Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Three
Ruby
It was the mailman leaving a package. No knock. No calling out. I opened my mouth once, and Lindsey leveled the gun at my head.
We’re alone again.
The clock ticks second after second. My phone is silent on the counter. The knife block sits beside the sink.
I noticed it the second Lindsey forced me into the chair. Five knives. One large chef’s knife. Close enough to be a possibility. Not close enough to reach safely with the gun constantly moving in Lindsey’s hand.
“Take the pill.”
Ten small white tablets sit on the counter between us.
I swallow. “I can’t take more than one at a time.”
Her eyes narrow. “What?”
“And I need water.” My voice shakes enough to sound believable. “Or I’ll throw up. I have a weak stomach.”
Lindsey stares at me with open disgust. “Of course you do.” She rolls her eyes. “God, you’re exhausting. Fine. One at a time. Get a stupid glass of water.”
My fingers tremble as I retrieve a glass. Less than three feet from the knife block. Don’t look at it. Don’t give it away. I turn on the faucet, angling myself between the knives and Lindsey.
“Take it,” she snaps.
The pill feels tiny between my fingers.
The gun tilts toward my chest. “I said, take it.”
I place the pill in my mouth and lift the water to my lips. It slides painfully down my throat. Fear crashes through me. Not for me. For the baby.
Please be okay. Please.
Lindsey watches with cold satisfaction. “See? That wasn’t so difficult.” She snatches another pill off the counter. “What does Xavier even see in you?”
My fingers curl against the edge of the counter. Inches from the knife.
“He used to hate domestic crap.” Her eyes sweep around the kitchen. “Now he’s playing house like some suburban husband.” She laughs once. Short. Ugly. “He changed everything for you.”
He did. But never in public. Never admitted what I meant to him. Maybe not even to himself.
Lindsey saw it anyway and blamed me for taking what she believed was hers.
“Here.” She drops another pill into my hand. “Take it.”
This time, I tuck it between my cheek and gum and swallow the water.
“Another.”
Her eyes are full of righteous indignation as she drops another pill into my waiting palm.
A loud squeal erupts outside. Samson. Sharp. Agitated. Lindsey’s attention flicks toward the back door.
I lift my hand to my mouth but let the pill slide between my fingers instead. Curl my fist around it. Swallow another mouthful of water.
“Another.”
One pill is already inside me. I don’t know what it was. I don’t know what it could do to the baby. I won’t swallow another.
A car door slams. My heart jumps violently into my throat. Lindsey turns toward the living room, peering through the gap in the curtains. I recognize the sound of my neighbor’s car door. She doesn’t.
For one split second, her attention leaves me. My fingertips brush the wooden knife block. Almost.
Lindsey keeps staring toward the porch, listening as Samson and Delilah squeal and slam against their trough. I stretch my fingers another inch.