“I don’t know. Five minutes maybe. I just left her.” Erik slammed on the gas again, thinking of his keyed car, the white roses in Skidoo, the pile of bottles in Katrin’s back yard. She was in danger, and he loved her, which made him terrified.
“I’m going to hang up now and get in the car. I’m on my way. Erik?”
“Yeah?”
“Do whatever it takes,” Kristian urged him.
“You know I will.”
***
Wade snatched up her phone and threw it against the wall, smashing it. Katrin raced to the kitchen, yanking the butcher knife from the block just as he caught her around the waist, pinning her arms to her sides. He shoved her against the counter, slamming her arm into the sharp edge of the counter over and over. Pain shot up into her shoulder and the knife clattered to the floor.
Up to now, Katrin had reacted to Wade, not thinking, not feeling anything other than the visceral scramble to find a weapon and protect herself. As Wade leaned down to pick up the knife, a deep, nightmarish terror started unraveling inside of her. Her chest heaved up and down with the force of her breathing, and the relentless pain her arm was an agony, making her feel dizzy.
Katrin faced Wade, trapped between him and the counter, cradling her arm.
“Wade, I’m hurt. I think you broke my arm.”
“YOU’RE HURT?” He slashed at the air in front of her to emphasize his words. “I came here with FLOWERS for you, for my fiancée, for my girlfriend, and you tried to get a KNIFE, you BITCH!”
“Wade.” She spoke slowly, gently, her heart pounding uncomfortably as she tried to remain calm. “You hurt my arm. I need to go to the hospital, Wade. I think it’s broken.”
“My heart is broken, whore,” he whispered, looking dazed.
Katrin clenched her teeth at the pain shooting up and down her arm. Her fingers were as cold as ice.
Is he drunk or sober? He wasn’t slurring his words, and his movements were crisper than they would be if he were drunk. But he seemed unfamiliar to her: unpredictable, distracted, paranoid. He lowered the knife, and Katrin’s eyes followed it to where it hung, still a threat, by his side.
“Wade,” she started softly. “Why don’t we talk? W-we could sit down and—”
His eyes blazed. “Talk?”
Katrin shrunk back against the counter, covering her injured arm with her good one. Wade lunged at her and grabbed a handful of her damp hair, winding it once around his hand then yanking roughly. He pulled out one of her kitchen chairs and clumsily pushed her into it.
“Great. Let’s talk,” he said, gesturing with the knife and almost grazing her nose with the tip. “Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. Talk, slut! Tell me why my fiancée is screwing a police officer!”
Suddenly, his face was wiped of fury, and he looked around her apartment as if he had forgotten something. His gaze stopped at the bouquet of white roses that he’d dropped on the floor. Leaning forward, Wade touched her chin with the tip of the knife, jabbing once meaningfully. “Don’t move, kitten.”
She could feel the warm ooze of blood seep out on her chin as he stepped across the room to grab the bouquet. Frantically trying to figure out what to do while his back was turned, she realized her options were limited. Her arm was broken, plus Wade was much bigger and armed.
He knelt before her, offering her the wilted bouquet, which she accepted with the trembling hand of her good arm.
“These were for you. For my love. For my little wife at Midsummer. I knew you’d come home.”
Tears coursed down her face, but she tried not to make a sound. Please help. Someone please help.
“Stop crying!” he screamed, springing up.
His face a mask of fury, he drew back his hand to hit her. When it made contact with her face, she screamed, her head snapping back from the force of the blow. Stars exploded behind her eyes. Her face was on fire.
“S-Stop, Wade. P-P-Please…”
“P-P-Please,” he mimicked her. “That’s not enough, Kat. Not nearly enough. What else do you need to say to me, whore?”
“I’ve been very bad,” she sobbed, hoping this is what he needed to hear. “I-I’ve hurt you and I’m s-so s-sorry. We can be together now, Wade. Now I s-see how much you love me.”
“When I saw you kissing him at Flathead, I wanted to die.” Wade knelt on the floor beside her and put his head in her lap, on top of her injured arm, which made her gasp from a sharp, new wave of pain. He stroked her thigh beside his head, his hand moving higher and higher. A sick feeling made her stomach flip over. Oh, no, Wade. No. Not that.
He leaned back, smiling up at her. “Remember that night we did it on the football field? Remember how good I made you feel?”
She tried not to grimace with the force of her revulsion. Swallowing to keep from heaving, she nodded at him. “I-I remember. But, Wade, we have to…to take it s-slow…to get to know each other again. It’s been—”
“Did you take it slow with him? Whore!”
He stood up and she didn’t have time to shield her face before the back of his hand smacked her face again at full force. When Katrin’s head snapped back this time, she didn’t lean forward. She just let her head loll back on her neck.
Her
