“Good job,” I said quietly, nudging him as we made it to the sidewalk.
“You too.” The seriousness in his tone made me laugh. “Good job to you too, Dad,” Keenan said when Crew caught up to us.
He was holding his wrist, shaking out his hand discreetly.
“You okay?” I asked.
His pace picked up. “I’m fantastic.”
Keenan and I had to clip along to keep up with him, but the movement felt good after being locked in that cage for two full hours.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” I asked when we were halfway home.
Crew ignored me. He never left these things with a smile, but he wasn’t usually so obviously upset. His dad had been particularly vicious today though.
“If you can’t stand to be there, why do we keep going every month?” I lowered my voice, watching Keenan jog in front of us.
“Because they’re my family, Camryn. And to me, that means something.” Crew broke to a halt, pulling me with him. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about family, so just keep your opinions on the matter to yourself.”
The domino effect of hate. From Lester to Crew. From Crew to me. I didn’t allow it to keep going from me though, to keep spreading until everyone around me had fallen. I was a victim of it, but not a perpetrator. Although, I supposed there was a side effect of bottling all that hate inside. The only thing hate had left to latch onto was me.
I directed plenty of hate at myself.
Crew was towering in front of me, waiting for something, his fingers tightening around my arm. I knew that whatever he was waiting for, I couldn’t give him. No one could.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed a bright flash of color across the street.
“Crew!” Gina called, waving as she stopped jogging. “Camryn!” She didn’t shout it with the same level of enthusiasm, but that could have been because she was out of breath from all of the running she never seemed to stop doing. Checking the road, she jogged across the street toward us, wearing a sports bra that had me wondering yet again if it was meant to hold in a woman’s assets or better display them.
Crew stiffened when he saw her, his hand leaving my arm to drop at my side. “Gina,” he said, his voice rising just enough to indicate he was asking what she wanted.
She bounced to a stop in front of us, her skin shining with sweat, her chest still bouncing from the way she was breathing. Her eyes roamed the two of us. “Sunday brunch?”
Crew’s head bobbed.
Up ahead, Keenan had noticed we’d fallen behind and was jogging back toward us.
“How’s Brecken been?” She tightened her ponytail, glancing down the sidewalk toward our house. “Things have been quiet, way quieter than I thought they would be with him coming back, and the city doesn’t seem to be overrun with the pap the way I thought it would be.”
My forehead creased. “The pap?”
“The paparazzi.” She nudged me with her hand like I was being funny.
The only thing funny around here was the way she was checking out my husband in his Sunday best. Nothing like having a half-naked woman shuffle through a few fantasies about your husband with you standing a foot away.
I’d gotten used to it though. Gina had had a thing for Crew since middle school, and she’d been about as subtle about it then as she was now. If subtle constituted practically rubbing one’s breasts against a married man’s arm.
“He keeps to himself. We don’t really see him.” Crew sniffed, looking off in the distance. He was clearly pissed about all of the Brecken talk today.
“Really?” Gina tipped her head, looking confused. “What about that night he was over a week ago?”
That was when I realized what was happening. Why Gina had pranced-slash-bounced over. To say hello to him. And screw you to me.
Gina had also had the same feelings for another certain someone since middle school—me. Although they weren’t feelings of affection. More the opposite kind. Apparently Crew had liked me even back then, and since she liked him … go do the middle school jealous bitch math.
Crew crossed his arms. “He wasn’t over.”
“But I’m sure that was him. He’s not exactly hard to mistake.” Gina’s attention diverted to me. She was waiting for a confirmation. Expecting one.
My lips stayed sealed.
“He was there for a while, it looked like. Around dinnertime. Still hanging around a couple of hours later. I thought you were there on the porch with them, but maybe it was just Camryn and him.” Gina nibbled at the ends of her hair like she hadn’t meant to say so much. Even though she had meant to say exactly that and more.
“Camryn?” Crew turned to face me. “What’s she talking about?”
Keenan had made it back and knew something was wrong. His head was moving between Crew and me.
“We had him over for dinner,” I said. “To be nice.”
Crew’s expression didn’t change, but his face reddened. It started in his ears, spreading across his face, into his neck.
“He was going to starve, Dad,” Keenan piped up, stepping between the two of us. “He burned eggs.”
“He’s used to starving. He would have survived.” Crew’s voice trembled. “Clearly he can survive just about anything.”
Gina’s hand covered her chest. “Oh god. I didn’t know.” Her other hand went to her chest. “You weren’t there. You didn’t know. I should have realized that from the look you were giving me, Camryn, sorry.” She exchanged a look with me that looked friendly, but was the opposite just beneath the surface. “I’m sure it was nothing. Just a couple of old friends catching up.”
The more she said, the more Crew’s eyes darkened. The monster inside was waking up.
“He invited us over for dinner sometime too, Dad.” Keenan took my hand, still staggered between us. He knew something was wrong, and in his five-year-old way, he was trying to protect his mom.
I never wanted that from him though, touching as it was. I never wanted my son to grow up feeling like he needed to protect me, that it was his job.
His job was to be a kid.
“The three of us,” I added, ignoring Gina as she excused herself to finish her jog.
