Chapter Twenty-Five
Katrina
The house was dark when we pulled into the driveway.
I turned off the engine and sat there, hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white. The silence in the car was suffocating. Frankie hadn’t said a word since we left the clubhouse. She just sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, hands folded tightly in her lap.
I wanted to say something. Wanted to reach over and hold her hand, tell her everything would be okay.
But I couldn’t.
Because I didn’t know if it would be.
“Let’s go inside,” I said quietly.
She nodded and opened the door without looking at me.
We walked up to the house in silence. I fumbled with my keys, hands shaking so badly that I dropped them twice before I finally got the door unlocked. Frankie slipped past me and headed straight for her room.
“Frankie—”
“I’m going to bed,” she said without turning around.
I watched her disappear down the hall, heard her bedroom door close softly behind her.
And then I was alone.
I stood in the entryway, coat still on, purse still hanging from my shoulder, and I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
He beat his wife so badly she ended up in the hospital.
Zero’s words kept replaying in my head, over and over, like a song I couldn’t turn off.
I walked into the kitchen and set my purse down on the counter. Turning on the faucet, I splashed cold water on my face, gripping the edge of the sink as the water dripped down my chin.
What kind of man beats his wife?
The question circled in my mind, relentless and unforgiving.
I didn’t know the full story. I didn’t know what had happened between Derek and Sam. Why he’d hurt her. If he’d been arrested. If there had been consequences at all.
I didn’t know anything.
And that was the problem.
I’d let a man I barely knew into my life. Into Frankie’s life. Let him get close to her, let him become someone she trusted, someone she looked up to. I’d let myself feel things I had no business feeling.
And I hadn’t asked the right questions.
I hadn’t dug deep enough. Hadn’t protected us the way I should have.
Because I’d been too busy wanting him.
I turned off the faucet and stared at my reflection in the window above the sink. My face was pale, my eyes red-rimmed and hollow. I looked like a stranger.
You’re so stupid, Kat.
The thought came unbidden, sharp and cruel.
This was exactly what I’d done with Clay. Exactly what I’d done with Richard before him. I’d ignored the warning signs. I’d convinced myself that what I felt was real, that the intensity of the connection meant something.
And every single time, I’d been wrong.
My instincts when it came to men were fundamentally broken. I couldn’t trust my own judgment. Couldn’t trust the way my body responded, the way my heart opened, the way my mind rationalized away the red flags until it was too late.
I’d thought Derek was different. I knew he was dangerous, and I’d convinced myself that dangerous meant safe. Richard had been safe, at first. Clay had been safe, at first. Derek hadn’t felt safe, and somewhere in my convoluted brain, that meant he was good.
But I’d been wrong about that too.
Because good men didn’t beat their wives. Good men didn’t send women to the hospital. Good men didn’t hide violence behind intensity and call it protection.
And yet.
And yet I still wanted him.
Even now, standing in my kitchen with my hands shaking and my heart breaking, I could still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin. Could still taste him on my lips. Could still hear his voice in my ear, rough and possessive, telling me I was his.
I hated myself for it.
What kind of woman wanted a man who beat his wife?
What kind of man grew up seeing his mother beaten every day and still became his father?
I gripped the edge of the sink harder, my nails digging into the porcelain.
I didn’t know who Derek really was. I didn’t know what had happened with Sam, didn’t know the circumstances or the reasons, or the aftermath.
I didn’t know if Jack had been there, if he’d seen it, if he’d tried to stop it.
I didn’t know if Sam had forgiven him, if she’d left him, or if she’d pressed charges.
I didn’t know how Jack had ended up married to Derek’s ex-wife. Or why they let him live with them.
I didn’t know anything.
And the not knowing was eating me alive.
Because without the full story, all I had were the facts Zero had given me. And those facts painted a picture I couldn’t reconcile with the man I thought I knew.
I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see Frankie standing in the doorway. She was still dressed, arms wrapped around herself, face pale and uncertain.
“Mom?”
I wiped at my face quickly, trying to pull myself together. “Hey, sweetheart. I thought you were going to bed.”
“I can’t sleep.” She stepped into the kitchen, eyes searching my face. “Are you okay?”
The question broke something inside me.
My twelve-year-old daughter, who had just watched her world implode at a Thanksgiving celebration, was asking if I was okay.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
She didn’t believe me. I could see it in her eyes.
“What happened tonight?” she asked quietly. “At the clubhouse?”
I closed my eyes, trying to find the words.
“It’s complicated,” I said finally.
“You always say that when you don’t want to tell me the truth.”
She wasn’t wrong.
I opened my eyes and looked at her, really looked at her. At the fear and confusion and hurt written all over her face.
She deserved the truth.
Even if I didn’t fully understand it myself.
“Derek hurt someone,” I said carefully. “A long time ago. Someone he was married to.”
Frankie’s eyes widened. “He was married to her?”
I blinked. “You knew?”
“He told me.”
My heart stopped. “He told you?”
“Not the details,” she said quickly. “He didn’t tell me who it was or what happened. But he told me he’d hurt someone. That he’d done something bad. That’s why he is in therapy.”
I stared at her, my mind reeling.
Derek had told her.
He’d told Frankie about his past, not the specifics, but enough that she knew he'd hurt someone. Enough to be honest with her. Enough to let her know he wasn’t perfect.
And I hadn’t known.
“When did he tell you this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“The day you found us talking on the porch. The day we went to the movies with Zero.”
I closed my eyes. The ground was shifting beneath my feet. Because if Derek had told Frankie, if he’d been honest with her about his past, even in vague terms, then what did that mean?
