John glances up from the table when I am at his side, his gaze running over me, starting at my face, traversing the length of me, and back to the heavy tray in my hand.

“Are you well?” he asks, his voice low.

“I am,” I lie.

There are more tourists than locals at the diner at the moment, but I can’t take the chance that someone will mention to Tom that I was speaking to a strange man. Not after last night.

“And you?” I ask.

“I patched myself up.”

“Good. I’m glad. Is there anything else I can get you?” I offer a half-hearted attempt at a smile. “Key lime pie?”

“Didn’t come here for the pie. I wanted to see you. Make sure you were doing well after everything. I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Was he there when you got home last night?”

I glance around the restaurant. Bobby from the bait stand is seated in one of the corner tables. He and Tom occasionally share a beer together after work. Two tables over, one of Tom’s fishing customers is enjoying a meal with his wife. Near the entrance, Tom’s brother’s best friend dines with a friend.

“I can’t talk.” I lean forward, trying to keep my expression neutral as though I am merely taking a customer’s order. “Tom will be upset.”

“Then meet me out back.”

“I’m working,” I hiss.

“Don’t you have a break coming up?”

“I—”

“You convinced me. I’ll have a piece of key lime pie. Thank you,” John says in a voice loud enough to carry to the next few tables. He lowers his tone. “Ten minutes.”

I don’t respond, heading to the back and giving the cook the order for a slice of pie.

“He seems chattier than usual,” Ruby says, coming to stand next to me.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Are you going to take your break soon? You seem like you could use it.”

My gaze flickers to John sitting alone at his table, his back to me. I would be a fool to meet him. I’m grateful for his help last night, but I don’t need someone swooping in to rescue me from my life.

“Helen. You really don’t appear well.”

“I’m tired, the baby—”

“I heard Tom was out drinking last night. Max saw him leave Duval Street looking worse for the wear. Did he cause problems when he came home?”

“There was some trouble outside the restaurant last night. Two men tried to rob me.” I jerk my head toward the table where John sits. “He helped me. Walked me home to make sure I got there safe. Tom didn’t like it.”

“What kind of trouble?”

I tell her about the men, about what happened.

“From now on, you’re not closing by yourself. And if you see them around here again, you tell me.” Her expression darkens. “Tom hurt you, didn’t he?”

“He—It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“He’s no good.”

“Sometimes he is,” I say, driven by an irrational need to defend my husband. After all, I made vows, didn’t I?

For better or worse, in sickness and in health. What’s your word worth if you take back the promises you make? But there were promises Tom made, too, ones that were broken.

What is this if not “worse”? The man I married isn’t the man I’m married to now. It’s like there’s a sickness inside him, eating away at those good parts I fell in love with so long ago until there’s nothing of the emotions I once felt for him, only fear and regret.

“He hasn’t been good since he was a boy, and even then he had a wicked streak in him,” Ruby retorts. “You couldn’t see it. Young love, and all that nonsense. He was always a wild one. Thought he could do whatever he wanted and the hell with everyone else.”

“Things have been difficult lately. Fishing isn’t what it used to be. He’s under a lot of pressure.”

“Lots of people are under a lot of pressure. And lots of men don’t beat their wives.”

“I know. When the baby comes—”

Things will change. They have to. We’ll be a family. Tom will drink less. Things will get better. I’ll stop fantasizing about my husband’s death.

“When the baby comes, nothing will change,” Ruby replies, gentleness in her voice. “Do you want your child to grow up seeing its mother hurting? Do you want to spend your days worrying that one day he’ll use his fists on them, too?”

“I would never let someone hurt my child.”

“Helen. No matter how hard you try, as long as you’re with him, you’ll be in danger. It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

“It is. But is leaving supposed to be easy? He’ll kill me if I try to leave and he catches me. He told me last night that he’d take the baby away from me.”

“Oh, honey. You could go to the police.”

“What will they do? How is Tom different from other men? Do you know how many nights Tom has spent in the jail sleeping one off only to be released in the morning with a smile and a wave? Sometimes he takes the sheriff out fishing, shows him the best spots to catch marlin.”

“Is there somewhere you could go?”

“Tom would find me.”

After all, there aren’t many places I could hide. Nearly all of my childhood friends moved north when things got bad, when tourism dried up and the fishing industry changed and the only money to be had was smuggling booze or running guns.

“No one can tell you what to do, Helen; you have to decide for yourself. But he’s got you thinking you’re backed into a corner, that you have nowhere to go, no options but him, and that’s not true. You have friends, people who would help you, and most importantly, you’re smart and you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. No one could live the life you’ve been living and not be brave.

“Before I met Max there were men. Some good, others not so much. The bad ones will make you believe you’re nothing. They’ll make you small because that’s the only way they’ll ever see themselves as amounting to anything. It’s a lie. The second you stop believing the lie is the second you take their power away from them.”

“I’m having a baby. Tom’s baby. If I leave, he’ll come after us. I’ve seen what he’s capable of when he’s angry—I don’t want to consider what he’ll do. Even if I could leave, if I could escape somewhere, how would I support us?”