Page 49 of The Killer Cupcake (Poison Cherry #3)

NO LONGER THE GOOD GIRL

" E ly? You hungry?" Lea called from the kitchen doorway, her voice warm and soft.

Though they weren't married yet, she'd been coming by an hour early each evening—after her shift at the Jensens' main house ended—to cook his supper and sit with him on the porch swing, planning their small wedding for spring.

"I'm good, Sugar," he said, unlacing his work boots with the same methodical care he brought to everything. Sugar—that's what he called her, sweet and necessary as she'd become to him the past year.

Lea smiled, wiping her hands on her apron.

She was nothing like Kathy—shorter, rounder, with skin dark as fertile soil and a laugh that filled up empty spaces.

Where Kathy had been lightning and dreams, Lea was steady rain and solid ground.

Precisely what a man needed to build something lasting. A good woman.

"Let me know when you’re ready," she said, already turning back to check on the meat in the stove.

The knock came just as Ely pulled off his second boot.

Lea’s shoulders relaxed—probably one of the men from the construction site, needing Ely to settle some dispute or lend a tool.

Everyone in Butts came to Ely for something.

He had that way about him, steady as a heartbeat, reliable as sunrise.

She hummed softly and returned to her cooking, content in the rhythm they'd built together.

Ely looked at the door, barefoot and bone-tired, ready to send whoever it was away so he and his Lea could watch the sun sink behind the pines before he drove her home or took her to his bedroom, whichever she preferred, was fine by him.

When he opened the door, his heart stopped beating.

Kathy stood there, trembling. The hem of her dress and her feet were dusty from the road, her eyes swollen from crying. "I'm sorry for coming here. I'm so very sorry. But I have nowhere else to go. I’m out of time, Ely.”

Before he could speak, she dropped her bag and collapsed against him, her tears soaking through his shirt. "Help me, Ely. Please."

For a moment, muscle memory took over—his arms started to close around her. Then he heard Lea calling him from the kitchen, and reality crashed back. He gently but firmly set Kathy back, holding her at arm's length.

"Kathy, you can't—" He glanced over his shoulder, then stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Wait. Just wait." He collected her things.

Took her hand and walked her around to the back of the house.

He guided her to the old bench seat against the wall, keeping his voice low. "Just... wait, here. Don't move."

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself like she might fall apart.

Ely slipped back inside, his mind racing as he entered the kitchen. Lea looked up from stirring the pot, her smile fading at his expression.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Big Mama," he said, the lie bitter on his tongue. "One of the Jensen boys just came by—she's taken poorly. Real bad. I need to run you home quick, then get over there."

Lea's face creased with concern. She knew how much Big Mama meant to him, to all of them. "Oh Lord. Let me just?—"

"No time, Sugar. Come on." He grabbed her shawl from the hook, already moving toward the front door—away from where Kathy waited like a ghost at the back of the house. "I'll come back for the food later."

As he helped Lea into the truck, guilt twisted his stomach. But what else could he do? Two years of carefully built peace, and here was Kathy, bringing her storms to his door again.

"You sure you don't need me to come with you? Is Kathy there?” Lea asked as they pulled away.

"No, baby. Might be a long night. I'll see you tomorrow."

He drove the familiar route to Lea's family's place, every minute stretching like an hour, knowing Kathy sat on his porch—desperate, alone, and still able to undo everything he'd worked to build without her.

Half an Hour Later:

Ely drove back up the dirt road to his house, the truck's headlights cut through the gathering dusk.

Kathy had stayed exactly where he'd left her, planted on the bench like she'd grown roots there.

He pulled around to the back, where no passing neighbor could see, killed the engine, and sat there in the dark.

Through the windshield, he could see her lift her head at the sound of his return. Even from there, even in the fading light, he could see how broken she was. Not just tired or sad—broken in a way that scared him.

He sighed deeply, his hands still gripping the wheel.

If he got out of this truck and went to her, as he had so many times before, he'd be risking everything he'd built with Lea.

Sweet Lea, who called him her rock, who hummed while she cooked, who loved him simply and uncomplicated. The wife he'd always thought he wanted.

But sitting there in the truck, he finally admitted what he'd always known. He still loved Kathy Freeman. Had never stopped. Maybe never would. That kind of love didn't care about common sense or carefully built lives or sweet women who deserved better.

Their eyes met across the yard—hers pleading, his already surrendering. She looked away first, and in that small gesture, he saw her shame over needing him again.

"Fuck it," he muttered.

He climbed out and walked straight to her, each step feeling like fate. She stood when he approached, gathering her things with trembling hands.

"I'm sorry for coming here. I saw you leave with Lea.” Her voice was small, broken. "I don't want to cause any trouble. If you could take me to get Big Mama's medicine before the drug store closes, and drop me home, I'd be fine."

"You aren't fine." He lifted her chin gently, making her meet his eyes. "Are you?"

"No." The word came out on a sob. "No, I'm not. I'm in big trouble, Ely. Bigger than any trouble I've ever been in. And I'm terrified."

He took her bag from her hands and led her inside.

The house still smelled of Lea's cooking—collard greens with ham hocks, cornbread in the iron skillet, sweet tea cooling in the pitcher.

The kitchen looked like a woman's love made visible—clean dish towels she'd embroidered, flowers from her mama's garden in a mason jar, everything in its place.

Kathy froze in the doorway, taking it all in. He watched her understand what this kitchen meant, what kind of woman had made it this way.

