Uncovering Hope (Uncovering Love Book 3) (27 page)

DEREK’S PHONE RINGS FROM THE
other room. He kisses my lips and hops up from the bed. “I should get that,” he says, and glances down to add, “And take care of this.” He removes the condom and walks out of the room naked as the day he was born.

I study his retreating backside like it’s an exam I’m required to pass until he disappears from sight. I wait for the familiar feelings of disappointment, guilt, and shame to wash over me given what I’ve just done, but none come. Only joy, contentment, and the feeling of being totally fucked. In the best way possible, of course.

I roll to my stomach and lay my head on the messed blankets. My eyes flutter shut and I breathe in the scent of sex that still clings to the fabric. The muffled sound of Derek’s conversation floats from the other room and reality crashes down. The familiar knot in my gut coils with apprehension.

My boys are safe for now but I need to get Josh out of our lives. He’s capable of anything and I don’t know how far he’ll go. If he wants the gun—if that’s what it takes for him to leave us alone—that’s what I’ll do. My mind drifts and remembers that horrible night.

I’ve been driving in circles. Where do I go? What do I do? I could try and go to the cops, but what do I even really know? My husband’s committed some crime, I’m sure, and yet I have no details. And if he finds out what I’ve done? My stomach rolls at the thought.

Eli and Ezra are home with him now and Josh is high, paranoid, and sketchy. Every second that ticks by, they’re in potential danger.

I don’t even realize I’ve pulled the car to a stop. My eyes flick up to the church courtyard. The lighted steeple calls me like a beacon and I step out of my car. The door closes with an echoing slam.

My feet drag up the paved walkway, the gun tucked close to my side. I pull at the large wooden door framed in colored glass, and shake my head when it won’t open. Stupid. Why I even imagined it would at four in the morning is beyond me? I’m not thinking. I’m so lost. This life, the one I’m living, is just an existence. My chin trembles and I bite back a sob.

My eyes catch a swaying tree branch around the bend of the building. It waves me over. Beckons me. My feet move of their own accord. The tree is rooted inside its own little fence. A sign reads, “Garden of Forgiveness” and I fall to the bench.

I’ve never been a religious person, but in this moment it feels as if the universe has led me here. To this one spot. For a purpose.

I cry loud, ugly sobs, and give in to the pain that holds the ties that bind my heart. I apologize. For what I don’t know, but I’m sorry all the same. And I make a vow to do whatever it takes to raise my boys right. To get them out of this life. Even if it means I don’t escape.

When my tears are all cried a peace settles around my very being. A little of the burden I carry releases. I stand from the bench and that’s when my eyes notice the planters. There are three. All at the edge of the garden and built into the earth. Two are filled with soil and dirt. Next to the third lies a pile of dirt, two bags of potting soil, and a dozen plants.

What if? The idea pops into my head and I don’t stop to analyze if it’s a good plan or not. I just drop to my knees and lay the plastic wrapped gun into the empty planter. With only my hands I cover it with dirt, handful by handful. I bury the gun, my husband’s sin. I bury my own self-hate. I bury the sadness. I bury the hopelessness.

When dirt fills the bottom layer I add the plants and soil, mimicking the design of the other two. Not wanting to draw attention or question to what I’ve done, I stack the empty plastic nursery pots and stuff them with the now empty soil bags to take with me. I stand back and admire my work. It looks as if the garden has always been this way. I offer a silent prayer this will work and jog back to my car.

“Carly.” Derek comes back into the bedroom. He’s put on a pair of pants and I fight the need to pout. His eyes drift over my naked skin and his lips pull into a grin. He shoves his cell into his back pocket and strides to the edge of the bed. Dropping to his knees, he drags his fingertips across the skin from my shoulder to my ass. “We just got the all clear to head home . . . but I wouldn’t argue if you wanted to stay here . . . a few more hours.”

I smile and bury my head into his pillow with a groan.

“While that sounds amazing, I really want to see my boys.”

“I thought you might say that.” He gives my butt a playful slap. “Come on, mama. Let’s get you home.” I pull myself up off the bed and try not to feel embarrassed as he continues to watch my every move.

“Don’t watch me get dressed!” I demand, but Derek just grins.

“I’m never gonna stop watching you.”

We make the short drive to Tate’s house and each mile solidifies what I have to do. I need to retrieve the gun. I need Josh to go away. I need to be free of my past so I can move forward. I’ll have to make up an excuse to run an errand later. I just pray it’s still there.

“Jon’s bringing your car back to the house. Tate’s bringing the boys.” Derek says after a glance down at his phone. I breathe a sigh of relief. This will all be over soon. I can feel it.

We pull alongside the sidewalk in front of Tate’s house and I step down from the Yukon. Derek jogs around and laces our fingers together so we can walk up the driveway hand in hand. God, I love this man. I’m not sure how we’ll make a relationship work, but I’m willing to try. Fast steps and heavy breaths catch my attention and I turn just in time to spot Josh barreling across the front lawn.

