Husband by Choice

“And when you stood up to him and told him it was wrong and you weren’t going to keep it quiet, he did this to you,” she said, understanding.

Another affirmative half nod.

“I coun ell hi I o hi.” The last word ended on a nasal sound.

“You couldn’t tell him you love him?”

Yvonne blinked her good eye.

Doing what she had to do to help her friend, Jenna remembered back, put herself right in that bed with Yvonne, and said, “Because your heart is too bruised. You couldn’t just open up and take him back wholeheartedly after what he’d done. Because you couldn’t give him that power over you,” she guessed.

Yvonne’s nod was bigger this time.

“And that’s why he hit you?”

A smaller nod. Accompanied by a wince. The asshole had obviously hurt his wife’s neck, among other things.

“I o he ees I o.” I know he needs—love? The nasally grunts preceded more tears. And Jenna knew how badly it was hurting Yvonne to speak. Recognized, also, that she needed to talk or she wouldn’t be putting herself through the agony. Other than the top of the one hand Jenna was touching, most of Yvonne’s visible skin was bandaged. It looked as if fingers on both her hands were broken. There was no other way for the woman to express thoughts that she clearly needed to get out.

So she guessed what Yvonne was trying to say. Made a wrong guess and tried again. Yvonne turned her head just an inch to the side, indicating another wrong guess. And waited.

“You know he needs your love?”

Yvonne nodded.

“Yvonne, you are not in any way to blame for this.” Jenna was standing now, not to tower over her friend, but to lean in closer than the chair beside the bed would allow. “Look at me,” she said and waited for Yvonne to do so.

“This is me talking. I’ve been right where you are. Inside and out,” she reminded her. And knew that Yvonne knew that she had. Which was why Yvonne was talking to her.

Counseling was good. Great. Necessary. And sometimes, it just wasn’t enough.

Sometimes going where it hurt most was the only way to heal the hurt.

“Steve was the younger brother of my last foster mother.” She told the woman something she’d never told anyone. Not any of the counselors. Not Max.

Because telling hadn’t seemed necessary then.

Yvonne’s good eye opened wider and her look focused.

Jenna swallowed. Longed for a glass of water. And said, “I was sixteen when I was placed with her. I’d been through a couple of different homes, I was withdrawn and they kept changing my home thinking that would somehow help.”

At the time she’d thought they were all forgetting that she’d lost her entire family and would never be happy again.

With the clarity of passed time and some more years of life experience, she understood that no one knew what to do with her. There was absolutely no way anyone was going to be able to fix what ailed her. Or to somehow change her back into a normal girl.

And doing something was better than doing nothing.

“I met Steve at the party his sister threw for my high school graduation party. He was a beat cop then, but he’d already won a commendation for preventing a robbery and saving the old couple inside the store from being hurt. His sister had practically threatened him that if he didn’t come to my party she was going to disown him,” Jenna remembered aloud.

“I think she was afraid there wasn’t going to be anyone there. I didn’t have any friends. And obviously, no family. She’d been widowed young and had a son in college. He and his girlfriend were coming and she’d sent out invitations to other people in town, but...”

She stopped, realizing that she’d been going on about something that had nothing to do with what Yvonne needed to hear.

“Go o,” Yvonne said. Her eyes told Jenna how intently she was listening.

“Steve was one of the first ones there. His place was about an hour away and he practically lived for his job, volunteering to work holidays because he didn’t have a spouse or kids like most of the officers in his squad, which is why I hadn’t met him before.”

She wasn’t getting the timing right on this, but was telling it as it came to her. It had been so long ago. So long since