Save Me (The Archer Brothers 3)

“Oh I don’t know, Amy, because my wife blacked out and was unresponsive with a knife in her hand?”

I brush it off. “It wasn’t anything like that. I was listening to a story Adam was reading and got lost in thought.”

Ray nods, but I can tell he’s not convinced. I pull my arm out of his grasp and head toward the stairs to see Chloe.

“Amy,” he calls when my foot is on the first step. I can pretend I don’t hear him or I can answer him. I hesitate too long because he’s now in the doorway looking at me.

I smile sweetly. “Yes, Ray?”

“What was the story?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The story that had you so consumed you blacked out—what was it?”

I shake my head. “I don’t remember.” The lie falls easily from my

lips. It’s been years since I’ve lied to him and I hate how I can fall back into the pattern so easily.

“You don’t remember?”

I shake my head. “I blacked out, remember?” With that I continue my trek upstairs and into my daughter’s room. I realize once the words are out of my mouth that I’ve slipped. I’ve admitted that I blacked out today and knowing Ray, he’s not going to let it go.

I stand in her doorway, resting against the jamb. She has headphones on while she’s doing her homework and her head bobs up and down. The mirror on her wall shows me her reflection. She looks up and sees me, giving me a radiant smile that reminds me of her father. Someday I’m going to sit her down and tell her about him, but not now. Ray doesn’t even know, and I’d really like to keep it to myself for now.

“Hi, Mom. How was your day?”

“It was good.” I step into her room and shut the door, something I rarely do. We’re big on having open doors around here as long as everyone is awake and dressed. I like to sit at the bottom of the stairs and hear her moving around. I wouldn’t be able to do that behind a closed door.

“How was yours?” I ask, sitting on her bed.

“It was good. I have a test in history that I’m studying for.” I can’t help but laugh as she rolls her eyes.

“Has he ever failed you?” I can’t bring myself to ask if her dad has failed her. Ray isn’t her dad, but he’s all she’s ever known. Her father would’ve never failed her, not in life or anything else. He was smitten with her from the day she was born.

“No, but Dad holds me to a higher standard than the other students.”

Of course he does. But I don’t say it out loud. I can’t speak ill of Ray; he’s a good man and saved me from myself.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

“I’m fine, sweetie. Dinner will be soon. Da—” I have to clear my throat. “Dad’s making pot roast.”

I get up and open her door. “And fresh bread,” I add with a smile before I walk down the hall to the bathroom. Once inside, I lock the door, turn on the faucet, and pull out a towel. I found myself here months ago after Ray bought up the death of a Navy SEAL, and I find myself here again.

I hold the towel to my face and scream into it, sobbing as my body convulses. My heart aches, my lungs grasp for air, and my head spins. I’ve been living a quiet life and one article has changed that. I should take comfort in knowing he’s behind bars and can never hurt my daughter again, but I don’t because she’s still out there and for all I know she’s doing the hunting for him.

One article reminds me of the worst time in my life. A time when I made the choice to run so I could protect my daughter from a monster who informed me that my husband was dead a day after I reported him to the authorities.

The Greyhound bus made a stop and we got off in this small town, which was divided by a highway, and I found a run-down motel that rented rooms by the week. I had enough money for a week before I’d have to find a job. That job came in the form of cashier at the only gas station in town. I took the job because they’d allow me to bring my little girl to work as long as she stayed out of the way.

She did and I earned enough to continue to pay rent and feed her some healthy food. With my only bills being rent and food, I was able to save enough for us to move from a run-down motel to an apartment where my daughter and I shared a room. It wasn’t until I met Ray that things started to change. I know he took pity on me, the single mom working at a gas station, but he never let on if it bothered him that I was destitute.

When he asked me, Amy Jones, to marry him I said yes because he was going to provide for my daughter. He was going to protect her when I couldn’t. He was going to give us a house with land and a stable income. All things I couldn’t provide for her.

But I still love the husband I could never bury, the man who gave me my daughter and made my world so bright. To this day it pains me to know that he was alone when they set him in the ground and that his wife and daughter weren’t there to say good-bye. Someday, I’ll go back and tell him how much I love him. I know he’d be proud of me, knowing I did what I had to do to protect our daughter.

Pulling the towel away from my face, I toss it in the hamper, and then make an effort to remove the rest of my make-up because it’s the only way I can explain my red eyes. Washing my face with hot water will also give my blotchy skin an excuse.