Page 72 of Souls and Sorrows
Hands in the pockets of the coat, I rock back on the heels of my slippers, waiting. Unease splits Ronnie’s focus, and he glances quickly at the interior of the car before down at me.
“Everything okay, Mrs. Primrose?”
“I think he’s angry.”
“Yes, I believe you might be right.”
“How would you deal with him in this situation?”
Ronnie gives me a dumbfounded look. “I’ve never seen him like this before, to be quite honest. I’d say you’re in uncharted waters, my dear.”
Fantastic.
Popping my lips to try and stimulate blood flow back to them since it’s fairly chilly this early in the morning, I continue standing on the side of the road, considering what I might do.
My throat feels tight with shame, and once again, the sensation that he’s angry with me takes hold. I run through a dozen different scenarios in my head, all things I could’ve done differently that would’ve helped me avoid being taken in by those two officers.
The longer I stand here, thinking about it, the less inclined I am to get into the car with him, where I’ll be trapped with his rage and have nowhere to run.
I didn’t even bring my knife or anything else I could use to defend myself.
Though it kind of feels like I’ve missed the boat on murdering him at this point.
The door on the other side of the vehicle opens, and I watch, waiting to see if Cash gets out.
“Ariana.” His voice, low and dangerous, somehow carries over to me. “What are you doing?”
“Admiring Ronnie.”
Horror strikes Ronnie’s face, and he shuffles back a step. “Sir, I’m—”
“Get in the car, Ariana.”
A couple of people pass us by, looking hurriedly away when they hear Cash speak, like he’s some troll under a bridge they’re trying to avoid. I slide my foot backward, toward the curb and away from him, watching through the open door as his jaw jumps with a tic.
“I can probably walk back.”
Cash pinches his nose, removing the glasses he’s wearing again. He folds them slowly, tucking them into the door, and my heart kicks violently against my ribs as he exits. His head pops up first and then his torso, and he turns to look at me with a bland, blank expression on his face that truly does little to veil his choler.
Leaning his forearms on the roof, he stares at me.
My body yearns to go to him, to soothe, but my stupid fucking pride doesn’t let me. I’m stuck between wanting this nightmare to be over and needing to fuel it because it’s better than facing reality.
“You want to walk back?” he asks, completely devoid of any emotion. “I wouldn’t anticipate getting there in one piece. This side of town clearly isn’t very receptive to Riccis.”
Tucking my hair behind my ears, I beam a smile at him. “Good thing I’m a Primrose then.”
“Yeah?”
He rounds the limo on that one word, moving slowly toward me. I glance over my shoulder as my heels slip past the curb into the street, making sure there are no other cars veering down the road.
“You think your name will protect you? Those officers inside didn’t give a shit that I washere. Anyone who wants to abuse you is going to find a way to do it.”
No shit.For some reason, his comment zaps any playfulness from me, ripping it directly from my soul. The heaviness of everything culminates all at once, bearing down on me in full force, and aggravation makes me stop in the middle of the road.
I’m practically vibrating with the sudden turn of emotional turmoil, and my hands ball into fists at my side. “Wow, my father’s been gone for less than a few hours, and you’re already stepping into the role ofdaddywith your life lessons. How lucky of me to have married such a versatile man.”
“Shut your impudent little mouth and get in the goddamn car.”
