Page 21 of Chasing Temptation
“That was probably his biggest mistake. He thought he could control me, make me believe that some of the accusations that started appearing were nothing more than lying, pissed off, privileged kids. He wanted me around to tell everyone else what an upstanding citizen he was and how trustworthy he was. But those accusations just kept coming. I could only defend him so many times before I started questioning him.
“By this time, Jeremy and I were already engaged. We’d been together a few years and friends, thanks to our fathers, since we were in nappies. It was almost expected that we’d end up together. I was naive. I thought he was cute. I thought he was caring in a similar way that my dad was. It was only years later that I’d discover that ‘caring’ was actually controlling. But it was all I’d ever known.”
I blow out a slow breath as her words register within me. My fists clench as the level of passive-aggressive, controlling behaviour she’s been subjected to her entire life becomes clear.
“Don’t get me wrong, I loved—love—my job. It might have been expected of me but I truly can’t imagine doing anything other than working with kids. But as the accusations started getting stronger, I started to resent everything.
“Jeremy and I got married and that was a serious turning point. Rumours started, accusations got more and more serious, and names started to be revealed. It seemed to be getting to the point that Dad couldn’t sweep it all under the rug or pay off whoever it was who felt brave enough to poke their heads above the parapet.
“Somehow, no one ever went to the police. I assume because they didn’t believe they’d win. My dad was an enigma, a power that no one thought they could touch. He controlled every inch of that school with a strength that appeared unbreakable.”
“Until you broke him.”
She nods, her hands trembling as she twists her fingers, lost in her memories.
“Jeremy’s name started to be brought up and it coincided with him getting angrier and rougher with me at home. Since the day we got married he wasn’t exactly pleasant to me, but he turned into a monster. I hated going home to discover what kind of mood he’d be in and what he thought I’d done wrong that day.
“He got the idea in his head that I should stop teaching and be a housewife and mother to our kids.” She laughs, but the sound is anything but joyful. “He was delusional. I was never going to allow him to bring another person into our fucked up world. It got the point that he assumed something was wrong with me because I couldn’t fall pregnant. That only made his attitude and behaviour towards me even worse. I was pointless to him if I couldn’t give him a son.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, trying to put myself in her shoes.
“I refused to give up my job. There was no way I was agreeing to basically have myself locked in that house like my mum was. I hardly ever saw her, and when I did it had to be meticulously arranged. She convinced me it was because she was busy with friends and bake sales for the church, but I soon discovered that was all a cover up. She was hiding. Hiding from my dad and his anger.
“I started digging into the accusations more. I’d talk to the kids, listen to all the rumours, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. So I made a drastic move. I bugged Dad’s office. Two days after I snuck in and hid the microphones, a fifteen-year-old boy accused Jeremy of sexually abusing him in his classroom.
“He was ignored, of course, brushed under the carpet like all the other indiscretions. Until I listened back to the recording from Dad’s office. It got everything from Jeremy talking about the incident, as he called it, and Dad reassuring him that it could never be proved and he’d do whatever it took to keep his name clear.
“That Friday night, while they were all playing poker—if that’s even what they actually did—I packed a small bag, said goodbye to my mum, took my recording to the police, and ran.
“Jeremy had kept me locked up to a point that I’d made no friends over the years, apart from one.”
“Eddie,” I add.
“I either went to him or...well, I didn’t really have any other option. The streets, I guess. I left with only a bit of cash, leaving behind anything I thought could trace him to me. I dyed my hair, got new contacts that changed my eye colour, and I turned up at Eddie’s door, hoping that our friendship was strong enough for him to help me. It had been two years since he’d got a job in London and left. He’d hated Earlington almost as much as I did. We connected immediately. By that point in my marriage, I was aware that Jeremy was doing his best to keep me locked up so I knew a friendship with another man was a sure fire way to set him off. We kept it on the down low for months before Jeremy made a surprise visit to my classroom one afternoon and found us laughing together.
“I could see the fire burning in his eyes and I knew I’d fucked up. That moment was where it really all changed for me. I knew I needed to find a way to get out. If me having a friend outside of our marriage was too much, then I knew it was time to end it. I just knew that wasn’t going to be easy, and it was another two years before I found my way out.
“Thankfully, Eddie recognised me the second he opened his front door, and I guess the rest is history.”
She falls silent. The words she just said to me hang heavy in the air between us. I’ve still got so much more that I want to know, but I keep my lips sealed. If I’ve learned anything about Quinn over the past few weeks, it’s that she opens up when she’s ready. I’ll just have to wait for her, even if I want to shake her to find out the real reason she ran in here in the first place.
After dragging in a long, shaky breath, she pulls her head from her arms and turns to look at me.
My breath catches at the exhaustion in her eyes. Reliving all that really just took it out of her. I’m just about to tell her that we need to go to bed when she beats me to it.
“You need sleep. You shouldn’t be sitting down here on the hard floor with me.”
Reaching out, I take her hand and lift it to my lips. The split is well healed after that arsehole punched me, but the roughness of the scab scratches against her soft skin as I kiss the back of her hand. “I’ll sit anywhere you need me to.”
Her eyes fill with tears once again, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she stands and reaches out to help me from the floor.
Getting up and to the bedroom is harder than I want to admit, and I’m in agony by the time Quinn’s helped me drop my jeans and slip the damn hospital gown that I’m still wearing from around my shoulders.
I almost sigh when my skin connects with the soft cotton of the sheets after being stuck between scratchy hospital ones for the last few days, but I’m too exhausted now I’m down.
Quinn makes sure I’m comfortable before pulling the sheets back and climbing in. She doesn’t even attempt to undress; instead she lies beside me fully clothed, leaving too much space between us.
Rolling onto my side and breathing through the pain, I reach out and pull her into my body. She tenses the second I touch her, but she doesn’t do anything else. I’m not awake long enough to know if she relaxes under my touch, and I fucking hate it.
