She insists on team lifting furniture with me – which is hilarious. She’s no help at all. But it’s cute. If she’d just stay with me she wouldn’t need furniture.
I’m especially bitter taking her bed apart.
“You’re a dark cloud,” she says.
“I want you with me,” I say.
She steps toward me and touches my face. “You have me, Dallas.”
Across time. Across town. I always had her. But somehow I never felt like I could get close enough. I feel so desperate and needy every time I look at her.
I want her to wear my ring. To live with me. I want her in ways I can’t explain.
The corner of her mouth tips upward. “What?”
“I think if I told you I’d scare you.”
I go back to disassembling her bed. It’s the very last thing. We get it all packed away and I shut the trailer up and turn away from it.
Then pause.
I have a strange sensation prickling the back of my neck. I stop, and I listen. I don’t hear anything.
But the vibe is suddenly off. Like the air changed.
I don’t like it. I turn around, and there’s a car across the street that wasn’t there before. And there’s a man sitting behind the wheel.
Ohfuck.
I just know it. In my gut.
“Sarah,” I touch her arm. “Is that him?”
She startles and turns, her eyes wide. “Oh, oh no, Dallas…” Suddenly, I see her, my fierce, glorious Sarah become small again. I see her become that little girl that I wanted to protect.
That little girl this man hurt.
I imagine her the way she described herself all those years ago. Not eating. Not letting people touch her. The way that I met her, fierce and feral biting and scratching, doing anything she could to keep yourself safe.
And the rage that pours through my body is murderous.
“I’ll handle it,” I say.
“No. Dallas…”
“Wait in the truck,” I say.
“Dallas no…”
“Now,” I say.
Something in my tone gets through to her and she obeys me, stepping up into the truck and getting inside. I reach into my pocket and lock the doors. She’s safe. That’s what matters. This isn’t her battle, not now.
She has me to fight for her.
She’ll never have to fight again.
I start crossing the street, and he gets out of the car.
