“About fifteen years ago I was in a situation not too different from yours.” I look up, intrigued she’s sharing this with me. “I was young, in love, and he had me like a fish––hook, line and sinker. A real charmer. We’d been dating through college and one night we went out with some of his friends. He’d been drinking all day, and then his ex-girlfriend arrived. I was upset because she sat on his knee and kissed him, and he didn’t do anything to stop her. I went to sit in the car and he came bellowing over, annoyed I left him there, so I locked the door. That was the first time I realized how strong he was. He put his fist through the passenger window then dragged me out. After punching me around for a bit, one of his friends drove me home. The next day when he arrived at the dorm, he was full of remorse. He promised me things would be different, he wouldn’t drink anymore, and he would never hurt me again. The whole sob story. I believed him. I loved him.” She lets out a sad laugh and instantly my insides twist in reaction. I know that laugh, understand where it comes from.
Kelly, missing my moment of recognition, continues her story. “Things improved for a few months, but then I got pregnant.” My eyes grow wide at her admission trying to do the math. I know Kelly is married to Brooks, and I know they have a daughter who’s only five years old, so she’s not talking about Mia.
“He was happy to begin with. Things were looking up. But one night a few weeks later, he came around drunk. He was a mean drunk and I was pissed off at him for going against what he promised me. We argued. He said some terrible things. Then he punched me in my stomach.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears and I fight my need to comfort her. “I lost the baby two days later.”
“I’m so sorry, Kelly.” I place my fork on my plate, my appetite now lost.
“I’m not telling you this so you feel sorry for me, or so we can bond on some sisterhood level. I’m telling you because I want you to know I understand your reservations about seeking help. I was lucky I had a close family who had my back, but sometimes, even with all the support, I still felt alone. Sometimes I wanted to just pretend it never happened. But the problem with that is it doesn’t always go away.”
“Kelly—” I know what she’s saying without really saying it, and I want to put a stop to it. “Did Beau ask you to talk to me?”
“No, I just overheard them talking about you not giving a statement. I want you to know that I get why you don’t want to, and I respect that. But unlike me, you don’t have the support I did. So I’m here if you want to talk. Whenever, you know? ” She reaches across the table and places her hand over my forearm.
“Did you press charges?” I don’t know why it matters but I ask anyway.
“No, like you I didn’t want to draw it out. I was scared. He came from a wealthy family and it was his word against mine.” I’m almost relieved at her answer. That someone around here understands me.
“I know how that feels.”
“You’re brave, Mackenzie. Doing this on your own shows just how strong you truly are. Just promise me if you need to talk, you’ll reach out. Okay?” I nod and take onboard her advice. The last eighteen months I’ve kept to myself, holding everything in. Maybe a friend wouldn’t hurt. Maybe opening up wouldn’t be so hard, knowing she went through the same thing.
“Thanks, Kelly. I think you’re brave and strong, too.” I place my free hand over hers. I watch a smile spread across her lips briefly and I can’t help but return it.
“Well, that’s enough deep stuff for the night. I better get to bed.” She drops her hand from mine and stands.
“See you in the morning.” She places her cup in the sink and leaves me sitting alone thinking about her words.
I know why I don’t want to involve the police, and I know why I should.
Neither decision is going to help me. All I know is, right now I’m safe. No one is coming for me. No one is asking questions, and after having my world come down around me, I’m not going to go looking for trouble.
If trouble comes knocking, then I will be ready.
“You have to be shitting me,” I curse while trying to flip the damn omelet for the fifth time.
“You okay there?” A voice startles me, causing me to jump back in a scream. “Shit, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” I turn around at the voice and come face-to-face with someone I’ve met before. Almost black hair, green eyes, legs molded into dark jeans.
“Detective Carter, what are you doing here?” I back up, knocking the handle of the pan, watching it and the omelet I’ve been trying to perfect, fall to the floor.
Oh, God, is he here for me?
“Didn’t Beau tell you I was coming?” He steps forward, tears a napkin from the roll and starts to pick up the mess on the floor.
“Umm, no?” I calm my breathing and force myself to relax.
“Well, that explains the jumpy reception.” He chuckles as he comes to stand in front of me. “Sorry about the omelet.”
“No problem, it was already ruined.” I watch him place the pan back on the stovetop and step back. My hands flex in front of me. My initial instinct is to run for it, but I push the feeling away. In the past, I learned the hard way the police can’t be trusted. Not when they were under the influence of Chad’s father, Mayor Morre.
“I can see your head running a mile a minute there, sweetheart. I’m not here to bring you any harm. I’m just here to take your statement.” A slight grin pulls at the side of his face, only relaxing me a little.