Did it mean he was trying to change? That he was aware of what he’d done and was working to be better?
Or did it just mean he was good at manipulating people into trusting him?
I didn’t know.
And again, the not knowing was killing me.
“He won’t hurt us,” Frankie said quietly.
“You don’t know that, sweetheart,” I admitted. “But I’m not letting him get close enough to find out.”
She nodded slowly, arms tightening around herself. “Okay.”
I crossed the kitchen and pulled her into my arms. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t melt into me the way she used to when she was little. She just stood there, stiff and uncertain.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered into her hair. “I’m so sorry, Frankie.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said quietly. “You didn’t know.”
But I should have.
I should have asked more questions. Should have been more careful. Should have protected her better.
But I hadn’t.
Because I’d been too busy falling for a man who beat women.
A knock on the door startled us both.
I pulled back from Frankie, wiping my face. “Go to your room, okay? I’ll handle this.”
She hesitated, then nodded and disappeared back down the hall.
I walked to the front door and looked through the peephole.
Maggie stood on the porch, Rhoda beside her. Behind them, Cami and Nox waited.
I opened the door.
Maggie took one look at me and pulled me into her arms.
I broke.
All over again.
I sobbed into her shoulder, my hands clutching at her jacket, my body shaking with the force of it. She didn’t say anything. She just held me, her hand rubbing slow circles on my back, while Rhoda stepped inside.
“What happened?” Maggie asked quietly.
Cami and Nox followed, closing the door softly behind them. Cami’s eyes were red, as if she’d been crying too. Nox looked grim, his jaw tight.
“Where’s Frankie?” Maggie asked.
“In her room,” I said.
Maggie nodded. “Let’s sit down.”
Cami rushed down the hall, and Rhoda took Nox into the guest room and set him up to watch something on her phone.
Maggie guided me to the couch, and I sank onto it, my body heavy and exhausted. Rhoda returned and sat beside me, her hand finding mine, while Maggie looked through my cabinets.
“Tell us what happened,” Maggie said gently as she opened and closed doors. “Aha!”
I waited while Maggie poured small glasses of vodka for us both. She came and sat beside me, handing one of the glasses to me.
“What about me?” Rhoda pouted.
“Not a chance,” Maggie scolded.
Then I told them everything.
I started with Richard and how Derek had left me sitting in the diner and gone to Pennsylvania when I told him what he’d done to Frankie.
How he saved Stacy’s daughter and nearly beat Richard to death.
Then I told them about Zero. About what he’d said about Derek and Sam and what he’d done to her.
I told them about the way Derek had looked at me when I asked if it was true. The way he hadn’t denied it.
And I told them about the part I couldn’t stop thinking about.
The part where I’d let him touch me.
Where I’d wanted him.
Where I still wanted him, even now, even knowing what he’d done.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I whispered. “I don’t know why I keep doing this. Why I keep letting the wrong men into my life. Into Frankie’s life.”
Maggie’s hand squeezed mine. “You didn’t know, Kat.”
“But I should have.” My voice broke. “I should have asked more questions. I should have been more careful. I should have—”
“Stop,” Maggie said firmly. “You can’t blame yourself for something he hid from you.”
“But I can blame myself for not seeing it.” I looked at her, my vision blurring with fresh tears. “I can blame myself for ignoring the warning signs. For letting my feelings cloud my judgment. For putting Frankie at risk.”
“What warning signs?” Rhoda asked gently.
I blinked at her. “What?”
“What warning signs did you ignore?” she repeated. “Because from where I’m sitting, it sounds like Derek didn’t give you any reason to think he was dangerous.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.
Because Rhoda was right.
Derek hadn’t given me warning signs.
He’d been intense, yes. Protective. Possessive, even.
But he’d never been violent with me. Never been cruel. Never made me feel unsafe.
Until tonight.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what I missed. But I must have missed something.”
“Or maybe you didn’t miss anything,” Maggie said quietly. “Maybe he’s just good at hiding who he really is.”
“Or maybe he’s changed,” Rhoda added.
I thought about what Frankie said. About Derek confessing to her that he had hurt someone. That he was in therapy. That he was trying to be a better person.
How was I supposed to trust him?
How was I supposed to trust myself?
“I can’t do this again,” I whispered. “I can’t keep making the same mistakes. I can’t keep putting Frankie through this.”
“What are you going to do?” Maggie asked quietly.
I looked at Maggie, then at Rhoda.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I don’t know what to do.”
Maggie was quiet for a moment, her hand still holding mine. Then she said, “Come stay at the orchard.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Come stay with us,” she repeated. “You and Frankie. Just for a few days. Get away from here. Get some space to breathe and think.”
“Maggie, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” she said firmly. “You need to get out of this house. You need to get Frankie away from all of this. And you need people around you who care about you.”
I looked at her, my throat tight.
“Please,” she said softly. “Let me help you.”
I didn’t know what to say.
Because the truth was, I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to lie awake at night wondering if he would show up at my door, wondering what I would say if he did.
I wanted to run.
Just like I always did.
“Okay,” I whispered.
Maggie’s face softened. “Okay?”
I nodded. “Okay. We’ll come.”
She pulled me into her arms again, and I let myself lean into her, let myself be held.
For the first time since I’d left Richard, I didn’t feel completely alone.
As Frankie and I packed our bags for a few days away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had changed.
That nothing would ever be the same again.
Because I’d let Derek in.
And now I didn’t know how to get him out.
Or if I even wanted to.
And that terrified me more than anything.