Wondering what that had to do with Storm’s addictions, I asked, "How did you find that out? Listening in on a conversation with Rex while he was on the phone with Storm?" She smirked like she was going to twist my words, but I merely said, "I’m sure Rex would love to know that you’re eavesdropping on private conversations."
Her eyes narrowed like I’d finally hit a nerve, and that it was that particular comment told me I’d hit the nail on the head.
Coldly, I informed her, "If you get out of here right now, I won’t call Storm and tell him to haul your ass out of—"
"Look at you. You haven’t changed a fucking bit," Kendra snarled, leaning into the counter, her tits quivering with her outrage as she planted them on there. I really hoped there was a splat of ketchup I’d missed mopping up. "Still running to Storm to clean up after you.
"Was it any wonder he strayed? Was it any wonder when you were a little fucking girl throughout your marriage? Storm won’t haul my ass out of anywhere, bitch.
"He needs a real goddamn woman. A woman who can make him feel, who’ll be his equal, not content to stay four paces back, looking at the back of his head because that’s what her folks did.
"You disgust me," she said with a sneer. "I’m the whore. At least I own it. At least I know my worth. You? You’re just a grown-up kid, unable to do anything herself without his interference. Is it any wonder that Cyan preferred to go and be with some old creep than stay with you—"
That was it—the straw that broke the camel’s back.
I could deal with her character assassination.
Over the last few weeks, I’d come to accept that I had been like my mom, more than I appreciated, over the course of our marriage.
But I was a better mother than her.
I was and would always be that.
The edges of my control were no longer frayed. They sprang back, busted coil springs that couldn’t take the strain anymore.
That swinging ponytail was all I saw, and my hand darted out. I grabbed it, then I hauled her face down into the counter. The heavy thud jolted everyone.
I’d be ashamed later that my daughter saw me do this, that she was a witness to the violence I told her she couldn’t keep on perpetrating in school, but I was taken to the edge.
My temper shot after the last couple months of intense emotion. My control shattered after I’d allowed this vindictive witch’s lies to set me on a course of action that led to my daughter being kidnapped.
She screamed as blood spurted, scrabbling for something to hit me with but failing to find anything, so I did it again. And again. Each thud so inherently satisfying that I wondered why I hadn’t punched Storm when I’d thrown him out. I’d just sat there, primly, much as my mom would have done, acting like a doll throughout the whole thing.
I got it now.
I finally fucking got why Storm had been proud of me when I’d dumped him.
Because it was me growing up. Me taking my life back into my control.
Me, me, me.
An adult, no longer a child.
Mature, not immature.
Strong, no longer weak.
Independent instead of dependent.
People jumped up unsure of what to do, some called out from the sides, but they didn’t get involved. Either because I looked as irate as I felt or because I was the wife of the Prez of the Satan’s Sinners’ MC.
When I curled that goddamn ponytail around my wrist, her arms flared out, seemingly aware now that I wasn’t about to let this lie. She knew I was going to fight her, and she wasn’t wrong.
"Keira!" Jump called out.
"Stay out of this, Jump," I snarled as one of her flailing hands finally caught a sugar shaker, and when she hurled it at me, it clipped my shoulder but she was too close to really do much damage.
In retaliation, I dragged her forward, not her face into the counter, but her entire self over it. I hauled her by her hair, hearing that screech of agony, needing to hear that. Letting it feed the rage, letting it feed me. Nourish me where her lies had burned into me, decimating me like each one was tipped with acid.
"You think you can talk smack about my kid? You’re mistaken," I rasped as I launched a punch at her.
My hold on her hair didn’t give me much leverage, but it stopped her from being able to retaliate as well because I just tightened my grip and she screamed.
I kicked at her knees, wanting her to bow down before me, wanting her to look up at me, and as she did, she aimed a punch at my gut.
It figured that she’d be a better fighter than me, but years’ worth of pulling my goddamn baby belly in came to my aid. She met with a wall of tensed muscles and though it socked some of the air from my lungs, it didn’t incapacitate me.
Dragging her head back, so far back she screamed, I got in her face, and I did the most undaintiest, unladylike thing I could imagine.
I spat on her.
I literally spat.
The globule landed on her face as I hissed, "You’re a piece of trash who got between a man and his wife. You’re a whore whose only worth is how many cocks she can suck to pay her way.
"You made that decision, Kendra. You made the decision to whore yourself out while waiting on one man who belongs to someone else because, let’s face it, you’ve been sniffing around Storm since we were both in high school.
"You’ve been the serpent in our Eden once. Well, it worked before, but it won’t work this time."
Her arms came around my knees as she tried to push me forward, but it didn’t move me. For a second I wasn’t sure why, then I felt a hand slide around my stomach, and a wall of heat appeared at my back.
"My Old Lady’s spoken, Kendra. I think we both know she’s right."
Storm’s voice was like a waterfall the size of the Niagara Falls pounding into a small house fire. It drenched everything in sight, my rage, my hurt, my fears, and it strengthened me.
He had my back.
Literally.
Figuratively.
All the ways in between.
And he’d called me his Old Lady.
I felt his protection, I felt his strength, but I didn’t need it. Not wholly. I could stand on my own two feet and I could protect myself. Even more, I could defend Cyan and I could defend us.
It was wonderful, however, to have him support me. For him not to rage at me for causing a scene in one of the MC’s businesses, for him not to weaken my stance in front of Kendra even though our daughter had witnessed something she never should have seen.
Not for the first time in Coshocton, I felt worthy.
I didn’t feel like a failure.
"It’s okay, baby, you can let go of her hair now."
Booted feet made an appearance in my peripheral vision, but it didn’t break the deadlock between Kendra and me as we stared at each other with all the loathing we felt.
If looks could kill, we’d both be on a direct route to the morgue, but I watched as a hand reached out to unfurl Kendra’s hair from my wrist.
"Slowly, Digger," Storm soothed, like I was a fractious animal. Like I was a beast in need of taming.
Was this how Giulia felt?
So out of control yet so in control too?
It was awe-inspiring, eye-opening, a true revelation.
As the hair disappeared, slipping from my grasp, Storm slowly backed me up by applying pressure through the hand on my stomach.