculous shifting into something darker.
This woman violated my space—my wife’s space. She invaded our home, wore my wife’s clothes, took photos, and did God knows what else here. She sent my wife hate online and had the gall to disparage her to my face.
Nothing is funny anymore.
“Britney, you can wear my wife’s clothes and strip naked in her bedroom, and it still won’t change the truth.”
My voice comes out in a rough growl, sounding like the words are scraping their way from my throat. Britney looks a little alarmed now, and for good measure, I bare my teeth.
“You are not Emerald. You will never be Emerald. You will never come close to my wife's caliber. My body, my heart, and my soul have always belonged to her. You are nothing. Just pathetic and cruel and empty.”
Britney’s face cracks at my words, looking almost human for a brief moment.
I don’t care. I step back, keeping as much distance as I can between us.
“Now get dressed,” I snarl. “And get the fuck out of my apartment. Expect my attorney—”
“—that’s me—” Ruby pipes up, helpfully.
“—to file a restraining order against you. You will never come near my wife or me ever again.”
Britney’s eyes flash wild, and she erupts.
“Are you insane? She’s lying in a hospital bed looking like something out of a nightmare , and you’re still choosing her?”
The room goes still.
The only sound is Britney’s mocking laughter.
My pulse thunders in my ears, my heart slams so hard it almost hurts, and my hands curl into fists, ready to explode. Anger sits like molten lead, searing and burning in my chest .
My wife. I picture my wife’s face.
Smiling at me over burgers at Margaret’s. Cheering me on from the stands. Lying in bed next to me, brushing her soft lips against mine. Making love to her. Holding her. Laughing with her. Beauty and light soul deep.
Emerald.
“I choose her,” I say, the easiest truth I’ve ever known. “ Every single time. ”
“Even now?” she scoffs. “I guess if you’re into girls who look like Quasimodo.”
I hold up a finger and growl a warning. “Say one more word about my wife.”
Britney smirks.
“Your little wife’s face looks like the roadkill I saw on the way here—”
Crack.
Ruby lunges forward, moving faster than I can process. Her fist slams squarely into Britney’s face, breaking her nose. Blood pours over Britney’s upper lip as she reels back and screams in pain.
“Shit,” Ruby hisses, shaking out her fist. “Is your entire face plastic?”
Britney falls on her ass. Her voice is nasally as she screams at Aisha. “That bitch fucking hit me!”
Aisha steps forward, grabs Britney’s clothes from the chair near the window, and tosses them to her. A quick scan of them shows me that none of it belongs to Emerald. Thank God.
Even if there was something she took, I wouldn’t let Emerald wear it again.
My mouth turns into a grimace as I eye our closet. On second thought, I might just buy Emerald a new wardrobe. The thought of telling Emerald about this later makes my stomach turn. Just another trauma heaped onto her.
I’m so sorry, Emerald.
All of these things—my ugly words, the assault, the photo of Em in the hospital, Britney, all of it stems from one person that I trusted and hired.
Rick.
“When’s the last time you talked to Rick?” I ask Britney, turning to look at her once more, and relieved that she’s fully dressed, pulling on her heels again.
Deer in the headlights. That’s the only way to describe the look on Britney’s face right now.
“I-I don’t know,” Britney stammers, her voice still nasally as she tries to plug her broken nose, wincing in pain. “I don’t talk to Rick.”
“Rick?” Aisha asks, her voice slow, like she’s getting the detail right.
“Rick Fox. My former agent.”
“Former?”
“I fired him. The night of the assault.”
Aisha hums, nodding her head while she walks toward Britney.
“You gained access to this residence under false pretenses, and you do not have permission to be here. Turn around.”
“What?! Why?!”
“Because you’re under arrest.”
“You can’t arrest me!”
“I absolutely can. Hands behind your back.”
Britney doesn’t move.
Aisha raises an eyebrow, “Are you resisting?”
After a moment, Britney huffs and turns around, putting her hands behind her back.
“You are so fucked,” Britney snarls at Aisha, who doesn’t even blink. In fact, the detective looks rather pleased at this. “My daddy owns half this town!”
“That’s nice,” Aisha smiles, pulling her cuffs out and securing them onto Britney.
“What about my nose?”
“Medical can look at it when we get to the precinct. Let’s go.”
Ruby smirks at Britney. “I’m going to enjoy seeing you in court.”
“Walter Willingham!” Britney shrieks, “Remember that name. He’ll own your ass before this day is done!”
Aisha tightens the cuffs on her wrists, making Britney wince.
“I’m sure.”