Page 26 of I Would Die for You

“Well then, whatdidyou mean?”

He walks over to the drinks cabinet and unscrews the cap from the bottle of bourbon we’d been saving for a special occasion. Now, it looks like we’re about to drink it to numb ourselves. The irony isn’t lost on me.

He pours a double measure and knocks it back in one hit, as if to prove my point.

“I’m just saying that it’s likely to be someone who’s been riled by something you’ve done.”

I fix him with a steely glare, daring him to go on. “Rather than anythingyou’vedone,” I say, throwing it back at him when he doesn’t.

He makes a strange gargling sound in the back of his throat, as if the suggestion is so absurd that it’s laughable.

“So, youdothink this is my fault?” I bark.

“That’s not what I said.” He puts his hands on his hips, looking exasperated. “There are a lot of fucked-up people out there who take great umbrage at the smallest of inconveniences. You’re campaigning for one of the community’s favorite beaches to be closed tothe public for eight months of the year. Others don’t think like we do. They believe they have more rights than those of an animal.”

“They’renotgoing to take my daughter to prove the point.”

“Who knows what they might be capable of if they think they’ve suffered an injustice.”

I blanch. No one knows that strength of feeling better than I do. But while I’ve spent years pushing that wasted emotion down deep into my subconscious, forcing it to a place where it is only a simmering ember, it seems that someone is desperate to reignite it again. And as much as I would rather it just be a disgruntled local resident, I only have to picture the woman’s face at my front door to know it’s so much more dangerous than that.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to rule yourself out of this,” I hiss, my tone accusatory to offload my own guilty conscience.

He looks at me as if I’m crazy. Right now I feel I might be, as my brain descends into a dangerous fight-or-flight mode, battling against what it knows to be true and the lies I have to tell myself in order to keep my past from catching up with me.

“Maybe you pushed someone too hard during Hell Week,” I say, referring to the notoriously grueling SEAL training program. “Maybe they didn’t make it through and now hold you accountable.”

Brad shakes his head. “So, whileI’mlooking to condemn someone else for their unreasonable reaction to the good you’re doing,yourfirst port of call is to accuse me of not doing my job properly.”

“They could be preparing to take a swipe at you,” I say unkindly, in a misguided attempt to exonerate my selfish panic.

“I’m not even going to validate that with a response,” says Brad, his brow furrowing as he snatches up his car keys and goes to walk out.

“So, that’s how you want to deal with this, is it?” I yell after him. “Bury your head in the sand and pretend it’s not happening.”

The front door slams and I already hate myself for releasing my bitter vitriol on the one person who least deserves it. But that’s what the weight of carrying this secret around makes me do sometimes.

“Mommy?”

My heart aches to see Hannah standing at the bottom of the stairs, bleary-eyed and holding the cuddly seal she calls Felix under her chin.

“It’s OK, sweetheart,” I say, going to her. “Everything’s OK.”

“Where’s Daddy gone?”

I swallow the self-contempt I feel in this moment, hating myself for making my daughter feel even more insecure than she does already. “He had to go run a few errands.”

Hannah looks out at the bright crescent moon whitewashing the front yard. “Why are you and Daddy fighting?” she asks, her voice so tiny.

“It’s OK,” I say again, whisking her up and holding her close to me, desperately needing to feel her heartbeat against my chest.

“But I heard you shouting,” she says sleepily into my ear as I carry her back up the stairs. “And I told the lady youneverfight.”

I freeze two steps from the top, my blood turning ice-cold, but force myself not to jump to conclusions. I need her to tell me everything she’s ready to tell me, but I don’t know how to do that without my own fears bleeding out, feeding her own.

“Will I get in trouble for lying to her?” she asks, snapping me out of my stupor.

“Of course not,” I exclaim. “You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong.”

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