But the slap never comes.

My eyes peel apart. My father still stands before me. Unmoving.

I straighten my shoulders. “I want to talk to Jensen. I have to tell him goodbye. You have to let me see him.”

If we’re leaving immediately, I won’t have time to conspire with Jensen. How will I find him? How will he find me?

All this time, my father was laying low, waiting for one single lapse in judgment. Waiting patiently for me to slip up just once. He thrives off these opportunities, probably thrilled to be able to teach me a lesson and make me submit one last time. He lives to remind us all he’s in control.

I hadn’t even tasted freedom before it was all washed away. Jensen was right. Everything was an illusion all along.

I succumb to hysterics, copious tears I didn’t know I was crying stream down my cheeks and fall into the table below. My face is red, puffy, and I’m screaming at the top of my lungs, though I’m not sure what I’m saying anymore.

“I’m sorry, Waverly,” Bellamy says, her arms folded and her demeanor painfully calm. “This is God’s will. This is for the best, really. It won’t be so bad.”

I hate her. I hate my sister. I will hate her the rest of my days.

“Jane,” my dad says, “take Waverly to pack her belongings. The car is leaving in thirty minutes.”

“No, no, no, no…” I wail, flailing as my mother pulls me up the stairs. We get to my room, where a suitcase is sitting open-faced on my bed. “I’m not going, Mom. You can’t make me go. Don’t do this. Please. Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

She ignores my pleas as she rifles through my drawers and closet, pulling clothes and neatly packing them into the suitcase as if I’m going on a pleasant little vacation.

“Brigham Young said that all women must submit to their husbands.” My mother breaks her silence with a convenient quote. “God gives husbands the wisdom and ability to lead us into his presence. We must trust our husbands to lead us on the righteous path so that we may gain entrance into the kingdom of Heaven. It’s the only way, Waverly.”

She zips my suitcase and stands before me. She’s never been a touchy feely kind of mother, but her hand cups my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. It’s only fitting that the first and only time my mother shows tenderness toward me is going to be the last.

“We’re doing this because we love you,” she says. Her lips form a pained smile. I don’t think she wants to send me away, but she doesn’t believe she has a choice. “Build up your husband by being submissive. He will take care of you for all of your days.”

I shake my head, refusing to believe this is real life. I pray it’s a bad dream, that I’ll wake up any second now.

“Your husband’s name is Harold McGill. You’ll be his sixth wife. He’s an extremely prosperous businessman with a lot of land and resources in South Dakota. He’ll take good care of you. He’s taken in wayward daughters before, and they’ve grown up to become perfect AUB wives.” My mother speaks as if I’ve won the jackpot of prospective husbands.

Bellamy slips into the room. “The car’s ready to go. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

I refuse to look at her, so I stare down at the blue carpet that’s covered my room for as long as I can remember. It’ll be the last time I ever see it, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Bellamy escorts me downstairs where my father and Summer stand by the front door to see me off. I don’t meet their gazes. I didn’t know it was possible for love to just vanish into thin air the way it has just now. Family bonds are supposed to be unbreakable, and if that’s the case, these people aren’t my family.

I stop before my father, staring over his shoulder just enough that he knows I can’t look him in the eye. “I never want to see you again.”

Summer gasps. “Waverly, don’t say such things.”

My eyes finally shift into my father’s. I say the one thing I know will hurt him the most. “You’re dead to me.”

My father doesn’t flinch or react. He extracts a heavy breath from the air, his shoulders as firm as his belief system. I’m sure he’s justifying this decision six ways from Sunday in his mind, believing this is all for the greater good. He probably thinks he’s saving my soul, and if that’s the case, there’s absolutely no changing his mind.

“I never want to see any of you ever again.” I spit my words at them, pointing my finger, my gaze darting from Dad and Summer to Mom. Their stares are weighted with pity and prayers. I can practically feel them saying silent prayers for my soul, asking Heavenly Father to forgive me for not knowing better and to forgive them for years of failed teachings. “Go to Hell. All of you.”

CHAPTER 27

JENSEN

“This is bullshit.” I slam my fist across the counter of Kath’s house the second I’m alone with her. “You know that, right?”

“Jensen.” Her body tenses. “You are not to speak about Mark or his decisions with disrespect.”

“You know he’s no better than Dad, right? He’s fucking Josiah Mackey 2.0, the delusional, polygamist version.”

“Jensen.” There’s more bark in her voice this time, which is funny, because I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Kath raise her voice before. “Do not make this worse than it already is. I think we all need to cool off for a bit. Why don’t you head upstairs and relax?”

“Yeah, because relaxing is exactly what I want to fucking do.”

My mother slaps me across the mouth, leaving a mild sting. Fair enough, I suppose, but it was worth it.

“I’m leaving.” I pull my keys from my pocket.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know.”

I head outside, climb into my truck, and drive around town for what feels like hours. The shop is closed on Sundays, so I can’t go to work. Liberty is probably hung over as hell, so I can’t go there.

So I just drive.

And think.

This is just a minor hiccup. I’ll see pay one of the twins to slip a note to Waverly at breakfast, and we’ll figure everything out. A lot can happen in forty-eight hours. I can figure everything out for the both of us.

I return to Kath’s several hours later, a black Audi with Arizona plates rests in her driveway.

“No fucking way,” I mutter when I climb out. Approaching the vehicle with careful steps, I’m floored the second I notice it’s Juliette sitting in the driver’s seat. I rap on her window, startling her, and when she turns to face me, my stomach drops.

With black and blue eyes so swollen it’s a wonder she can see, she begins to sob. She climbs out, throwing her arms around me like I’m some kind of lifeline. The bump on her nose tells me he broke it again, and dried blood resides in the gash across her bottom lip.

“You should’ve left him.” I brush her hair from her eyes. I forgot how small she is, how delicate. “I’ve been telling you that for years.”

“I never wanted to leave you,” she says, wiping away tears carefully. She protected me from him when she could, but I know I would’ve been fine without her. “I thought he loved me.” She laughs, dabbing tears. “I’m a stupid woman.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You look good, Jensen.” She licks the dried blood from her lips. “You look healthy, strong.”

What she’s saying is she’s not used to seeing me without so much as a bump or bruise.

“You doing okay?” she asks.

I don’t have time to get into it with her. “More or less.”

“Good for you.” She cups her hand above her eyes, shielding the morning sun.

“What are you doing here, anyway? You know you could get in a lot of trouble coming here.”

“I had nowhere to go, Jensen. I finally left him. For good.” She holds my gaze with those helpless, puppy dog eyes, the ones that lured me in each time. We were both broken and fucked up in our own ways, suffering years of abuse at the hands of the men who were supposed to protect us. She’d mentioned one night that her daddy used to touch her when she was little, and I’m certain that Josiah knew damn well how to give her just enough of his bullshit-flavored love to fill the void that left her emotionally stunted.