“Why would he do that?” She didn’t look convinced.
“To hurt me,” I admitted. It was the first honest thing I’d said to my mother in so long. “He really wants to hurt me, Mom. And the kids are the best way to do that.”
She was quiet for a long while, her eyes dancing between mine. She opened her mouth, as if prepared to say something, then closed it again. Finally, she said, “Sweetheart, Peter loves you. He’s always loved—”
“No.” I shut her down. I’d bared my soul to her, told her something I’d never told anyone else. I needed her to understand. To believe me. To trust me. But she wouldn’t. Of course, she wouldn’t. This was the same mother who’d berated me my entire life, made me question my own judgments and opinions, and even taken away my right to form opinions or make decisions for as long as she could. Why would I think she’d be any different now? “No. Just stop, Mom, okay? I appreciate you letting us stay here, but this was a mistake. We’re going to go—”
“Oh, Ainsley, don’t be like that—”
“It’s fine.” I started toward the stairs, but she stepped in front of me. Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Panic gripped my organs.
“Ms. Adele?”
I heard his voice through the door—unsure whether to be relieved or even more worried. Why was he back so soon? What did he want?
Mom eyed me, then moved away, crossing the room and opening the door. “Matt? Did you decide on some sangria after all?”
He was out of breath, his forehead gleaming with sweat. “Sorry, no. I don’t mean to bother you again.” He wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was watching me over her shoulder. “Ainsley, is this your car out in the driveway?”
“Yes. Why?” I moved toward the door.
He winced, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “You’ve got a flat tire.”
“What?” My heart thudded in my chest. “How?”
“I was getting ready to leave when I noticed it. It looks like you hit a nail.” He stepped back, clearing a path for me to see for myself. I peered out the door and into the driveway. Sure enough, my front tire was flat and resting on the rim. “I can fix it if you want. Do you have a spare?”
“In the trunk. I…” I tried to think back. Had I hit something on the way over? I was in such a rush it was entirely possible.
“Do you have the keys to pop your trunk? I’m happy to change it for you.”
“That’s okay. I can call a mechanic.”
He waved me off. “A mechanic will charge you way too much. I can have it fixed in just a few minutes. It’s no trouble.”
I hesitated.
“For goodness’ sake, Ainsley, just give him the keys. I don’t know where her manners are. It’s very kind of you to offer, Matt.” Mom beamed from beside me.
“It’s very kind,” I agreed. “But I’m sure you have better things to do with your day.”
“It’s not a problem, honestly. It’ll just take a few minutes. Do you have a tire iron and jack?”
“I’m…not sure. I think so.” I heard the kids moving overhead, reminding me that we should be leaving any minute. Peter could come back. What if he did and we were stuck here with no car? I grabbed the keys from the table next to the door. “Thank you. Really. I appreciate it.”
“Sure thing. I’m happy to help.” He smiled at me, his eyes lighting up, and held out his hand. When I passed the keys to him, his touch lingered on my skin for a moment too long. My breathing hitched, the stress of the moment melting away for only a second.
I pulled back. “Thank you, ” I repeated, tucking my hand in my pocket as if concealing evidence.
“Sure thing. I’ll, uh… I’ll get to work, then.”
I nodded. “I’ll be right out.”
With that, he turned away, and I watched him approaching the car and popping the trunk. I walked toward the stairs. “Maise, will you bring my stuff down when you come?” I didn’t want to leave Matt with our car unattended for long, but there was no time to waste. Every second we stayed there was a second he might return.
“Coming!” she called down.
“So, you’re still leaving?” Mom asked, her arms folded across her chest.
“We don’t have a choice, Mom.” I moved back to the window, watching Matt as he worked to get the tire from its rim.
“Of course you do. I kept him away, didn’t I? I did what you asked. You may not agree with my decisions or the way I do things, but you’re safe here. The kids are safe here. I just think you’re making a huge mistake—”