Maisey rushed to the bathroom as soon as court was dismissed, she heaved up her breakfast and continued to vomit until there was nothing left to come up. She'd hated seeing the videos, the pictures, the reminders. The thought of Jesse touching her, of any man touching her like that made her sick.
Terri-Lee found her there, "Your cowboy is in the hall glaring at anyone who even thinks they might have to pee," she said, "Standing guard as if you were the queen herself," Maisey tried to smile. "You won't ever have to deal with that family again." Terri-Lee told her softly, "Jesse just buried himself: life without parole for his crimes and threats against you with another fifteen year sentance for assaulting Bandit with a deadly weapon and nearly killing the man."
"What about Luke," Maisey managed, sitting on the floor and leaning her head against the cool metal wall of the bathroom stall. "Their mother and sister?"
"Officers were dispatched yesterday to arrest everyone in those videos, the crown is prosecuting them all. I convinced the judge that transcripts from Luke's trial and today's trial should be admissible."
"Thank you," Maisey said to the lawyer. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate everything you've done for me."
Terri-Lee smiled, "Putting away people like that is why I do my job," she admitted, "you know that." She watched while Maisey washed her face and rinsed her mouth. "Let's go take that cowboy back to the hotel so you and I can talk about the publishing contract, I think we've got it all figured out."
Maisey stopped at the open door to the bathroom: Brett stood across the hall, one booted foot bent at the knee and leaning casually against the wall. his bright green eyes were awash with concern and he was worrying the brim of his cowboy hat. They stared at each other silently.
"You ready to go?" he asked and she was grateful he didn't ask her if she was ok or how she felt. She nodded. He pushed off from the wall and put his cowboy hat on falling into step behind the two women. He'd responded to Anna's text only to be told to give Maisey space and let her come to him, not to hug her or touch her-- everything about what had been done to her would be too fresh after having to see the videos. "When we get you back to the hotel I'm going to go over to the mall that's up the block, I forgot to bring a few things." It was a lie but he wanted to give her some space.
Maisey was silent as they walked: she'd expected Jesse's trial to take days, she certainly had not expected him to make it so easy for the conviction. She'd expected him to draw it out, play games with the court and try to get himself and his brother set free. She'd expected to be hunted the rest of her life. It was over. She didn't think she believed that but she wished with all her heart that it was. Brett didn't enter the hotel with them: Terri-Lee was going to be with Maisey for a little while anyway.
The elevator ride was quiet.
"Terri-Lee," Maisey unlocked the hotel room door, "I don't want to talk about the contract right now, I want a hot shower and my bed, I need to clear all of that memory out of my head." The lawyer said good night and left. Maisey went to the shower and turned on the heat, stripping before she stepped into it. Rivers of water snaked down her body and she lowered herself to the floor, hot tears pouring from her eyes as sobs ripped through her. She rocked in the small shower, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs sobbing.
She toweled off and dressed in lounge wear before curling up on the couch and turning on a movie for noise. Laying on the couch she starred blankly at the tv, not really hearing it or seeing it. She was still laying there when Brett returned.
Brett crouched down coming level with her face, "Maisey," he said softly, unsure what to do.
She reached for him and he swept her up onto his lap, she pressed her face into his shoulder as fresh tears poured out of her eyes. "It's over," she said, "It's over and it was worse than Luke's. At Luke's I didn't have to see the videos or pictures, the memories weren't quite so visual."
He smoothed her hair, "I wish you'd never had to go through any of it," he told her, "I would have stopped it if I could."
She leaned back, her eyes burning as she kissed his cheek, "The only good thing about all of it was finding you." she smiled and he shifted so she could lay against his shoulder better.
Brett rested his chin on the top of her head, "yeah, I'm not sure the Boggs would be what it is without your influence," he told her, "and neither would I." He hugged her tightly, "What did you and Terri-Lee eat?" he asked, "I thought she would still be here when I got back."
Maisey shook her head, "I didn't want company, she never came in."
"So no food?" Maisey shook her head again. "Come on then, there's a place across the street called Ceili's: great food there." Maisey hesitated then got up to go wash and get ready to go.
Ceili's was fairly quiet since it was still before the dinner rush. The Hostess seated them away from other patrons, and took their drink orders before leaving them with menus. It didn't take long for a server to come to them. Brett was about to shake his head when Maisey spoke up, "could we start with wings: salt and pepper, and beef nachos, extra sour cream?"
"Hungry?" Brett raised an eyebrow.
"Suddenly starving," she admitted. The server came back with their drinks: a bottled beer for Brett and a virgin daiquiri for Maisey. Maisey is sipped. "How's Bandit?"
