Page 10

MERIT

I glance at the clock, glad there’s only five minutes left in the show. I’ve basically cried for two hours straight. My poor parents and Granny have had to listen to the TV through my snorts and hacks and sniffles.

This last sequence was obviously shot at a different time from the main part of the interview. Holt’s not dressed in a suit, but in a T-shirt and gym shorts. He and Alaina are walking around the football field of the local university, and he’s slowly working a football back and forth between his hands.

She asks him another question, using that calm, reporter voice. “So, do you place any blame on the authorities for what happened to you? I mean, it was a joint effort with multiple local, state, and federal agencies involved. That’s a lot of people to get it wrong.”

“No, I don’t blame the police. They were working with the evidence they had at the time. I have several family members in law enforcement. The last thing they want to do is charge or convict an innocent man. They want to get it right. They want to bring the guilty parties to justice. We’re all human. We all make mistakes,” he says with a shrug.

“Besides the personal aspect of everything, what’s been the most difficult part of all this?”

“Knowing that false accusations like these cast doubt on the truth. The survivors of sexual assault and domestic violence who come forward are warriors. They’re fighters and champions. The same can be said of the families of the victims who have lost their lives to these crimes.” He stops walking and looks into her eyes. “Statistics show that somewhere between two and eleven percent of accusations are false.” He frowns. “I can’t wrap my head around that. I mean, my cousin was a victim of a violent crime, including a sexual assault. She was murdered by her rapist. He wanted to keep her quiet. And to know that a small group of people take advantage of those horrors and report things that never happened? I can’t even fathom it. The survivors of assault deserve more respect than that.”

“I hear you’re doing something about that.” Like a true professional, Alaina gently steers the conversation. “When working out the details for this interview, you actually negotiated to receive a certain percentage of the ad revenue. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

“And what are your plans for that money?” She softly giggles. “A bigger house? New cars?”

“We’re in the process of establishing The Hill Family Charities. All the money from this interview will be diverted there. We’ve already designated two recipients. The money will be equally divided between two amazing organizations. One provides assistance to the survivors of sexual and domestic violence. The other provides resources to those who have been wrongly accused or convicted of crimes.”

“That’s wonderful. Really, it is. You’re helping to provide a brighter future for those around you,” Alaina says. “But what about you? What does your future hold? Do you catch yourself thinking about what could have been ?”

“I can’t focus on what could’ve happened. Yes, I could’ve been convicted. Yes, I could’ve spent years behind bars as an innocent man. But I’ve already spent too much time worrying about that. It cost me the most important thing in my life. Now, I’ve got to work on getting that back.”

“Your girlfriend, Merit?” she asks, arching a perfectly waxed eyebrow.

He gives that Holt smile. The one that says he’s hiding something, but it’s all okay because he can still melt the panties right off you. “Alaina...”

She holds up a hand and softly laughs. “I know, I know. Boundaries for your loved ones.”

The screen fades away to a newsroom set where Alaina gives her final remarks.

And finally… it’s over.

I feel completely drained. Like someone pulled my plug and watched all my energy circle around and around before finally sliding down the sink.

How dare he?

How dare he make me feel sorry for him?

Make me understand him? Make me want to forgive him?

Make me love him again?

Not that I ever stopped.

It’s not that easy. It can’t be that easy. I refuse to make it that easy. He ruined me, he broke me. And here he is doing it all over again. I don’t have the strength for this.

The truth is… I don’t know if I’ll ever have the strength again.

My family doesn’t say anything when I leave the house, walking out to meet him by the firepit, where he’s been pacing for the past two hours. The crackling flames cast his hard body in a haunting orange glow. He glances up, and I ignore how devastatingly handsome he is.

His brow furrows. “You’ve been crying.”

All I do is nod.

“You watched it?”

What a stupid question.

“Of course, I watched it. We all did. I’m pretty sure every human on Earth with cable TV watched it.”

His voice is soft and nervous. “What did you think of it? I mean, did it explain everything? I haven’t seen it. I didn’t even watch a rough cut of it.”

“It explained everything.” I take a deep breath. Unable to control myself, I cast my eyes downward, attempting to look at the ground. Of course, all I can see is my growing belly. “I really hope it helps you get your life back. Your career, your fans, your reputation. You deserve it.”

He takes a step closer, erasing the distance between us. Unshed tears are forming in his eyes. “Fuck my reputation and everything else that goes along with it. None of that is important. All I want is you. I can’t live without you. I don’t give a shit about my career or my fans. I see that now. It’s you. All I need is you.” His hand presses against my stomach, and the baby immediately moves. “And our baby. We’re a family.”

