Her Reluctant Husband by Erica Marselas (books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

her. She’s going to end up passing out one day from the lack of sleep. And how was I supposed to know she has tried this before?

“You, nice? You wouldn’t know nice if it bit you in the ass.”

“Right.” I throw the bags to my bed where the contents spill out. “Well, you can go now.”

“Gladly.”

“Oh, and sweet dreams, honey bear.” I walk to the bed and find the earplugs I also bought while at the pharmacy. I had no plans to show her these, but her little attitude has changed my mind. “I know I will be now.”

She glares at me before she slams the door behind her.

I flop down on my bed, her scent lingering in my room, and I find myself needing to take care of things again.

7JUNE

“You’re a natural, Lilly-Ann.” I bend down to tell the tiny dancer in front of me. Lilly-Ann is only four, but she has so much talent in her little toes that she reminds me of Kathleen. Dancing is in her blood. Unlike me, who picked up the hobby as a way to remember Kat, while also to keep my mind busy and try to heal.

“Thank you, Ms. Madison.”

“You’re so welcome, sweetie. I will see you next week.”

Lilly-Ann nods happily and then skips away to her uncle.

The rest of my morning pre-school class files out of Kat’s Dance Studio giggling and telling their parents what they learned.

I started this dance studio when I came back to town six months ago. I always had plans to start one to fulfill Kathleen’s dream and there was no better place for it than in the heart of town. Liz helped me find the building, gave me her business advice, and brought in Kelley to help with the legal setup. As for money, I used the hush money Deacon’s dad had given to me after his son raped me, one final time after the accident, and forced me out of town. I always felt dirty taking the money and refused to spend it, but Liz convinced me it was mine and I was allowed to use it especially for something that would make me happy. This dance studio makes me happy. Not just because of Kat; there’s so much freedom and expression in dancing. I heal here.

Annabelle strides in front of me, fixing her hair back into a tight bun on the top of her head. “Hey, girl.” She smiles. “I’m starving after keeping up with those little ones.” Annabelle was super close to Kathleen and on her dance team since they were young. I had always gotten along with her, but I was nervous when I asked if she would be interested in being a head instructor at the studio. Everyone in this town has their feelings about me, but she came on board without as much as a blink of an eye. She hasn’t ever pointed the blame to me for that night, and honestly, we haven’t talked about it. It seems her judgment isn’t clogged like everyone else’s.

“Do you want to go grab some lunch and we can go over next month’s recital?”

“Yeah, sure.” I give her a small smile.

I am hungry, and Annabelle is one of the few people I can eat around without my anxiety getting the best of me. She can keep me entertained as I manage to down some calories.

“We can go to Bea’s Diner.”

“Sounds good,” I mumble and my stomach sours instantly. So much for no anxiety today.

Bea’s Diner has the best pot pies and peach pies this side of Texas, but it also has the best view of Kinder Falls Motel.

After I ran out of the hospital, I managed to gather some of my things from the house and ran to the hotel, thinking I would be safe, till I could get to my mom. I was wrong. Deacon found me the next day and made good on his promise that he would make me pay. The years of abuse before were a cakewalk. I would have taken a hundred more of those days versus the ones I spent in the motel with him. He tied me up, raped me for days and I ended up needing stitches down there. He broke my jaw, my nose, and a couple of ribs. He spat on me when he finished, which he had never done before. It was degrading. I was garbage to him. He acted like he was done with me, but I knew then, it wasn’t true. I had only wished he’d kill me afterward When he left, he untied me, thinking I wouldn’t run or have anyone to call. The thing was, I was in so much pain and so scared that I did call the cops.

But that was stupid. Useless really.

At first, I thought I had a chance when a young deputy walked into the motel room. He was in shock when he saw me, and after he wrote down my story, he tried to get me to the hospital. I thought the man was going to be my angel and my saving grace for once in this town, but then Sheriff Whitmore walked in and kicked the deputy out. He knew what his son had done, but instead of doing something about it, he paid me off with a million dollars and told me to get out of town. I refused at first, but he sweetened the deal when he promised that Deacon wouldn’t be allowed within a hundred miles of me or this town and would send his son to get help.

I took the deal after that. After Sheriff Whitmore had me seen by a private doctor, I got my restraining order and left town. The promise has been kept other than the letters from Deacon every few months when he finds me.