Page 152 of Marry Me, Maybe?
I leaned back on the bench. “Spare me the lecture, Donald. I don’t regret what I did.”
The sheriff’s hands went to his hips. “No regret, huh? Christ, boy, you’re lucky this is assault and not attempted murder. You know how fast the gossip wheel spins in this town. Bristlecone was about to hit a damn record. Three months with no one in a cell. And then you stroll into the bank and ruin it with your fists.”
I shrugged, but the truth was, my stomach was already souring. I hadn’t been in a cell for years. I’d sworn to myself that I never would be again. And now here I was. Cold bars. Concrete floor. But at least this time, I was in here based on my terms. Protecting the man I loved. The little boy in him who’d been taken advantage of when he was too young to realize it.
Donald jabbed a finger toward me. “You better pray Grant doesn’t press charges. Because if he does, there ain’t much I can do for you. Word in town is you’re the new Magnuson son-in-law, but not even the Magnuson money will be able to fix this.”
“Let’s see if he dares to press charges,” I muttered, jaw tight.
“You just don’t learn, do you?” He shook his head. “For four years, you’ve been in town and managed to fit in well. Don’t even have as much as a speeding ticket. What the hell set you off this time? You walk into a bank to pay a bill and walk out in cuffs. Doesn’t add up.”
I stared at the floor, at the faint scuffs from boots over the years. I curled my fists, bit my tongue. I might have confronted Grant, but what had happened to Matty was his story to share. If he’d gone for years with this secret, chances were he didn’t want the whole town to know about the abuse––no, rape, because that was what it was.
Donald sighed like a bone-tired man. “Fine. Keep your mouth shut. But listen to me. You can’t go around assaulting people, no matter what you think they deserve. Your kid’s mama ran out on her. You’re all she’s got now. What if you had killed him? What would become of her?”
My chest burned. I did hear him, and the one consolation was knowing Ivy would always be safe with Matty if anything happened to me. He and Gray and Ozzie would love her and ensure she never forgot me.
God, I had to marry that man. But why hadn’t he asked me, popped the question again? I’d given him forty-eight hours to think it over, but he never got back to me. Then last night, the way he’d set up our date, I’d half expected his proposal. What I’d gotten was a bombshell.
The sheriff shook his head, muttering, “Well, you ain’t getting out until you cool down, so think about your actions while you’re in here.”
The front door creaked open. “Hudson?”
Matty.
My gut tightened.
“Matty, you can’t be back here.” Donald put up a hand, but Matty didn’t even break stride.
“Sorry, Sheriff, but this is a one-man office with a volunteer deputy who’s out fishing till Sunday. Who’s gonna stop me exactly?”
He brushed past the sheriff like he wasn’t even there and stopped in front of the cell, bracing his hands against the bars. His chest heaved like he’d run the whole way.
I sat up straighter, trying to look steady, like I wasn’t wrecked inside at the sight of him. His eyes were red as if he’d been crying. “Don’t even start, Matt. I don’t regret it.”
“Not regret—” His voice cracked, but instead of thetirade I expected, his eyes softened. “I’m not mad, Huddlebug.”
That undid me more than any yelling could’ve. My throat went tight, words failing.
“Sheriff, can you let him out so we can talk?”
“Not going to happen. There were at least six witnesses to what happened at the bank. What happens if I release him and he kills poor Grant?”
“Then at least let me get in there with him.”
“This is a jail cell, Matty. Not that motel room I heard you two love to frequent.”
“Come on, Sheriff. I just want to talk to him.”
Donald scowled and scratched his head. “Fine. But you have only twenty minutes. If you can’t talk some sense into him, then he’s gonna spend the night right here in jail.”
He reached for the keychain on his belt, muttering about being “too old for this shit,” and swung the barred door open with a clang.
Matty slipped inside before Donald could change his mind. The cell door clanged shut again, locking us in together.
“Twenty minutes, and keep it PG in there, for Christ’s sake. I ain’t running a brothel,” Donald barked from the other side.
He turned his back and stormed out, cursing under his breath.
