“I’m sorry,” I whisper, dragging the back of my hands across my eyes. A stray tear soaks into the gray blanket.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he says, shifting into my view. He sits crisscrossed in front of me, his knees almost touching mine. His gym shorts sit high on his thighs showing his toned muscles. I keep my focus trained on the floor, afraid to meet his after such an ugly cry. I feel his gaze on me, his brown hair just barely in view.
A feathery touch of his finger moves to my chin and my eyes instinctually squeeze shut. He lifts my chin slowly. “Abby, look at me,” he says softly.
I hesitate but do as I’m told. His index finger remains on my chin, and my eyes finally meet his. They’re soft, but I see his worry. “Abby, I won’t let anything happen to you. I’m not here to make your life a living hell. I’ll keep you safe. I promise you that.”
He stops talking while I absorb the words. His eyes flick between mine. I take a labored breath before placing my hand on his wrist, forcing his hand down to my lap. He doesn’t stop me as I trace the lines of his palm with my eyes, studying the cracks and calluses along each finger.
“You don’t even know me.” I shake my head, still staring at his open palm.
“But I want to.”
I blink. “Okay,” is all I can muster, surprising myself with my answer. Another tear soaks my hot cheeks. He wipes it away, but this time I don’t flinch from his hand.
The vibration of my phone in my back pocket makes me pull back from Dallas. My stomach drops when I see the name on the screen. I’m too hot yet way too cold. The blanket around me is constricting. I stand up quickly, moving to the other side of the apartment, to a window in the living room. I don’t get a word in before his voice powers through the tiny speaker.
“Where the fuck are you?” Sam’s harsh voice, loud enough that I know Dallas can hear him clear as day, cuts through the calm that Dallas worked so hard to create.
I swallow my nerves. “A friend’s house. Why are you calling, Sam?” I ask, finding a shred of confidence. I do remember drunkenly breaking up with him. I should have known he wouldn’t tolerate such a venture from me.
“Why am I calling mygirlfriend?” he spits out. “Which friend? You’re not at Meredith’s place. Your location shows you somewhere else. Whose house are you at, Abby?” His voice slowly gets louder and more callous with each word.
“Just a friend.” I glance back at Dallas, who is leaning against the back of his couch, the grip on the cushion tightening with each of Sam’s words. He’s agitated, but somehow, I can tell it’s not because of me. His brows twist, and his mouth forms a strong line. He takes a long deep breath as he listens to the conversation.
“If you’re with that douchebag of a guy who thought he was being a fucking hero last night, I will wring your neck, Abby. Do you hear me? I will wring your fucking neck.”
I draw in a sharp breath before ending the call abruptly. I should not have done that, but somehow my actions seem stronger than my emotions right now. The tears start flowing again as I stand with my feet firmly planted, staring at some distant place outside. My phone remains gripped tightly in my hand, the other hand now a tight fist. My heart pounds rapidly in my chest, echoing in my ears. This room feels too small, and I can’t breathe. I need to leave. Need to get out of here. Need to go back to where I should have been in the first place last night.
I don’t know when he moved, but Dallas now stands in front of me. He slowly pries the phone from my hand just as it vibrates twice, the indicator of a new message. He looks at the screen briefly but shakes his head as he sets it on the cushion of the couch face down.
“Are you okay?” he asks, offering a hand to me.
“I need to go,” I say, grabbing my phone off the couch and heading toward the door.
“Abby, please don’t go anywhere while you’re so worked up.”
“I need to go,” I repeat, harsher this time. When I get to the door, I frantically look around, trying to find my shoes and purse. Dallas doesn’t move. “Where are my shoes? And my purse? Where is my stuff?” I yell, starting to panic.
“Abby. Please. At least take a minute to calm down. I can help if you’ll let me.”
He moves toward me but stops when I take a step back, flattening myself against the front door. “I didn’t ask for your help!” My voice cracks. “I just want to go home,” I sob, my anger suddenly turning into fear.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay. Let me get your stuff for you, and I’ll drive you home.” He disappears and reappears, quickly producing my shoes and purse. He hands them to me but hovers as if he’s debating saying something else.
I put my shoes on, not bothering to tie the laces. Dallas shouts something at me before I run out the door, down the stairs, and to my ... bike. My bike isn’t here. I can’t get home.“I’ll drive you home”echoes in my head, those last words finally registering in my mind. I look around, not recognizing any of the vehicles. Succumbing to reality, I sink to the curb. The cool concrete doesn’t offer an ounce of comfort.
A small squeak of a door opening sounds behind me, but I don’t turn around. Dallas sits next to me, elbows resting on his knees. He clasps his hands together and stares ahead at the full parking lot. The sun's rays, not quite hot enough to make me sweat, kiss my face and offer a welcoming warmth from the cool curb beneath me.
I look down at my bleeding fingers, not realizing I was picking at my cuticles. “Can you take me home?”
“Are you sure you want to go home?” He pauses. “I don’t want Sam to hurt you again.”
“Sam is gone,” I sigh. “He’s in another state for two weeks on a business trip.” Realization hits me finally that I have two weeks to myself, free from the fear that constantly holds my attention.
“Can I ask you one more question before I take you home?” he asks, turning to look at me. I fix my eyes on a pebble by my foot and nod. He sits up straighter, preparing to ask his question. “Did you mean it when you broke up with him last night? Are you done with him?”
That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? I look up. The blue sky sits cloudless and peaceful. “I don’t know.”
