Chapter 29Kerry Kind’s Got A Man – Kerry
Chapter 29
Kerry Kind’s Got A Man – Kerry
I got a boyfriend!
And he is sexxxy!
He really loves me!
And wants to marrrrryy me.
?
?
—Wait.
Scratch that last part.
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
After a long, emotional weekend full of drama, tears, and mind-blowing sex, Vic and I are officially dating!
No more faking.
No more holding back our emotions.
We’re together , together, and I couldn’t be happier.
And I think he feels the same.
I mean, the man willingly shared his deepest pain with me this weekend, opened his heart, let me into his world, and I accepted it—all of it.
All that he is, all that he’s been, and everything we can grow to be together.
So, yeah.
I have a boyfriend.
And not just any ole’ boyfriend.
My man is Victor Grimes.
The Mr.
Grumpy, no-nonsense, bossy chef himself.
The same man who, as we speak, is knocked out, sprawled across the plush leather seat of his private plane, looking real peaceful.
I bite my lip, trying not to grin like a fool.
I did that.
Me , Ms.
Not So Inexperienced Anymore.
Because, ladies and gentlemen, I reverse-cowgirled that man until we came together, and rode off into the sunset, and now he’s out like a light.
But while Vic enjoys a deep, satisfied sleep, I, of course, am stressing because that’s what I do.
And because reality is waiting for us back home.
Therefore, I need to know what happens now?
I shift in my seat, peeking over at him.
“So… what do we tell the girls? ”
He groggily stretches, flexing those ridiculous muscles and wrapping an arm around me before groaning, “We just tell the girls we’re in love and we’re gonna live happily ever after like one of their fairy tale stories.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’m serious, Vic! Do you expect us to fake it at home? Like business as usual?”
Vic smirks, tilting his head.
“Kerry, be real. Did we ever do a good job faking it?” I scowl, but before I can argue, he grins.
“You drool every time you see me.”
“The lies you tell! You find every excuse to pull a PR stunt i.e. take me out on a date.”
He chuckles.
“Okay, fair. We’ll sit them down when we get home and have a talk, but since we’re on the subject of rooms…” He shifts, turning fully toward me.
“Actually, we weren’t on that subject, and I’m keeping my room during the weekdays.”
His jaw drops dramatically.
“But what if I wanna— But what if I need— Dammit, Kerry, at this point, it’s legally mandatory for me to be inside you every day. And I want you in my bed… our bed.”
“You’ll survive.” I smirk, shaking my head.
He lets out a heavy sigh, “Barely.”
The remainder of our plane ride is fun, flirty, and filled with business.
Vic is deep into restructuring Grimes Hospitality Group, talking about some “major changes” he’s planning for his empire.
Meanwhile, I’m planning the girls’ school week, checking my emails—okay, mass deleting emails about myself.
Articles, tags, posts about my mugshot, theories about my so-called rap sheet, and statements from Cory’s little minions trying to paint me as the villain.
Surprisingly, however, I don’t really give a damn.
Not even a little.
So much so that I finally decide to put an end to Cory’s nonsense once and for all.
I send a group text to my friends and family, letting them know it’s time.
Vic glances at his phone, reading the message, and I feel his eyes on me.
He looks proud.
He nods, squeezing my hand, silently telling me he’s got my back.
Beverly Mills-Greer Cre w
Me: We’re touching down soon, and I’m determined to enjoy the rest of my life in peace, love, and happiness.
So…
let’s put this shit to rest (sorry, Mom and Dad, for the language).
Leak the recordings.
Serena: Hell yeah!
Expose that monster.
Mama: You’re so brave, Kerry.
Vicky: I’ll send them over to the Governor, judge, and GBI first.
We’ll make sure to do this right before we release all hell on his ass.
Gabe: You sure you wanna do this?
There’s no going back.
Me: You’re right, there isn’t.
We only move forward around here.
Vic smirks, lifts my hand to his lips, and presses a slow, reverent kiss to my knuckles.
“You’re bold as hell, Ms. Kind. And I’ve never been prouder to be your man.”
“Oh yeah? Just how proud are you?” I arch a brow, lips curving.
Then, he slides his hand under my dress and shows me exactly how proud he is.
~~~
When we arrive at my parents’ house, the barrage of cars automatically stands out.
Everyone’s here, but I’m not quite sure if that’s a good or bad thing.
I don’t have to wonder for long because as soon as we open the door, Syd and Ari bulldoze us with hugs and kisses.
“Finally!” Ari says, squeezing me tight.
“We missed you so much! How was the honeymoon?”
Vic and I freeze.
We blink at each other.
Then, a loud, uncontrollable laughter erupts.
“Honeymoon?” Vic chuckles, shaking his head.
“It was just a weekend getaway.”
Ari’s face scrunches in pure disappointment.
“Oh. I thought for sure you would’ve got married. You guys have been dating forever.”
