the stairs and started back the way I had come, back toward Braxton’s room, before my mind could even finish that thought. I felt Houston and Rich behind me as I knocked on her door for a minute straight with no answer. The entire time I was rationalizing that Braxton wasn’t a morning person either.
She’s probably sleeping.
I didn’t realize Houston had grown impatient and twisted the knob until my fist connected with air when the door swung open. The three of us stepped inside with matching frowns as we looked around. The bedding was rumpled but still made, which told me she hadn’t slept in it last night. The biggest clue that something was wrong, however, was all her missing shit.
Rich was the first to break free of the stupor Braxton had put us in, and I watched him walk over like a skittish kitten to the nightstand on the right side of the bed that Braxton preferred when we weren’t making her sleep in the middle.
I hadn’t even noticed one of our chef’s knives sticking out of the wooden surface handle up.
When Rich just stood there staring at the knife instead of telling us why Braxton murdered our furniture, I walked over with Houston on my heels.
“What’s up?” I asked him when I came to stand next to him. Rich was already pale as fuck, but right now, he looked like he’d either seen a ghost or was a ghost.
When he still didn’t say shit, I looked at the knife. And then I glanced at the papers pinned underneath, but it was my medallion she’d left as well and the words carved into the wood that held my attention.
Happy Anniversary.
“Happy anniversary?” I mused out loud. Reluctantly, I lifted my medallion from the table and slipped it inside my pocket rather than around my neck. I was annoyed at Braxton’s audacity to give it back like we were over, but I wasn’t entirely upset. The medallion wasn’t what I had in mind for her to wear for me anyway. Braxton deserved something that had meaning and she was going to get it.
“It’s September third,” Rich mumbled. They were his first words since waking up.
Why did that date sound so familiar?
He looked up, saw the question in my eyes, and said, “My wedding date.”
Shit.
My gaze was drawn back to the papers Braxton had skewered directly in the center with Rich’s signature in the top right corner for some reason. This time I paid attention long enough to notice what they were.
PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE
In the Matter of the Marriage or Registered Domestic Partnership of:
Jericho Noble (Petitioner)
and
Emily Noble (Respondent)
Date of marriage/domestic partnership: September 3, 2013
Place of marriage/domestic partnership: Multnomah County, Oregon
Date of petition for dissolution:
April 9, 2018
Irreconcilable differences between the parties have caused the irremediable breakdown of their marriage/domestic partnership.
I skipped over the rest of the legal jargon until I reached the part that painted a vivid picture of how thoroughly Rich had fucked us. It wasn’t enough for him to stick the knife into Braxton’s back, which she had categorically left behind to make her feelings clear.
No.
I blew out a breath.
He had to drive it to the fucking hilt.
He had to make sure we didn’t stand a chance of getting her back.
Because Jericho Noble was as much a sadist as he was a masochist.
He buried himself in angst and pain, and when that wasn’t enough, he inflicted more.
I shook my head in frustration as I read over the part again, even as I felt the guilt seep into my bones, reminding me that this had been my doing.
Children of the Marriage/Domestic Partnership:
Name: ____________________
Gender: ___________________
Date of Birth: ______________
Age: Three years
“Why the fuck would you include this bullshit?” I exploded anyway. “You don’t even know if that’s your kid, dipshit! Name, unknown. Gender, unknown. Date of birth, un-fucking-known. Did it ever occur to you that Emily could have been lying? There might not even be a kid.”
“She wasn’t lying,” he assured me, and it made me sick to my stomach to hear him defend that lying, cheating bitch.
“So you’ve seen her in the last four years? Did she happen to have a kid on her hip?” I yanked the knife from the nightstand and snatched the papers up to study them closer. I just had to know what other dumb shit Jericho’s self-flagellating ass had used to screw us over. As soon as I was sure there were no other skeletons in his fucked-up closet, I’d go get my girl.