by Brenda Novak
“He seemed surprised.” She laughed. “He doesn’t get why there’s anything wrong with that. I was born to someone who thinks he should be able to break the rules whenever he sees fit, and he gets away with it. I don’t approve, but that’s my dad. It doesn’t mean we can’t love each other in spite of our differences.”
Micah came over, slid his arms around her and kissed her cheek. “I agree. It’s not your job to police your father. It’s time you had what you’ve been missing for most of your life.”
“I have you,” she said. “That makes me happy right there.”
“Does that mean you’re going to stay in Millcreek, at least for a while?”
“It does. It’s where I belong.”
“At my place?”
She could pay for them to have a much bigger house, but she knew he wouldn’t feel comfortable letting her do that. He was too proud. And his house was comfortable enough. “Why not?” She shot him a grin. “Maybe that means you’ll finally unpack.”
“I can now see my way clear to doing that, yes.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Can you believe you have the answers you’ve craved for so long? There were times when you thought it would never happen.”
She gripped his arms. “I’m sad for what Brian Judd did, what it cost me and Randy and even my dad. But I’m also sad for Brian’s wife and family. Crime doesn’t have only one victim. They will suffer, too.”
“True.” He ran a finger lightly over her neck where Brian had choked her. “The doctor said you’ll likely have bruising here in the morning. I can already see a little discoloration.”
“My throat is killing me, but I suppose things could be worse.”
“They could be a lot worse.” He leaned forward to kiss her. “I can’t believe I have you back.”
“We’ll see if Paige will settle down and not make it such a problem.”
“She’ll make it a problem if we let her,” he said. “We can’t give her that much power.”
“She has a lot of control when it comes to Trevor. I’m worried about that, so you must be, too.”
“I’m as angry and determined as I am worried. I won’t let her get away with using him to punish me.”
The doctor walked in, so he backed away.
“Okay, Ms. McBride. You’re all set to go. I just went over the X-rays of your neck and, as I expected, didn’t see any lasting damage. The bruising to the soft tissue should fade pretty fast.”
“Thank you,” she said and took Micah’s hand as they told the doctor goodbye, finished up at the window out front and left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
It was the maid’s knock that woke Paige at her San Antonio motel the following morning. Not only did she have a terrible hangover, she was so filled with dread she almost couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes, let alone get up. She had to go back to Millcreek today. Last night, when she’d talked to Trevor to make sure he was okay, she’d promised him—and her parents—that she would. Although she wasn’t looking forward to facing all the people who were going to pounce on her and grill her about her accusations against Micah the moment she showed her face—especially Sloane and Micah himself, not to mention her ex-in-laws—she couldn’t procrastinate that moment any longer.
Fortunately, Trevor hadn’t yet heard that she’d lodged a complaint against his father. Her parents were careful with what they said, since he’d been around when they talked, but they let her know they were aware. She’d promised them a private conversation when she got home, which was another reason she wasn’t looking forward to returning. Her father had indicated he’d already told Micah off, which didn’t make her feel any better.
She was the one who deserved to be told off.
“Housekeeping,” the maid called when Paige didn’t answer in time. The woman tried to come in, but the security lock kept the door from being opened all the way.
“I’m checking out today,” Paige told her. “Come back in an hour.”
“Checkout was at eleven,” she said. “You know that, right?”
It was after eleven? Paige sprang to her feet, then swooned and nearly fell back on the bed, thanks to her headache. She’d had no idea she was sleeping so late. She grabbed her phone to call her parents but before she could get that far, she saw she’d missed ten calls from Ed McBride, and her stomach began to churn, hurting even worse than her head.
She’d missed a slew of text messages from him, too.
“I’ll be out soon,” she told the maid to buy some more time and sank back down on the bed to read them.
Pick up the phone, Paige. You’ll be sorry if you don’t.
Sorry in what way? Had he already sent the pictures to the paper?
The mere possibility caused her heart to leap into her throat, so she didn’t bother to read anything else. She immediately punched the button on her phone that would call him back.
“Did you get my messages?” he asked without any preamble.
“Only the threat. Did you send the pictures to the paper?”
He made a sound that suggested she was being ridiculous to be so concerned. “You really are a Nervous Nelly, aren’t you? I can’t imagine why you hate those pictures. I love them, look at them all the time.”
She grimaced at the images that conjured in her mind. The sick bastard relished the power he held over her. “So did you send them or not?”
“No, I haven’t parted with them, and it looks like I won’t be parting with them any time soon.”
She rocked back and pulled a pillow over her face. “What do you mean? God, you’re the worst person I’ve ever known. You’re destroying my life.”
He chuckled as though he didn’t care. “Jeez. And just when I was about to give you some good news.”
She threw the pillow to the other side of the bed. “Good news for who? You?”
“No, you’re going to like this, too.”
Drawing a bolstering breath, she shoved into a sitting position. “What is it?”
