“That’s Queen Bitch to you. Leave, Garrett. Before I remind you up close and personal that I played varsity softball.”
“This isn’t over.”
No, it was just beginning, and it would be ugly.
But he left. Corinne held her position until the garage door slammed and a car cranked up. Then she dropped into a crouch, already assessing Whitney.
“What are you...doing here?”
“Trying to save your ass.” She grabbed a dish towel and blotted at the gash on Whitney’s temple. “Here, can you hold this?”
She lifted her hand and Corinne was relieved to see she could hold the pressure. Corinne rose, tugging open drawers until she found the Ziplock bags to make an ice pack. “We need to get out of here.”
“But the police...”
“I was bluffing. And I don’t know how long Garrett will stay gone.”
“He’ll be furious if I’m not here when he gets back. It’ll be worse.”
“There will always be some reason, some excuse, for it to be worse. Has he hit you before today?”
Whitney started to shake her head and winced. “Jerked me around some. Yelled a lot. But I never thought he’d hit me.”
Corinne had to tamp down the simmering rage, to do what needed to be done. “They always make you think that. And when they finally snap and do hit you, they make you feel like it’s all your fault. That you deserved it.”
“I did deserve it. I—”
“I don’t care what you did. No man should ever hit a woman. No one should hit, period. You have to leave him.” She carefully pressed the ice pack to Whitney’s cheek.
“I can’t leave. Everything’s in his name. If I leave, I’ll have nothing.”
“You’ll have your life.”
Whitney’s eyes widened. “He wouldn’t…”
“He would. Sooner or later, he would. He’s an abusive son of a bitch. I knew this was coming when I saw you together the other night.”
“How?”
“Because I lived it.” How much time had passed? Was Garrett coming back yet? “There’s not time to get into this now. We need to leave. You need to be checked for a concussion, and you absolutely need a couple of stitches.”
“But I—”
“Look, I know you have no reason to trust me. I know I can’t ever make up for the things I said and did to you in high school, and I’m sorrier and more ashamed than I can say that I had any role in starting you down the path that landed you here in this situation. But, Whitney, Garrett isn’t going to stop. You can plead and you can promise and try to predict him, but, sooner or later, he’s going to snap again, and next time it might not be just a black eye or a a concussion.”
Whitney exhaled long and slow, resting her head back against the cabinet. “I don’t know how to start over. I don’t know the first thing to do.”
“I do. You just have to take the first step and come with me.”
Her eyes began to droop, and Corinne knew she had to get Whitney on her feet.
“Why would you help me?”
“Because I can. After tonight, if you never want to see or talk to me again, fine. I don’t blame you. But let me help you now. Let me see you safe.”
Her eyes slid closed.
Corinne’s hand shot out, taking her by the shoulder. “Whitney!”