I bury my face in the bed sheet, but that’s exactly the wrong thing to do.
This is Brant’s side of the bed. When I breathe in, the invitingly masculine scent of him fills my nostrils. My eyes burn with tears that I don’t even try not to shed, and then Theo pushes inside me and all I can do is scream. I scream with fury and helplessness and regret. I scream my lungs out into the spot where Brant sleeps…
And then all of a sudden, I stop screaming. A burst of clarity hits me and I look up at the nightstand.
This is Brant’s side of the bed.
There’s a loaded gun in that nightstand.
Everything quiets inside me for just a brief moment. I hear a ringing in my ears, like after you hear something way too loud.
I’m not fighting, but Theo doesn’t expect me to fight. He thinks I’m easy to scare and control. He thinks I’m still the easily led girl who doesn’t know how to stand up for herself even when she really wants to, the girl I was when he knew me.
He doesn’t expect me to try very hard to save myself, so when I reach toward Brant’s nightstand, he doesn’t react. My fingers shake as I quickly yank the drawer open and reach inside.
I expect to be a shaky mess of nerves. Logically, I’m even a little afraid Theo might notice what I’m doing and wrestle the gun away from me. Physically, he’s stronger than I am. He could turn the gun around and use it on me, and then Brant will come home tonight to find that not only has he lost the baby he was so looking forward to loving, he’s also lost the wife who cherished him so tremendously. He’ll be all alone again.
Tears blur my vision so I can scarcely see to aim. I reach down deep and summon every ounce of strength and courage I possess until something calm finally sweeps over me, like the peaceful eye of a terrifying storm.
My fingers curl around the grip of the gun, and I remember how it felt when Brant taught me how to use it. I remember his strong arms wrapped around me and Scout running around barking after I fired it, not knowing what the hell was going on.
I take a deep breath and swing my body around. Theo’s on his knees and too busy chasing his pleasure to think about anything else, so the unexpected movement dislodges him and knocks him unsteady.
“Jesus—”
I hear the surprise in his voice, but then his words stop when he looks down at me.
I’m on my back now, looking up at him. Both of my hands are wrapped firmly around Brant’s gun, my finger poised on the trigger.
“Whoa, Alyssa…” Finally, there’s caution in his voice when he addresses me, but it comes too late. He shouldn’t have underestimated me.
Theo raises his hands as if in surrender.
Fuck his surrender.
I pull the trigger.
29
Alyssa
The explosion of the firearm going off shakes me to my core, and a fraction of a second later, Theo groans with pain and falls sideways onto the bed.
I don’t wait to see if he gets back up.
A surge of adrenaline shoots through me and I roll off the mattress. I run around the bed to grab my phone off the nightstand, keeping my gun trained on Theo’s slumped body the entire time.
I was confident enough when I was below him about to pull the trigger, but now my hand trembles so violently, I’m shocked I don’t drop the damn thing.
I throw open the bathroom door and hurl myself through it before I start hyperventilating. I can’t catch my breath, but I slam the door shut and turn the lock, then I press my back against it and try to collect myself.
I need to call Brant.
I move away from the door, putting the gun down on the counter where we usually put the towels when we’re showering. A kaleidoscope of memories of showering with Brant play out across my mind, and even though it’s weird as hell, it helps calm me down enough to breathe so I can call him.
The phone only rings twice, but each ring seems to go on for three hours. On top of the shaking, I’m scared shitless that I might’ve only nicked Theo. I didn’t see where I hit him, it all happened too fast, but if he stands back up, he’s going to be fucking furious. If he’s furious, he’s going to be able to get through this flimsy bathroom door.
I’ve never smoked in my life, but I suddenly feel desperately in need of a cigarette.
“Hello.”
I nearly collapse with relief at the sound of Brant’s voice coming through the phone. “Brant. Oh, thank God.”
His tone was low and calm when he answered, but upon hearing the sheer panic in mine, that changes real quick.