"They figure he'll be back on the ranch with light duty next week." He'd been just as grateful for the news as she was. "Your dog is apparently missing you like crazy, Tony keeps having to go back to the house to bring him back to the trailer." Maisey laughed and Brett loved the way her face lit up: it meant she would be ok.
"Can you teach me to rope and shoot?" she asked, "with this allergy shot Anna figured out it means I can help on the ranch more not just fiddle in a garden."
"We'll practice in the barn all winter," Brett told her, "Then you can put your skills to the test at spring round up." Maisey grinned, "But we'll set you up at the range for shooting, like Ned did for me at first: learn the proper rules and regulations and try different types of guns. That is all part of getting your PAL-- your license."
"Makes sense," she nodded, "a long time ago I shot a recurve, but that was a lifetime ago."
"Fundamentals are the same," Brett told her, " shooting is shooting after all." She smiled at the waitress when the wings and nachos and dug in without waiting for Brett. He took a swallow of beer, watching and then started in on the nachos.
He didn't really understand their relationship. Most of the time she was his roommate, but then other times it was more but yet didn't seem enough. Like how she wanted to sleep with him without the sex. It was frustrating but he chose to live with it, grateful she never commented on his physical condition, ever. She didn't carry on taking about useless or trivial things, she never tried to be the victim and she never really complained. Except, he supposed, those times when she went into complete panic after being triggered, but with Henry she had been able to calm herself a lot. He was somewhat surprised that she hadn't brought the dog with her but he supposed that the hotel would not have liked her bringing in the dog.
They ordered their dinners and talked about the ranch. "I'm excited to see the faces of those who come to your sale next year," Maisey told him, "With all of the ideas and then the changes you've already started it really is going to keep growing."
"I hope so," he told her, "I still can't believe that Uncle Ned never did any of this with it."
"Losing someone you love is hard." She told him.
"But to give up on your dreams...and their dreams," Brett shrugged, "I guess I've never cared that much."
"I don't think I ever will," she shuddered, "Luke," she swallowed, "Luke and I met in high school, I thought we'd be together forever. He was so amazing and wonderful: I never understood why a football player--even if he wasn't the quarterback or the captain--would care about someone like me. I was shy and constantly had my nose in a book."
"We don't have to talk about it," Brett told her, "You need to put that life behind you and move forward."
"I think I need to," she admitted. "Every time I try to ignore it, something else happens." She put her fork on her plate.
"You know the nasty parts," she told him, "but it wasn't always nasty. We were together for almost ten years, it didn't turn nasty until after we were married--he treated me like something special, something wonderful before that. We would go to the movies and dancing, we'd be with our friends, I'd go to all his local games and when he'd travel he would call me as soon as they were done. While everyone else was drinking and partying, he'd spend hours on the phone talking with me about our futures." She picked up the fork and toyed with what was left over on her plate. "It was so easy then to think that we would be together forever and always--he told me he loved me, he made me believe it too. I found out after we were married that he'd hang up the phone and go join the parties. There were plenty of girls willing to give him what I wouldn't." She shuddered thinking about it.
"Apparently he was fifteen the first time he and Jesse and Donovan shared someone--he made a point of telling me about it after the first time I escaped." She remembered retelling that story in the first trial, "She was a prostitute so when she turned up dead no one cared. By the time we were married he'd perfected the art of keeping women alive during everything they did to them. I couldn't find a way out. I was locked in all the time."
Brett remained silent while she talked, listening to everything she said and realizing that the physical abuse had only been a part of what she'd gone through and that he really didn't know much about the woman who'd been living with him for almost a year.
"My writing was the only escape I had," she admitted, "After I got the work done I would sometimes be lucky enough to have an hour or so when he wasn't home that I could sit and write: when he was home there was never time. I never understood why he let me have a laptop--I could have reached out anytime but I knew he would find out somehow. I'd have lost everything. So I wrote and I wrote. I have fifteen novels waiting to be published, if I want to. A publisher read one after I was done with Luke's trial, they've offered me a contract, that's what Terry-Lee was talking about: I never dreamed I'd get paid for my writing," she admitted. "I don't think I could have done it before now, but Luke, Jesse, Donovan...it's over now."
Brett waited, "It's really over," there was a touch of excitement in her voice. "They can't hurt me anymore: I can go anywhere, do anything, and not worry about Luke or Jesse finding me." She popped a bite of food in her mouth.
"So where do you want to go?" Brett asked and feared the answer.
"Home," she admitted, "Back to the Bogs."