Page 83 of The Temptation of Truth

Every message is like a backhanded slap, and my cheek stings with each word. I flinch and grit my teeth, imagining the phantom handprint blooming on my skin.

He’s hit me twice before. Twice, in quick succession.

Only twice, he’d said the next morning.It’s not like I beat you.

Onlytwice, and it was enough.

Enough to intimidate me into submission. Enough to shove me back into the darkness I’d been fighting against. To keep me down, quiet, and obedient.

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut.

This isn’t normal. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.Nothingabout this is how it’s supposed to be.

I think of Sav and what she said about her relationship.Levi wants what I want because we’re a team.She went out tonight wearing an outfit that revealed more skin than it covered, and I watched him kiss her goodbye and tell her to have fun. No judgment or jealousy or strong-armed attempt to control her. He respects her and he trusts her. That would never happen with me and Brady.

What Brady and I have...

It’s not healthy. It’s harmful. It’s not how it’s supposed to be.

I bet Callie and Claire don’t get texts from their partners that feel like physical blows. I bet they don’t have to think up pre-planned excuses before spending money. When Jonah came to the dressing room earlier, he didn’t make Claire go home with the baby. He gave her the choice, and then he respected it.

It been years since I’ve witnessed relationships that work harmoniously. I almost forgot they existed. I forgot it could be different. That isshouldbe different.

I don’t have friends. I’ve all but cut off my relationship with my uncle. I don’t talk to anyone outside of the Sinclairs, and as for them...

Well, Brady is just like his father. Do I want to end up just like his mother?

Then, as painful as it is, I think of my own parents. Their relationship was one of strength, trust, and love. They supported each other. They respected each other. Their marriage was like a team, and they were equal players.

What would they say about my marriage? What would they think of what I’ve let myself become?

Uncle Wade said on the tarmac, just before we left the States, that my family would be proud of me. But would they? Because if they read these texts from my husband. If they knew about the anxiety I feel on a daily basis. The fear that weighs me down at the mere thought of going against him...

I don’t think they’d be proud. I think they’d be devastated and disappointed.

And then that kiss.

It wouldn’t have happened if I were in love with my husband. It shouldn’t have happened at all, but now that it has...

God, what am I going to do?

I turn off my phone and drop it beside the bed.

Then the tears come in one giant flood. For the second time in a matter of days, loud, hiccupping sobs rack my body. My muscles ache. My throat burns. I bury my face in my pillow, soaking it in tears and snot, and it takes all my self-control not to scream.

In hindsight, I can see it all so clearly. My misguided reasons and fearful excuses. My desperation. My vulnerability. I’d just lost my family. I was so terrified of being alone, so burdened with grief and guilt, that I numbly handed all the control over to the first person who wanted it.

What if by doing that, I let go of myself, too?

What am I doing? What have I done? Why did I let this happen? Mabel’s voice is a whisper in my head, and it starts to make sense.

What has he done to you?

There is confidence here. It’s not gone.

You’re not gone.

“Not yet,” I say out loud, my voice echoing through the dark room.