Love At Peace (Hometown Heartstrings #3)

Chapter 19

Heather

“ I just don’t understand how I can’t remember any of it,” Eric said, shaking his head.

I sighed at him walking slowly in front of me at the food mart. His ankle was already much better. Ice and rest went a long way in improving that injury, but he seemed more impatient for his memory to return than anything else.

“Don’t force it.” I was parroting what the doctors told him, but I hoped it was true. The less he strained to remember what happened the night he’d dislocated his jaw and was lying in the basement at that apartment building, the better.

According to the doctor’s remarks at the last follow-up appointment, a different physician than the one who saw Eric at the emergency room, it was obvious he’d been punched in the jaw. He determined it from the details of the strike and damage. He went so far as to speculate with a lot of confidence that the contusion on the back of Eric’s head was what caused the temporary amnesia. Until Eric could remember anything about that night, though, it was all theory and conjecture.

“But I want to know,” he said, moving smoothly but slowly, using the small shopping cart as a walker. “Because if your ex was living there and I was by his apartment, there’s no one else who could’ve been there to punch me.”

“What about your phone? Marty took it the night we found you. Said there were some texts. Did you get to read them?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, it was a vague text exchange between me and an unknown and untraceable number. Nothing helpful.”

I sighed, hating how unanswered of a mystery it was. I wished, so badly, that when David came up to me at Nance’s that I wouldn’t have been so stunned that I lost my thoughts and voice. If I’d been prepared, if I was stronger, I would’ve asked him right there if he’d messed with my cousin. If he’d talked to him at all. Proof was nonexistent.

Even if we had proof, and Marty arrested him, he’d still get away with it. All he’d need to do was call someone higher up than Marty and cash in on a favor.

“Do you remember if you wanted to talk to David?” I asked him.

“I do remember. I still do want to confront that bastard,” Eric said hotly as I set a can of pumpkin puree into the cart. We were here to get things for a little Thanksgiving dinner at his house tomorrow, but it seemed we were more intent on discussing his injuries. He was still a man of few words, but he was growing into this cousinly relationship with me.

“But I never reached out to him,” he said. “You told me not to interfere, and I swore to myself that I wouldn’t.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“But that ain’t right, Heather. I know people like to say that we should let sleeping dogs lie, but if that man’s capable of hurting me, then he’s capable of hurting you.” He frowned. “If he didn’t already.”

I drew in a steadying breath. I wasn’t ready to tell Eric about my past. I was still reeling from actually telling Roarke. I couldn’t risk feeling more vulnerable yet.

“That’s my goal, though.” I glanced at the front door when the bell dinged. Several people came in but we still had room to move slowly in this short lane. “I’ll probably be moving soon, anyway.”

“Oh, yeah.” He almost smiled. “I heard you were going to help Roarke look at houses.”

“Well, I—”

“And with Todd getting ready to announce that they’re tearing down those cabins soon, you’d need to find a house yourself.”

“No.” I hated the idea of those cabins being gone. Mine had really grown on me over the last couple of months. “I meant moving away. Out of Burton,” I clarified.

“Again?” Ashley taunted, clearly overhearing from the register at the front.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring her. “I might move away.”

“To get away from David, you mean?” he asked.

I nodded.

Eric stepped to the side to let someone else pass through. Keeping his back to us, it wasn’t as obvious who it was, but I recognized Jerry nonetheless.

Like Ashley, he was eavesdropping on my conversation with Eric, but he seemed to try to hide it.

You asshole. Renting out a place to someone like David and not cooperating with Marty.

“What?” he smirked. “What’s that bitchy face for?”

“You’re enabling someone like my ex to hang around here and prey on a young woman.”

He huffed once. “You can’t prove that.”

Annoyed and so fed up with him in general, I took one big step forward to intimidate him. He flinched, backing up.

“That doesn’t matter. You should have some damn decency for once in your life,” I retorted, putting him in his place. “You’ve got no business welcoming a cruel man like him into town.”

“Oh, like you’re welcome yourself.” He scoffed. “I heard you. You’re moving out anyway. Like before. You think you got better places to be and bigger things to do. Like you’re too good for Burton and—”

I grabbed the front of his shirt. “Shut up. You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. You’ve got no idea what kind of a man David Kenning is. If you’re aiding him, you’re even more worthless than I thought you were.”

He wrestled out of my grip, glaring at me. Then he noticed Eric near me, watching him. It was quiet, without anyone speaking. He stepped back, glancing around the rest of the shoppers, even Ashley, as though he had no clue how to come back from me telling him off like that.

This wasn’t lying low.

This wasn’t keeping to myself.

It was as though telling Roarke about my past and opening up and made me braver.

That owning up to the hell I was put through reminded me I was stronger for surviving it and getting away.

“What?” he snapped, scowling in the direction of Ashley at the register.

Oh, great. I was so not in the mood for her to chime in. She’d pounce on any opportunity to bother me.

To my surprise, she wasn’t grinning at me and taking glee in the fact I was having a hard moment here. She narrowed her eyes on Jerry, curling her lip up in an involuntary display of anger.

“David Kenning?” she asked with malice in her tone. “I remember that name.”

“He’s my ex,” I said. “From Chicago. I came back home to get away from him.”

She huffed, setting her hands on the unmoving conveyor belt and regarded me closely. “I can’t say I’d blame you. That piece of shit tried to slip a drug into my drink at the bar.”

My jaw dropped.

“And then when I called him out on it and left, he stayed and tried to do it again with one of my friends.”

My blood raced faster. Adrenaline surged through me, but oddly, it wasn’t out of fear. This rush was born of excitement.

“He’s used sedatives on me,” I said, failing to censor my words.

She nodded. “I believe it. He’s one of those kinds of creeps who don’t stop at anything.”

“Did you tell the police?” I asked.

They’d listen to her. She had prominence in town. Her voice mattered. It still wouldn’t change a fact about David being so sneaky and having connections, but her speaking up about this could make a difference. It wasn’t a guarantee that he’d get caught and be charged, but it was something.

“I was going to.” She shook her head, furious. “But when I told my dad, he told me not to. Because David Kenning donated to his mayoral campaign.” She huffed, shaking her head. “Assholes. I can’t stand men who think they can rule the world.”

Her attitude about hating men was likely just a power play, in that she wanted to be superior, but now wasn’t the time to worry about her motivations. I was shocked that she was speaking up against David, and I would ride with it.

“He made me delete the video my friend sent me, too. Someone caught him slipping the pill in her drink.”

My jaw was going to hit the floor at this rate of surprises.

“Do you still have that video?” Eric asked.

She nodded. “I was just biding my time to send it in. It seemed like he left town, but as soon as he’s back, I’m going to find him and rub it in his face that he was caught.”

“Is there a chance you can send that video to me too? In case you lose it.”

She smiled wide, showing how deviously wicked she could be. In this case, her hatred and loathing wasn’t directed at me, for a change. “It’s already uploaded as a draft. I’m just waiting for the opportune moment to share it.”

“Ashley?” I said, furrowing my brow. “I never thought I would say this, but thank you.”

Roarke had to hear about this. Marty too.

It still seemed like low odds to ever fight back a lying narcissist like David, but maybe outing him on social media would cause enough of a reaction that he’d be stuck facing the music for all he’d done.

If he could be caught, at all, it wouldn’t erase the pain of what I endured.

But I could sleep easier knowing no one else would be harmed.

And I could justify...staying.

With Roarke. In Burton.

Where I belong.