I blink, trying to keep my own tears at bay, but it’s completely useless. It’s like trying to dam the Tennessee River with a sheet of typing paper. They spill onto my cheeks, burning my skin. A deep, dark anger curls around my damaged heart and suffocates it. “Fuck you.” The curse feels foreign and vile on my tongue. “Fuck you, Holt. It’s not that easy.”

His hands slide up my arms, pulling me even closer to him.

My chest heaves in fragmented sobs. “You killed me. I was dead when you found me. And you resurrected me to life just to kill me again. You swallowed my love and then spit it back in my face. All I ever did was believe in you. I never questioned your innocence, not for one second. And one person—someone you don’t even know—tossed out one simple theory during a brainstorming session, and you ran with it as truth.”

My voice rises, and I’m yelling into the night. “I lost everything because of you. My store! You know how hard I worked for that, for that place to call my own. It was my heart and my soul, and I lost it because of you! And I’m not even talking about the lost income or the vandalism. I would’ve figured out a way to keep going if those were my only hurdles…but what was the point? When you tossed me out of your life, you kept part of me with you. The part that had fire and passion and a determination to persevere. You took away my will to fight. And you didn’t even care! You never came to check on me. You never even called me.” I wipe my face. “Kyra, my best friend, is half a country away from me now. She lost her job, too, you asshole!”

He shoves his body against mine, shadowing me with his massive frame. It’s like he’s trying to absorb my anger, soak it into his own body. He’s so close I can see the freckles on his nose. “You’re right. Nothing you’re saying is wrong. I was a fucking coward. I should’ve never let you walk out that door. But…I did.”

When he inhales, the sound rattles in his chest, like he’s battling for oxygen. “I should’ve come to you, crawled to you, begged for forgiveness. I knew you had nothing to do with it. Even months later, when the attorneys and police were still trying to get a subpoena for your phone records, I knew. I knew you couldn’t have had anything to do with it because you loved me just as much as I loved you. But I was scared shitless and kept my mouth shut. The more time that passed, the more excuses I made—even after you broke the case wide open. ‘ I’ll let the trial get over and then I’ll call her. I’ll let the interview air and then I’ll see her. ’ They were all chicken-shit excuses because I was terrified of the possibility that you would hate me. I let my pride and embarrassment ruin your life and steal your store. I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I promise you, Mer, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you—to our son—if you just give me another chance. I love you.”

I hate it when he says that. Why? Because I know it’s still the truth.

He loves me.

Just like I love him.

His right hand slowly tracks a path over my shoulder and around to the back of my neck. Squeezing gently, he manipulates my head, giving himself better access to my emotion-filled and grief-stricken face. His lips graze my cheek. Chapped from spending the last few days in the sun, they feel like sandpaper against my skin. Rubbing his mouth back and forth, he dries my tears—licking the salt and softly kissing away the moisture. “Give me a chance to make us whole, baby.”

He dips lower, and when his lips brush against my own, burning desire crashes over me like a tidal wave. Despite my inner protest, my mouth opens, and his hot breath fans into my body, begging for me to replenish his air with my own. And when his tongue gently teases me, I nearly collapse.

His whisper is filled with gravel and lava. “Tell me you love me, Merit. Tell me we’re a family. Tell me you want me.”

Reaching deep down into the pit of my soul, I muster all of my strength, all of my resolve. “I don’t want you.”

“Don’t lie, Merit.”

“Mmmm?”

“You might not forgive me. And that’s okay. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But you still love me. It’s written all over your face.”

I stare into his eyes. It’s too dark to see their striking blue color, but I know it’s there.

“Tell me the truth.”

I back away from his embrace. Instantly cold and empty, I wrap my hands around my stomach, holding our baby. “I want you to leave. Can’t you see you’re killing me all over again, Holt? Every time I lay eyes on you, it’s a slow death. Over and over and over.” I struggle to swallow. “Please leave. Give me some peace.”

He shakes his head, ready to protest.

“Leave!” I scream. Louder than I’ve ever screamed before. “If you love me, listen to me! I can’t be around you. I can’t be next to you. I can’t even look at you. Anger is festering in me like a cancer. I need time. Please… just give me time.”

Folding his hands on top of his head, he walks around, pacing again and thinking. Eventually, he stops in front of me. His face is solemn. Determined. “Okay. I’ll give you some space, some time to think. But I’m not leaving for long. I’ll go home, pack a few things, and take care of some business. I’ll drive back down on Sunday. And then? I’m. Not. Leaving.” He punctuates each word, with a firm and swift delivery.

He takes a step forward, but he doesn’t invade my personal space. “Because I meant what I said. Your place is with me. In our home. In our life. You’re fucking mine, Merit. Your love is stamped on my DNA, branded into my bone marrow.” His eyes dart around my face, absorbing me to memory. “I’m not stopping till I win this battle. I’ll fight for our family… here, now, forever, and always. I’ll fucking fight for you , Merit. Until my dying day.”