Page 47 of Wait For You

“I think I can handle it, but I appreciate your concern,” I said.

With my reply, scene upon scene, like those old slides on a projector, passed through my thoughts. My grandfather’s face mottled red as he screamed at me about a chore not done well enough, him slapping Rhys hard across the face, and the sound of my oldest brother, Jake, crying in his bedroom at night. More than anything, those old memories elicited a familiar feeling—a sense of dread, exhaustion, and an awareness that was unique to having to always be on alert in the place where you were supposed to feel safe. Home.

“I know you can handle him,” Hazel said. “Make sure to take care of Tessa and Eric.”

Hazel’s words echoed in my thoughts when I happened to see Rich at the gas station that afternoon. Rich pulled up after I was parked and already getting gas. He parked on the opposite side of the same gas pump. When I glanced over, not yet aware it was him, I simply nodded when our eyes met.

He spun his keys on his forefinger when he rounded the trash can between the sides of the gas pumps and stepped under the awning near me. “So you’re seeing Tessa.”

There was a hint of a question in his tone. “I am.”

“I just wanted to say I’m glad. You have my blessing.”

It wasn’t his words, but the look in his eyes and the feeling he gave off, as though he were giving me permission.

I held his gaze. For a moment, it felt as if a challenge rose in the air between us. I knew Rich. I knew his kind, always jostling for dominance. I also knew how to ignore and defuse assholes like him.

As much as I wanted to tell the guy to fuck right off, I didn’t. Even if he seemed to have backed off toward Tessa, they shared a son. For that reason alone, there needed to be peace. I simply nodded.

Just then, someone called Rich’s name from inside the car where he’d left the door cracked open. “Have a good one,” I said.

Moments later, I drove away. On the one hand, it was a nothing interaction. On the other hand, it rankled me that Rich felt the need to say anything.

In theory, I obviously believed two parents who weren’t together should be on good terms. That was the best thing for any child they shared. But it was different with Rich. He didn’t really give Tessa his blessing. With his words, I could feel his underlying sense of ownership of her.

Chapter Thirty

Tessa

As the weeks passed, I started to experience genuine happiness, something I’d questioned could ever be possible. My life was peaceful. I loved my job. Eric seemed to have accepted Adam easily into our world, and Rich was finally a neutral presence in my life. I would never forget how horribly things had gone with him, and I would never forget the way he treated me. But him ignoring me was a feeling beyond relief.

I often went to locals’ night at Fireweed Winery before Adam and I started dating. Now, it was a weekly event because the Cannon family showed up in force.

I enjoyed going with Adam. I felt as if I was a part of something. McKenna had been one of my closest friends for years. During those years with Rich, I felt brutally alone, even when I was in crowds. It was so nice not to feel isolated anymore.

I squeezed Adam’s hand lightly before tugging free. “I’m going to the restroom,” I whispered. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, and heat tingled under the surface.

I loved being with him so much. I felt like a teenage girl sometimes—starry-eyed and in love. Yet there was a strength stitched into the fabric of our connection. We had both seen the dark side of others and how badly things could go. What we had together was precious.

Still smiling, I slipped into the restroom. When I stepped out of my stall a few moments later, Rich’s girlfriend, Lisa, stood washing her hands at the row of sinks. Her eyes met mine in the mirror. That worry in the back of my thoughts scurried forward. I didn’t know how to have the conversation I wanted to have with her. The damage Rich had done was so deep I sometimes wondered if it was me, if I was the reason he had been abusive and controlling.

I tried to look anywhere but at her, as I glanced down at the sinks. As my eyes bounced around, they landed on some bruise marks on the inside of her forearm. I could see it in the mirror. I knew what had happened. Fingertips pressed deeply into her skin with a force that hurt at the moment and left behind dark purple bruises. I recognized those bruises because I’d had them. More than once.

Abruptly, nausea welled in my throat, and my heart started pounding in a sick, dread-filled beat. I took an unsteady breath and swallowed as I lifted my eyes to hers. She was looking down at the counter. I presumed she was studiously trying not to pay attention to me, just as I would have when I was with Rich.

“Are you okay?” My words came out rougher and louder than I intended

Her eyes whipped up to meet mine in the mirror. I gestured to the bruises on her forearm when she turned off the water. She stared at me for several beats. I scrambled up my depleted courage.

“He left bruises on me just like that. He cracked one of my ribs once. I went to Juneau for the X-rays and lied about who I was at the hospital. He didn’t hurt me much. It was the rest—the constant monitoring with the app on my phone, with the tag he put in my purse and on my car. If I can help you, I will. All you have to do is call me or text me. I’ll come at any time. I got away, and I know you can too.”

Her eyes were wide and bright with unshed tears as she stared at me. Her swallowing was loud in the room before she whispered, “Thank you.” She started to turn away.

Reflexively, I reached for her, touching her lightly on the shoulder. Tears sprang to my eyes when she flinched. I stepped back, quickly dropping my hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Can I at least give you my number? I went to the shelter. That’s what they told me to do. Save my number under somebody’s name from work or something like that. You can call me whenever you need anything.”

Her hesitation stretched. Just when I thought I’d made a huge mistake, she tapped her phone screen and handed it to me. I quickly typed in my contact, saving it under Joan when she told me to use that name.

Later that night, my body reverberated from little shocks of fear. From my therapist, I understood my system had been kicked into a trauma reaction—fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. She told me some people had a primary response, and others’ reactions varied. Sometimes I wanted to fight. Sometimes I froze, and most of the time, I fawned. I’d done everything I could to smooth things over with Rich when we were together, to soothe him, to keep him from getting angry.