Page 13 of Anders and the Girl Worth Fighting For
“Please, just sign the papers and send them back to the lawyer. I already have everything I need. I don’t even want the house. I’m trying to make this easy for both of us.” I was proud of myself for holding firm and not falling for his bait.
“Easy?” He yelled. “You think this is easy for me?” His rage tore through the phone line between us, piercing me in it’sintensity. I was glad to be far away from him, where he couldn’t get to me. He usually kept his temper in check, but the times he had become angry terrified me. This far surpassed that.
“How will it look if a deacon was divorced? What about my business relationships? They count on me being a family man. You barely managed that and now you’re taking away what little respectability you did give me?” Of course, he would only talk about how this inconvenienced him.
“Goodbye, Bill.”
“Don’t you dare…” I hung on him before he could finish that sentence. My heart raced and my hands shook so badly it took three attempts to hang up the phone. Pride and elation ran through me. I’d done it.
He immediately called me back. Three times. I turned my phone off and made a note to ask Jessica how I could block his number.
I was keyed up for an hour after that call. I directed that energy into giving the bathroom one last good scrubbing, just for something to do. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard a knock on the door.
“It’s just me, Grace,” Jessica called out through the door, and I closed my eyes in relief. I undid the two deadbolts and the chain that we added to the door when I moved in and let her through.
“Guess who just heard from Bill?” she asked as she waltzed in and set down the bag she carried. “He was furious. It was amazing.” She unloaded the groceries as I re-bolted the door.
“I know,” I squeaked out as I went to help her put away the food she brought for me.
“What did you say to him? Tell me everything,” she said, as we finished putting away the groceries in the small fridge and she popped open a can of coke she brought.
“I stuck to the script. Told him I wanted a divorce. Didn’tanswer his questions. Can you believe he said he could get my necklace back? I knew he took it. What do you think he did with it?”
“You’re a badass, Grace.” She hopped up on the counter and I realized I didn’t really have anywhere for her to sit. “I do think he took the necklace. He probably pawned it or something.”
“Probably.” I blushed at her assessment of me as a badass. I didn’t feel like it, but I felt better now that the dreaded conversation was over. I popped the top on my coke and settled onto the foot of my bed to gossip with my cousin.
Chapter Six
Good. Just like that.” I could tell the physical therapist wanted to be soothing, but her voice just grated on my nerves. I sent my forwarding address to Grace, and I still hadn’t heard anything from her. It had been too many weeks since my last letter from her and I was concerned. The last one came before… well before this, which meant she hadn’t written in months. After more than a dozen letters from her, silence for this long didn’t sit right with me.
A million likely scenarios played through my head. She was in an accident. Her asshole husband did something to her. She found out how fucked up I am after the IED and no longer wants to write a broken man. She got a thrill out of writing an active duty, deployed marine, and now that I was a disabled veteran, the thrill was gone. I’m not sure when I went from enjoying letters from a stranger to needing them like I needed air to breathe. Fuck, I was messed up.
I refocused on the task in front of me. Walking. What a fucking mess. I never thought something I had done without thinking for so long would be so hard, but here we are.
“I don’t do well with all this positive feedback, Jane. I need some berating like a true marine,” I said to cover the pain of each step. I gripped the balance bars tight and put weight on my newly fucked up leg. The pain was bearable, but the weaknesswas something else. I could barely put any weight on it, much less put all my weight on it.
“I’ll be sure to get some tips from a drill sergeant for next time. Does that work for you?” She threw back easily. She clearly worked with plenty of injured military vets and knew just how to handle us.
“Perfect. For now, I think I’ll just drag this leg behind me. Maybe a local play could cast me as a gimp,” I joked. Agony stabbed through me with each step, but I didn’t let that stop me. “I need a new profession now, after all.”
“Wouldn’t work. You’re definitely too handsome to be a gimp.”
“Are you flirting with me?” I teased, as I took another step. The struggle distorted my voice and ruined the tone.
“Oh, yes. Definitely.” I think she actually rolled her eyes at me when she said that.
I made it to the end of the short distance between the parallel bars without losing my balance and falling. That was an improvement over yesterday, at least.
“Today’s the day. You ready?” Grey asked from the driver’s seat of his car. He insisted I stay with him when I got out of the hospital. He had even outfitted his house for my wheelchair. But now, I finally got clearance to leave that chair behind permanently and advance on to a cane. I was excited to move around more freely.
We turned the corner, and I saw several cars in the drive of his house. “What’s all this?” I asked as we pulled in behind Tink’s motorcycle.
“Thought we’d have a whole ceremony to celebrate removing the ramp up to the door. I think Duke even got one of those giant red ribbons and matching scissors. You know, just to make it official.”
Grey had added the ramp to the back door because that was the easiest to retrofit and closest to the important parts of the house. Namely, my bedroom and the bathroom. As such, I couldn’t see whatever ridiculous thing the guys had cooked up this time. I swear they all needed better jobs. They had way too much time to fawn over me while I recovered. I hated it. Maybe I loved it.
When we made it to the back of the house, on my own two feet, thank fuck for that, we found a party in full swing. I wasn’t even sure who half the people were, but judging by the fact that most were women, I had an idea about who invited them. We didn’t call him the Duke of Debauchery for nothing. The asshole.
