Chapter 36
“Do you think she’s still hungry?” Delilah whispers.
“She’s a grown woman, pretty sure she’d tell us if she was still hungry,” Izzy replies.
I actually wouldn’t. I’ve spent my life avoiding being an imposition.
I can’t blame them, I’ve been catatonic since finishing the best grilled cheese sandwich of my life. My brain’s short-circuited, refusing to accept that Carter’s here, on this property, and Greyson’s gone to face him.
It’s like I refuse to admit Carter would stoop so low and try to steal Everly from school. I laugh inside because of course he would. He’d commit any atrocity to preserve his image, reputation, and pride.
He’s proven time and time again he has no qualms laying hands on me, so what’s to say he wouldn’t do worse? But Greyson will keep me safe. He has to.
“Should we move to the family room and get more comfortable?” Izzy suggests.
A light hand on my shoulder has me recoiling before I can rationalize it’s my friend.
“I’m sorry, Mia. I didn’t mean to startle you. Do you want to come sit with us by the fireplace? It’s comfy and cozy in there,” Delilah coaxes.
Rather than answer, I stand from my place at the island and rinse my dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. The three women pretend like they’re not tracking my every movement, but I can feel their eyes as I walk past them to the family room.
I intentionally take a single-seat armchair so no one can sit next to me. Izzy stretches out on the rug by the fireplace like a cat, while Delilah and Olivia each take an end of the sofa.
We sit in silence, the pops and cracks of the firewood the only sounds. Even those sudden noises have me jumpy and I can’t help huffing a laugh at how pathetic I am.
“Yea, we’re not going to do this,” Olivia declares loudly in the quiet space, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Do what?” I ask, looking between the three.
“Sit here awkwardly for god knows how long while the boys play Rambo. Fuck that. If we have to stay locked in the house missing the action, we can at least have some fun.”
“Livy, I don’t know if now’s the time…” Delilah tries to stop the Olivia Dalton train, which I’ve learned is pointless.
“Nonsense.” Olivia playfully dismisses Delilah.
Izzy hasn’t piped up or moved from her spot and I’m not sure she will either. She seems to stay out of other people’s business, and I can’t blame her after everything she and Reid had to overcome to be together.
“Fuck. Marry. Kill,” Olivia declares.
“Livy!” Delilah shrieks.
“I’m in,” Izzy pipes up from the floor.
“Mia, have you ever played?” Olivia asks.
“Umm…”
Before I can answer, Olivia takes charge. “One of us names 3 celebrities or characters and you have to choose one to fuck, one to marry, and one to kill. Simple as that, except sometimes the choice is impossible to make. I’ll go first”
Olivia bounces in her seat; of course she’ll go first. “Ross, Chandler, and Joey.”
Izzy pipes up first from the floor. “Easy. Fuck Joey. Marry Ross. Kill Chandler.”
“What? You can’t be serious!” Delilah shrieks from the couch. “You’d kill Chandler? He’s the funniest one and he’s so sweet to Monica!”
“I think his jokes would get so annoying I’d have to ‘off’ him.” Izzy shrugs. “What’s your answer?”
“Fuck Joey. Marry Chandler. Kill Ross,” Delilah answers confidently.
Izzy rolls her hand for Delilah to explain her answer, as Livy soaks up the minor drama, happy as a clam.
“I already told you why I love Chandler. I’d have to kill Ross because he’d mess around ‘on a break’ or I’d be like his eighth wife. He’s gotta go.” Delilah hitches her thumb over her shoulder, and I laugh a genuine laugh for the first time all day.
“And our next contestant is, Mia,” Livy says like a gameshow host.
“Fuck Ross. Marry Chandler. Kill Joey,” I say quietly, quickly taking a sip of my drink.
The room riots. Everyone’s talking over each other, arguing and looking at me like I have two heads.
“Explain!” Delilah shrieks.