I choke on my own laughter while Vic frowns.
“Forever?”
Syd leans into Ari’s ear, but everyone hears her little whisper.
“She must’ve told him no. Daddy ain’t got no game.”
I lose it.
Vic’s mouth falls open, and everyone in the room bursts into laughter .
Vic scowls at his daughters, but there’s amusement dancing behind his glare.
“Okay, you two, we didn’t go get married but we definitely brought back some of your favorite desserts, including carrot cake. Now, go play.”
The girls grab their treats and bounce off, giggling all the way to the backyard.
Vic shakes his head, muttering, “Ain’t got no game? Our Disney trip is officially cancelled.”
I snort.
“You spoil them too much for that threat to ever be real.”
He grumbles something under his breath before we step further inside, where Serena’s sitting smugly on the couch.
“Aha! Told y’all!” She shouts, shooting to her feet and holding out her hand expectantly.
Around the room, groans and grumbles fill the air as my friends and family start begrudgingly pulling out cash and sending money to her phone.
Dad shakes his head.
“Nope, not believing it. Not my innocent little angel.”
I frown.
“What the hell is going on?”
Serena waves a dismissive hand.
“Oh, nothing. I just knew you were gonna have that freshly fuc—”
“Serena!” Kiera snaps, shooting her a glare.
“Old…” She looks at Vicky, whose waiting to snap.
“der. Ol-der people are in the room.”
“I don’t know ‘bout you Vicky but we’re the youngest lookin’ ones in here.” Mom says as she glares at my friends.
“But what I think Rena was trying to say is… you’re glowing, Kerry. You must’ve had lots of fun in New York.” Then, she turns to Vic and winks.
I gape.
“Y’all made a bet about me?”
My friends laugh, completely unbothered.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Kiera says, waving me off.
“So, tell us about your trip!”
I shake my head but smile as Vic and I settle onto the couch, recounting the highlights of our trip—his award show, sightseeing, the incredible food, learning more about his life.
However, it isn’t long until the conversation shifts.
Gabe and Hawkins pull out their laptops while Izzy leans forward and begins in a serious tone, “We wanted to wait until you got here before we pressed publish the 911 calls because…well,” She hesitates, nervous to ask what I think she will.
“We’ve never heard them, and we want your permission to listen to them with you, together. ”
I blink as my pulse slows and my stomach twists.
I never considered this moment, not like this.
Not with all of them here, waiting, watching, and wanting to bear witness to the ugliest, most terrifying chapters of my life.
The ones I barely survived.
My gaze sweeps the room, landing on my parents, on Serena and Kiera, on Hawkins, Vicky, Hudson, Izzy, and Gabe…
on Vic, whose grip tightens around my hand, steady and sure.
I’ve lived with these memories alone for so long.
Everyone had their suspicions, but no one truly knew the extent of what I endured because I had never spoken it aloud.
Until today.
I’m not the Kerry I used to be, so with a slow, shaky breath, I nod and whisper.
“Okay, let’s listen.”
Hawkins clicks the button, and suddenly, my past comes back to life.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Please. Please, someone help me. He’s gonna kill me.”
In the background, Cory’s rage crackles through the speaker—furniture shatters and his voice is a thunderous, threatening growl.
“911, what’s your emergency?
“Please.
Please send someone.
He took my keys.
He threatened to kill me and my family.
He’s hurting me.
”
More crashing.
A loud yelp of pain—mine.
It echoes through the speakers, but I feel it, ripping through my body like it’s happening all over again.
Like I’m back there, trapped, breaking, bleeding.
Then the operator sighs.
“Ma’am, as we’ve advised before, all calls regarding your residence are directed to the station.”
The station, where every single cry for help was funneled straight into the hands of my father-in-law.
We listen to one recording after the next until that final call.
The one from the night I escaped.
“Help, please someone—”
This operator is different.
She whispers, “Kerry… I’m sorry, but we’re required to direct all your calls to the station. But—are you okay? Everyone’s been looking for you. Everyone’s worried. ”
My voice is barely audible.
It’s weak and fading.
“The wall. He trapped me in the wall. Call my dad. Please. Tell him I’m at my house. Tell him to come get me, please. I wanna go home. I wanna live.”
But the line cuts out and redirects to the man who let it all happen.
The man who could’ve stopped it.
The man who had a responsibility to stop it.
“Where’s my son, Kerry? You know better than to be callin’, startin’ trouble.”
A choked sob escapes me.
“My baby.”
I don’t realize I say it out loud until it’s already left my lips, but I remember exactly what I said on the recording.
The room stills.
Vic tightens his arms around me, but I barely feel it because suddenly, I’m back there.
I see it all.
The shattered plaster clinging to my skin, the dust burning my throat as I sucked in ragged, desperate breaths.
My fingernails were raw, caked with blood from clawing through drywall for three days .
