TUESDAY NIGHT
It wasn’t the first time Owen had pointed a gun at me.
The first time was shortly after we’d gotten married during a vicious reaction after I told him I wanted to go on a girls’ getaway with Lily and Robin. That night I learned two important things: placate, then extricate.
‘Owen, I’m not the one you want to hurt.’ Although my voice remained calm, fear exploded inside me. ‘Together we can deal with Ryan, but not like this. Think about the risk. Think about Aria. There’s another way to handle it, but not with a gun.’
Owen’s gaze shifted to his trembling hands, then flicked back up at me. I’d managed to soothe him from his rage, but prying the handgun from his tense fingers was another matter.
‘I’m here for you, honey,’ I assured him. ‘You and me, a team.’
When his arms slackened, I stepped forward, then lured the weapon from his grip, dewy with sweat.
I carefully placed it on the dresser, then pivoted the barrel toward the wall. I was too distracted to secure the safety switch, which was probably best. Considering how violently my hands shook, I’d probably end up firing off a round instead.
Ever since that day, the day Owen’s real nature clawed its way out of his charming costume, I had developed a fear of guns – well, guns in the wrong hands. After all, I was a dyed-in-the-wool Southerner who grew up with rifles and shotguns, went target shooting with my daddy, always maintaining a healthy respect for a firearm’s power. But then Owen showed me what a gun could do beyond a hole in a wildly flapping target hanging from a branch, or an empty beer can perched on a tree stump. That tiny conical projectile could shred flesh, tear sinew, splatter gray matter. I didn’t want it anywhere near this rampaging Hulk version of Owen.
‘I want to kill him, Mac. God help me, I want to hurt him like he hurt my baby girl.’ Owen was pacing a hole in the carpet, but at least he was calming down a little.
‘Hold your horses, honey. I know you’re angry, but we have to figure out a better way of dealing with this that doesn’t involve killing a kid.’
‘A kid? That’s what you think he is? He’s a man now, Mackenzie, and men are supposed to protect women, not hurt them. He deserves what he gets.’
‘And what do you think he should get? A bullet in his brain?’
‘If it were up to me, yes. That’s what he deserves. Put predators like him six feet under where they belong. God only knows what he’s done to Willow.’
‘Owen! She’s his little sister!’
‘And Aria was like a sister. Don’t you see? He’s grown up with Aria all his life, and yet the second he got a chance to … God, when I think of him on top of her—’
He screamed like some wounded beast. His eyes were crazy and a huge blue vein stood out on his temple. I instinctively moved away from him.
‘Whoa, babe, it’s all right. Had to get that out of my system.’ He reached out and squeezed my shoulder – a rare display of tenderness.
‘You’re not helping matters, Owen. We need to figure out what to do now. Do we tell Aria? Do we just let it go away? Do we go to the police? I don’t know what to do, or what’s best for Aria.’
‘I’ll tell you what’s best. We’ve got to press charges. That boy shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this scot-free.’
‘That boy is my best friend’s son. We’ve known Ryan since he was born. This isn’t some stranger we’re talking about. If we press charges, he could end up in jail. His life will be ruined. There goes college and a decent job and a normal life. You don’t bounce back from something like that. Plus everything that happened will be made public, which would be devastating for Aria.’
‘Then what are you saying – we do nothing? Because doing nothing is the same as saying it was okay. And one day Aria will remember – one day it’ll all come back to haunt her, and do you know who she’ll be most mad at? Us. Us for knowing and not telling her. Us for turning a blind eye instead of protecting her. Will knowing the truth hurt her? Yes, for now. But she’ll heal, she’ll move on. But us lying to her about it – she’ll never forgive us. You think about that before you go trying to sweep secrets under the rug.’
There were so many secrets hidden there already; was there room to hide even one more?
‘What about your secret, Owen? The one you made me swear never to tell. The one that could have put you in jail. The one I’ve kept for you for eighteen years. You want me to tell everyone what you’re hiding? Get down off your high horse, Mr High and Mighty!’
I seldom stood up to him. He glared at me, his jaw clenched like pliers chewing on a nail. I had hit a nerve. He grumbled angrily, then headed for the door.
‘Where are you going?’ I asked.
‘I’m going out. Clearly you’d rather protect a rapist than your own husband.’
He was as mad as a hornet, and it’d only get uglier if I didn’t stop it. I tugged on his arm, hoping my touch would somehow connect with his emotions. Unfortunately, Owen only had two emotions: protective and angry. He pulled away.
‘I don’t want to fight, honey,’ I said gently. ‘I want to figure it out – together. But we can’t make a hasty decision. Whatever we do will impact Aria. All I’m asking is that we work through the options.’
‘I know what I’m going to do. I’m going to the police, and I’m going to make sure Aria knows the truth about what she did.’
‘What she did? What do you mean by that?’
‘Something just occurred to me, Mac. Yeah, Ryan is a degenerate, but Aria didn’t do this alone. She was drinking – she needs to learn from this. It’s your fault she’s in this mess, because you’ve given her no boundaries. You.’ His pointing finger was a blur between my eyeballs.
I couldn’t let him do this, not him, not now. It needed to come from me, but he was determined. It was only a matter of time before his misogyny reared its ugly head and he blamed me for everything.