"Hungry?" he asked, though his voice came out rougher than intended.

"No, no, no, I shouldn't have come." She turned for the door, but he caught her hand gently, like he was afraid she might shatter.

That small touch undid her. Kathy burst into tears and collapsed against him, and suddenly they were back to being eighteen when she'd cry about missing Carmelo and he'd hold her, pretending it didn't kill him to comfort her about another man.

Right there in Lea's carefully kept kitchen, between the covered pots and embroidered towels, she told him everything. Two years of sneaking around to see Carmelo. The lies she'd told Big Mama. The risks she'd taken. How hope kept her going even when she knew better.

By the time she got to the part about Carmelo coming to Butts, about him forcing her into that barn, they'd moved to the sofa. Ely was on his feet, pacing.

"He put his hands on you?" His voice was dangerous now.

"He was desperate. Said he'd die without me. Said I was killing him." She wiped her eyes. "Then he grabbed me, pushed me against the door.”

Ely's fists clenched. The gentle man who'd never raised his hand to anyone was gone, replaced by someone she didn't recognize.

"Ely, stop." Her voice was weary. "I don't need this from you. Please. I came to you because you're not like them."

That stopped him cold. He studied her—really looked at her for the first time. Thinner than before, shadows under her eyes, hands protective over her stomach though nothing showed yet.

"What else?" He sat down beside her, his voice gentle again.

"I know he hurt you, broke your heart. But I know you, Kathy.

You aren't afraid of him. And no matter how much I want to kill him right now, he isn't going to hurt you physically.

So there's something else. You said you were out of time.

You came here to me. You need help, not protection. What aren't you telling me?"

She lowered her gaze to the floor, hands twisting in her lap. The silence stretched between them, heavy with what she couldn't say.

"You're pregnant, aren't you?"

She put her hands to her face and cried—not the tears from before, but deep, terrified sobs that came from her soul.

"Does he know?" Ely asked quietly. "Does anyone know?"

She shook her head, unable to speak.

He pulled her back into his arms and let her cry it all out—the fear, the shame, the desperation of a woman with no good choices left. When her sobs finally quieted, he held her a moment longer, breathing in the scent of her hair, knowing everything was about to change.

"It's okay, baby," he said finally. "I'll protect you."

"How?" Her voice was muffled against his chest.

"I'll marry you. Fast as we can manage it."

She pulled back to look at him, “Ely, I can't ask you to give up Lea?—"

"Don't play with me, Kathy.” His voice was rough. "You knew what I'd say when you climbed those porch steps. You know I love you. Only ever you."

"You knew I'd come to you,” she said.

“I’ve been waiting," he admitted. "Maybe not for this, but... I could’ve married Lea some time ago. I’ve been waiting."

She nodded. "I'm out of time. I can't do it anymore—the lies, the shame.

I'm scared for this baby, for my family.

You warned me, and I didn't heed your warning. I chose this path because everyone else is choosing it. Debbie went to José. Willa went to Janey and Carmine. No one is walking in truth, and innocent babies are being born in the crossfire.”

“I don’t understand what happened to Willa. I saw what happened to Debbie. I’m not going to let it happen to you. If you're my wife, this baby is mine. And you're mine." The words were a vow.

She nodded slowly.

“I know what being a wife to you means. And I will be, Ely. I swear. I will be yours, only yours. If we do this, Carmelo Ricci does not exist.”

The weight of what she was promising, what she was asking him to sacrifice, sat heavily between them.

Kathy had never kissed a man other than Carmelo.

Never let another man hold her the way Ely was holding her now.

Her heart hammered with uncertainty, guilt, and desperate gratitude.

But she was out of options, and Ely... Ely had always been her safe place.

She reached up slowly, touching at first his lips, then his jaw.

He went still, barely breathing, as she drew him down.

The kiss was nothing like the passion she'd known with Carmelo.

This was quieter, sadder, tasting of tears and sacrifice and the death of dreams. But underneath, she felt Ely's years of patient love, his joy at finally having even this broken version of what he'd wanted.

When the kiss ended, something fundamental had shifted. She wasn't a dreamer anymore. She was a woman who understood exactly what this bargain would cost them both—Ely giving up a woman who loved him and truly, her giving up the last hope that somehow she and Carmelo could find their way.

She stood, wiping the last of her tears, and straightened her spine. The girl in the attic was gone. In her place stood a woman ready to do what she needed to, to bring her child into the world safely. She extended her hand to him. Maybe this was why Debbie and Willa did the same.

He stared at her hand, then up at her face.

“You don’t have to do this, Kathy. Not now, it’s too soon for you, and I understand that,” Ely said.

She gave him a sad smile. “Always selfless, Ely. Always putting me first before even your own well-being. I don’t have to do anything.

I want to. I want to forget him. Really and truly forget.

I want to start over, be her again. The girl you knew before all of this began.

Can you make me forget? Do you want to try? Because I want you too, Ely.”

She saw the desire bloom in his eyes, years of longing mixed with uncertainty about her surrender.

He took her hand.

She led him through his own house to the bedroom.

And there, surrounded by more evidence of Lea's presence—her robe on a hook, her slippers by the bed—Kathy Freeman undressed for another man.

She gave herself to Ely Brown, not with passion or joy, but with gratitude and determination and the kind of desperate affection that grows when two people save each other.

Behind that closed door, her new life began.