Lord Have Mercy (The Southern Gentleman #2)(63)

I looked at Schultz and gestured for him to leave, which he did moments later, leaving me alone in the room with Carver only.

“I know you did it,” I said softly. “I also remembered seeing you parked across the street from me the day of the accident.”

He flinched.

“You didn’t mean to run me over that day,” I said. “At least, not at first.”

He drew in a deep breath.

“It’s because of Nivea, isn’t it?” I asked.

He swiped at his face.

“What’d she do to make you run me over with an SUV?” I asked.

I knew why he was going to come after me with the pipe.

That was because I’d seen his new car today, and he’d seen my wheels turning.

I hadn’t realized they were turning at the time, but the moment I laid eyes on his vehicle, something had clicked for me.

And he’d seen that.

“I…I…” he started, then stopped.

“You what?” I pushed.

“I didn’t mean to?” he lied.

“I know you didn’t mean to.” I hesitated. “At least not at first. But something happened, and you got mad.”

“I got really mad,” he whispered. “Like that time I hit you in the nose.”

That time he punched me and I let him.

“Okay,” I said. “But what happened?”

He drew in a deep breath and sat up straight, but just as he was about to tell me, the door burst open and his lawyer walked in.

“Don’t say another word,” he ordered.

But Carver ignored his order.

“I hit you,” he said. “I aimed for you with my SUV. And I hit you. Ran you over. When it pinned you to the ground, I ran. W-watched from the woods as they kept you alive.”

My eyes met Schultz’s, who was standing right outside the interrogation room door.

“Sir,” Carver’s lawyer tried to interrupt.

“She…she…” He blew out a deep breath, then inhaled just as sharply before saying, “She told me that I’d never be you.”

We all waited for more of an explanation, but none was forthcoming.

“That’s it?” Schultz said indelicately from the doorway.

Carver’s eyes went to him, then to me.

“Do you know what it’s like to be second fiddle to him not once, but twice?” he asked. “It’s humiliating!”

“So you ran him over with a goddamn Suburban?” came Camryn’s indelicate screech from behind Schultz.

Schultz, showing some of his brains at this point, caught her before she could make it inside.

That didn’t stop her from throwing her water bottle at Carver’s head, though.

“You stupid piece of shit!” she snarled. “You almost killed the man I love!”

Pride burst in my chest at seeing the anger that rocked her small frame.

Hell, even Dooley looked like he was pissed, and he didn’t even know what was going on. He was likely just reading the tension in the room, and clearly saw that Camryn was upset.

“I think now’s the time that we listen to our lawyer,” the lawyer suggested to Carver.

Carver finally looked at him and nodded. “Yeah, think that’s for the best.”

I nodded once, having gotten all that I needed.

There would still be questioning. There would still be a trial later on. There would still be time served.

But in the end, he would get his ass dealt to him, and I still got to live to see another day.

I was counting that as a win.

I made it through the doorway and caught Camryn as Schultz let her free, pulling her along with me as I made my way out into the front room.

Then, feeling the box in my pocket burning a hole, I brought us both to a stop.

Then, in front of the entire police station, I got down on one knee and proposed to my woman.

“Camryn, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” I whispered huskily.

She drew in a shaky breath and then let it out.

“Yes,” she whispered, sounding so happy that she was about to burst. “I will!”





Epilogue


If you like your toddler staring you straight in the vagina when you’re putting in a tampon, then motherhood is for you.

-Camryn’s secret thoughts

Camryn

The door to my classroom burst open and my husband of eighteen months hustled inside, wearing a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hello, class,” Flint called out. “How’s everyone doing today?”

Today was the first day of school, and every single student was staring at the spectacle he was making of himself with wide eyes.

When Flint came to a stop next to me, a pillowcase in one hand and a bottle of sweet tea from the gas station in the other, I blinked at him owlishly.

“Ummm,” I said, standing up from my seat.

A seat that I’d been forced to take because my legs were swollen so badly that it was either sit or deal with ankles the size of a tiny house when I got home from school.

“Hey, baby,” Flint said, pressing his mouth to my cheek with a quick brush of his lips. “I brought you something. Will you hold on to it for me?”

He held out the bag, and it was then I noticed that it was…moving.