Wife Number Seven (The Compound, #1)(88)

“Please,” Aspen said, stepping in front of Charlie. “I made a deal. Brinley’s free and that’s all that matters. Let us deal with the consequences.”

“And then what?” Porter’s eyes were crazed, manic. “Then tomorrow he beats the shit out of you too? No, not on my f*cking watch!”

“Porter, please!” I wailed from the couch. “Don’t go back there. Stay with me. I need you.”

He froze, then glanced back at Charlie and Aspen before crossing the room. He sat on the edge of the couch and stroked my hair.

Charlie spoke next as he and Aspen moved to hover over Porter and me. “Does her husband know about Porter?”

“Yes,” Rebecca answered.

“So, he’s probably waiting . . . he’s waiting for you, man. Don’t you see that? He’s waiting for you to come pounding on his door. He’ll f*ck you up and then the cops will haul you away.”

“I don’t care,” Porter said, still looking into my eyes. His face crumpled, and his eyes filled with tears before he pressed them shut. Tight. So tight. But they still escaped.

I squeezed his hand. “I do,” I whispered. “Stay with me.”

He shook his head with fervor. “He can’t get away with this, Brin.”

“He won’t,” Aspen replied. “Trust me. He won’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Porter rose to his feet and stomped out of the room. The rest of us stared at one another in silence. Silently, I prayed that he wasn’t retrieving a weapon from his bedroom.

When Porter returned, I sighed with relief. His hands were still empty, but they were balled up tightly as his anger took over his body. He stormed through the room, throwing a solid punch at the wall, then roaring as his hand made contact with the drywall, a misshapen hole left in its wake.

“Porter!”

He turned and placed his other palm on the wall, then pressed his forehead to the surface, his eyes closed tight, his face in a hard scowl.

“I can’t! I can’t let this go. It’ll kill me.”

“And if you’re in jail,” I cried out, “rotting away in a cell, and I’m out here on my own? That’ll kill me.”

He wheeled around and said, “I have to do something, Brin.” He shrugged, tears rolling down his face, and walked back to the couch to crouch down and stroke my hair. “You’re mine. I need to protect you.”

“Protect me here. Stay with me, protect me, be with me. You have to rise above this, Porter, or it’ll destroy us both.”

“Wait,” Aspen said softly. “There is something you can do.”

Porter turned and glared at my sister wife, unable to trust her yet since he’d only heard negative things from me about her nosy behavior, her constant correction of my mistakes. He didn’t see the Aspen who had stepped between me and the hand of absolute evil. He couldn’t possibly know how she had redeemed herself.

Aspen reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “Hold on to this for me.” She walked over and placed the ball of paper in Porter’s hand, and when she did, Rebecca grimaced. I knew she wanted to leap across the couch to rip it from Porter’s hands. “Guard it with your life. Lock it up somewhere.”

“I don’t get it. A piece of paper? What the hell is this?”

“My insurance policy. I’ll ask for it when the time comes.” A devilish smile lit up Aspen’s face, as if she’d solved the ultimate puzzle, the ultimate game.

“Fine, okay.” Porter stuffed the paper into his pocket as Rebecca closed her eyes and sighed.

“How will you reach us?” I asked Aspen. “I mean, when you need it?”

“I’ll come here.”

Porter and I shared a glance; we both knew his time in this apartment was limited. Then he said, “Wait, I have an idea. Do you have Brin’s purse?”

“Yes, just a moment.” Aspen unzipped the case, retrieving the tattered purse. The purse that contained all my secrets.

“Here,” she said, handing the bag to Porter.

He dug through it and pulled out the phone. “Take this,” he said, placing it in her hand. “My phone number is already in it. You can call me, text me, whatever. But this way you’ll be able to reach me.”

Aspen glanced at me. “And I can check on Brinley?”

“Sure,” he said. “Of course.”

“Wait,” I said with a start, glancing back and forth between Aspen and Rebecca. “You can’t go back there. Lehi, he’ll . . . he’ll make your lives miserable.”

Aspen shook her head and smiled weakly. “We’ll be just fine.”

I wasn’t convinced. My sudden fear of losing Aspen surprised me. Over the past three years, I’d relied on her, yes. At different times I’d resented her, feared her, and dismissed her. But faced with losing her, I felt as if a part of me were dying, as if one of my limbs were being removed from my body. Aspen had been my compass, my north star. She gave me boundaries, then pushed me when I didn’t stay true to them. And she believed in my goodness. She believed in me.

“B-but,” I stammered. “If you left, if you left the compound . . .”

Aspen shook her head. “No, Brinley. This life is not for me.”