Page 96 of Surrender

“That’s so insulting. I didn’t want any of that. I never gave you that impression.”

He continues as if I didn’t speak. “So when this business opportunity fell into my lap, I took it. I did it for you. I thought if I could hire you some help, maybe I’d get to fuck my wife again.”

The M&M’s sit in my stomach like lead. A picture swirls in the front of my mind, one I don’t recognize. This twisted tale of events is a distant cousin to the reality we lived. “What business opportunity?”

“It’s not important,” he snaps.

“It is if you want to see me.”

“I was gambling,” he spits as if the words cling to his tongue.

A startled gasp precedes a laugh without humor. “Oh my god, gambling isn’t a business opportunity, you asshole!”

“It was when I was good at it!”

“Let me guess, you got yourself into debt, so your brilliant idea was to fake your death.”

“I did it for you,” he fights weakly.

“Oh no. This was pure selfishness. How does this explain the men watching the house?”

He gives a defeated sigh. “That was to put pressure on when I started to rack up debt.”

My palm hits the steering wheel. “I’d say the pressure was there, wouldn’t you?” The fear he instilled in me without clueing me in makes me sick. “This is your mess to figure out, Devon. I’m not helping you.”

“I need the money.” His voice turns hard, so different from the quiet tone a moment ago.

“No. I have to return that money so I don’t wind up in a jail cell beside you for fraud.”

“You can’t. It’s mine!”

“No, it isn’t. Because you’re supposed to be dead. You can only blame yourself for this mess.”

With shaking fingers, I yank the phone from my ear and disconnect the call.

I’m numb. The heat blasting from the vents feels like wind against my face. I focus on the snow swirling across my windshield rather than his voice replaying in my head. I gather my fraying nerves enough to put the car into drive and pick up the kids from daycare on autopilot.

I’m grateful for Lucy’s upbeat energy as she sings and chatters away in the back seat. Bennett’s squeals and slight sniffles. He seems to be coming down with a cold, or maybe it’s the change in weather causing his nose to run. My children distract me enough to get us all safely home.

I take note of Jack’s SUV missing from the garage. My fingertips tingle, and it takes me three tries to unlock Bennett’s seat from the base. I wander inside at a sluggish pace, lost in a sea of anxiety.

I have to talk to a lawyer and get the money back to the insurance company. I need to get ahead of anything Devon might try to pull. He has a warrant for his arrest, so it’s only a matter of time until he’s caught. It’s hard to pretend to be dead when you’re in front of a judge, tangled in a pair of handcuffs.

Bennett cries as soon as I pull him from his car seat. I bounce him on my hip and kiss his head.

Dammit, Devon.

I need to make dinner and take care of my kids, not continue to be harassed by his shit.

The baby carrier Jack bought sits on the mantel. I haven’t used it yet, but Bennett seems to like it when Jack wears him on his front. I set the baby down and wrap the fabric around my back, but my fingers shake too much to clasp it. The buckles clack together, seeming to repel one another as my frustration mounts.

And that’s how Jack finds me. Cursing beneath my breath at a plastic buckle, tears welling on my eyelids, Bennett crying from the couch cushions, and Lucy shoving a square of melting chocolate in her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” he demands, crossing the living room to Bennett with Cooper dutifully at his side.

“N-nothing. It’s fine. I just can’t get this to clip together.” I sniff, mounting another fruitless attempt.

Jack moves in close, his warm hand stilling both of mine behind my back. He squeezes my fingers. “Whitney, what’s wrong?”

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