stopped.
The top step squeaked as she stepped on it. “You only know one way. Fast and protective. It’s just the way you are. You’re always the leader. First in the door. Last to leave the job. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you. But every time you came home hurt was like being stabbed in my heart.”
He couldn’t argue. Nothing could change how he approached life. He also understood not every woman was cut out to be married to a lawman.
“All I wanted was for you to change jobs so you wouldn’t get killed. I thought kicking you out might make you change.” Another creak. Another step. She sighed. “From the looks of the scars on your chest, that didn’t happen.”
“Not hardly.” This conversation needed to end before the what-happened questions began. He glanced back over his shoulder. “At least my mother left a fifty and a one-way ticket to Crayton when she threw my gym bag on the porch, locked me out of the house, and shipped me to my father. I was only twelve years old. Guess I wasn’t good enough then, either.”
“I never said you weren’t good enough.” The whisper of her voice echoed across the yard. “Never.”
“That’s what I heard. Loud and clear.”
…
Marcy stood at the kitchen window, watching JB run the perimeter of the cleared area of their property. She’d never known what happened to bring him to live with his dad in Crayton. He’d always been vague on that point, no matter how hard she’d pressed him. Vague about his mother, too. All that had ever been said was that his mother couldn’t take care of him. Marcy and everyone else in town assumed she must have been ill. No one was surprised when two years later, word came of her passing.
Of course, everyone knew what a bastard his dad had been. The sheriff even tried to get JB to file charges for the beatings, but he always said he’d tough it out. That every day he made it through was one day closer to being out of that house for good. All he needed was a football scholarship. He’d worked hard. Studied hard. Got a scholarship. And earned every hard-fought scrap of his degree.
She’d never been so proud in her life as the day he tossed his mortar board in the air and yelled he loved her. Her world had been complete knowing she’d share whatever he’d give of his life.
Now…now, she wanted to know more. Needed to know more. She’d counseled a lot of people who’d been hurt in some way during childhood. Surely she could help him make peace with those memories.
Clenching his arm tight against his side, he stepped inside and grabbed a glass of water.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Nothing. Just leaned wrong and got that bruise to hurting.” He headed to the living room. “I’m gonna catch a little of the game ‘til you and Betsy leave for the mall.”
“Mind if I join you?”
He clicked on the television, motioned her to come on in. Fifteen minutes later, he had his feet up on the ottoman, and she was curled into the corner on the opposite end of the sofa. Neither had said a word.
She reached over and muted the set, then turned to face him, back straight, hands in her lap, like a skilled listener. “If you ever want to talk about your mom or anything else, I’d be happy to listen.”
His feet hit the floor before she could blink. “Is that all you got out of what I said?”
“I just thought I might be able to help. After all, I do have some background in this sort of thing.” What was he so angry about? “You know, people pay good money for my advice.”
“I’m your ex-husband. Not your client.” He clicked the TV off and headed to the hallway.
“I know that.”
“Do you? Do you even know what that means?” He braced his hands against the doorframe. “And, just for the record, I’ve faced my past and moved on. Maybe you should do the same. Stop being a counselor with straight A’s from college, and just be a woman. That doesn’t mean you’re giving up your
The top step squeaked as she stepped on it. “You only know one way. Fast and protective. It’s just the way you are. You’re always the leader. First in the door. Last to leave the job. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you. But every time you came home hurt was like being stabbed in my heart.”
He couldn’t argue. Nothing could change how he approached life. He also understood not every woman was cut out to be married to a lawman.
“All I wanted was for you to change jobs so you wouldn’t get killed. I thought kicking you out might make you change.” Another creak. Another step. She sighed. “From the looks of the scars on your chest, that didn’t happen.”
“Not hardly.” This conversation needed to end before the what-happened questions began. He glanced back over his shoulder. “At least my mother left a fifty and a one-way ticket to Crayton when she threw my gym bag on the porch, locked me out of the house, and shipped me to my father. I was only twelve years old. Guess I wasn’t good enough then, either.”
“I never said you weren’t good enough.” The whisper of her voice echoed across the yard. “Never.”
“That’s what I heard. Loud and clear.”
…
Marcy stood at the kitchen window, watching JB run the perimeter of the cleared area of their property. She’d never known what happened to bring him to live with his dad in Crayton. He’d always been vague on that point, no matter how hard she’d pressed him. Vague about his mother, too. All that had ever been said was that his mother couldn’t take care of him. Marcy and everyone else in town assumed she must have been ill. No one was surprised when two years later, word came of her passing.
Of course, everyone knew what a bastard his dad had been. The sheriff even tried to get JB to file charges for the beatings, but he always said he’d tough it out. That every day he made it through was one day closer to being out of that house for good. All he needed was a football scholarship. He’d worked hard. Studied hard. Got a scholarship. And earned every hard-fought scrap of his degree.
She’d never been so proud in her life as the day he tossed his mortar board in the air and yelled he loved her. Her world had been complete knowing she’d share whatever he’d give of his life.
Now…now, she wanted to know more. Needed to know more. She’d counseled a lot of people who’d been hurt in some way during childhood. Surely she could help him make peace with those memories.
Clenching his arm tight against his side, he stepped inside and grabbed a glass of water.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“Nothing. Just leaned wrong and got that bruise to hurting.” He headed to the living room. “I’m gonna catch a little of the game ‘til you and Betsy leave for the mall.”
“Mind if I join you?”
He clicked on the television, motioned her to come on in. Fifteen minutes later, he had his feet up on the ottoman, and she was curled into the corner on the opposite end of the sofa. Neither had said a word.
She reached over and muted the set, then turned to face him, back straight, hands in her lap, like a skilled listener. “If you ever want to talk about your mom or anything else, I’d be happy to listen.”
His feet hit the floor before she could blink. “Is that all you got out of what I said?”
“I just thought I might be able to help. After all, I do have some background in this sort of thing.” What was he so angry about? “You know, people pay good money for my advice.”
“I’m your ex-husband. Not your client.” He clicked the TV off and headed to the hallway.
“I know that.”
“Do you? Do you even know what that means?” He braced his hands against the doorframe. “And, just for the record, I’ve faced my past and moved on. Maybe you should do the same. Stop being a counselor with straight A’s from college, and just be a woman. That doesn’t mean you’re giving up your
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