Page 39 of Checking from Behind

I looked at the white roses, perfectly wrapped in cellophane and tied with a red satin ribbon.

"These are for you."

I stared at him but didn't move to take the flowers. I wanted to hit him with them and then slam the door in his face. I wanted to scream at him to get off my property and to disappear into whatever hole he'd crawled out of, but instead I stood there with my hand on the frame of the door, my jaw locked tight and every muscle in my body rigid while I held my ground.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you."

He was acting as if he were my best friend who'd dropped in for a visit. Mila was right, I should have filed the restraining order, but I didn't because I figured she was overreacting. I never imagined he'd have known where I'd gone, never mind come all the way here.

"I've been keeping tabs. Saw you're dating a hockey player now."

The sound of his voice, the look in his eyes, was enough to make my skin crawl. He shook his head and gave me that patronizing smile I'd seen a million times.

"A rookie, Lillah? Come on. You can do better than that."

Anger flooded my body, and I clenched my fists tight.

"Better? Like you? Is that what you mean?"

"I mean someone who can take care of you. Not some kid who got drafted and probably won't even be around in two seasons." He said, leaning against the doorframe. "I've been talking to some people. Hayes is decent, got speed and hands, but he is green, Lillah. He doesn't know what he is doing on the ice or off it. When the league chews him up and spits him out, and it will, you will be the one left picking up the pieces."

"Get off my porch." I screamed, the audacity of this man.

"Lillah…"

"I told you to get off my porch." I shouted, stepping forward instead of retreating.

I was finished taking a step back from this man. I'd retreated for three years. I was done. And when he talked about Marshall, it pissed me off.

"You can't show up here, and you can't tell me who to date, nor do you get to have any opinion whatsoever on my life. You lost that right the night you put your hands around my throat."

The look on his face changed. It became hard and cold, even though that smile was still there. I'd seen that look too, in the kitchen of our apartment that night. This was the face that came when things got bad. Only I wasn't in that kitchen. I was on my porch in my home. I wasn't the same woman who had stood in that kitchen.

"That was a long time ago. People change."

"You don't." I spat.

He reached for my arm, but I pulled back, creating distance between us.

"Don't touch me." I yelled as my heel caught on the doorframe, making me lose my balance.

"Hey!" a voice behind Brett called, hard and cold. "What the fuck is going on here?"

I looked over Brett's shoulder to see Marshall walking up the driveway, still in his gear from practice. He must have seen his car in the driveway, or maybe he heard my voice carry across to his yard. Whatever the reason, I was glad he'd shown up.

His face was stone cold, no readable emotion on it. He maintained his focus, the same way I had observed on the ice. Fully in control.

Brett turned around, and the two of them looked at one another in silence.

"You must be the hockey player." Brett said as he looked Marshall up and down.

Brett was used to being one of the biggest guys in the room, until now. Marshall was taller than Brett, and broader in the shoulders and chest. He wasn't tense or trying to intimidate Brett the way Brett would have. He stood there, relaxed, waiting for Brett to answer.

"Do you live with her now, too?"

Marshall stopped at the bottom of the steps. He didn't come up and invade the space. He planted himself between Brett and his car and waited.