Page 129 of Timelessly Ours
The chief of police?
Claire nods. “Good call, get the police involved. Her arrest is long overdue.”
My throat clogs up and I fight to breathe.
His eyes are filled with rage as he waits and I have to close mine just to keep myself from crying out. Begging to let me explain first.
But he doesn’t want to hear it. He’s done.
“Yes, I’m still here. I’m sorry to call but this is urgent.” He glances at his ex. “I need a restraining order against Claire Collins, maiden name Bennet.” He pauses. “Yes, my ex-wife. She’s been storming into my house uninvited for years now and I just found out she’s stalking and harassing my family. Including picking up my daughter from school without my consent.”
“What the hell?” she screeches. “You can’t be serious.”
“Yes, she just handed over the proof, I’ll email it as soon as I hang up. Take a look and we’ll talk later? I appreciate it, David.”
He hangs up and for the first time, he reacts. His voice lethal, as he advances at his ex. “Don’t you dare go near Rory again. My next call is to the school for releasing her to you. And for the last time, get the fuck out of my house. And if you come around here again or anyone I care about—including Nicole, I will tell Angel what really happened between us. Now that’s long overdue.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Four seconds, Claire.”
She storms off and I wince as the door slams. I keep my eyes closed, letting the tears finally fall.
In no time, he’s kneeling before me again. “Baby. It’s just us now. She’ll never come near you again—not if I can help it.”
I sniffle. “You shouldn’t have done that. I’m not worth it.”
Without a word, he lifts me off the couch and brings me upstairs. To his bedroom. There, he lays me on his side of the bed, which is closer to the bathroom, and strips me of my soiled clothes. The next thing I hear is the water running in the tub. A moment later, he’s beside me, lifting me into his arms.
“I forgot about Rory,” I say absently.
“It’s okay. She’s safe.”
Gently, he sets me in the rising warm soapy water and I cry out, jerking my right hand out. My knuckles are bruised and colored with dried blood.
He growls and I wince, looking up at him. “I won.”
With a shake of his head, he lowers it back into the water gently. “I’ll clean that later. Did you eat anything today?”
He picks up his phone, his eyes still avoiding mine. “I’m ordering you soup. Extra broth. You need fluids.”
After ordering, he tells me to stay put while he checks on Rory.
I think I’m going to be sick again. I pull myself up and grab the towel he’d prepared for me. After heaving, I brush my teeth, wrap myself up in his bathrobe, and lie down.
Maybe this is all a dream and I just need to wait to wake up from it.
Sometime later, I’m up again. It’s dark outside and the lights are dimmed. There’s a bowl of soup beside me and a can of ginger ale.
I reach for the soup and find my hand bandaged up. I rub the covered knuckles.
The broth has cooled, but the salty liquid helps.
I want desperately to see him. To talk to him. The number of times he’d looked me in the eye all evening hurts, because up until I screwed up, he couldn’t tear his eyes off me.
His tone has been soft, but I could hear the undertone. It’s clipped and distant.
After Rory is asleep, I hear him downstairs. On the phone. Several phone calls.