Page 74 of Before Now

“It’s cold,” he says. “Get in. I’ll take you the rest of the way.”

I want to point out he has to turn around now, which will take longer than if I walk. Not that I’d ever willingly get in a car with him. Instead, I bite back half the snark and simply say, “No.”

“I thought you’d appreciate the ride.” Low. A secret. “Come on, Remi.”

“No,” I repeat. Slow. A fuck off.

I dismiss him with a once-over and dodge around the rear of his car.

If I have my way, I’ll speak nothing else until after dinner.

* * *

I have my way.Maybe not in the blue floral dress hung on my doorknob when I went upstairs. Certainly not by ending up squeezed between the favorites at the table. But I don’t utter a single syllable the entire time.

No one even bats an eye, thanks to my mom’s hazy smile, her dropping her water glass mid-drink, and the apology she stutters out in slow-mode. Not that anyone dared bat a speculative eye at any of that either.

“Migraine,” Daniel explains. “Rebecca’s been suffering with one all week, and the effects on her … That’s what happened here.” He brushes his thumb over the split above her eye, covered in foundation. “A dizzy spell got the best of her.”

One of the wife’s fuckingawwwwhile bile breaches my throat.

His hand finds my mom’s, bringing it onto the table, displaying his devout affection for his poor love to the audience. “Why don’t you go lie down, honey?”

She’s pliant as he helps her from the table and to the stairs, which she manages to disappear up without crawling. I stare at my plate, not eating after the performance.

With Mrs. Kane safely stowed out of sight, Daniel catches my wrist after dinner before I can escape to my bedroom.

“Help clean up, won’t you?” His grip tightens enough to warn but not enough to show.

I jerk my arm down, breaking his hold and meeting his stare while I grab a plate. He moves everyone to the den for drinks. I swipe my mom’s surprisingly untouched wine glass, gulping most of the red down on my way to the kitchen. Then I empty the rest of the bottle and polish it off too.

Completing my task, I fold over the top of the kitchen island and hide my face in the crook of my arm. I need a minute to just be. But I should know better.

“Such a good little wife you’ll make.”

His voice lands on my skin like pellets of acidic rain. I straighten, rotating to Elvin slithering his way in from the hallway. My lip curls at the comment, but I continue my wordless streak as I move for the other doorway. He slides in front of me with a smirk.

“What the fuck is your problem,” I spit out.

His gaze drops to my chest, so I cross my arms over it. “Chief’s told me a lot about you. What you get up to.”

I huff a derisive breath and maneuver around him, only for another body to swing around the corner. The other favorite, Marlo, fills the doorway. He plays the part of a golden retriever. He looks it too with bouncy blond hair and a quick smile. But his actions come off forced, as if right below the surface waits teeth and the instinct to attack without warrant.

“Hey, Remi,” he says. His eyes bounce from me to Elvin and back. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope.” I step, but he stays anchored, and when I feel Elvin shift closer behind me, I dig my nails into my palms.

“I was just about to tell her how nice she looks tonight,” he says.

“Ah.” Marlo nods. “The chief has said how much you like to express yourself with your outfits.”

The shudder happens even before Elvin’s finger draws down my back, over the dress’s fabric that covers it entirely. “Like this one, right, Marlo? What does it say to you?” Another finger runs down the sleeve to where it stops halfway down my arm.

“Let. Me. Leave,” I grit out. My breaths shallow, throat constricting from the acid and bared teeth caging me in. “You are both fucking disgusting.” I try to turn for the hallway, but Marlo presses closer. I shove him in the chest, gaining nothing other than another grin of misdirection.

“Now, Remi, that’s not very ladylike. Then again, you’re not a lady from what I hear.” His gaze lifts to Elvin behind me. “You saw how she pushed me. You think she likes it rough?”

I’m light-headed, the kitchen tilting as I struggle to inhale. My chest’s about to crack open from the beating it takes from my heart.

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