Page 66 of Louder Than Words

He stands mere inches away, his breath hot against my face. When his eyes meet mine, his grip tightens around my arm, my skin burning where his fingers dig through the fabric of my thin jacket.

“If you seriously think you’re taking my daughters off to go play house with your mentally deranged boyfriend, you’re stupider than I thought, Allie,” he seethes, then finally releases his fingers from my bicep.

Fear coils around my spine as droplets of his spit land on my nose. Not fear for our safety, but that quiet, humiliating dread ofa memory resurfacing too quickly—one I thought I’d buried for good.

Because this? This isn’t the Trevor I knew and loved. This is the Trevor I met when I finally had enough. The one who was cowardly enough to grab me so hard it left bruises just for remembering my worth. The one who threw potted plants against walls while I packed my things.

And suddenly, I don’t feel so bad anymore.

I straighten my spine. “That’s not what we said, Trevor. We said—”

“So now you’re calling our five-year-old daughter a liar?” He doesn’t even let me respond before holding his hand up. “Actually, don’t bother answering that. Save it for court. I’m sure they’ll love it.”

I stand frozen, watching him retreat. The second he slips into his car, I finally take a full breath.

Charlotte’s hand finds mine and gives a quiet tug. She looks up at me, tilting her head. “Mommy? Why did Daddy look so mad and hold your arm like that?”

My heart twists painfully. The thought that she even saw that, sawhimlike that, and is being sucked into the middle of something so big I barely understand myself… it’s tearing me apart.

I kneel slowly, looking into her eyes as my hands rub her arms soothingly. “You know, sweetie, sometimes grown-ups get frustrated. You get frustrated too, right?” I start to explain softly.

She nods. “Uh-huh.”

“Right, so when you feel frustrated, what do you do?”

“I cry and find you.”

Tears prick my eyes at that, but I blink them away. “That’s right, baby. You find Mommy,” I say, my voice breaking. “But sometimes people don’t know to do that. Sometimes their emotions feel too big, and they don’t think about what they’redoing. So that’s why it’s always important that if you feel like your emotions are too big, you find someone, okay?”

She nods again. “Like Ana or Jax?”

I sniffle, a tear slipping as it rolls down my cheek. “Exactly, baby. Like Ana, Jax, or even Grandma when she’s over, too.”

Charlotte nods, then wraps her little arms around my neck without saying a word. I pull her in tight, pressing a kiss into her hair and letting my eyes close for just a second.

“I love you so much,” I whisper into her temple.

“I love you too, Mommy,” she mumbles into my shoulder.

28

Jax

What happens when you travel four hours with James crammed in the backseat and zero snack stops?

You end up with a suspicious little dent in the chocolate pie you brought for the dinner party. Because apparently, James can’t go three hours without eating something—sofour? Four was just pushing the limits.

I’m still trying to figure out how to conceal the very obvious finger hole in the pie when the front door bursts open. But before I can even blink, James is already shouting in my ear.

“Ayyy! Happy Turkey-Eating Day!”

Gareth and I turn to look at each other with matching raised eyebrows. Even Desmond tilts his head slightly, like he’s trying to figure out if he misheard.

James’s grin wavers. He glances between the three of us, clearly sensing he’s said something wrong, but not sure what.Then he spots Ana, who’s still standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and that shit-eating grin fully in place.

“What?” he says with a shrug. “I couldn’t remember what it was called.”

Ana just chuckles, then grabs him by the shoulders, and hauls him inside as he stumbles over his own feet.