Page 120 of Her Ex-Husband's Brother

“It’s Jared,” she breathes, air coming out in little gasps, like even that much motion cost her everything she had left. “He’s Jake’s best friend.”

“So what? Is Jake with him?”

“No.” She’s still breathing hard. “But there’s another man from the church with him. In a sheriff’s uniform. I’ve seen him at the cookouts, too. They’re all Jake’s friends. Fuck.Drive. You need to drive. Jake’s got them all convinced I’m crazy.”

I’m already backing out of the spot, tires chirping once on the gravel. I glance over my shoulder in the rearview and notice the two guys look our direction. One lifting a phone up. Maybe to snap a pic of my back license plate? Shit.

As soon as I can I’m back onto the road and a few stops later, on I-35 heading north.

“Then we’re going to the hospital,” I say through my teeth.

“Not in Austin.” She flops back against the seat, one hand pressed to her temple. “Important people come down to ourchurch. It’s a growing megachurch, and I don’t know everyone Jake’s connected to. I think one of them might be a judge.

A judge. Jesus Christ.

If there’s one thing I know about my brother, it’s that he gathers influential people around him like camouflage and armor, over years of potlucks and Bible studies and favors owed so that his sterling reputation makes him untouchable—the kind of man no one would ever believe was poisoning his wife. He’d have them convinced it was anything except the obvious by the end of his long-winded speeches.

“Let’s go to a hospital in Houston instead. It’s only a few hours.”

“Fuck that. I’m getting you to the nearest hospital.” I glance over just in time to catch her eyes flashing.

“And what if Jake walks in and convinces everyone you’re the crazy one who needs to be carted off, and that he’s my husband who by rights gets to see his wife? What if he brings his sheriff buddies to back him up so he can drag me right back into that house?”

“Fuck!” I slam the wheel, hating myself when it makes her flinch.

“It’s fine. I’m feeling a little better already.” She tries to sit up once we’re properly on the highway and I ease her seat back down instead.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Fuck. You’re right. Just rest. I’ll drive you to Houston. Wherever you need to go. I’ll take care of you. Whatever you need.” My jaw clenches so hard it’s a small miracle a molar doesn’t crack. “Anything to make this better.”

She nuzzles against my knee. “Don’t you get it? Just being with you already makes it better. Everything’s better when I’m with you.”

I wish to God that were true.

THIRTY-TWO

LENNON

Escapingfor the second time feels even sweeter than the first.

Maybe because this time I’m not only running away from something. I’m running toward something too. Toward the dark blur of highway unspooling beneath August’s headlights. Toward proof, answers, and a hospital where Jake can’t lean against a doorway and make himself sound reasonable while I slowly disappear inside my own body.

Toward the man beside me, one hand steady on the wheel, the other flexing like he has to keep reminding himself not to reach for me every five seconds.

The first time I left, I was terrified. All I had was my hastily packed suitcase and my phone lighting up with Jake’s name until I shoved it under my coat and pretended I couldn’t hear it buzzing.

I thought fear was the worst thing a person could feel.

Cute. Adorable, really.

I stare out the windshield at the blacktop shining under the headlights. It got dark about an hour ago. The car smellslike August—clean sweat, leather, and that faint mineral bite of tattoo soap clinging to his hoodie.

“You doing okay over there?” he asks for what has to be the fiftieth time.

His voice is gentle, but the gentleness is strained around the edges. August trying not to come apart is still August. A little rough and a little too gorgeous for words with the dash light cutting across the hard line of his cheekbone.

I smile even though my face feels heavy, like all my muscles have been run through the wash. “Yeah.”

His eyes flick toward me, then back to the road. “That didn’t sound like yeah.”