Page 77 of His Loving Wife

Parenthood produced some challenges; they were still so young themselves. And he knew Kate had made bigger sacrifices. She’d forfeited her scholarship, had less time to write with each passing day. She said she didn’t mind, but he could see the responsibilities weighing on her, slowly stripping away the vibrant woman he’d once known.

By the time Noah was born, they’d each settled into their new roles. He thought they’d accepted the choices they’d made as easily as they’d forgotten the ones they didn’t.This is life, he told himself. Again, with a smile,This isourlife together.

And then there was that night in August.

It had been Andrew’s greatest failure, a loss he believed he would never recover from. Somewhere, in between the years and responsibilities, he’d lost it: the ability to take care of his family. Worse, he feared maybe he’d never had it at all.

And to top it off, the man who had attacked him was his former frat brother, Kate’s ex-lover. He’d stormed back into their lives, as if to say,you never deserved this. You never deserved them.

A person always thinks they know how they’ll react in certain situations—what he or she might do, what he or she might say. Truthfully, Andrew had never considered what would happen if an intruder entered his home in the middle of the night, and perhaps that was his first flaw. He hadn’t prepared. But he did believe he would be able to protect his family when they needed him most, and at that, he had failed.

He tried to block out images from that night, ignore his own disappointment with himself. When that didn’t work, he tried drowning out his thoughts with booze, but that too was an ineffective balm. The alcohol’s warm effects were only temporary—when they relented, he was blindingly more aware of just how incapable he was.

And yet, he couldn’t voice any of his regrets and fears; the latter seemed to grow in size every day. Fear that he wouldn’t be able to protect Willow. Fear that Noah would end up just like him, a coward. Fear Kate would lose respect for him. He was no better equipped to help his family now than he was the night of the invasion.

Sweet, dewy Noah. He was like his father, maybe too much. Already he was being tormented by peers, singled out for not being brave enough. Andrew remembered those tortured feelings, and the only thing worse was imagining his son receiving such treatment now.

In an attempt to distance herself from that night, Willow was trying to grow up. His little girl was gone. Overnight, it seemed. Worse, she was dressing like a skank, pressing boundaries with her mother, giving Kate one more thing to worry about. She was spiraling and all because Andrew had failed to make her feel secure, as a father should.

Then again, was he her father? Paul Gunter didn’t think so. Andrew remembered Paul in flashes; the two had never been close. Those glimpses in memory had stretched since the attack; he now had a clear image in his mind of someone loud, vocal, impulsive. The type who would break into another man’s house, but would also fiercely defend what mattered to him—had that not been his true motive in the first place?

Kate insisted Paul couldn’t be Willow’s father, and he wanted to believe her. She could have had Paul or any other man of her choosing—she went with Andrew. Why? He wondered that then, and even more now. The short answer was love, but that alone wasn’t a renewable resource, was it? Love was conditional, able to be altered by its environment. Maybe Kate, with her smart, strategic brain, had picked Andrew because he was the safer choice.

Sometimes, in his darkest moments, Andrew believed his family would be better off without him, but then he’d think about their lives after he was gone. They’d already suffered one trauma—losing their father and husband would only exacerbate those issues. Besides, he believed suicide was a selfish act, had been taught it was the greatest sin. If only there was a way he could protect his family, find happiness within himself, and put all these dark feelings behind him.

Something inside Andrew appeared to be fighting for attention, a sensation no greater than a whisper. As the months passed, the calling spoke louder, combining with his paranoia and insecurity, until it became a deafening howl he was too weak to ignore.

He was desperate for guidance, for a connection that he’d failed his entire life to create.

He was trapped on a vicious carousel of self-pity, until he found Second Chances, and the ride, at last, came to a halt.

Chapter 41

Now

The storm is fully upon us, darkening the skies and enhancing the dim shadows in the room. It feels like night, the flickering candles scattered across the living room and kitchen resembling a vigil. By now Willow and Noah sense the tension in the room, although they still aren’t sure why I’m so alarmed.

“Let’s sit at the table,” Andrew says. He walks up, putting a hand on each child’s shoulder. They obey, each picking a chair on opposite ends. They must be torn, wondering why I’m adamant about leaving while their father insists we stay. I sit between them at the head of the table, which leaves a clear view of Vincent in the kitchen.

Andrew takes a seat across from me. When I look at him, it’s as though I’m seeing him for the first time. A stranger, in the form of my husband.

I recall everything I’ve uncovered up until now. The articles about the Rogers family didn’t mention anything about a possible culprit; they believe Cal had murdered his family.

And although the jammer was registered in Vincent’s name, it was stored in a bag from Hidden Oaks, our hometown.

Vincent isn’t here to harm Andrew; the men from Second Chances are helping each other. It’s no coincidence that two of his closest friends have lost their families, albeit in different ways. If the media theory is correct, Cal Rogers seems to have killed himself after his family’s murder, and Vincent is very much alive and on the run.

I remember the messages exchanged between Andrew and Trent. It wasn’t Vincent encouraging Trent to impersonate a cop, it was Andrew. He was pulling him into a scheme to fool me. He asked Trent to play the role of Detective Barnes. His sole purpose was to tell me that Paul was released from jail, but why? It wasn’t even true.

I repeat the words back to myself, but this time they take on new meaning.

It wasn’t even true.

Andrew wanted me to believe that Paul was being released. He wanted me to think our family was in danger because it would drive us away from Hidden Oaks and somewhere else. Here.

I think back to the other events of the past month that don’t add up. Andrew quit his job and refused to tell me.

Who’s thinking about their mortgage and bills before they die?

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