“Fuck!” Ethan roared, but I didn’t stop. Pulling the knife out, I plunged it in a second time, then a third. He rolled off me, the hot iron clanging off to the side as he clutched his arm and blood-stained sleeve. “I can’t believe you fucking stabbed me! I told you not to fight me, damn it!”
“I’m not fighting you, Ethan. This is self-defense!”
Not wasting a moment, I quickly got to my feet, but Ethan was almost as quick. Lunging for me, he tripped over the corner of the area rug. It was like watching a scene in slow motion. With arms flailing as he went down, his head smacked the corner of the coffee table, and his body sprawled to the floor. He laid there unconscious and unmoving.
Knowing I didn’t have a moment to waste, I ran as fast as I could to the bedroom to retrieve the bat. If I hesitated even for a second, I knew I’d never be able to do what needed to be done. If I ever wanted to truly be free, there was no other option.
I had to kill him.
If I didn’t, he would surely kill me—something I’d always known, but I never truly believed this moment would come to fruition.
When I returned to the living room, I hoisted the bat over my head, preparing to throw all of my strength behind the swing. However, the expression on Ethan’s face made me pause. His body was perfectly still, and his eyes…they were open and vacant as if he was already…
“Ethan?” I hesitantly whispered.
Standing over him, I watched the stain of blood grow larger and larger on the carpet. It was coming from an unseen wound on his head. Using the toe of my boot, I gave him a slight nudge.
Nothing.
Cautiously, I squatted down to press my fingers to his neck. There was no pulse or intake of breath, no rise and fall to his chest. He wasn’t screaming at me, calling me names, or threatening me with things I knew he’d one day make good on.
He was just still.
And quiet… so very quiet.
Ethan was dead.
For the first time since meeting him, I was surrounded by the sound of silence.
Slowly, I stood. With the wooden bat in hand, I moved like a zombie toward my bedroom. Once there, I returned the bat to its proper place, then removed the material wrapped around my hands. Slipping the bulky rings from each finger, I balled them up in the material and shoved it in my sports bra. It was the best I could do until I could one day dispose of it all. Self-defense, even with the kubotan, was one thing, but there could be no evidence of intent.
After swapping out my boots for a pair of sneakers, I went into the bathroom and washed the baby oil from my arms and neck, then pulled on an oversized sweatshirt. Going back to the living room, I sat on the floor next to Ethan.
Tears began to stream down my face. I didn’t cry because he was dead but from the relief of knowing it was finally over. My chest heaved with sobs that came from deep in my core. I gave myself over to it, feeling all the hurt, betrayal, and anger. I mourned the fantasy of a man I thought I loved, finally saying goodbye to a part of my life that would never, ever be forgotten.
Wiping my tears from my face, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
“Hello. My name is Gianna Valentini. My husband…he’s dead.”
44
Gianna
Queens, New York
1 week later
I exited Grand Central Terminal and headed outside to catch a cab. My skin prickled with goosebumps from the wind blowing off the East River as I waved my arm to signal a taxi.
“Where to, Miss?” the cab driver asked.
“The Mill Fitness Center in Queens.”
The driver pulled away from the curb, and I looked out the window at the passing streets. It seemed like I moved to this city a lifetime ago, even though it had been less than a year. Perhaps it was the stress of being on the run and looking over my shoulder every single day that made my time here seem endless. I couldn’t be sure. I only knew that after being away from New York for only a week, I had learned one thing.
I was no longer that girl who hated city living. Somewhere along the way, Queens, the underrated borough in the city that never sleeps, had become my home. It was a place for the culturally diverse and the working class—a place where I finally discovered who I really was. It would take me a lifetime to experience all the cuisines and cultures that resided in the borough, many of which Derek tried to show me when he was “old-fashioned courting” me. I’d fallen in love with Queens, just as I’d fallen in love with him. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
When the cab pulled up in front of The Mill, I paid the driver and stepped out onto the pavement. My hands were clammy from anxious jitters, so I wiped them on my jeans. I was a nervous wreck about facing Derek. I hadn’t spoken to him since the night of Ethan’s death. When we spoke that night, police had been everywhere. There was no mistaking the questioning look in Derek’s eyes as I willingly climbed into the back of a police car. He’d been wondering if I had killed Ethan.
Technically, I didn’t—but I would have if it came down to it. Somewhere in my subconscious, I knew I’d been secretly planning to do exactly that. It would have been premeditated. Did Derek know that, too? When he saw me today, I worried if he’d still look at me the same.
Walking inside, I took stock of the gym, and my heart sank. Derek had reopened for business, but there were still large areas roped off where the damage had yet to be repaired. He hadn’t exaggerated when he called me the night of the break-in to describe everything Ethan had done. The place was literally an absolute mess.
I spotted Derek standing outside his office door, talking to an older man wearing a yellow hard hat. The man was pointing at one of the broken glass panels for the racquetball court, and I assumed he was a contractor here to repair the damages. Derek turned his head slightly and spotted me walking in his direction. His eyes widened in surprise, and he smiled a cheek-splitting grin. Quickly excusing himself, he closed the distance between us in three long, powerful strides.
He pulled me into his embrace, hugging me so tightly, I could barely breathe. I didn’t mind. The warm feel of his body against mine and the scent of his aquatic, woodsy cologne completed my homecoming. After a few moments, I pulled back and peered at him through lowered lashes.
“Hey,” I said quietly.
He touched the side of my face and my hair, almost as if he were testing to see if I was real.
“Sparky, where have you been? I was so…” He seemed at a loss for words before abruptly pulling me tight to his chest once more. Stroking my head, he whispered in my ear, “It doesn’t matter where you were. I’m just glad you’re back. God, I was so worried. When you didn’t answer my calls, and I didn’t know how to find you… The last time I saw you, you were being escorted to the police station.”
“I’m sorry about that. Really, I am. I went back to Cincinnati. I just needed time alone to work out some things on my own.”
“Such as?
“Derek, I…” I pulled back slightly to look at him. “When I’m with you, I feel too much. I had to eliminate that distraction—if that makes any sense.”
“Sort of, I think,” he said with a light chuckle. “But go on.”