Page 55 of The Wives of Hawthorne Lane

Colin whips around so that he’s facing Libby, his shoulders squared, a roaring fire burning behind his eyes.

Libby has never seen her neighbor like this before.

She’s always known him to be so pleasant, charismatic.

Mixing up mojitos at neighborhood barbecues, offering a smile and a wave as he collects his mail, asking after Lucas if they happened to cross paths.

All in all, Colin Pembrook seemed like the perfect neighbor.

But now, as he glowers at her, the heat in his gaze so strong that Libby can almost feel the burn of it on her skin, the illusion shatters around her.

It was all a facade, a cheap plastic disguise.

“You better not have harmed a hair on his head,” she growls, her eyes locking on Colin’s, refusing to allow him to intimidate her.

“Or what?” He scoffs.

The sound of it, the casual flippancy, enrages Libby.

She’s tired of being underestimated, disregarded, and ignored.

She’s tired of being Libby, the woman who is expected to take it all on the chin, to be okay, to retain her composure no matter what life throws at her.

She’s tired of everyone, including herself, glossing over her feelings.

She’s held back so much for so long—the separation, Bill dating, and now Heather’s pregnancy—that she feels like a bomb on the verge of detonation.

And this, Colin threatening her son, this is the very last spark that sets her off.

“Or it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” Libby levels the words at Colin, savoring the bite of them on her tongue.

Colin smiles pityingly, and Libby feels the flames of her rage climb so high that she’s engulfed by them.

Lucas is everything to her, the only thing in her life that really matters.

She charges at Colin, shoves him hard with both hands, channeling a primal strength she didn’t know she possessed.

She doesn’t recognize herself in this moment; it’s as if she passed through the fire of her own anger and emerged, reborn, as someone new.

Someone strong and capable, someone who won’t be pushed around.

Colin stumbles on his feet, a look of surprise passing across his face before his hand shoots out, trying to grasp Libby’s throat. She leaps backward as his hand swipes through the air, so close that Libby can feel the heat of his skin on hers.

“Get away from my wife.” Bill shoves his way through the throng of people and then charges at Colin, nearly knocking him to the ground. “And what did you do to my son?”

Libby has never seen this side of Bill before. There’s something wild and animalistic in the way he stands, the muscles in his shoulders tense, his teeth bared.

“That boy,” Colin spits, “needs to stay the hell away from my daughter.”

Bill shakes with anger. “If you touch either of them again, I swear I’ll—”

But before he can finish the threat, Seth Warrington breaks through the crowd, his features twisted with hatred as he sets his sights on Colin.

“You!” he shouts. He lunges for him and swiftly tackles him to the ground. Colin’s eyes grow wide, his mouth a rounded O of surprise as he lands on the asphalt. “I’m going to fucking kill you!” Seth exclaims.

Libby watches in horrified astonishment as the two men grapple on the pavement. What the hell is going on? Why did Seth, of all people, decide to intervene?

Bill seizes Colin by the shoulders and tosses him off Seth, sending him rolling onto his side.

Libby feels her heart pounding in her chest as Colin scrambles to his feet, and the three men stare each other down, breathing heavily, the anger radiating off them thick and palpable.

Lucas tries to dart around his mother and into the fray, but she grabs him by the arm and holds him back. “You’re staying out of it.”

Tension crackles through the air as Colin looks from Bill to Seth. The crowd has gone silent, and even the cool October breeze holds its breath as if it too is waiting to see what will happen next.

And then, to Libby’s surprise, Colin takes a step back, surely realizing he’s outnumbered. “Just keep your son away from my daughter.” The words are venom dripped from his lips.

Bill glowers at him. “If you ever come near my family again, you won’t live to regret it.” He speaks clearly and evenly, as though this isn’t a threat but a promise. “I swear to you, Colin. I’ll fucking kill you.”

Bill turns then, folds Lucas and Libby under his arms, and leads them through the gathered crowd.

—

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Libby asks Lucas for the third time as they make the short walk to their house.

“I’m fine, Mom. I told you.” But his voice comes out as jagged as broken glass.

“How about you and I go for a walk together?” Bill suggests, herding Lucas toward the opposite sidewalk. “Give you a minute to cool off.”

“Yeah,” Lucas responds, nodding. “Yeah, okay.”

Libby isn’t keen on letting Lucas out of her sight at the moment, but he’ll be with Bill, and she knows Bill won’t let anything happen to their son.

“Be careful!” she calls after them nonetheless as she watches them go off together. “I’ll see you at home!”

Libby feels herself deflate as soon as they turn off the street, away from the crowded festival, and walk toward the path through the woods. They’ll be back soon, she reminds herself. Lucas is okay. She repeats it like a promise in her head. Lucas is okay.

But what if he hadn’t been? What if she and Bill hadn’t gotten there in time?

The thought makes her shudder with a cold chill.

I would have killed Colin tonight. The thought comes to her clear and final.

If he’d hurt her son, Libby would have murdered Colin in cold blood, and she would have done it without an ounce of remorse.

The idea is both frightening and liberating, like peering into the dark, unexplored depths of her own rage.

Libby never knew she was capable of such things, but she’s certain now that she is.

She would do anything to protect her son.

Libby forces herself to take deep breaths as she walks the rest of the way home, climbs the steps to her front porch. We did get there, she reminds herself, and Lucas is okay.

“Is this a bad time?”

The sound of a man’s voice on her porch startles her, and her hand rises to her chest in alarm.

Peter stands up from the rocking chair where he’s been waiting for her. “Did I scare you? I’m so sorry!”

“No, it’s…” Libby exhales. In all the commotion she’d forgotten about Peter entirely.

“It wasn’t your fault. There was an incident with Lucas, and he’s fine now, but—you know what?

” She stops herself, leans in to kiss him deeply.

As she does, she feels the anger, the tension begin to drain away.

It takes everything not to collapse in his arms as he wraps them around her, safe and secure.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m just glad you’re here.”

A smile breaks across Peter’s face as they part. “With a greeting like that, I am too.”

“Libby?” a small voice calls. Libby peers around Peter’s shoulder to find Hannah slowly ascending the steps to her porch. “I saw some of what happened just now, and I wanted to make sure everyone is okay.”

“Oh, we’ll be fine. I appreciate you checking in, though. Peter,” she says, “this is my friend and neighbor Hannah. Hannah, this is Peter.”

She watches as Peter turns to face Hannah, smiling brightly as he extends his hand to her, but Hannah doesn’t return the gesture.

In fact, she looks from Libby to Peter and back with the strangest expression on her face.

Libby realizes the state that she’s in—wine splashed down her shirt, her hair a wild mess of curls. She must look absolutely deranged.

“If you’d both excuse me for just a moment, I should probably change out of these clothes. I’ll be right back.” She opens the door and dashes inside, leaving Peter and Hannah alone together.