Page 65 of Her Ex's Father
The words sink like ice water through me.
“Derrick, don’t.”
He takes a step closer, and the ground between us shrinks too quickly. “You think just because you wear his ring, carry his kid, that erases the truth?” His breath reeks of alcohol when he leans closer. “I kissed you before he ever touched you.”
Anger sparks, hot against the fear. “You kissed me when I didn’t want it. That’s not the same.”
His grin falters, then sharpens. “You didn’t stop me.”
“I was seventeen!” The words rip out of me before I can stop them, voice shaking. “And you were drunk then too. Just like now.”
I’mangrynow, back in the barn on my parents’ ranch, scared and waiting while they make a business deal. While they hand me off like I’m a possession. Derrick had found me then, and at first he was sweet, making me think that it wouldn’t be so bad—marrying him. But he’d only come to corner me, to check out what would one day be his, and he’d forced a kiss on my clamped lips.
For a second, he looks almost ashamed. The memory must be washing over him, too. But then the smirk is back, uglier than before. “Doesn’t matter. You’re still mine. If I want you, that is.”
He lunges, one hand grabbing at my wrist, the other fumbling for my waist. I stumble back, panic surging.
“Stop!” I shove at his chest, but he’s taller, heavier, reeking of liquor and entitlement. What the hell is he even doing here? He’s been at the Hall for weeks.
His fingers dig into my arm. “Don’t fight me,” he growls, pressing closer. “We both know you want this. You’ve always wanted me?—”
“No!” The word rips out of me, loud enough to startle a crow from a nearby branch. Rage floods in, stronger than fear. I twist hard, freeing one arm, and without thinking, I swing.
My fist connects squarely with his nose.
The crack is sickening, followed by Derrick’s howl as he stumbles back, hands flying to his face. Blood gushes between his fingers, dripping onto the forest floor.
“You bitch!” he slurs, voice muffled.
My chest heaves, adrenaline burning. I glare down at him, shaking but unbroken. “Don’t youevertouch me again.”
I turn, storming away down the path. My legs tremble, but I force them forward, step after step.
“Maddie!” Derrick calls, his voice thick, furious, but weaker now; full of regret, like he’s sobering up. I don’t look back.
I’m halfway to the lodge when I hear it—branches shifting, footsteps not my own, and they’re movingfast. I whirl around?—
And see Ben.
He’s standing at the edge of the trail, arms crossed, eyes locked on me. Not on Derrick, not on the blood-spattered leaves, but onme.His jaw is granite, his whole body vibrating with restrained fury.
He saw.
My breath catches. “Ben?—”
His gaze cuts toward the trees where Derrick still stumbles, clutching his nose. When Ben speaks, his voice is low, lethal. “I should kill him.”
“No!” I go to him instinctively, putting myself between my husband and the one thing that could ruin his life, bury him in regret. “Don’t. Please.”
“He put his hands on you.” The words grind through his teeth. “He touched my wife—pregnant with my child—and you expect me to let that go?”
I swallow hard, forcing my voice steady. “He’s drunk. He doesn’t mean?—”
“Don’t defend him.”
“I’m not!” My throat tightens. “I just… I don’t want this to explode. If you confront him, if you drag this out, he’ll twist it. He’ll make himself the victim, like he always does.”
Ben’s eyes are fire, locked on Derrick still visible in the distance. His fists clench at his sides.
