Page 53 of Tin

“That’s fucking insane.” Then I realize I just swore at her attorney. “I mean, how could anyone in their right mind believe that?”

“Because. It was her family against his. Quinn didn’t have any other friends or boyfriends. Jackson made sure of that early on. Then the district attorney came along and pointed out how physically strong Quinn was. How she’d been wrangling twelve-hundred-pound horses from the time she was five. They showed pictures of her tossing hay bales around in the barn like they were pillows. Others of her hoisting multiple fifty-pound feedbags on her shoulder from the time she and Jackson’s sister had a bet on who could carry more. Quinn was a tough girl. It was almost impossible to listen to them talk about her, see those pictures and then look at her in person and still believe that she would just take a beating from anyone.”

There’s silence on her end of the line, but I’m still trying to understand everything I’ve just heard, so I don’t say anything either and just wait for her to continue. “Self-defense was even harder to argue when there were no weapons in the house. No proof she’d had reason to believe her life was in danger, as none of the abuse had ever been documented. All the jury had to go on was what the State wastelling them. And our repeated insisting that the State was getting it wrong. But this time things are different. This time we have you. And I’m hoping that you’ll be able to paint a different, more accurate picture of who Quinn really is. I would like you to come here and tell the jury about the Quinn you know. So they can see her the way you do. Not the way the Murphies want people to see her.”

“I’ll do whatever I can. But I should warn you. You may have another client on your hands if any of those assholes cross my path or say a single word against her in my presence.” I know I sound like a macho douchebag, but I can’t help it. I mean it. I’ll lose it if anyone inflicts any more pain on her.

“Trust me. At this point, we’ll all be going to prison. I don’t think any of us can take any more of this shit than we already have.” Then she hangs up without saying goodbye. She must have a lot of phone conversations with Quinn.

A little while later I get a text from Kirsten with my flight confirmation info. I’m leaving tonight, and this time I’m not coming back without her.

QUINN

I catch myself cradling my own stomach again. I’ve been doing it all morning. Ever since I saw the results. There’s a baby in there. And that thought alone fills me with more joy than I ever thought possible.

A baby wasn’t part of the plan. Not yet anyway, but now that it’s happening, I just know it will change everything. This baby will save us. It will save Jackson. He’ll finally have to get help. I know he will. He won’t risk his temper getting the better of him with his own child. Not after what life was like for him growing up with his father.

“Abby?” His voice booms through the house the second he walks through the door. He’s in a good mood. And it’s only going to get better when I tell him the big news.

“Hey, handsome.” I greet him with a long, deep kiss. He’s the only boy I’ve ever kissed this way, but I can’t imagine anyone else’s lips feeling this good on mine.

He slaps my butt, his way of letting me know the kiss is about to come to an end. “Grab the cooler and fill it up. Mac and I are going fishing.”

He takes off down the hall to change clothes. He’s been working horses all morning, and his jeans are caked in dust and dirt. “I was kind of hoping we could spend the evening together. I was going to make chicken alfredo pasta.” It’s the only thing I know how to cook, but it’s his favorite, so it’s the only dish that matters.

He comes out of the bedroom already wearing his shorts and t-shirt. “Go ahead and make it anyway. I’ll eat when I get back.”

Since he’s not really taking the bait, I try another approach and slink my arm around his neck, running my fingers through the hair on the back of his head while my other hand starts to undo his pants. “Are you sure you don’t think you’d have a better time with me than Mac?” I murmur into his ear before I flick his lobe with my tongue.

“Abby. Come on, stop playing around. I really need that cooler packed. Mac’s waiting at the dock already.” He shoves me off him and I step back, tucking the fallen strands of hair behind my ear and trying not to show that I’m embarrassed.

“Sorry. It’s just...” I bite my lip. This isn’t how I wanted to tell him.

“What?” His brow is cocked, and he stops halfway to the kitchen. Only it’s not curiosity that’s etched on his face. It’s annoyance.

I muster a smile. “I’m pregnant.”

Suddenly it’s like all the light is snuffed right out of him. His eyes narrow, and all the white in them seems to disappear until there’s nothing but blackness. He doesn’t say anything. Just storms past me, grabbing Harley by his collar as he goes by me and dragging him into the bedroom where he slams the door shut. And I know why. There’s only one reason he ever locks up Harley.

Ishould run. I should scream for help. But I’ve never done either, so I’m not sure I know how. Except this time it’s different. He’s not going to hurt just me.

“You stupid fucking cunt,” he snarls just as his fist makes impact with my abdomen and I curl over from the pain.

“Jackson.” I try and breathe through the pain. “Please. Not my stomach. You’ll hurt the baby.Yourbaby.”

He laughs. An evil laugh, the one I hate. It doesn’t matter how often I tell myself it’s not the real Jackson. It’s just the damaged, frightened boy still fighting back against the man he could never escape growing up. In the end, neither knows how to exist without the other, and I’m starting to think I won’t be able to exist as long as they both do.

“Oh, Abby. My dumb little Abs. You really think I want you to have my baby? Why? So the stupid brat can suck up all your time? Never mind what it would do to your body! Fuck that. We’re putting a stop to this mess right now.” He throws another punch at my gut, and this time the force of it sends me down to the floor.

“Jackson. Don’t, please,” I beg. “I swear, nothing will change. You’ll still be the most important person in my life, you know that. And I’ll exercise. I’ll watch what I eat. I promise, you won’t find an ounce of fat on me. Just a tiny baby belly. And that’ll be gone right away.” But I know nothing I say will make a difference. It never does. And I won’t cry. Crying only makes it worse.

“Itwillbe gone right away,” he promises with a smile. Then his foot lifts and swings in my direction, heel first.

I can’t even scream. I used to. Years ago, when it first started happening. But I learned quickly that more noise meant more creative ways to shut me up. Gags. Disgusting things poured down my mouth until I nearly drowned. I’ve had to force my body into learning new ways to react. My mouth still opens from the pain. But now, nothing comes out.

Still gasping for air, I’m not prepared for the second blow. Or the third. After that, I lose count. Harley’s growling and clawing at the bedroom door. In a sick sort of way, I like hearing it because it gives me something to focus on. A sound outside of Jackson’s panting, or the material of his pants being rubbed together as his legs continue to move against one another with each kick. A sound far away from the blood rushing in my own ears or the cries I’ve learned to internalize. A distant sound. Almost like a place I can go so I don’t have to be here.

Then, heat rushes over my thigh. The liquid makes my skirt cling to my legs, and I make the mistake and whimper. Not from the pain. Just the loss.

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