“H-How did you find me?”
“When I went to your place in Boston, I found out you weren’t there. I didn’t know where you went until I typed your name into Google recently and found this address.”
That’s insanely strange. I regularly Googled myself to make sure my new address never showed up on the internet for that very reason. I knew my company never posted specific employee information on their website. Had I slipped up somehow?
He continued. “I want to say I’m so so sorry for everything I’ve put you through. I know why you left in such a hurry and I can’t blame you.”
Tears caught in my throat as I recalled the traumatic moments of my pinky being twisted. A flood of conflicting emotions confused me. Fear. Relief. Pain. Hope. Good and bad memories flashed through my mind. Office hours. Swing dancing. Nights we made love. Days we screamed at each other. His fist going into the wall. We’d been together for two and a half years and I thought I’d locked away those memories in some dark recess of my brain but all of it came crashing down on me now like an avalanche.
“I know I can’t ever take things back. I should’ve called but I knew I had to tell you this in person.”
My grip on the necklace tightened. He was right. He shouldn’t have just shown up on my doorstep unannounced. Not the first time. Not like this. I glanced warily at his other hand, which was still behind his back. I clicked off the safety on my mace necklace preparing for what he might do after what I was about to say to him.
“Marty, you shouldn’t be here.”
His blue eyes shifted. A subtle cover slid over them that changed their appearance to pleading. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I’ve been working on myself. I’ve been seeing Dr. Perkins. I haven’t given up on us.”
“That was two years ago,” I stuttered. “I’ve moved on. I needed to start over.”
A flinch in his features betrayed frustration. For a brief instant his eyes flickered intensity. It was the same look as when he punched a hole in his apartment wall. But as soon as it appeared, it disappeared. “Don’t give up on me, Kristen. We’ve been through so much together. We’ve shared things we’ve never shared with anyone else. Don’t throw that all away.”
“You threw it all away. After what you did to me . . .” My hands trembled and my legs felt weak. I staggered against the wall for support. My body burned and my skin prickled. I could feel my heart beating rapidly. I wanted to shout, cry, push, shove, and throw my hands up in defeat all at the same. It was a strangely familiar feeling. Like I had sunk back into an old routine I’d learned to break.
And then I realized: after two years, we were arguing again.
“It was out of line, I know. I won’t do it again, I promise. I’ve been working on myself these years we’ve been apart.” He smiled in frustration. “You’ve got to listen to me.”
How many times had he made promises before? He’d always broken them. He wouldn’t take his meds. He wouldn’t see his therapist. I’d wanted to believe in him time and time again. A part of me even wanted to believe him now. That he’d finally changed for better. But instinct won out. “No, Marty. No.”
“Please, Kristen,” he said softly. He pulled his hand out from behind his back. Surprised, I took a step back. In his hand was a bouquet of blue flowers. “I brought you these. Bluebonnets, your favorite.”
I was shocked. He’d remembered an offhand comment I’d made when we had visited the botanical gardens while we were still dating. He’d asked me which flower was my favorite and I’d said the bluebonnet because it reminded me of Texas and the color matched his stunning blue eyes.
My heart stopped in my chest. The anger, frustration, fear—all of it disappeared for a moment.
He stepped forward and extended his open palm through the narrow opening of the door. I could’ve shut the door before, but now if I tried it would mean shutting it on his hand.
“I’ll never hurt you again,” he said softly.
“Marty, I—”
His fingers nearly touching my hand at my necklace, I became painfully aware of my pinky throbbing. I didn’t know what to do. It was happening all over again. The helplessness. The frustration. The desire to please. The hope that things would be different this time. The fear that they wouldn’t be.
Then his fingers touched my hand. The next moment happened too quick for me to process. When my brain caught up, I saw Marty toppling across the floor. A short but muscular body in a striped polo had tackled him to the ground scattering blue flowers across the hallway.