Page 49 of Duress
Jessica leavesafter the most grueling six hours of my life. She makes me recount every instance of manipulation, coercion, gaslighting and abuse that Bryce put me through. She has me tell her about the night of the gala, when he tried to dangle me in front of Shane as a bribe for making a backroom deal for one of his clients. She makes me recall everything in vivid detail—going back, repeating details, lining up timelines, confirming facts as she’s able when I give dates and times. She is not leaving any openings for someone to weasel in and discredit my version of events. She photographs the blotchy purple bruises on my neck and arms and the stitches on my head. When she leaves the hotel room, I am wrung out and hollow. My face is red and puffy from crying, but now I am empty. Empty of tears. Of feelings. I poured out every bit of resentment, guilt, fear, anger, sadness, and hurt into telling my story.
I hope it’s enough.
Enough to destroy whatever reputation and goodwill Bryce ever had. He doesn’t deserve to be remembered as a good man. He doesn’t deserve to be mourned. I know if Caroline hears all this she will be devastated, but this is the least I can do for Dane. I can show him I’m on his side.
I know there is still a distinct possibility of Dane opening an investigation into his father’s death, and if he does, I won’t fight it. As my last act of contrition, I decide to write Dane a letter, letting him know the ball is in his court now.
When I finish with the letter, I send Serena a text asking if she’d be willing to deliver it to Dane for me. I know a letter is the coward’s way out, but I can’t face him and see the hate he must have for me in his eyes. I want to remember what we had before it all went to shit. It’s selfish of me, but it’s all I have left at this point.
CHAPTER 45
DANE
Three days later, I am finally discharged from the hospital. The doctors have been dragging their feet on signing off on my discharge, but after I threatened to leave AMA, Dr. Oleander finally relented and signed off. Three long days of staring at white walls, listening to beeping monitors and overhead hospital pages, and barely sleeping thanks to the multiple nightly check ins from nurses doing their rounds. Three agonizing days of simmering in anger, confusion, and guilt. I refused to take the narcotics the doctor prescribed for the pain. When they tried to administer the dose through my IV after I fully woke up, I ripped the IV catheter out of my arm, forcing the nurse to agree to stick to over the counter pain relief.
The physical pain is the only thing that rivals the hurt of betrayal I’ve been wrestling with since learning the truth of Dad’s death. It’s the only thing that keeps me from falling into a bottomless pit of despair over how fuckingfoolish I was. Everly pushed me away time and time again, but I wouldn’t listen. I had to have her, and now look. Both of our lives are in ruins. Old wounds have been ripped open, left gaping and oozing to the elements, while fresh wounds bleed us dry. How do we even come back from something like this?
Now I am waiting for Mom to pick me up so I can go home and wrestle with my demons in silence. That and hopefully sleep for a week straight. I know it won’t happen. There’s going to be statements to make, paperwork to fill out so I can take leave from work, and I’ll have to figure out how to help Mom afford the rent on her house now that Bryce isn’t paying for it, but a guy can dream, can’t he?
A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts. “Come in.” I expect for either Mom or one of the nurses who have been hovering over me non-stop to come in, but it’s Serena who enters the room. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
I’m surprised to see Serena. She normally gives me a heads up before her daily check in. Not that I’ve been great company. I mostly sit in silence while she updates me on what’s going on at the station and if there is any progress on the investigation of Bryce’s death. She has to keep the details vague since I’m considered a part of that investigation, but from what I’ve gathered, Everly’s lawyer has been laying groundwork on showing a history of abuse from Bryce, effectively squashing any motivation to really dig into the circumstances of his death. As angry as I am at Everly, I don’t think she deserves to be tried for his murder. He was an evil fuck, and the world is better off with him gone.
Serena comes over and tosses a white envelope on my lap. “Everly asked me to drop this off for you. She said she hopes you read it, and she’ll go along with whatever you decide to do.”
I look up at her, brows pinched in confusion. She just shrugs her shoulders, before slumping down into the green vinyl “recliner” next to the bed. She watches me, a keen interest in her eyes letting me know she’s not going to let me get out of this conversation by being a grumpy asshole.