I knew she didn’t know what she was doing, at least not the full scope, but she was a far cry from innocent. She gave Crew’s arm a little squeeze as she passed, her eyes offering something I wasn’t sure her husband would approve of.
“What do you think, Dad? Can we have dinner at Brecken’s one day?” Keenan asked as Crew moved us along down the sidewalk.
“I’m not stepping foot in Brecken Connolly’s house.” Crew’s neck rolled, his eyes narrowing when our houses came into view.
Keenan took off again now that our house was a few yards down. He could never wait to tear off his dress clothes after Sunday brunch.
“Why don’t you like him?” I asked Crew, lifting my head and shoulders to give the illusion of strength if nothing else. “He doesn’t hate you. Even though he has a reason to.”
“Why? Because I married his girlfriend, who fell into bed with me weeks after he died?” A rush of air came from his mouth. “Please, I did him a favor.”
“You did yourself a favor.” With that, I knew I’d crossed whatever line there was. I knew there would be consequences for it.
“I don’t want you seeing him again,” he announced in a voice that boded no argument as he marched up the porch steps.
“He lives right next door.”
Crew stopped. “I don’t want you seeing him again.” His voice was dark, low. “He comes out onto his porch and you’re watering the flowers, you go inside. He passes a window you’re looking out of, you look away. He comes to the door because a piece of our mail wound up in his, you pretend you’re not home. He starts having a heart attack and needs CPR, you let him die.”
Keenan had disappeared inside to get changed, so he wasn’t around to hear what Crew was saying, but that wouldn’t always be the case. Eventually, he??
?d overhear something, if he hadn’t already. The pull of a belt or the blast of an accusation. I had a sudden urge to grab Keenan and get the hell away from here. Forever. For good. Like I should have done right after he was born.
I was willing to sacrifice my own life, but not my son’s.
I started up the stairs toward Crew, tired of being scared. Tired of breathing fear. “Brecken already died. He can’t die again.”
For a moment, Crew looked at me like he didn’t recognize me. That didn’t last. Leaning in, his hand found my waist. I tried not to squirm as his fingers dug into me, clawing at my hipbone like he was trying to exhume whatever was left of my spirit to be crushed.
“I’m really hoping you give me a chance to challenge that.” His mouth stayed outside of my ear, his hand squeezing my flesh, for another minute before he let go and retreated inside the house.
I stood there, chest pounding, head throbbing, staring at the threshold. I knew what would happen when I crossed it. I knew what waited beyond it. When I heard the clink of bottles echo from Crew’s office, I flinched. It was a conditioned response. A learned behavior. The clink of glasses preceded the insurgence of my living nightmare.
“Keenan!” I called, lurking outside the door.
His feet pounded down the stairs. “Yeah, Mom?”
“Park time?”
His face lit up as he finished bounding down the stairs. “Park time!”
“Let’s go.” I waved him out the door, my eyes flitting toward the half-open office door. I could have told him we were leaving, where we were going, and when we’d be back. But it wouldn’t change what I’d find waiting for me when I made it back and crossed the threshold.
As Keenan and I moved down the stairs, I noticed someone watching us. It wasn’t the man one would expect to be concerned.
Brecken was watching us from the shadows of his porch, his hands gripping the handrail, his brows pulled together. From his expression, he looked like he was trying to figure something out, but with the way he was gripping the handrail, he already had.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t follow. He just kept watching, like he was trying to tell me something. That he knew my secret. Or that he knew I had one. Either way, I knew Brecken wouldn’t stop until he’d figured it out. He would, sooner than later, and once he did, he’d realize we had one more thing in common.
Torture.
Keenan was asleep. The real asleep, not the fake kind he sometimes pretended to be so I’d have to carry him from the couch to his bed. It was the first time he hadn’t begged me for just another few minutes at the park before coming home. It was also the first time we’d stayed at the park until ten o’clock at night.
Afternoon had bled into dinnertime had fused into nighttime. We’d had such a carefree, simple day, I’d been tempted to never leave the park bench Keenan had fallen asleep with me on. We could just stay there forever. Happy, safe, playing freeze tag.
The thing about living the life I had was that fantasies never lasted long. There was always something close by to strangle the life right out of one. This one especially.
When the house came into view, my steps slowed. I wasn’t in a hurry. At the same time, I was in a hurry to have it over with.
Keenan hadn’t stirred once on the whole half-mile trek from the park to home, and I was grateful he’d found such peaceful, heavy sleep. That had been part of my plan in taking him to the park. Let him run and jump and scream himself into a sleep coma.
My arms were burning from carrying him, but it was the kind of burn I liked. It was the feel of my body being strong, fighting exhaustion. It was the knowledge that I was strong enough to carry my son through the night.
I didn’t realize I was watching the house next to mine, but when I did, I focused on it as I started up the walkway. Brecken’s house was dark—he was gone or asleep.
The steps didn’t creak as I climbed them. Maybe because I’d become more voyeur than human.
The door was unlocked, open a sliver. An invitation. A welcome home.
My heartbeat was echoing in my ears, my lungs straining when I stepped inside. He was waiting for me somewhere in the dark. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him. He was close. I could practically taste the whiskey in the air.
