CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CARTER
I don’t really know what’s happening. Not so long ago the height of my sexual contact was watching The Bachelor on the tiny prison TV. Now Wren and I are fucking in public like a couple of crazy teenagers. We were so close to that bonfire last night. For all I know that could have been a KKK convention out there.
I think the Wren I remember is starting to return now she’s free of my brother, and yes, that sounds fucking harsh, but it’s the truth. He took the fun and virility that was Wren Banner and bottled it up into the kind of socialite-slash-trophy wife he wanted. She’s even started to dress down, wear less makeup, and she’s ten times more beautiful for it.
“You coming in?” calls Wren from the bath.
I take the eggs off the heat and set them aside. “Breakfast is almost ready.”
“You don’t want a little rub-a-tug-tug first?”
Fuck it. The eggs can go cold.
I’m about to pull my shirt off when there’s a knock on the door.
I look through the window.
Are you fucking kidding me?
I open the door and step out, closing it behind me so Wren can’t hear.
I keep my voice low. “You’ve got some set of balls showing up here. I’ve got a gun inside, you know.”
Matt Leroux is travelling light, only his cell phone in hand. “Please, hear me out.”
“This is private land and I have every right and shoot your ass. I’ve been down once for assault with a deadly weapon. What do they say about the second time being easier?” I look behind him. “Where’s your shitbox of a car?”
“The front gate was locked. I walked.”
The lock’s a recent addition. I couldn’t have just anyone showing up here these days. “The road down is three miles.”
He wipes his brow. “I know.”
Fucking hell.
I lean back against the door. “Alright. Go.”
“I want to start by apologizing.”
“Good start.”
“I was an asshole when I worked for the Oatville Enquirer. I wrote some shitty stuff about you, no doubt.”
“You did.”
“That’s not to say it wasn’t true…”
“Watch it, and okay, maybe it was, but that drivel you printed… those photos of me in any number of compromising positions that got circulated… You ever been in the middle of a shitstorm like that?”
“No, but I appreciate my words could have… contributed.”
I nod. “That’s very big of you. Now, you can continue to dig yourself up my tailpipe, or you can tell me what the fuck you came here to really say.”
He wipes his brow again. “Right.” He points behind himself with his thumb. “These big city journos, they don’t get it.”
I have noticed the odd news van parked up by the gate, reporters swimming around town like sharks. “And you do?”
“I’ve known you for a while, followed your story.”
“But you said you want to write about Wren, and David.”
“I do, but I’ve dug deeper. I know about David’s infidelity. I have messages, pictures… proof. I have statements from people close to Wren, you know how he really treated her.”
“So you want to smear my dead brother’s name?”
“Don’t you? I know you and Wren are together, maybe always wanted to be, and that’s the angle everyone else is going to take—Wren jumping on the convicted brother-in-law the moment David’s dead, but not me.”
“Why not?”
“David fucked up,” Matt continues. “He was a crook, no doubt, but I don’t think he should bring down Wren with him. I think we can both agree on that, can’t we?”
I do, but I don’t think I can trust this guy. The nonsense he used to write about me back in the day…
Like he said, most of it was true, as outlandish as it seemed at the time.
I look through the window, check Wren hasn’t gotten out of the bath yet. I have no idea what she’d make of all this.
“I can get her a big feature, maybe even air time if she’s interested. I’m prime now, lots of contacts.”
I smell desperation, but The American is no small-town paper like the Oatville Enquirer. It’s circulated to millions.
I stand before him. “You know, Matt. No one ever asked for my side of the story when it came to what happened that night.”
“Which night?”
“You know very fucking well which night.”
“I read the police reports. It was pretty cut and dry.”
“But do you know why I did it?”
He shakes his head. “I won’t presume to speculate.”
I throw my head back. “That would be a first.”
I jab behind myself. “I did it to protect her. David had some big debts and the people who funded him were looking for a payout, as I’m sure you know.”
Now he’s getting it. “And they threatened Wren.”
“I simply couldn’t allow it.”
“I had no idea.”
“That’s right, so believe me when I tell you protecting her is my number-one priority. I’ll do time again if it means keeping her safe.”
He puts his hands up, backing away slightly. “All I’m saying is I’m ready to tell her story, and yours, if that’s what you want.”
“You leave me out of this.”
“Carter?” It’s Wren, calling for me inside.
I point to the woods. “Get going.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“No,” I state. “Now go, before I go and get that shotgun.”
He fishes in his pocket, handing me a card. “Call any time.”
I don’t reply.
He turns and starts walking back up the drive.
I flick at the card between my fingers, shoving it deep into my pocket. I have zero intention of keeping it.
I head back inside.
Wren stands there in a towel. “Sorry, the water was getting cold. Were you talking to someone outside?”
“It was no one.”
She sniffs at the stove. “Shall we have breakfast then?”
I come forward and take the towel off her shoulders, let it drop into a puddle around her feet. I take her hands and kneel. “Best idea I’ve heard all day.”