“Look, I’ve been where Everly is. I know what it’s like to survive an abusive relationship. I know you’re a good man, Dane, even if your brother was a piece of shit. But there is more going on here than you’re telling me, and I want to know what it is. A woman like Everly doesn’t deserve to go to jail for stopping her abuser, and I want to make sure she’s not confessing to something stupid out of some misplaced sense of loyalty or guilt. If she’s trying to protect you because Bryce caught you dipping your dick into his cookie jar, I will have to step up and say something. I like you, Dane. I do. But as a woman, I will stand by Everly. I won’t let her go down to protect a man. Even if it’s you. That is not why I became a cop.” Serena levels me with her no-bullshit stare, and I don’t argue with her. I know better than to pick a fight I won’t win. Instead I pick up the letter and read it.
Dane,
I’m writing this letter to you not to ask your forgiveness or make excuses for my actions, but to give you the power to get justice for your father’s death.
That night ten years ago, when Bryce came home shaken up, scared, and broken, he was still the man I loved. The man who I built a life with. The man who saved me. Held me. Took me to Paris. The man I had promised my heart to. He was still good. At least, I thought he was.
He sobbed while I held him, devastated because of the death of his own father and scared because his emotional outburst has caused Jake’s death. At least, that’s the story he spun for me. And I, a woman blinded by love, swallowed my own doubts and questions and agreed to keep his secret. I kept it because I believed he truly was remorseful. I also kept it for your mother’s sake. I believed him when he told me telling the truth would destroy her. He made me believe if she knew the truth of Jake’s death, then she would be losing both her husband and her son, and I just couldn’t do that to her. This isn’t an excuse. I know it was wrong, but I hope it at least helps you understand my motives were pure, even if my actions weren’t.
The weight of that secret has been analbatross hanging around my neck for the last ten years. It’s been slowly killing me, watching the man I thought I loved disappear. Replaced by some twisted, corrupt version that looked like my husband but wasn’t him. Now I wonder if maybe the version I married wasn’t real. Just a mirage, shiny and beautiful enough to seduce me into believing in it.
When you came back into my life, showing me empathy and kindness, my lonely heart craved it, but the guilt wouldn’t let me believe I deserved it. This is why I kept pushing you away, and god, I am so sorry that I wasn’t strong enough to keep pushing. I never should have let things between us go as far as they did. I was too selfish to fight the way you made me feel, even knowing if you ever learned the truth you would hate me and I would deserve every bit of it. This is why I was so hellbent on proving Bryce’s corruption. I thought maybe if I could find evidence of something, he would finally suffer some kind of consequences. I just wanted to do something to make it right for you.
If you want to open an investigation into your father’s death, I will cooperate. I will tell them everything I know about that night. Consider this letter my confession.
I regret every day not going to the cops the night he confessed, but I can’t bring myself toregret those stolen moments of happiness with you, even if I had no right to them. Thank you for showing me what true happiness really looks like.
Everly
My heart clenches painfullyas I read her letter. I feel the anger that had been simmering in my veins fizzle out as her words soak in. Did I not come to the same conclusion when I told Mom Bryce was dead and chose to keep his secret? Do I have any right to hold on to my anger at her when we both made the same choice? She did try to push me away. She tried to do the right thing, and I’m the one who pursued her. I pursued her knowing full well she was married. I am not blameless in this situation.
Serena watches me as I wrestle with my conscience, all the pent-up anger from the last few days slowly ebbing out of me like the tide flowing back out to sea. Looking at my friend, I give her a reassuring nod.
“You don’t have to worry about Everly. I won’t do anything that will implicate her in Bryce’s death.” Serena’s brows furrow, like she doesn’t fully believe me.
“This is about something else. Something that happened a long time ago. It’s not worth dragging up now. It can’t be changed, and it will only lead to more people getting hurt. She just…wanted to apologize. Look, I’ll talk to her when I get home. I’ve been discharged, and I’m just waiting for Mom to pick me up.” Serena’s face relaxes at my reassurance.
“Good. Look, I don’t know what she has to apologize for, but I hope you know that woman deserves to have a peaceful life now. I saw the recorded statement she made for her lawyer, and your brother deserved worse than what he got. Do not fuck up her path to healing. You understand?” Serena’s fierceness when it comes to defending domestic abuse survivors is exactly why she is needed in the force. Not enough cops believe women when they come forward asking for help, and I’m proud to call her my partner.
I nod my understanding. “I won’t. I promise. Just…let me know if the investigation takes a turn in the wrong direction, okay?”