‘I’m sorry! Let me fix this.’ I stepped in front of him, hugging his chest. I didn’t want this closeness with him, because I knew where it led. But it always worked on him. ‘Please let me talk to her first. Please,’ I begged.
There was only one apology he would accept – my body. I didn’t want to give it to him, but I needed to for my daughter, for my friend, for everyone but me. He needed power, and I needed time. It was the only way.
I cupped his groin. His body stiffened, then relaxed as I kissed his neck.
‘Let me take your mind off of everything. You need this.’ I massaged him. His iron will melted. Grabbing my biceps, he flung me around and threw me to the bed. I bounced against the edge, waiting for the inevitable – my pants ripped downward in a puddle at my feet. The tear of lace panty seams. My shirt whipped upward, discarded on the floor. My bra snapping against my back as he clumsily fiddled with the clasp. Then the unzipping of his jeans.
He’d always been careful not to leave bruising on my neck or ass, but tonight felt different. Angrier. Rushed. Careless. I closed my eyes, barely holding on to the string that connected me to earth as my mind lifted me into the inky sky. Tonight he didn’t care what marks he left behind, what physical bruises matched the ones on my soul as he pumped me raw until I silently wept.
When he finished, I winced as I slid back into my torn panties. There was no forehead kiss of gratitude this time, my payment for being an obedient little wife.
‘Are we okay now?’ I squeaked.
‘I don’t know. I need time to think.’
Brood was more like it. And brooding only led to more anger.
‘Let’s just sleep on it and consider the options tomorrow.’ Please work, logic.
‘Options?’ He laughed flatly. ‘The options were stripped from us when Aria decided to get drunk. You know, the more I think about it, it’s clear both of you women are to blame for this. No common sense! She shouldn’t have put herself in that position, practically begging to get taken advantage of. What decent girl gets blind drunk unless she’s trying to be reckless? Trying to be a whore?’
I gasped in horror at the man’s chauvinism.
‘As a husband and a father, you actually think that about women – that we’re asking for it when we drink too much or dress a certain way? That’s seriously your view of women?’
Why I was shocked to hear this from the man who ravaged me night after night – that was the real shocker. Yes, I was a proud Southern gal, but I’d always known chivalric honor à la Gone With the Wind was a load of crap. Southern or otherwise, some men wanted women to be maids in the living room, cooks in the kitchen, and whores in the bedroom. Owen’s devotion to this backward thinking made me want to throw up.
‘I’m just saying that if you ever dressed like a slut or acted like one,’ Owen said, ‘I would have never married you. Or I’d have put you in your place.’
‘So by that logic, as long as a girl dresses conservatively, even if she sleeps around, she’s not a slut, right?’
‘No, she’d be a slut too.’ More blatant misogyny.
‘But men can dress how they want and sleep with however many women they want and that’s just the accepted norm?’
‘Men are the dominant gender, honey. Look at how ducks and chickens mate – the males practically gang bang the females. And that’s part of animal nature. The males do the conquering; the females are the submissives. Haven’t you ever wondered why women only have a narrow window of fertility, while men can procreate almost twice as long? Men are meant to spread their seed; women are meant to be our incubators. It’s just how it is; I don’t write the laws of human nature, I just observe them.’
‘You’re not observing them, Owen, you’re twisting them to justify your caveman logic. You’re basically saying that Aria asked to be raped because she made herself vulnerable. But if women are the weaker sex, that pretty much means we’re always vulnerable.’
‘Exactly. Now you’re getting it.’ He patted my head like I was a good little doggie. ‘That’s why I always protect you – from the predators out there and from yourself.’
Of course he didn’t mean the predator in my own home.
He shook his head at me. We were both growing weary of this pointless Me Tarzan, You Jane conversation.
‘I don’t want to get into this debate with you, because you won’t win, Mac. It’s futile. All I’m going to say is that as the mother, you’re the one who raised Aria. I don’t know where you went wrong with her, but she should have known better than to get drunk with a boy alone in a basement. If those are the kind of loose morals you’ve instilled in her, then that’s on you.’
My palm flew out and slapped him on the face. I only realized it after the fact when I pulled it back and felt the sting. I instantly regretted my mistake. His eyes widened in alarm – no, it was fury – but for once he knew better than to speak because my words were flying like darts at him now.
‘I’m sick of it! I’m sick of how you’re blaming us! How dare you blame me or Aria for what Ryan did! That’s your daughter, you asshole. And I’m your wife. If you ever speak about her like that again, it will be the last thing you say.’
I couldn’t believe what I’d done. Standing there, naked except for a tattered pair of underwear, screaming at the man I dared never defy.
He lifted his hands in surrender. Had I won?
‘Fine. I’m done. I’m going to spend the night at a hotel. You decide what you want to do about this mess. And before you think about spreading my secret around, just know you were there too, behind the wheel, babe. I’m not the only one who knows where the bodies are buried, Mackenzie. You’ll go down with me and Aria will lose any chance at a decent life.’
He left before I could get another word in, although I was tapped out anyway. He was right. I could never tell anyone about what we had done all those years ago. Because while Owen may have pulled the trigger, I was the one who gave the order.