Page 207 of Poison Vows

I need to see my wife… but I run into her grandmother instead.

“What a sorry excuse of a human being you look,” Marie says coldly. “But then again, you’ve done your best all your life to appear detached. Maybe this is the real you?”

I’m drunk, in pain, my heart is likely in regression, but all I can do in this moment is drop to my knees and apologize.

“I just… I need to talk to her, please,” I beg. “I won’t take much of her time at all. I just need to see her.”

Marie stares at me, pity flashing in her eyes.

“You know, Emmett.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You’ve tried so hard to be detached from any human emotions and feelings after your mother. I knew it wasn’t going to end well,” she says gently. “I also knew that my granddaughter was too stubborn, internalizing her pain each time, choosing to hurt herself than admit when she’s suffering. Who knew you would both be like this?”

I groan, disliking what she’s saying.

“Now, I don’t know what happened between you two, but listen boy, you either tell the truth here and now or you leave her alone for good this time. If I ever get a whiff of you again, I will sacrifice my own salvation to deal with you.”

Marie doesn’t shout or scream or seethe. She calmly states her case, gives me a sardonic smile, then gets up and leaves, not sparing me another glance.

That night, I go back to my house in Westbrook Blues and shower, shave, and sober up.

And to do that, I go down to the sparring ring, the same one I once fought Vaughn and then got punished for not ending him.

Silently, I see another figure walk into the gym, wearing gloves, ready to fight.

George appears before me and waits.

It doesn’t take long for me to charge at him and beat the crap out of him while getting beat up as well.

Each hit is fair.

It’s painful.

It’s not enough.

We go at it until we collapse on the canvas, breathing hard and deep.

“This is your fault,” I seethe, laboring to breathe.

“You should’ve told her,” George counters. “We made mistakes back then, but you should’ve told her how in love you’ve always been with her. Don’t miss the opportunity now.”

Two days later, after I’ve completely sobered up and look as decent as possible, I find out where they are keeping my wife.

But see, trouble always seems to happen in ways that can’t be predicted or preconceived.

It justhappens.

To get in her room, I have no choice but to knock out the beefy asshats by the door. Nothing was going to keep me from seeing her.

But they keep coming and I’m at my weakest right now.

I keep fighting, but something out of a horror movie happens suddenly.

Some jerk appears out of nowhere pointing a gun at me. He pulls the trigger, but I’m not the one who gets shot.

As if in sickening slow motion, I turn around and see my wife looking at me in horror, and then she looks down at her chest and she goes down.

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