“I told Chief Alder he could tear up that complaint against Micah, that you weren’t in your right mind when you signed it.”
“And he did that? It’s done?”
“Not yet. He couldn’t do it without hearing from you first, but as soon as you call him, the investigation into Micah’s behavior will disappear, and your ex will be reinstated.”
Her relief was so profound she felt faint. “Are you kidding me?” He had to be. Now that she knew him better, she understood that he never did anything without a reason, and everything was geared to benefit him.
“No, actually I’m not.”
“What about the pictures?” She hoped this whole thing would simply go away, but even if it did, she’d never forget what it felt like to see those photographs and to know that a man who had no affection for her, no conscience whatsoever, had them in his possession.
“I don’t need them anymore.”
“So you’ll destroy them? And the original files, too?”
“Probably not,” he admitted. “As I said, I like them. But no one else will have to know they exist, and that’s all that matters to you.”
It wasn’t all that mattered. She’d live in fear as long as they were in his possession. But that was, no doubt, what he intended. If she ever told anyone he’d blackmailed her, he’d use them to get revenge. “Why are you letting Micah off the hook?” she asked.
“Sloane has found the man who killed her mother, so she’s no longer out to get me. That means I can give you a break, too.”
“You didn’t kill Clara?” Paige had grown convinced he was the guilty party.
“I’m disappointed you’d even ask. But no, it wasn’t me. It was the man she’d been having an affair with.”
“Brian Judd.”
“I see word is getting out. The fool has confessed and will be
going to prison.”
The fool? That was an odd way to refer to the man who’d murdered his wife, but Ed didn’t care about anyone, least of all Clara, who’d been gone so long. Anyway, it didn’t matter that he hadn’t committed murder. He wasn’t a good guy, regardless. “I bet she’s glad to know.”
“She is, and now we can begin to repair our relationship.”
Paige wished she could warn Sloane to stay away. Her father didn’t deserve her goodwill—or anyone else’s. But Paige didn’t dare, would never be able to get away with saying anything bad about Ed. “So what will I give as the reason I lodged that complaint to begin with?”
“Well, I still have these photographs...”
She balled her free hand into a fist; he was insinuating something. “Which means what?”
“It means you can’t say anything that’ll make Micah look bad. I wouldn’t want to cause Sloane any more distress after all she’s been through. So I guess you’ll just have to tell the truth.”
Silent tears began to cascade down Paige’s cheeks—just when she’d thought she couldn’t cry anymore. “Which is...”
“You were lying, right?”
Admitting that she’d lied would be humiliating in its own right, but it was better than taking Trevor’s father away from him, and it was infinitely better than having those pornographic pictures immortalized in the minds of everyone she knew.
“You’ll blame it on your jealousy,” he continued, “on the fact that you can’t beat Sloane at anything and should never have tried.”
“You have to be the cruelest individual I’ve ever known,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper she was so stunned.
He chuckled, obviously enjoying her pain. “Maybe if you’d been a little more realistic about your own shortcomings, you would never have tried to steal Micah from Sloane in the first place,” he said and disconnected.
Paige hung her head long after he was gone. “You’re a monster,” she said into the empty room, but she knew, in her heart, he was right in one regard.
Sloane hadn’t caused her divorce. Micah wasn’t responsible for what’d happened the past ten years, either. She’d known he didn’t love her from the start. She just hadn’t been willing to accept no for an answer. She’d wanted to believe, given the opportunity, she could change his mind. That was why, after they’d slept together the first few times, when he’d tried to stop seeing her, she’d gotten pregnant with Trevor.
* * *
The next few days were cathartic for Sloane. After receiving several stitches in his skull from where she’d struck him with that brass lamp and being treated for a concussion, Brian Judd had been released from the hospital and taken into custody. He would stand trial for the murder of her mother, and the police were certain of a conviction. She’d achieved the justice she’d been seeking when she returned to Millcreek, and she was back in the most fulfilling relationship she’d ever had—with Micah.
But that wasn’t all. Everything else was going great, too. She was slowly repairing her relationships with her father and brother, had had breakfast with them just two days ago. For the first time in ages, she and Randy weren’t at odds. They’d talked about Hadley and his daughter, the dealership and other aspects of his life. Now her father was planning a big barbecue for when Hadley returned, which meant Sloane would have the chance to get to know her sister-in-law and her niece. And Paige had returned to town and retracted her complaint against Micah, admitted that she’d made it all up. Thanks to the sudden resurgence of Paige’s conscience, he’d been reinstated, but he wouldn’t be going back to work until next week. He was taking some time off to help Sloane move in, since she’d had her furniture delivered, and to finish unpacking himself.
Her phone beeped as they were moving his bedroom set into the spare bedroom for Trevor and hers into the master, since it was nicer. It took a few seconds, but once her hands were free, she checked to see who’d been trying to reach her.
It was Paige.
