The Atonement (The Arrangement, #3)(12)

She needed me, maybe more than I needed her. I’d learned that recently, and now I was realizing she could use some reminding.

Luckily, I was up for the task, and there was just one place left on my list to check.





CHAPTER NINE





AINSLEY





With the cash I’d withdrawn in hand, I stopped by the store. I’d gone a little overboard, but the clothes we had in our bags were meant for Florida weather and I planned to take us somewhere much cooler next. I’d picked up a box of hair dye, too—a painful purchase both because I’d always loved my red hair and because I hated how damaging box dye was, but I didn’t have a choice. Back at Mom’s, I’d dye it dark and cut it to just below my chin. The fact that Peter had always loved my long hair was a sweet little bonus.

With new hair, I’d feel safer about moving through our town without being noticed. He’d never expect me to be so drastic. It would buy me time and security. At least until I managed to find him and decide my next move.

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I slammed the trunk of the car shut. I pulled it free as I pushed the cart into the corral. Seeing Mom’s name on my screen caused my throat to tighten. I swiped my thumb across the screen and pressed it to my ear.

“Mom? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes, everything’s fine.” My thoughts jumbled, the tension disappearing from my neck in an instant.

“Oh, thank God, I—”

“Peter stopped by.”

I gulped down a breath, sure I’d misheard. “Who did?”

“Peter. He wanted to see the kids.”

Snapping back to reality, I rushed around the side of the car and grabbed the door handle, jumping inside. “Did you let him? Is he still there?”

“He’s outside. I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to—”

“Listen to me.” I buckled myself in with one hand, searching desperately for my keys in my purse with the other. My fingers connected with the cool metal, and I jerked them out. “Mom, do not let Peter inside the house, okay? Whatever you do…” I shoved the keys into the ignition, missing the hole once, twice, and a third time before they clicked into place. I turned them, starting the car and lurching forward.

“Well, I didn’t let him in, but I really think—”

“No. No. I’m not asking what you think. I’m telling you not to let him inside. Did you talk to him? Did you tell him we’re staying there?”

“I haven’t told him anything. For goodness’ sake, stop acting as if this is life or dea—”

“Just keep the kids inside. Do not let him in. Do not tell him we’re staying there. Tell him you haven’t heard from me and that he should call me. Whatever you do—”

“Yes, yes, I get it. Don’t let him inside. You always were one for dramatics, weren’t you?”

I let the comment roll over me. “I’ll be there in forty minutes.” I mashed the accelerator, hoping to arrive sooner than that. I needed to count on my mother to protect the most important things in the world to me, but the sad truth was, I didn’t know if I could do it.

“I have to go, Ainsley.”

“What? What are you talking about? Why?”

She released a sigh as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders. “Because Peter is at the door again.”

“Wait, Mom—”

But it was no use. The call had ended, and the car was filled with a painful silence. I could only assume the worst about the situation as I sped around a curve.

I pressed the button on my steering wheel that activated voice prompts.

“Please say a command.”

“Call Peter,” I shouted.

“Calling Peter.”

The line rang, and I held my breath.

It was the first time either of us had tried to call the other since everything had happened. I was crossing the one line we hadn’t yet crossed, breaking the sort of unspoken pact I never wanted to break first.

Once we spoke, things were going to get messy. I just needed to keep my head clear. But this couldn’t wait.

The phone went to voicemail after just three rings.

Which meant he wasn’t actually looking for me.

He was after the kids.





CHAPTER TEN





PETER





Seeing Ainsley’s name on my screen was enough to send me over the edge. I worried about what I’d do—both for my kids and myself. If she was calling, it meant she was finally ready to talk, but maybe I wasn’t.

Maybe she should’ve tried to talk a week ago rather than shoving a needle in my neck.

I’d thought I was ready for this, but I wasn’t. I needed time. I needed to breathe. Because the last thing I wanted to do was lose control on my wife, and I was eerily close to that already.

Back at the house, I zipped around the bedroom. It was cleaner than before, with everything I could get rid of out of the way, the carpets vacuumed and shampooed, but still, the evidence of what she’d done lingered. The scent of the damage, of the smoke, was still present throughout the house. In the mirror, I could still see the faint bruising she’d left on my neck from injecting me over and over again.