Page 2 of The Reluctant Hero

This israge. Something that’s taking over my mind and body. Wrapping me soul deep in barbed wire I don’t want to escape from, despite the pain. My heart begins to race. My whole body shakes as my jaw clenches, gnashing my teeth to the point of pain.

“Sweetheart, I’m ready up here.”

The muffled sound of his voice has me standing up with the phone safely cradled against my belly. I can feel tears spilling over my cheeks, but I keep laughing. Not loud but enough that I think distantlyI’ve lost it. Then that thought is buried under rage, too.

“Just a second,” I call out in a wild voice that shakes.

Just a second. After six years and some change of marriage, it took just asecondto rip my world apart.

I’m going to return the favor.

My hands seem steady as I unlock the door, swinging the portal wide with a self-assurance fueled by adrenaline.

I pace around the couch, exit the living room, and stop at the base of the stairs. He’s standing on the second-floor landing, looking down at me. His body is relaxed, his smile sly still. Then he sees my return maniacal grin, and his expression falters.

“Sweetheart?” He asks cautiously. His pet name for me.

I wonder what he callsher?

“What’s up, Fucker?” I ask, laughter spilling out of my throat.

The voice of my mother interrupts my thoughts.

“Language, Amanda. Don’t let people see you acting less than a lady.”

It’s overlapped by my retired marine father quickly.

“If any boy hurts you,I want you to make sure dentures are the only option for solid foodforthe rest of his fucking life, Amanda.”

I know which voice I’m listening to. Sorry mom.

“What’s wrong?” His mellow voice is tight with concern now. He’s walking to the head of the stairs.

“Not much,” I give him an exaggerated shrug and hold up his phone.

When he sees it, he pauses. His eyes slowly move from it to me. I’m expecting dread to rise. Panic. Sadness, maybe.

Instead, he looksimpatient.

That eye-rolling look will break me later. I know it. But right now, I’m out of control with rage and ready to let it loose.

“Do you think this case is really breakproof?” I ask innocently and shake the phone.

“Amanda,” he takes the first step, his voice dropping into a warning I’m no longer listening to. Gone are the days when I bow my head, sigh, and give in to make him happy. Not tonight. Never again.

“I’ve always wanted to test it,” I laugh. It’s starting to sound hysterical.

My arm rears back, my feet sliding into position as if I’m a professional athlete, and I release it as hard as I can. I was aiming at him, but I have to face even more facts. Even without the wine, my throwing skills are at the same athletic prowess of a panda. Surprisingly, the launch over the stairs is beautiful. I feel like a cross between a baseball star and a football quarterback. I’m waiting for it to crack against the wall. Instead, it disappears from my sight and keeps going until I hear glass shattering. The house alarm goes off, and my eyes widen in shock.

I missed him, but I scored for the win.

The childish instinct to run for it before the cops come knocks my brain sideways. Within a split second, I have my purse and car keys in hand. Then I’m at the car door and dropping inside.

The tires squeal as I take off with no idea where I’m going.

2

Sacrifice

---