“Where have you been?” Crew’s voice was nearly unrecognizable, slurred from alcohol, low with anger. “Wife?”
I kept moving toward the stairs, not daring to stop. He was propped in his chair in the living room, sitting in a dark room. The glass he was drinking from caught fragments of light streaming in from the window behind him. He looked menacing. It was a demeanor he’d mastered years ago, perfecting only recently.
“The park,” I answered, kicking off my shoes before climbing the first stair, scrambling for the last remnants of energy in my possession.
“For eight hours?” The ice cubes in his glass clinked when he finished drinking the last of it. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to avoid me.”
“Let me get him into bed, Crew.” I didn’t wait for permission—I kept climbing the stairs. “Then we can talk.”
He swirled the ice cubes in his glass, the whites of his eyes shining. “You know how I love our talks.”
A tremor spilled down my spine, but I kept climbing, practically breaking into a jog when I reached the second floor. There was no getting out of this prison. It had windows and doors and had the look of a place a person could come and go from, but it was a lie. I was bound to this jail, a prisoner who would one day die in her cell. I’d accepted my fate, but my son’s wouldn’t be the same.
Never.
Moving as fast as my depleted body could, I lowered Keenan into his bed, then I slid off his shoes before tucking the covers up around him. I placed the sound-canceling headphones around his head, securing them around his ears. Some parents bought them for their children to muffle airplane noise—I bought them for my child to stifle the noises that erupted from this house at night.
“Sweet dreams,” I whispered, too worried he’d stir if I kissed his forehead.
Backing out of his room, I closed his door without making a sound. My eyes closed, letting out the breath I’d been holding since crossing the threshold. Keenan was tucked away. I was ready.
A few steps later, I realized Crew wasn’t where I’d left him. He’d moved onto the second floor and was propped at the top of the stairs. It was dark up here too, but Crew was a creature of the darkness. He could see in it, he did his best work in it, he thrived in it. I might not have been able to see him well, but from the way his lips were stretching to reveal a gleaming set of teeth, I thought he could see me so well, he didn’t miss the way my heartbeat was firing in my pulse points.
“Have I told you recently how beautiful you are?” His voice spread around me, entombing me in its web.
“No. You haven’t.” My hands were starting to tremble, so I tied them behind my back. The more scared I became, the more fear he could sense in me, the more it fed his addiction.
His addiction to power. Exerting it. Forcing it. Displaying it.
“Maybe that’s because you haven’t shown me how beautiful you are lately.” His hand rubbed his chin, his eyes roaming me. “Take off your dress.”
“Crew,” I whispered.
“Remove it. Or have it removed for you.” His hands had lowered to his belt, working it open.
The option of him removing it involved far more noise, and being up here, so close to Keenan’s room, noise wasn’t something I wanted to make any extra of.
Pulling off my sweater, I let it fall onto the carpet behind me. When I reached behind my back to lower the dress’s zipper, Crew’s fingers stopped tugging his belt free of his slacks.
“Did you fuck him?”
Pulling the straps down my arms, I let the dress fall at my feet. “No.”
Crew’s eyes wandered down my body. “Did you want to?”
My legs were shaking, but I moved toward him. Every step clo
se to him put us farther from Keenan. “No.”
“You lied to me.” His hands came back to life, pulling his belt from his slacks, one loop at a time.
I didn’t argue that I’d never lied to him, that I just hadn’t told him about it. That would only inspire more violence. “I know.” Stopping a few feet in front of him, I made my eyes meet his. Now that I was closer to him, I could see in the dark too. “I’m ready to accept my punishment.”
His forehead creased, the end of the belt falling to the floor. “You’re not usually so agreeable.”
“I know I made a mistake. I know I upset you.” My voice wasn’t shaking, but everything inside me was.
Crew looked almost disappointed. “The rest.” Alcohol perfumed the air around me from his breath. He’d drunk a lot. More than usual. “Take it off.”
As he started to roll the belt around his fist, my feet carried me back a step. He didn’t miss it. His mouth twisted up on one side. Focusing on my breath, trying to let it give me strength, I took off my bra then slid out of my underwear.
Taking me in, Crew rubbed his groin, grunting as he stroked what was straining against his zipper. “Turn around.” When I did, a ragged moan came from him. “So fucking beautiful.”
I felt him appraise me the way an artist would his masterpiece. When his fingers brushed along my back, I flinched.
“On the floor.”
My legs were shaking now. I couldn’t control them. It had been a while since the last time, months, but I still remembered the sting of the belt. I could still remember the taste of blood from biting my tongue so I wouldn’t cry out and wake Keenan.
I’d barely dropped to my knees and elbows before the first lash cracked across my spine. My head fell to the floor, a muffled cry coming from my mouth before I could swallow it back.
“Do you still love him?” Crew let the end of the belt brush along my back as though he were trying to soothe the pain.
My head shook as I struggled to regain the function of my lungs. “No.”
Another crack. This one I’d been bracing for though, so no sound came from my lips. Inside, everything was screaming. All of my body was shaking now, tears streaming down my cheeks from the kind of pain that demanded their payment.