“Oh, great! Lover boy is still here.” Josh cackles, a wild look in his eye. His irises are wide. Fuck. He’s high. Josh pulls a knife from his pocket and flicks the blade open with a resounding click.

“Josh. You need to go.” I speak even and firm. Derek yanks me to stand behind him, and uses his body as a shield.

“I need the gun, Carly. I’m not leaving without it! I won’t be blackmailed. I’m not going back to the big house. I won’t do it! You can’t make me!” With every word his voice grows louder and he steps closer. Derek matches his movement, backing us up until I’m pinned against the house.

“Mama. You gotta run,” Derek whispers and then declares loudly, “Hey, asshole, anyone ever tell you not to bring a knife to a gun fight?”

Josh’s face puzzles a moment and Derek circles his arm to flex his bicep.
Really?

“Carly, run!” Derek shouts and I realize he’s only trying to cause a distraction. Derek charges Josh and I sprint toward the door off the garage. Grunts, curses, and shouts fill my ears and I can’t tell who’s winning by the sounds. I get my key in the door and swing it open only to slam and lock it behind me.

My hands tremble as I unlock my cell and dial Jon.

“Hey, we’re like five minutes away.” He answers cheerfully.

“Jon!” I scream into the phone. “It’s Josh! My ex! He’s here!”

“Where are you? Are you safe? Damn it!” The acceleration of the car fills the line.

“I’m inside the house. At Tate’s. Derek’s out there. Josh has a knife. He’s high.” I choke out the words; terror and fear fill my mind.

“I’m almost there, Carly. Hang tight. I’m calling the police. Do not go outside.” The line goes dead and a bang sounds from the front, the window rattles followed by a loud grunt. I should stay back here but I have to know that Derek’s okay. I go to the window and pull back the curtain edge to peek outside.

What I see next fills my lungs with a scream. Derek is on the ground hunched over and covering his head with his hands. Crimson stains his shirt and I can’t tell who’s bleeding where. Josh’s face is covered in blood, and one eye’s swelled so it’s almost shut. He stands over Derek and kicks at his waist over and over again.

“No!” I scream, and Josh’s gaze snaps to the window. His lips pull wide into a manic smile. The blood that smears his face makes him look like a character from a horror film. Josh spits on Derek and takes a step toward the house. It’s then I notice Derek’s gone limp. His head lolls to the side, his eyes are shut, and his hands rest awkwardly at each side.

Josh glares at me but stops moving toward the house. He laughs, a crazy screeching sound, and lifts one booted foot high in the air before it stomps down on Derek’s right hand.

“No!” I scream again. Josh walks in a lazy gait toward the house, but behind him Jon’s truck turns onto the street. Tires squeal and the truck barrels over the neighbor’s lawn before Jon parks haphazardly across our driveway and lawn. He bounds from the vehicle, gun trained on Josh.

Thank God.

My gaze goes fuzzy and my legs wobble before everything goes black.

“AND THEN I SAID, ‘HEY
asshole, anyone ever tell you not to bring a knife to a gun fight.’” My bandmates gather around the small hospital room and hang on my every word.

“The fuck? No you didn’t!” Austin laughs.

“Oh, but he did. And then he flexed his biceps. I can vouch; I was there.” Carly saunters in the room and ignores my friends to stand at my side. She leans over and kisses me softly. “How’s my favorite patient?”

I chuckle and the door clicks. “Hey, I thought I was your favorite patient.” My gaze snaps to my most recent visitor.

“Luis.” I grin.

He walks slow and steady. It could be my own pain meds, but he looks stronger and healthier than when we FaceTimed last week. Trent stands and offers him his chair.

“Dude. You’re a certified badass.” Sean nods his approval at my retelling of my attempt at taking on Carly’s ex. The truth is, that was the scariest experience of my life. I’m no fighter, and Josh, well, he had me from the start. A kid from the wrong side of the law grown into a man with hard time under his belt. I never stood a chance. I only hoped I could hold him back long enough to keep my girl safe. She scoots to sit on the edge of my bed and I wind my good hand around her back to pull her closer.

“I’m not sure you can call me that.” I laugh.

Trent’s expression goes serious, a rarity for him, and he nods my way. “I’m sorry your hand’s messed up. You sure you won’t be able to go on tour?”

I glance down at my right hand, which is wrapped in a cast for now. I’ve been in the hospital for four days. My concussion and the possibility of internal bleeding were the reason for the first few days. Meetings with the surgeons and rehab specialists delayed my exit. I’m scheduled to be released in the morning and I can’t wait. “Nah, man, I’ll be lucky if this comes off before Christmas. And then I’ll need time to get my strength and mobility back.”