“I’d marry Chandler for the same reasons you would. I’m not in love with the idea of sleeping with Ross. But Joey’s not going to have a long life anyway. With the way he eats, he’s going to have a coronary before he goes grey. Besides, he doesn’t share food,” I say with a shrug.
We all laugh so hard we forget to have Livy answer and move on to the next round.
How did I get so lucky to have these incredible women as my family?
I have no idea how long we play for, but the fire is lower, and our cups have been refilled more than once. That familiar warmth spreads through my chest, and I press my hands over my heart where I hold Charlie.
These women banded together and spent their night keeping me safe, comfortable, and distracted—unconventionally or not. I haven’t felt so accepted and supported by a friend since Charlie died. Being the angel she is, she sent me three “sisters” instead.
How are they so at ease with this situation? Do the Andersen men have a habit of using violence to protect the women they love? I just can’t picture stoic Reid starting a bar brawl or sweet Connor with bloody knuckles.
The front door swings open, bringing in a burst of frigid March air. Izzy’s face lights up like Christmas and she pops up to greet Reid with a hug and kiss.
“Mia, Greyson’s ready for you to come down. If there’s anything you’d like to say before you sign the papers, we’re all here for you,” Reid says.
My immediate reaction is to fold in on myself, trying to be as small as possible to avoid Carter’s attention. Then I remember where I am, who I’m being protected by, and how much I’ve grown as a woman since I left him. So instead, I rise.
I refuse to be afraid of that man another minute of my life.
Resolved, I slip on my boots and jacket and lead the way out the front door to Reid’s idling truck. We don’t speak during the short drive into the dark night, and I appreciate Reid’s ability to be quiet in a comforting way.
Greyson stands outside a small guest house, illuminated by a single porch light and Reid’s headlights. He rushes to the passenger side to open my door and help me down.
I bury my face in his collar, unable to get close enough to him.
“Ah, honey, you know I want nothing more than to be in your arms but I’m filthy, I don’t want to get you dirty.” He tries prying me off, but I hold tighter.
“I don’t care,” I mumble into him, and he chuckles.
Over my head, he addresses Reid. “All good in there?”
“All good. Where do you want us?” Reid asks.
“Out in the truck did just fine,” Greyson replies.
Reid exits his truck, stomps up the porch, opens the door and hollers for James and Connor, who tromp out of the guest house and pile into Reid’s truck to stay warm.
Greyson shifts me enough that he can walk me onto the porch and see my face.
“You doin’ okay, honey?” His large hands rub up and down my arms in the cold night.
“Better than okay.” And I mean it.
Greyson’s perplexed but satisfied with my response.
“Before we go in, I need you to know he’s completely restrained. He can’t reach for you, touch you, or hurt you in any way.” He waits for my approval.
“It wouldn’t matter if he wasn’t restrained. You’d never let him hurt me.” His jaw ripples.
“He ain’t looking too pretty right now, he’s fucked up. I don’t want you to look at me differently after seeing what I’m capable of.” Greyson gulps and looks away.
I guide his face back to me, hovering right over his lips.
“I love you even more for it. You did what it took to protect us.” I kiss him softly.
“Now, I can get the papers signed and bring them out for you to sign and you never have to lay eyes on him.” I shake my head.
“Or, we can go inside and take care of the paperwork, but you don’t have to say a word to him.” I shake my head again.
“This can go however you need it to, honey. What do you want to happen?” Greyson asks, genuinely okay with executing whatever I want.
“I want my chance to stand up to him and close that chapter of my life.”
Greyson kisses me again. “That, we can do.”
He goes in ahead of me to make sure it’s safe before allowing me inside. My eyes go straight to the mess in the center of the room.
Carter is unrecognizable.
Head tilted to the side, I circle him, taking in what he’s become.
A visible cut at his hairline makes me pinch my lips from laughter knowing how important his hair is to him. His nose is badly broken, which I love because not only will his face never look the same, but he’s afraid of doctors and will hate getting it fixed.
