Written with You (The Regret Duet #2)(60)

I groaned internally. Fucking Trent. The man spent years at a time avoiding anything and everything to do with me and our past. Then I find a woman who makes me happy, knows and accepts every fucking skeleton in my closet, and loves my daughter as her own because in a way she is her own and he suddenly feels the need to drive his ass up to ruin it all?

Fuck. That.

She made an eek face. “Heads-up: He’s really pissed.”

“Well, he’s going to have to really get over it. This is not his life. Not his concern.”

She nodded and then bolted off to the side as Trent made his way up the steps.

“You keep popping up like this, I might start to think you actually miss me,” I said, positioning myself in front of the door. If he was there to be an ass, he wasn’t going to do it inside with my woman and daughter.

He sauntered toward me, pushing his sunglasses up to his head. “I wouldn’t have to keep showing up like this if you were acting like a normal human being, not a pussy-whipped teenager.”

“Shit,” Jenn whispered.

“So, is that a yes? You missed me?”

“Fuck you. What the hell is she doing here?”

“She?” I questioned, just to be a dick.

“Hadley or Willow. Or whatever the fuck you’re calling her now.”

“Just Willow. And, currently, she’s getting dressed so we can meet the police at her house.”

He stopped in front of me and planted his hands on his hips. “Please tell me that’s so you can turn her ass in for fraud.”

“What fraud?”

“Don’t give me that shit, Cav. This is bullshit and you know it. That bitch has been playing you for months, so your solution is to move her into your house and give her unlimited access to your daughter? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

My vision flashed red, and I stepped up until our chests bumped. “You watch your fucking mouth when you talk about her. Do you understand me? This is my goddamn house. You don’t get to show up slinging shit you know nothing about.”

“You think I know nothing about this? I’m the one who fucking figured it out.”

Jenn tugged on his arm. “Trent, come on. Stop.”

He roughly shook her off. “Get in the car.”

“Why don’t we both get in the car and come back after you’ve had a chance to cool off,” she argued.

He turned a murderous sneer her way. “Get in the car, Jenn. This is none of your damn business.”

I slid between the two of them. “It’s none of your business, either.”

He stabbed a finger in my chest. “You are my business, Caven. Since the day Dad died. Whether you like it or not. And I’m telling you: This woman is bad fucking news. Her sister was a whack job. What the hell makes you think she’s any different? It was bad enough you didn’t want to press charges. But now you have her sharing your bed? What are you thinking? She’s a goddamn pathological liar.”

“You want to talk about liars, Trent? Let’s go stand in the fucking mirror.”

I don’t know why I said it.

Maybe because it had been a hot coal in my throat, burning and blistering for eighteen years.

Maybe because I’d finally broken the dam by telling Willow about the pictures we’d found but never reported.

Maybe just because I was pissed that he was acting like such a dick without knowing the first thing about her.

But, regardless of the reason, it was the truth.

“Excuse me?” he hissed.

I loomed closer, forcing him down one of the brick steps. “You want to act high and mighty now. You want to pretend she didn’t have her reasons to do what she did. You want to dismiss the fact that she’s a good person who made a stupid choice. But after the mall, you didn’t give the first fuck about lying when it suited your needs.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “That was different.”

“Right. Completely different because, last I checked, Willow didn’t kill anyone. Neither did she cover for a murderer even though it was gradually dissolving her soul like acid every single day for over half her life. And she sure as shit didn’t burn our only proof that Malcom had killed twelve people in the decade before the shooting all while I was still in surgery, fighting to stay alive after taking two bullets from that maniac. And I know you hate talking about this and you think we should just let it lie in the past, but what she did was not even close to the things we’ve done in the name of self-preservation. So, if you want to stand here, on my front porch, and condemn my woman for being a liar, then you’re going to have to acknowledge your own damn sins first.”

“Oh my God,” Jenn breathed. “Malcom killed people before the shooting?”

Trent’s entire body swelled, and his eyes filled with rage. “We’re just airing this shit out now? Doesn’t matter who’s around, huh?”

“She’s your wife. She should know what we did. You should have told her years ago.”

His face flashed downright venomous. “You tell Willow about this?”

I took the step down, forcing him back again. “I sure as hell did. And it was the best fucking decision I’ve ever made. I have been drowning in what that man did for what feels like an eternity. I’ve barely kept my head above water. Each time I try to catch my breath, the guilt slams me down harder. I swear to you, if it weren’t for Rosalee, most days I wouldn’t want to breach the surface again.