Chapter 22 #2
“You sent your vulture of a wife to my home. She invaded my privacy, assaulted my…” It galled me to pause, but I did that for Kit’s sake, too.
So, I bit back the word I wanted to say and continued instead with, “My friend.
Whatever point you're trying to make, consider it made, message received. It's done now. We're done.”
Merrick chortled while managing to show no sign of humor. He opened his mouth to reply, but Violette spoke first.
“You’re the man,” she said with a gasp.
Merrick and I both spun toward her as her slack-jawed look of surprise transitioned into one of delight.
“You?” She was incredulous enough that I felt myself bristling. I thought I knew what she meant, and there was no doubt left when she snorted and said, “Kit would’ve been better off with Lev.”
I should have denied it. Feigned ignorance at the very least, but then I remembered what she’d done, and I wanted her to know. I needed to make it as clear to her as I’d made it to Tessa that Kit was mine, and I would protect him from any threat, even the wiles of a woman.
“Kit chose me,” I told her. “Levitt missed his chance, and so did you.”
Violette crossed her arms and gave her head a toss. “Pity.” She sniffed. “But I suppose this is one way of keeping dear Kit in the family. He can be the husband of my brother-in-law.”
“Half brother-in-law!” Merrick and I blurted in unison, and Violette just cackled.
“Oh, you’re brothers all right,” she said. “You should see yourselves right now. Like mirror images.”
I glanced over at Merrick and caught him similarly looking at me. The identical motion amused Violette all the more, and my fists tightened until my nails dug through the fur inside my gloves and into the leather.
“It’s funny though,” she mused as she strode toward us. “I never took Kit for a philanderer.”
“He’s not,” I growled.
“But he did kiss me,” she replied. “He might have done more…”
“He didn’t.” I shook my head, and Violette scoffed anew.
“Not that he told you. But he did tell you something, else you wouldn’t be here.” Her blue eyes seemed to bore through me, cutting holes that would let out the weakness I was trying so hard to hold in.
Still, she pressed.
“What excuse did he give for his infidelity? Boredom? Novelty? Nostalgia?”
The closer she got, the more overwhelmed I felt.
The wave of righteous anger that had carried me here was beginning to recede, and I almost stepped back.
To gather myself, to breathe a little deeper, but I’d grown used to this tight, airless feeling, often more real than imagined. I could endure it.
“Kit wouldn’t touch you,” I spat. “He thinks you’re despicable.”
Her lips pursed with bitter condescension, then she clucked her tongue. “Pretty Penny,” she cooed, assuring me the nickname was far from gone. “You have a pleasant face, but clearly, you’re lacking what it takes to hold Kit’s interest, otherwise he wouldn't be coming to me for attention.”
It was a play on my weakness, my insecurity. I recognized it, but that didn’t make it any less effective. It still sent me reeling, worrying that I was lacking, and not only where Kit was concerned.
Not quite a farmer. Not quite a man. Not what my parents wanted. Not who I should have been.
Those doubts roared in my mind, overpowering Violette’s accusations. Deafening me so I had to shout over them.
“H-he didn’t come to you, you… bitch! And he never would!” The stammered shout was as loud as I had been when banging on their front door, thunderous in the room with the two of them only inches away.
Then, I was trembling, panting, and trying not to start coughing for fear I wouldn’t stop.
But the self-doubts kept repeating, reminding me of lies I’d long believed, things Kit assured me weren’t true.
I needed him now, and I wished I’d never left.
I wished I was still in bed beside him where I was safe. Loved. Accepted.
Instead, I was far from home. The span of town between this cottage and ours felt massive, and my thoughts continued to clamor with unkind sentiments until Merrick bellowed instead.
“Quiet!”
Violette had been talking; I hadn’t heard her, but I could tell by the way she puffed with resentment at having her tirade interrupted.
Merrick heaved a breath and shook his head as though he, too, had to rattle his thoughts into order. The pause gave me time to recover, to latch onto the driving force that had kept me up for hours.
When I spoke again, the words had determination all their own. It was a speech I didn’t realize I had practiced but, in fact, I had. I’d repeated it to myself over and over since the day my father died.
“Merrick, I absolve you of all responsibility for my farm and my family, and I include Kit in that. We need never see or speak to each other again. In fact, I’d prefer we didn't.”
Merrick gave an abrupt laugh, and his eyes grew cold and cutting. “You absolve me? You have no right to absolve me of anything.”
“Removed, then,” I said, gradually gaining conviction. “That is my right. The farm belongs to me, no matter how much you wish it didn’t, and my family was never yours to begin with. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
I faced him while taking measured breaths and watched as he processed. He didn’t argue as readily as I expected, which was a relief because I didn’t have much more to say. Well, perhaps one thing.
“You know, I used to believe I was the curse on our family, but it’s been you all along. You’re a scourge on the Oliver name and on Ashpoint. Everything you touch is worse for it.”
Violette blocked my path to the door, so I had to shoulder past her. When she practically snarled at my proximity, I whirled around and stabbed my finger at her.
“You’re no better,” I snapped, “and you’d do well to keep your hands to yourself from now on.”
My exit from the house was a flurry. I couldn’t get out fast enough. I was running away like I had after the dinner party, but feeling far more the victor.
When I returned home, it was barely past daybreak, and the cottage was quiet. I shed my boots and the cloak and gloves that had kept me so warm that my chest barely rattled after my near jog through the snow.
I tugged off my shirt, then dragged my hands through my hair as I ambled down the hall and opened our bedroom door.
Kit was where I’d left him, but unsettled again.
He’d curled into himself, shrunk into a ball on his side of the bed with Ember nestled against his chest. I felt a pang of guilt for having stepped out and didn’t wait to climb onto the mattress.
Crawling over to where the black kitten lay, I scooped her up.
“I’ll take it from here,” I whispered and set her aside before tucking myself into Kit’s chest.
He mumbled and shifted, coming to enough awareness to straighten his body and allow me to press in. Then I was held. We both were. And safe. Loved. Accepted.