What I Should’ve Said

Norah

His name is Bennett Bishop, and he punched my ex-fiancé in the face.

Twice.

I watch as Sheriff Peeler puts him in the back of his cop car in handcuffs, and Officer Felix Rice, his deputy, puts Thomas in the back of his. Thomas has been checked and released by the paramedics, and Bennett has exchanged several conversations with Sheriff Peeler that ended in Pete pulling his personal phone out of his pocket, dialing a number, and holding it to Bennett’s ear while he talked.

He was too far away for me to hear what was said. But even if he’d been closer, I probably still wouldn’t have because Thomas, a man I’ve known as nothing but dignified and controlled for the last five years, has spent the entirety of the last thirty minutes yelling.

At me. At the sheriff. At Bennett. I’m pretty sure he’d shout the whole damn town down if Officer Rice hadn’t gotten fed up with him enough to put him in the car.

Always, always, always, he is the most important man in the room. And evidently, in a moment where he wasn’t, being decorous and controlled wasn’t going to cut it. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Come on,” Josie consoles, wrapping her arm around my shoulders as the two cruisers pull away. “Bennett gave me his keys so I can take his truck down to the station. You drive my car.”

God, what a mess.

“Josie,” I say softly, my voice breaking.

“It’s going to be okay, Norah.”

I wish she was right. But nothing about any of this feels okay as I watch the back of Bennett’s head get farther and farther away in Sheriff Peeler’s cruiser.

“Bennett Bishop doesn’t know me—doesn’t even like me.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “Hell, up until forty minutes ago, I thought his name was Norman.”

“What?” Josie turns to look at me, her eyes searching mine.

I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. “He can’t go to jail for me.”

Josie’s ordinarily sharp face turns soft, and that reaction reminds me of the way she used to be with me when we were kids. It nearly makes me burst into tears. “Don’t worry about that, okay? Sheriff Pete’s an old goat, but he’s not an idiot, Nore. He could see what was going on there, just like the rest of us. He’ll manage the situation, and Bennett’ll be fine.”

If he’d only punched Thomas that one time, when no one but I was around, I might agree with her. But he punched him twice, the second occurring in front of the biggest audience that included the sheriff and the freaking mayor.

“What do you mean, Josie? What did he see going on? I mean, Thomas definitely lost it, but it’s not like he hit me or severely injured me.”

“Oh, honey. That’s not how domestic violence works.” Her voice is warm, and she reaches out to run a gentle index finger over the faint bruise on my arm that I didn’t even realize was there. “It’s not scaled or judged by injuries. He made you feel unsafe. He tried to force you to go to his car, even though you’d told him no. He shouted horrible things at you. Sheriff Peeler, me, Bennett, Officer Rice…we can all see what’s going on.”

Tears threaten, and my nose burns with the intensity it takes to hold them back. Josie reaches up and wipes my face, and I take that as confirmation that one has escaped.

“Come on, honey. Let’s go down to the station. You’re going to need to give an official statement, and Ben’s going to need his truck.”

I suck my lips into my mouth, and Josie squeezes my hand before putting her keys in it. “Drive my car, Nore. Just follow me.”

I manage a nod before turning to unlock her SUV and climb inside. My head is nothing but fog as I start the car and pull out of the space, following Bennett’s truck through the square, to the other side of town, and down two blocks to the police station. I’m barely aware as we walk inside and get escorted by a deputy, and I can hardly see my own two feet as Josie guides me inside the sheriff’s personal office.

Sheriff Peeler sits across from us in his desk chair, and it’s all I can do not to start shaking all over. The police station is small, and his office is even smaller—a tiny square box filled with a metal desk, a few chairs, an unhealthy amount of bright, fluorescent tube lighting, and loads of papers and files scattered about on shelves and cabinets. Still, it’s all very official, making the seriousness of the situation painfully obvious.

I try to focus on Sheriff Pete as he talks, but it’s hard. I’ve never been as scared as I was today.

“Lee is confident the assault charges Thomas King wants to put on Bennett Bishop will be dropped on account of self-defense, and he’ll be able to use him as a witness in your case. He wants to criminally charge Thomas King with domestic violence, so you’ll—”

“Wait…” I stop him before he can explain further. “Who is Lee?”

“Lee is the county prosecutor,” Sheriff Peeler elucidates. “Real good buddy of mine and a good man. You’ll like him.”

“He wants to criminally charge Thomas?”

“Yes, Miss Norah.” The sheriff nods. “Lee has enough evidence for the case to proceed and take this to court. But he’d need you as a witness and for you to be willing to press charges.”

Take this to court? My brain feels like it’s going to explode. How did I wake up this morning thinking the worst part of my day was going to involve being a barista and end the day talking about pressing charges?