I feel terrible about what I did. I want to make it up to you, if you’ll let me. Please believe that I’m sorry.
Although Paige had texted something the day before, equally apologetic, Sloane hadn’t responded. She didn’t have it in her to forgive Paige quite yet. It wasn’t so much about holding a grudge as it was about being unable to trust her. Sloane felt she could no longer rely on her old friend to want what was best for her, especially when it came to Micah, and how could they be friends without that? She didn’t need to surround herself with people who might betray her. She was happy, but it was such a new and fragile happiness she felt she needed to bask in it for a while, become whole and healthy before taking the risk of letting Paige back into her life. She wasn’t unrealistic enough to believe that she and her father and brother would have perfect relationships when they never had before, but at least they had a chance for peace now that she wasn’t opposing them when it came to Clara. She wanted to put her efforts toward making it up to them that she’d ever doubted so strongly in the first place.
“Who is it?” Micah asked.
“Guess.”
“Your father?”
“I’d be more excited to hear from him. It’s Paige.”
He shoved the bedroom dresser down a few inches to center it. “What does she want?”
“She insists she loves me, and she’s sorry for what she did to you.”
He leaned an elbow on top of the dresser. “What are you going to say?”
“Nothing. I’m not ready to deal with her yet.” Paige had apologized to Micah, too, and, for Trevor’s sake, he’d accepted her apology. He had to deal with her, but Sloane didn’t have a child with Paige. She could cut her off indefinitely, and she thought she just might do that.
“At least she retracted the complaint. It couldn’t have been easy to admit she lied.”
“She should never have made that up in the first place. She almost ruined your career.”
He walked over to pull her into his arms. “God, I love you. Other than Trevor, I’ve never loved anyone so much in my life.”
“It’s amazing that being apart for ten years didn’t change a thing—for either one of us. We were so young back then,” she told him, locking her arms around his neck.
When Sloane first came back, she’d told herself that they probably didn’t really know each other anymore, that their attraction would wear off once they’d had their fill of sex and the challenges of real life set in, but it was going the other direction. She was becoming more deeply committed to him with each passing day. It was far too soon to consider marriage and babies, but she couldn’t quit daydreaming about those things, especially when they were making love.
He grinned down at her. “Some things are just meant to be.” He held her face between his hands as he sobered. “But can you really be happy in Millcreek long-term, Sloane? You don’t think you’ll want to return to New York one day?”
Surprisingly, she didn’t think she would. She was satisfied in a way she’d never been satisfied before. “No.”
“What will you do with your time here?”
She hoped, at some point, she’d be raising children. “I’m going to start painting,” she said.
“You used to talk about becoming a painter.”
“I need to take some classes first, see if I have any talent. But I’m still interested in it.”
“I have no doubt you’ll be good.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “How can you say that? You’ve never seen anything I’ve painted.”
He pecked at her mouth. “Because it doesn’t matter if it’s bad. I’ll like it just because you made it, will hang it all over the house.”
She laughed as he let go and they returned to unpacking. They’d promised Trevor they’d take him out to pizza later, and Paige had agreed even though it wasn’t Micah’s day—one of the benefit
s of Paige being so penitent—but Sloane wanted to at least finish the bedroom before they had to go. The house was beginning to shape up. She couldn’t wait to see what it was going to look like when they were done.
“Where would you like to hang this?” Micah lifted the photograph she’d taken from the cabin, the one of her mother holding her and Randy, which she’d set on top of a stack of boxes nearby.
“Over here on the wall by my side of the bed. I just haven’t hung it because I wanted to get a new frame. I did that yesterday, but...” she scratched her head as she looked around “...I can’t remember where I put the sack in all of this mess.”
“I saw it in the living room earlier,” he said and went to get it.
While he was gone, she sat on the bed to remove the backing and was shocked when a letter dropped out.
“What’s that?” Micah asked as he came back with the sack.
She was just bending to pick it up. “I don’t know.”
As soon as she opened it, she had to sit down again. “It’s a letter from my mother!” she said. “This is her handwriting. What do you think it was doing hiding behind that picture?”
He put the frame on the bed beside her. “I have no clue. What does it say?”
As Sloane started to read the tiny, cramped writing, her smile faded and her pulse began to race. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
Micah bent to catch her eye. “What is it?”
She didn’t trust her voice. She shoved it at him, and he read it aloud.
To Whom It May Concern:
If you’ve found this and I’m dead, it was my husband, Ed McBride of Millcreek, TX, who killed me.
I had no idea when I married him that he was the kind of man he is. I was just a young, stupid girl, giddy in love. But I learned soon after. He’s a psychopath. He must be. I’ve never known anyone more callous. He cares only for himself—the kids and I don’t matter to him at all. The stories I could tell... You probably wouldn’t believe me even if I had room to write them. So I won’t bother. I need to keep this thin in order to make it fit in the frame, anyway.