The skin on my hands, torn open from trying to break free, from pounding against a prison made of my own home.
I was weak.
Starving.
My body, battered, bruised, and barely able to hold itself upright.
My stomach was twisted in hunger, my lips cracked, my throat raw from screaming.
I thought I was going to die.
But they say strength is what you find when survival is your only option, and I found it.
In that moment, weak, starving, and barely clinging to life—I found it.
In the way my hands kept clawing, kept fighting.
In the way my body, broken as it was, refused to stay down.
In the way my heart, despite everything, still beat with the will to live, I found it.
Cory’s groggy voice slurred from the other side of the room as he woke from one of his drunken stupors.
“Kerry.”
A violent shudder ripped through me as I curled into myself.
He wasn’t fully alert, still drowsy and slow.
I only had a few seconds before he got to me, before he realized I wasn’t where he left me.
I only had a few seconds before he tried to put me back.
The only thing standing between me and him was the lamp.
The moment his bleary eyes landed on me, something inside me snapped.
I didn’t think.
I didn’t hesitate.
I lunged.
My fingers wrapped around the heavy base, my grip tightening as I lifted it with every ounce of strength I had left.
And then, I swung, hard and desperate.
Like my life depended on it…
because it did.
The crack of metal against his bone echoed through the room.
Cory roared in pain, stumbling backward with blood trickling from the gash.
His hands flew to his head, and his eyes flashed between rage and disbelief, like he couldn’t believe I’d dared to fight back.
I didn’t wait a moment further.
I swung again.
And again.
His screams fueled me.
His pain, his shock, the way he buckled to his knees—I relished it.
The tables had turned.
The fear that had lived in my bones for years was gone and replaced by something new—power.
But I didn’t have time to bask in it.
I had to go.
With all the adrenaline I could muster, I bolted out the door and into the street, where I screamed for help.
A porch light flicked on.
A curtain shifted.
A door cracked open but then closed.
Some neighbors wanted to help.
Some of them didn’t.
And some were too afraid.
I made it as far as the front lawn before my adrenaline dissipated and the pain hit.
A deep, searing, and almost blinding pain.
A pain that didn’t come from my battered body, but from inside me.
I collapsed.
My hands clutched my stomach.
My breath increased.
And I knew.
A deep, broken sob wrenched from my throat.
“No,” I gasped.
“No, no, no, no . I fought for this. I survived for you.” I cried for what I was losing.
I cried to myself, for myself, while my neighbors all watched.
My body was wracked with unimaginable pain, loss, and grief, and for the first time that night, I felt hopeless.
So hopeless that I didn’t even care what happened next.
I heard the police sirens, and I saw the flashing lights, painting the night in violent streaks of red and blue.
They finally came.
But not to save me.
They came to save him.
Rough hands grabbed me, and yanked my frail arms behind my back, then locked my wrists with metal cuffs.
I barely registered them reading me my rights.
I barely registered the cold ground as my face was pressed into the dirt.
I barely registered anything at all.
Because the last thing I remembered before my world faded to black was the blood pooling beneath me.
The proof of the life I’d lost .
I woke up in a jail cell with mind-numbing fluorescent lights buzzing and flickering overhead.
The cement floor beneath my bare feet was hard and unforgiving.
My whole body felt like it had been wrung out.
My limbs were weak.
My skin was clammy.
And my insides hollow.
I barely had the strength to lift my head, but the pain I felt clawed at me from the inside out.
I screamed in pain, but the guards ignored me.
The officers walked past me like I was invisible.
Like I deserved to be there.
Every muscle in my body trembled and teetered on the edge of what felt like death.
I was septic.
My body was shutting down.
My baby was gone, and I wanted to go with it.
Cory had tried to kill me because I told him I was leaving, taking our unborn child, and never looking back.
So, in return, he took the one thing that gave me the strength to leave.
He stole the last piece of hope I had.
And as I lay there in that cell, I was ready to stop fighting.
I didn’t want to breathe anymore.
I didn’t want to exist in a world where my baby never would.
But then I heard them.
Footsteps.
Urgent voices.
A commotion outside the bars.
I hear my Dad’s voice, but I barely turn my head and barely open my eyes.
The bars rattled, keys jangled, and my eyelids fluttered as the edges of my vision dimmed.
Then, gentle hands cradled my face, smoothing back my hair and gripping my hands.
My parents, Serena, Kiera, and Izzy—they were all there.
And for the first time in years, I wasn’t alone.
I wasn’t trapped.
I wasn’t screaming into the void with no one to hear me.
I was found.
I open my eyes and take a deep breath to meet Gabe and Izzy’s eyes as they hover over their keyboard.
With no hesitation or second-guessing, I nod, and with a single click, they hit publish.
My truth isn’t buried anymore.
My pain is no longer caged.
It’s out there for the entire world to hear, to listen, to feel.
And maybe, just maybe, it’ll set someone else free, too.