I’m not sure what’s going on beneath his clothing, but based on the boot prints on him, I imagine he’s bruising nicely. Now he’ll know what it feels like to re-live his injuries day after day as the bruises ache.
He’s pissed himself, which is perfect because he’ll never emotionally recover from wetting himself like a child. Even if no one but us ever knows about it, his pride will have taken an irreparable hit.
Rounding the back of him I gasp and stumble back.
“What’s wrong with his hand?” I squeak.
Greyson stands behind me, arms wrapped around my front, pressing kisses to my temple.
“Carter here had some lessons to learn.” Greyson raises his voice, “Didn’t you, sweetheart?”
Carter groans miserably in return.
I snort at Greyson calling him sweetheart. I don’t care enough to ask what lessons Carter was taught today.
Looking over my shoulder at my future husband, I smile. “You really are my knight in shining armor, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know about that, honey, but I’ll sure as hell always be there to save the day.”
Two taps to Greyson’s forearms have him releasing me and I circle back to stand before the beaten, broken, worthless man who used to make me feel that way every day.
“Look at her,” Greyson orders. When he doesn’t lift his head, Greyson yanks his head up by the hair and shouts in his ear.
“Look. At. Her!”
Carter’s dead eyes meet mine and a slither of disgust roils through me but not fear.
“I’ve thought about everything I want to say to you a million times. Now that I have the chance, you’re not worth the oxygen it’d take for me to speak so long. You’re not worth a minute more of my time.”
I glance at Greyson, radiating with pride for me, and I know I can do this.
“You were wrong about me. I deserve love. I deserve happiness. You don’t.
I have a family now that would go to the ends of the earth for me and my daughter.
MY DAUGHTER, not yours. You and your disgusting family can go to hell.
And when you get there, I hope you get sent somewhere even worse where monsters like you can suffer for eternity. ”
On that macabre ending note, I beam up at Greyson and chipper as can be, say, “I’m done. Can we sign the papers now? I bet you’re hungry and I saved you a plate of pot roast.”
“Sure thing, honey. Got everything ready right here.” Greyson wipes his hands on his jeans and grabs a legal folder flagged where signatures are required.
After releasing Carter’s hands from behind his back, Greyson calmly, and transparently, explains what each document means and guides Carter’s left, un-broken hand to each line where a barely legible signature is inked.
By the end, Carter and I will be divorced, he’ll relinquish full parental rights of Everly, and on top of the 50 percent of marital assets I’m entitled to, he’ll be giving me a hefty settlement.
Greyson calls James in to double check the paperwork, exchanging words about finalizing things expeditiously and confirming that Greyson’s called in the appropriate favors through his Batman-channels to do so.
The guys managed to get Carter’s car here from the law firm and have it ready to go.
Greyson crouches to cut the bindings that’ve been holding Carter upright to the chair, his mangled body flopping onto the floor. In his broken state, it takes him a minute to get to his feet.
The men surround Carter as he limps to his car, but before he can open his door, Greyson pins him against it full force, a pathetic whimper coming out of big bad Carter.
“Now Carter, sweetheart, you’re gonna get back in this tiny-dick mid-life crisis car of yours and get those stumps on your hand patched up.
I’m thinking the hospital down in Denver will be just fine, you shouldn’t bleed out by then.
You’re gonna tell them you got into a little accident.
I don’t give a shit what you say. Table saw.
A bear. A ghost. Mia and Everly don’t exist to you.
You don’t know me. You’ve never even heard of Swiftwater.
Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. My. Girls.” Greyson’s never been so terrifying, or so sexy.
We back away from the vehicle and let Carter struggle his way into his ridiculous “sports” car. He spins out on the ice and speeds away like the coward he is.
“Take me home, Mr. Clark.” I lean into Greyson, exhausted from the anxiety and pure terror of the day.
“Anything for you, future Mrs. Clark.”