He wouldn’t let go of Harper. The paramedics had to pry her from his arms. He left me there, with Crew, while he climbed into the back of the ambulance.

Jeremy didn’t ask me what had happened. He didn’t tell me he was leaving. He didn’t look at me at all.

His reaction wasn’t quite what I had planned, but I realized he was in shock. He’d adjust. He just needed time.

I’m gripping the toilet as I vomit. I was sick before I even finished the chapter. I’m shaking, as if I had been there. Like I witnessed firsthand what that woman did to her daughter. To Jeremy.

I press my forehead against my arm, struggling with what to do.

Do I tell someone? Do I tell Jeremy? Do I call the police?

What would the police even be able to do with her?

They’d lock her up somewhere. A mental institution. Jeremy would be free of her.

I brush my teeth, staring at my reflection. After I rinse my mouth out, I stand up straight and wipe my mouth. As my hand moves across my face, I can see the scar in the mirror. I never thought this scar would become insignificant to me, but it’s starting to feel that way. What I went through with my mother is nothing compared to this.

What happened between us was a disconnect. A broken bond.

This was murder.

I grab my bag and search for my Xanax. The pill is clenched in my fist as I walk to the kitchen. I pull a shot glass out of the cabinet and pour Crown Royal into it, all the way to the top. I pick up the shot glass, just as April rounds the corner. She pauses, staring at me.

I stare right back as I pop the pill into my mouth and down the shot.

I go back to my room and close my door, locking it. I pull the blinds down over the hole in the window to block out the sun.

I close my eyes and pull the covers over my head as I wonder what the hell I should do.

•••

I wake up sometime later, feeling a warmth travel down my body. Something touches my lips. My eyes flick open.

Jeremy.

I sigh against his mouth as he lowers himself on top of me. I welcome the comfort of his lips. Little does he know that every ounce of sadness his kiss is eliminating is sadness I feel for him. For a situation he knows nothing about.

I adjust the covers, pulling them out from between us so there’s no barrier. He’s still kissing me as he rolls onto his side, pulling me against him.

“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon,” he whispers. “You feeling okay?”

“Yes,” I lie. “I’m just tired.”

“Me too.” He feathers his fingers down my arm, then grabs my hand.

“How did you get in here?” I ask, knowing the door was locked from the inside.

He smiles. “The window. April took Verity to the doctor, and Crew won’t be home from school for another hour.”

The rest of the tension built up inside me somehow seeps out with that news. Verity isn’t in this house, and I’m at instant peace.

Jeremy lays his head on my chest, facing my feet as his fingers explore my panty line. “I checked the lock. It appears, if you slam a door hard enough, it could latch into place.”

I don’t respond to that because I’m not sure I believe it. I’m sure there’s a chance, but I think the chance that it was Verity is greater.

Jeremy lifts my T-shirt—another one that belongs to him. He kisses a spot between my breasts. “I like it when you wear my shirts.”

I run my fingers through his hair and smile. “I like it when they smell like you.”

He laughs. “What do I smell like?”

“Petrichor.”

He’s dragging his lips down my stomach. “I don’t even know what that means.” His voice is a mumble against my skin.

“It’s a word that describes the smell of fresh rain after warm weather.”

He moves until his mouth is close to mine. “I had no idea there was a word for that.”

“There’s a word for everything.”

He kisses me briefly, then pulls back. His eyebrows draw together as he contemplates. “Is there a word for what I’m doing?”

“Probably. What are you referring to?”

He traces my jaw with a finger. “This,” he says quietly. “Falling for a woman when I shouldn’t.”

My heart sinks, despite his admission. I hate that he feels guilty for how he’s feeling. I understand it, though. No matter the condition of his marriage or his wife, he’s sleeping in their bed with another woman. There’s not much justification for that.

“Do you feel guilty?” I ask him.

“Yes.” He regards me silently for a moment. “But not guilty enough to stop.” He lays his head on the pillow next to me.

“But it will stop,” I say. “I need to go back to Manhattan. And you’re married.”

His eyes seem to be protecting thoughts he doesn’t want to speak out loud. We’re both quiet as we stare at each other for a while. He eventually leans in to kiss me before saying, “I thought about what you said in the kitchen last night.”

I don’t speak in fear of what he’s about to say. Was he open to everything I had to say? Does he agree that the quality of his life is just as important as Verity’s?

“I called a nursing facility who will take her during the week, starting Monday. She’ll come home three weekends a month.” He waits for my reaction.

“I think that’s the best thing for all three of you.”

As if I see it happen in real time, the grief begins to evaporate. From him, from this house. The wind is blowing through the window, the house is quiet, Jeremy looks at peace. It’s in this moment I decide what to do about the manuscript.

I’m not going to do anything.

Proving that Verity murdered Harper wouldn’t make Jeremy feel better. It would make him feel worse. It would open up so many wounds. It would rip the fresh wounds open even wider.

I’m not convinced that Verity is safe to be around, but there are ways to uncover that with time. I think Jeremy just needs better security. A monitor in Verity’s room, connected to a motion sensor on the weekends she’s here. If she really is faking her injuries, he’ll find out. And if he does find out, he’ll never allow her around Crew again.

And now that she’s going to a facility, she’ll be monitored even more closely.

Right now, things feel okay. Safe.

“Stay another week,” Jeremy says.

I was planning on leaving in the morning, but now that I know Verity will be gone soon, I’m excited about the idea of being here with him all week, without April, without Verity.

“Okay.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You mean alright.”

I smile. “Alright.”

He presses his mouth to my stomach, kisses me, and then climbs back on top of me.

He doesn’t remove the shirt I’m wearing as he slides into me. He makes love to me for so long, my body grows lithe against his movements. When I feel the muscles of his arms begin to tense beneath my fingertips, I don’t want it to end. I don’t want him to leave my body.

I wrap my legs tightly around him and bring his mouth to mine. He groans, sinking into me even deeper. He’s kissing me when he comes, his lips rigid, his breaths shallow, making no attempt to pull out. He collapses on top of me, still inside me.

We’re quiet, because we both know what we just did. We don’t discuss it, though.

After Jeremy catches his breath, he slips out of me and lowers his hand, sliding his fingers between my legs. He watches me as he touches me, waiting for me to reach my climax. When I do, I’m not worried about how loud I am because we’re the only ones here, and it’s bliss.

When it’s over and I relax against the bed, he kisses me one last time.

“I need to sneak out now before everyone gets home.”

I smile at him, watching as he dresses. He presses a kiss to my forehead before walking across the room to climb back out the window.

I don’t know why he didn’t use the door, but it makes me laugh.

I pull a pillow over my face and smile. What has come over me? Maybe this house is fucking with my head, because half the time I’m ready to get the hell out of here and half the time I never want to leave.