Page 41 of Checking from Behind

"Hey, have a seat." I said, dropping plates on the coffee table and two cans of soda.

She sat down, placing her bag beside the couch, and let Cooper off his leash. He flopped down in front of the couch and chewed on the toy I'd gotten for him.

"I'll get us some wine." I said, heading to the kitchen.

"No, soda is fine." She muttered, looking up at me.

She pulled her legs up under her and grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping herself in it. I sat down next to her and flipped open the pizza box, the smell of pepperoni filling the air.

"Before we dive in, I have something I want to say, and I want you to know I'm only going to say it once." I said, needing to get it off my chest.

"Okay."

"We never need to talk about things with Brett again, not about the past, or about today, but if you want to, I'm here for you."

She picked up her can of soda and opened it holding it with both hands. She stared at that can like she hoped it would tell me everything instead. Then she talked, slowly at first, then faster and faster, as if she couldn't hold things in any longer.

She told me everything she hadn't already. All about the beginning with Brett, how charming he'd been. How he'd always made her feel like she belonged.

"You already know about the abuse and the night he drove me away, but you don't know about the night I left."

I sat there, listening.

"Mila hated Brett, always had, and the feeling was mutual. Now I know, his hate was more about control than anything else. I called her while Brett was at a game, and we'd devised a plan. That night I'd packed a bag while he watched TV, and once I knew he was asleep, I crept out of the bedroom and got in my car. Mila told me to drive to her mother's house because that was the one place he'd never look for me. Thanks to Mila calling her, her mom was waiting at the door in the middle of the night, and brought me in. Mila had gotten a flight home the next day."

"What happened then?" I questioned.

"Well, Mila was living in Boston, finishing her schooling, so when she arrived, she talked me into coming here. I had nowhere else to go, so five days later, we left her mom's, and we drove all the way here. I stayed with her a few months and worked for an interior design firm, gaining experience and saving my money. I dumped a chunk of the savings I had from working in Texas to buy the house, and I started my business out of my living room. And now, after all of that, he's back."

She sat there staring at me, looking scared and broken. I put my arm around her and pulled her into my chest. She didn't fight me. She crumbled against me as if she'd been waiting for me to take her in my arms. She buried her face in my shoulder. At first, I thought she was crying, but then I realized it was worse. She was shaking, as if she were cold, which I figured was because of the stress she'd endured. I pulled her against me, tighter, and let her shake.

"He will never touch you again. Not while I'm here. Not while I'm breathing." I said into her hair, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"That is what worries me. I don't want you to do anything that will ruin your career. He isn't worth that. Please promise me."

"I already did."

"No, Marshall, I mean it. If he comes back and starts with me, or if he tries to provoke you, please don't do anything. Don't give him that kind of power. He will use it, and he will turn you into the aggressor and he will be the victim. That is what he does and he's a master at it." She said, her voice straining.

"I know, sweetie. I promise."

She sat there and then lifted her head and looked at me.

"Why are you like this?" she questioned.

"Like what?"

"Good. Genuinely good. You aren't looking for anything, nor are you putting on a show. You're good. Why?"

I thought for a few minutes about my upbringing and my parents, who had been married for thirty-one years. I thought about the way my father looked at my mother each morning, like he couldn't believe how lucky he'd gotten. Then I thought about what I did, about the control and restraint I used during every game, and how I understood that power meant nothing if you couldn't choose when to use it.

"Well because the only other alternative I have is to be what your ex is, and I would rather die than treat anyone that way."

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine.

"Come, let's have some food. You are probably starving."

"I am," she said, kissing me again.