Page 57 of Recklessly in Love

Still, given the volume of higher-priority cases, it takes a few hours before they can get to me. Once they’ve assessed and photographed my bruises, I have to wait another hour for the sheriff to show up so that I can give an official statement. I make sure to tell him about today and seeing Ned try to drug Carrie on New Year’s Eve. I even mention the coffee cup with his prints that I never drank from. I’d intended to find a way to get it tested, but I’m betting that’s about to be taken care of.

“All right, ma’am. I’ll get this report filed this evening, and someone should be up to collect the evidence you mentioned tomorrow. I assume you’d like to press charges?” He gives me a look that clearly says, “You’d better press charges.”

“Absolutely,” I say firmly.

He nods his approval, his lips pressed into a thin line that tells me exactly how he feels about men who abuse women. “With any luck, what you’ve given us will allow us to nail this bastard.”

Once he leaves, I’m given my discharge papers. As I head back to the car, exhausted and realizing that making dinner for Greg is out, I check my phone to see if there’s time to pick up something on my way back.

I find that it’s after six, when I was supposed to meet Greg, and I have a few missed texts, one call, and a voicemail. All from Greg.

I contemplate calling, but this is a conversation I want to have in person, so I send him a text instead, letting him know that I’m okay and that I’ll be there in a half hour or so to explain everything.

When I return to the B&B, Greg is pacing the sitting room. He takes one look at me and stops in his tracks. The anger on his face makes me take a step back.

“Who did this to you?” he demands. I can practically hear his teeth grinding together from here.

“Ned. But I’m betting he looks worse,” I offer. The veins on Greg’s forehead visibly flex, and I hold up my hands. “Let me explain. I’m fine, I promise.”

The door opens, and a couple I’ve never seen walk in. They give us a friendly, though curious smile as they make their way through the sitting room and up the stairs, presumably to their room.

“Let’s go to my room,” I say, sliding my hand into Greg’s and pulling him down the hall.

When we get inside, I find the bed made up and my things folded onto the armchair in the corner. I settle on the end of the bed and pull Greg down next to me. Then I tell him what happened at the grocery store. Greg grows even quieter as I talk, his jaw clenching and his hands curling into fists.

When I finish, he looks like he’s ready to blow a fuse. “I’m going to fucking kill him,” he grits out.

I close my eyes briefly and shake my head. “Don’t you see? You don’t need to do a damn thing. He’s finally going to get his.”

Greg’s jaw grinds. “I fucking hope so.” His unfocused eyes finally zone in on me. “Why’d you go there, Joanie? You promised me you’d be more careful.”

My brow furrows. “That’s what you’re focusing on in all of this?”

He shakes his head. “I’m glad you’re safe. But I hate that you put yourself in harm’s way like that. Again.”

I bristle at his tone. “I can take care of myself, Greg. You know that.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “I know. But I feel like you have this need to prove it. And promises mean something to me, Joanie.”

I reel back like he slapped me. “So I’m just supposed to not go places I might run into someone unsavory because you’re afraid for me? Even when I’m not?”

Greg’s nostrils flare. “Maybe you should be a little more afraid. There’s such a thing as being too fearless.”

An ironic laugh escapes me. Given that I’d planned to use this evening to show him that I wasn’t letting my fear of commitment stop me from being with him, I find this twist particularly infuriating. I was prepared to accept him for who he is and what we could be to each other. But maybe he’s not ready to do the same. Maybe I had him all wrong.

“I think you should go,” I tell him, standing abruptly and pointing at the door.

“I think we should talk about this,” he insists, rising and putting himself in front of me.

“Talk about what, how you want me to become your cooperative little woman? Newsflash: I’m your city girl, mountain man. I come with self-defense training that I’m not afraid to use. I don’t let creepy jerks who think they can get away with threatening women keep me from living my life. And I also don’t let misogynistic assholes who think they can change me do it either.”

“You know that’s not who I am or what I’m saying,” he responds.

I look at him like he’s nuts. “Sounds like it to me.”

“Then, obviously, we need to start over. I —”

I hold up a hand. “Don’t bother. If you won’t leave, I will.” I grab my bag from the closet and shove the clothes from the chair into it.

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