After His Mistress Locked My Son in the Dryer, My Husband Called Me Crazy

Cullen's hand closed around my hair before I could react. He yanked me backward. My scalp screamed. My knees buckled and I went down hard, hipbone cracking against the hardwood floor.

He dragged me.

Not toward the laundry room. Not toward Oakley. Across the living room floor like I was something that needed to be disposed of. My hands scrambled for purchase. My fingernails scraped wood. The fever made everything slow and fast at the same time—each second stretched out, each impact arriving too quick to brace for.

"Cullen—" My voice broke. "Please—"

He released my hair and I collapsed forward, palms flat against the floor. Before I could lift my head, his hand cracked across my face. The sound was sharp. Clean. My cheek went numb, then hot, then started to throb in waves that matched my pulse.

I tasted blood.

"You attacked a child," Cullen said. His voice was steady. Righteous. "You terrorized a six-year-old boy because you're too sick to control yourself."

"I didn't—" I tried to push myself up. My arms shook. "Oakley is in the dryer. Please. You have to—"

His hand closed around my upper arm and hauled me upright onto my knees. He shoved me forward. I landed hard in front of the couch. Melody sat above me, Camden tucked against her side, her hand resting gently on his small shoulder. Her eyes were red. Her face was soft with concern.

She looked like a painting of maternal devotion.

"Apologize," Cullen said.

I stared up at Melody. At Camden's blank expression. At the way Melody's fingers stroked his hair with such careful tenderness.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. The words came out automatically. My body knew how to survive this. My mouth knew what to say. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Camden didn't respond. He just watched me with those flat, unreadable eyes.

Melody's voice was barely audible. "It's okay, sweetheart." She wasn't talking to me. She pulled Camden closer. "She's not well. She doesn't know what she's doing."

I tried again. My voice cracked. "Oakley is still in the dryer. Please. Someone has to check—"

Cullen's hand hit the back of my head. Not hard enough to knock me over. Hard enough to shut me up.

"Stop it," he said. His voice was low now. Dangerous. "Stop saying that."

"He's been in there for hours." I was shaking so hard my teeth chattered. The fever was climbing. I could feel it behind my eyes, pressing outward. "Camden locked him in. Camden told me—"

"You're accusing a child." Cullen's face was inches from mine now. "You're so desperate to cover up what you did that you're blaming a six-year-old."

"I'm not—"

He grabbed my face. His fingers dug into my jaw. "You screamed at him. Melody saw you. She heard you."

I looked past Cullen to Melody. She was crying now. Silent tears that slipped down her cheeks and landed on Camden's hair. She looked devastated. Heartbroken. Like she was watching something terrible happen to someone she cared about.

She looked at Cullen and whispered, "I'm so sorry. I should have called someone sooner. I didn't realize how bad it was."

Cullen released my face. I slumped forward, forehead nearly touching the floor. My whole body was burning. My hands were still bleeding from the dryer latch. I could see the smears of red on the hardwood beneath me.

"Where's Oakley?" I tried one more time. My voice was barely a whisper now. "Please just check. Please."

Cullen stood. He looked down at me like I was something broken beyond repair.

"You need help," he said. "Professional help."

Melody rose from the couch, one hand still on Camden's shoulder. She moved toward Cullen, her steps slow and careful, like she was approaching something fragile. When she reached him, she touched his arm. Just her fingertips. Light as air.

"Let me make some tea," she said softly. "You've been through so much today."

Cullen nodded. He let her guide him toward the kitchen. He didn't look back at me.

I stayed on the floor. My cheek throbbed. My head pounded. The fever made the room tilt and spin. I tried to stand. My legs wouldn't hold me.

From the kitchen, I heard Melody's voice. Soft. Soothing. Reasonable.

"She's been like this for weeks," Melody was saying. "Snapping at the kids. Saying strange things. I didn't want to worry you, but I've been frightened."

"I should have seen it sooner." Cullen's voice was tight. Guilty. "I've been so focused on helping you settle in. I didn't realize how bad Lexi had gotten."

"You can't blame yourself." A pause. The sound of the kettle being filled. "You're a good man, Cullen. You're doing everything right."

I closed my eyes. The living room floor was cool against my burning skin. I could hear them in the kitchen. I could hear Camden breathing on the couch behind me. I could hear the house settling around us, creaking and quiet.

I couldn't hear Oakley.

A small hand touched mine. I opened my eyes. Sevyn crouched beside me, her face pale, her eyes too big. She didn't say anything. She just laced her fingers through mine and held on.

Her hand was the only warm thing in the world that didn't hurt.