The Atonement (The Arrangement, #3)(28)

“How many times did you wash someone’s blood from your hands in the same sink where your children brush their teeth at night?” She was growing frantic. “How many times have you missed things because you were so focused on someone chained up in your murder room?”

“I never use chains.”

“How many times,” she growled, “have you let your children down because you were too busy to notice that they needed you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

She started to walk away, but stopped, spinning back to face me. “That’s the difference between you and me, Peter. I’m willing to change. I am changing. You…you will never change.” She looked me up and down, sizing me up with her upper lip curled in disgust.

“You’re not even giving me a chance.”

“I’ve given you thousands of chances. Years of chances. Eventually, it stops being your fault and starts being mine. I’ve enabled you and looked the other way for the sake of our family for far too long. But enough is enough. I deserve better. Your children deserve better.”

“How do you think our children will feel when they find out you tried to kill me? When they find out you’re the reason I’m not around?”

“They’re never going to find out.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

“If you so much as attempt to contact them, Peter, I’ll—”

“You’ll what? What are you going to do?”

“I’ll kill you again. And this time, I won’t fail.” She stopped, looking pleased with herself, and huffed out a breath. Then, she turned on her heel and hurried back outside and toward her car.

I rushed forward. I couldn’t let her leave.

Wouldn’t.

I grabbed hold of her. “Wait!”

She shoved me backward, pushing the stun gun into my chest. Her thumb missed the button, buying me a second’s time. Without thinking, I smacked it from her hands, towering over her. I’d never once thought about hurting my wife, but something had flipped in me.

She couldn’t leave.

I grabbed her arm again, jerking her toward me. She reared back, slapping my face with so much force my vision filled with black spots. I released her arm.

“I’m sorry… I…”

What was I thinking? I couldn’t hurt her. I loved her. I needed her to believe that.

“Don’t touch me!” she cried, backing away. She ran backward, keeping an eye on me as she moved, only spinning around when she reached her car.

“Please, can we just talk? This wasn’t how I wanted today to go. Please, Ains—” I was just behind her, panting as I tried to keep up. She gripped the car door, and I narrowly missed it as she slammed it shut. She moved to lock the doors, but she wasn’t fast enough.

I tore her door open. “Don’t do this, Ainsley. Please. Please think about the kids. Please. I promise. I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll—”

It was no use. She put the car in reverse, backing the car up with a sudden jerk. The door handle was ripped from my grasp as she peeled away with the door swinging open. I jumped out of the way as she put the car in drive and sped away, gravel flying behind her. I watched her go, filled with hopeless frustration and powerlessness to stop her.

Was this really the end?

I couldn’t believe it.

I couldn’t let it be.

But what choice did I have?





CHAPTER NINETEEN





AINSLEY





I was several miles from the house before I stopped shaking. Several more miles away before I realized I was crying. The amount of adrenaline it had taken to face him again, to face my mistakes again, was enormous, and coming down from that high was painful and exhausting.

I drove in silence, checking the rearview mirror every few minutes for signs of him. I knew him better than to believe he was just going to let me go, though I hoped I was wrong. Peter was stubborn, almost as stubborn as I was, and determined.

I thought about what he’d said. Was he right about why I hadn’t killed him myself? It was possible. As much as I hated him, as much as I wanted him out of my life, the idea of having his blood literally on my hands made me feel ill.

If he could just leave me alone, if we could just walk away from each other before someone else had to get hurt, wasn’t that better? I had to believe so.

The sound of my phone ringing penetrated the silence, and I jumped, watching as the screen on the dashboard lit up to announce an incoming call.

I knew it was Peter without seeing the screen, which was why when I stared at my mother’s name, I had to blink twice to be sure I wasn’t seeing things.

“Mom?”

“Ainsley, where are you?”

“I’m…driving. Why?”

“Are you crying?” she asked, sounding distracted.

“No,” I lied.

“You sound like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“Well, when is your flight?”

“Oh, I’m not sure. I haven’t booked it yet.”

“Why not? I thought that was why you needed my credit card number last night.”

“No,” I said simply. “Er, well, yes, it was. I used your card to load a prepaid visa, so we could book a flight when we’re ready. Thank you again for letting me do that. I’ll stop by your house this afternoon and bring the cash to pay you back for it.”