I stare down at my hands, pointedly avoiding the fresh bruise on my arm and try to make sense of the situation. I came to Red Bridge to move on, to put the past in the past and never see Thomas again—not to end up facing him in court, of all places, for probably days or weeks on end.

My chest burns with discomfort, and it’s moments like this I wish my mom weren’t an evil roach so I could go to her for comfort.

Josie sits beside me and reaches out with a soothing hand to place it on my knee. “Do you want to press charges?”

“I…” I pause because my voice is all shaky and weird, and it sounds nothing like me. I clear my throat. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

Sheriff Peeler’s office grows silent while they wait for me to decide. But I don’t know what I should do. I don’t want Bennett to face charges for stepping in to protect me when he could very well have left me to deal with it on my own—in which case, God knows what would have happened—but I don’t want to go to court either.

“Pete, do you mind giving us a minute?” Josie asks, and the sheriff gets up from his desk chair without hesitation.

“Take all the time you need.”

His door shuts with a soft click, confirming he’s gone, and yet I still can’t bring myself to look up from my feet.

“Norah, are you okay?” It’s the first question Josie asks me and the last question I expect. Her eyes are reassuring and so, so patient. It’s the opposite of the sister who almost told me to get the hell off her front porch three days ago.

“Honestly? I don’t know what I am right now.”

“Do you think you can tell me what’s really going on?” She squeezes my knee again. “Because I want to help you, but I’m really in the dark here. Why did Thomas show up here in the first place?”

I let out a deep exhale. “It’s a big mess.”

“Well, obviously,” she says through a soft laugh that ends up making me snort.

Yeah. A big, fat fucking mess. Apparently, I didn’t realize just how ugly of a person Thomas could be.

I look up to meet her eyes again, and the softness that sits within their green depths only makes the burning sensation in my chest grow more intense. Josie was more of a mom to me and Jezzy than Eleanor ever was, I’m reminded. Back then, I just didn’t understand it.

“So…Thomas is your ex-fiancé?” she asks, her voice like a feather. “As in, you were supposed to marry him?”

“We were supposed to get married, but I…couldn’t go through with it.”

“And that’s why you came to Red Bridge?”

I nod. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“What about Mom?”

All I can do is shake my head. Our mother is the last person I want to talk about.

“Norah, what happened?” she asks, and there’s an edge of desperation to her voice. “You can tell me anything, I promise,” she adds quietly. “You’re my sister, Norah. My only family that I care about.”

And I want to tell her. I really do, but the words just aren’t there.

“Josie?”

“Yeah?”

“I need a breather,” I whisper.

Her eyes turn glossy with emotion at my use of something our father used to say. It was his answer any time he saw either of us looking sad or feeling stressed or in the middle of a temper tantrum. “You need a breather?” he’d ask calmly, and for some reason, it always worked. It was a silent lifeline of love.

Back when she was still living in New York and hadn’t left me for Red Bridge, Josie and I used to use that with each other all the time.

“Okay,” she whispers. “But at least let me help you figure out what you want to do about this current situation. Do you want to press charges?”

“I just want him gone, Josie,” I say, pushing past the ball of emotion that sits heavy in my throat. “I don’t want him here. I don’t want him in Red Bridge, but if the prosecutor charges him, they’re going to hold him here until the case goes to court. And if he’s here, that means his lawyer will be here, his family will be here and…” Our mother will be here.

I don’t know if I could mentally handle that. I came here to get away from all that. From them.

“But I definitely don’t want someone to get in trouble because they were just trying to help me,” I add, and she meets my eyes. “I don’t think Bennett should have to deal with consequences. He didn’t ask for this. Thomas made it clear he wants to charge Bennett with assault. And his family, Josie, they aren’t the kind of people who play nice. They can be so cruel.”

“I don’t think he should either,” Josie agrees. “Though, I have a hard time believing a judge is going to side with Thomas in a case like this. Even Pete said the assault charges would end up being dropped on account of self-defense, and the prosecutor plans to use him as a witness in court.”

In court. If word spread that Thomas King was in custody and awaiting trial for domestic violence, Red Bridge would be covered in journalists. The King family owns one of the biggest investment firms in the country. His father is one of the most popular voices when it comes to the stock market. He has ties to the SEC and federal commissions, and Thomas has been following in his footsteps since before he could walk. There’s no way a court case would occur without stirring up a scary amount of media. Everyone knows them.

My stomach roils again, but this time, it churns itself right into my having to grab the small trash can beside Sheriff Peeler’s desk and puke.

“Oh, Nore,” Josie comments and reaches forward to hold my hair back. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

It sure as shit doesn’t feel okay. It feels like I took my trouble and doubled it—and then brought it right to the doorstep of a town that doesn’t deserve it.

When the ticket vendor at the bus station asked where to, I should’ve said anywhere else…anywhere but here.