The Atonement (The Arrangement, #3)(25)

I imagined she’d brought a weapon of some sort. A knife, most likely. Definitely not a gun. Maybe the old bat she’d been hiding—I wasn’t entirely convinced she’d disposed of it like she promised.

Crunch.

Breathe.

Crunch.

Breathe.

Crunch.

Breathe.

The crunching steps were silenced when she stepped onto the concrete walkway that led to the porch. She was going to walk right past me. I held my breath, focusing intently on the silence.

Where are you, Ains?

She stepped into my view, stopping just a few feet from the porch, and scanned the yard, searching for me. She had no idea how close I was. Hidden in the shadows. Lurking. Looming.

I waited as she took another step.

Then another.

Then another.

She was past me, heading for the porch.

Now.

“Hey—” I stepped forward. She spun around, obviously expecting me. Her arm shot out, wielding a weapon I couldn’t see. My body jolted as white-hot lightning shot through my core. My vision blurred, black splotches painting through a sea of white. I doubled over, the pain so intense I was sure I was going to vomit. The sound came again—like packaging tape being ripped from the roll…only more electric, more intense. I couldn’t open my jaw. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

“Step back,” Ainsley said, shoving the weapon into my stomach harder. The sound stopped in an instant, the bright light in her hand dimming.

I fumbled backward into the garage, reaching for the wall to steady myself. She followed close behind. “What the…” I panted, touching the place where I’d been convinced only moments ago that she’d stabbed me. “You…tased me?”

She eyed the pink contraption in her hand with an unimpressed expression. “It’s a stun gun. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Is there a difference?” I put my hands up to stop her from moving near me, trying to catch my breath. We were repelling magnets. For every step she took toward me, I took a step away.

“Is that really what you want to talk about right now? The difference between stun guns and Tasers?”

I winced as I took another step backward, bumping into my SUV. The garage was cluttered, without much room to maneuver, even without her car in its usual parking space. I eyed the button on the wall that would lift the overhead doors, giving us fresh air and me a way to escape, but if I moved, she’d come after me again. It wasn’t an option. “You didn’t have to do that. I wasn’t going to hurt you.” I held my hands out in the air. “I’m unarmed.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“Hey, you’re the one who tried to kill me, if memory serves.”

She smirked—she actually smirked—as the memory danced across her face, a whimsical look in her eyes. In a flash, it was gone. Wiped away so fast I could almost be convinced I hadn’t seen it at all. She stared at me, her eyes cold and lifeless.

Who was she?

Most days, I didn’t know.

Then again, how well do we ever know the people in our lives? How well can you know your spouse? Was there anyone out there who could say they’d never been surprised or disappointed by the person they loved most? Surely, we weren’t the outliers. It was human nature. I had to believe everyone had parts of themselves they refused to display to anyone—the whispered motivations, internal desires, embarrassing decisions, and mortifying reasons behind actions we’d never dare reveal to anyone.

Still, I knew my wife as much as anyone could. And I was learning more about her every day.

I put a hand up, offering an apology before she asked for one. “I’m sorry. I’m, look, I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk. I was hoping you’d bring the kids.”

“I told you I wouldn’t, so I’m not sure why you’d hope that. The kids don’t need to be here.” She kept the stun gun held out between us—a constant warning.

“Fair enough. Well, I’m glad you came anyway.”

She nodded. “I’m surprised to hear you say that.” Her arms folded up, crossing over her chest, the weapon still clutched in her palm.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Ainsley. I only wanted to find you and apologize.”

Her head drew back quickly. “Apologize?”

My muscles went weak, and I stepped toward her, though it was her turn to move back. “You were right about everything.”

“I know that.”

“I know, but I want you to hear me say it.” I spoke the next words slowly, enunciating each syllable as if to prove the point. I needed her to hear me—really hear me—and understand. “You were right about everything. I was stupid. I had everything in the world I could ever want handed to me on a silver platter, and it still wasn’t enough. I was everything I hate in a person. In a husband. You’re…you’re it for me. I love you, Ainsley. I love you so damn much I can’t think about anything else. And I know I screwed things up—I really, really do—but trust me when I say I’ve learned my lesson, I—”

“Learned your lesson?” She looked away from me, rolling her eyes. “Peter, you haven’t begun to learn your lesson.”

“Haven’t begu— You tried to kill me, for Christ’s sake. You sedated me. Left me to die in a fire which I barely escaped to put out, by the way. You left me to die, Ainsley. And tried to turn me in. You were going to make me look like a monster… After all we’ve been through. I know what I did was wrong. I know I hurt you. Everything with Joanna was…messy—”