Page 98 of October
"I just..." I swallowed hard, arms tightening around myself. "I want to go home."
My hands were trembling, so I tucked them beneath my arms to hide it. Beth and August exchanged a look—silent, quick but neither asked the questions waiting on their tongues.
Beth stood without hesitation. "Come on. I've got you." She slid an arm gently around my back as we walked out, shielding me from the world like a quiet barrier. The ride back was nearly silent. Beth kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, concern carved deep into the lines of her face. August said nothing, just shifted slightly to give me more space, sensing that words wouldn't help.
When we turned onto my street, I saw him immediately.
Thomas.
He was on the porch, pacing. Phone in hand. Face pale and drawn tight with worry. He looked like he hadn't taken a full breath since I left. His gaze flicked to the road the second he heard tires, and he stopped pacing, frozen in place like a deer caught in a spotlight.
Beth must have texted him. The moment the car came to a halt, I shoved the door open. "Goodnight girls," I muttered, voice hollow, nearly lost in the wind. "Thank you."
I barely waited for a response. Thomas took a step forward, relief breaking across his face like sunlight through stormclouds but I didn't slow. I brushed past him, just grazing his arm, and headed for the door like he wasn't even there. He followed me inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
"October, what's going on?" he demanded, his voice rough with fear. "Beth said something upset you, did someone hurt you? Tell me."
I turned to face him, eyes stinging, jaw trembling with the effort not to cry or scream or both. "Yes," I spat, my voice sharp and brittle. "You."
He flinched. "What? October, I...I know I've hurt you before, but tonight, what happened?"
I took a breath. It burned on the way in, like it scraped the inside of my ribs raw. "Your mistress approached me," I said, the wordmistresstasting like poison.
His face shifted instantly, shock cracking through it, then rage, fast and furious. "She did what?"
"She cornered me in the restroom," I hissed, fists clenched at my sides. "Tried toconvinceme to talk to you. To help her. In her case. Like we're all just characters in some twisted story she's still writing."
He looked like he couldn't breathe. "October..."
"She looked me in the eye," I continued, voice rising, trembling. "Like she had therightto speak to me. The audacity, the shameless, calculated gall of that woman!"
Thomas's mouth opened, then closed, shoulders slumping like something inside him had collapsed. "God, I'm so sorry," he murmured. "I brought her into our lives. This is my fault. I am so so sorry."
He didn't waste another second. He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. He brought it to his ear, turning away slightly but not enough that I couldn't hear the tension in every syllable.
"Graham? It's Thomas," he said, voice clipped, barely restrained. "We need to talk. Laura Fisher approached my wife tonight. She cornered her in a public space."
He paused, then snapped, "No, I don't care if there was no physical threat. Sheambushedmy wife. Can we file for a restraining order?" His hand was white-knuckled around the phone now, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitch.
"Great! I don't want her within ten feet of October. I don't want her name in the same room. I don't care how you do it, just find a way. If she so much asbreathesin her direction again, I want it documented, reported, and shut down."
When he hung up, he turned to me slowly, as though afraid I might break under his gaze.
"I swear to you, October," he said, voice low, unsteady. "She will never come near you again. I will burn every bridge she tries to cross if I have to. I'm so sorry you had to see her. That you had to hear her voice. That she ever made you feel less than whole."
I didn't respond right away. My chest was still heaving, my hands still trembling. Just as Thomas finished apologizing, his phone buzzed on the nightstand, screen flashing:Unknown Number. We both froze. My heart kicked hard against my ribs. "Do you think...?" I whispered.
Thomas didn't answer right away. His jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the screen. His thumb hovered over the Decline button, then, quietly but firmly, he said, "I'll answer. I'll put it on speaker, okay?"
I nodded, breath caught. "Okay," I murmured, barely more than a breath.
He answered with the faintest, humorless smirk, "Laura." His voice was low, flat, dangerous. There was a small gasp on theother end, then her voice, sticky-sweet but tight around the edges.
"Oh... you answered. Thomas, I'm so glad. I just, look, I know you're upset, but I had to. I saw your wife tonight and she was just... she was awful to me. So mean, so rude.. I really, really need your help. Just to explain to the court, or your lawyer..."
He didn't even let her finish.
"My wife," he cut in, his voice suddenly sharp as a blade, "wasn't mean. She was merciful."
