“I’m sorry, Tessa. I didn’t mean that.” My voice cracked as I reached for her, but she took a step back.
“I know.” She wrapped her arms around herself, shoulders hunched. “I’m just trying to understand, Lane. I’m worried about you.” The quiet defeat in her voice was worse than any anger could have been.
The silence stretched between us, heavy with unsaid things. I watched as Tessa sank back onto my couch, her shoulders still curved inward. The sight of the wetness on her cheeks had my stomach churning with guilt.
“You want to understand?” I asked softly, running my fingers through my tangled hair. “That night after the cidery opening, after Chase ran out... he told me things.”
Tessa’s head snapped up. “What things?”
I crossed back to the couch, curling into the opposite corner. My glass was empty, but I wrapped my hands around it anyway, needing something to ground me.
“About what it’s like living in Elliot’s shadow. About how hard it is watching everyone praise your husband while treatingChase like they’re just waiting for him to screw up again.” My voice cracked as I remembered the raw pain in Chase’s voice that night. “God, Tess, he sat there on my porch steps telling me how sometimes he thinks everyone would be better off if he just disappeared.”
Tessa’s face softened slightly. “I didn’t... I mean, I knew things were hard for him, but...”
I swallowed hard, the memory of his glazed eyes and slurred words still fresh. “Tess... He’s not just some fuckboy looking for an easy target. He’s struggling, and he’s hurting, and maybe I shouldn’t love him yet, maybe it’s too soon after Peter, but...” I drew in a shaky breath. “When he’s sober, when he’s himself... he makes me feel safe, loved, cared for. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I felt that way?”
Tessa narrowed her gaze, and I could see her wrestling with what to say next. “Lane... I hear what you’re saying. I do. But you just got out of one dangerous situation. I can’t watch you walk right into another one.”
“It’s not the same thing.” I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling suddenly cold despite the July heat seeping through the windows. “Peter was calculated. Controlled. Everything he did was about power.” I met Tessa’s eyes. “Chase is... He’s lost. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” Tessa’s voice was gentle but firm. “Seems like you’re still making excuses for a man’s behavior.”
The truth in her words settled like ice in my stomach. Was that what I was doing? The line between understanding someone’s struggles and enabling their behavior suddenly felt razor-thin. I thought of all the times I’d defended Peter in the early days, all the explanations I’d made for hisbad moods. Butthis was different—wasn’t it? Chase wasn’t Peter. Chase was... Chase was trying. But then again, hadn’t I told myself Peter was trying, too, in the beginning?
“I’m not making excuses. I’m trying to explain that I see him—all of him. The good and the bad. And he’s different since that night, Tess. After I found him on my porch, after I told him I couldn’t be around him when he was using... he heard me. Actually heard me.”
My phone buzzed on the coffee table, and I glanced at the time. Almost six. Chase would be here soon with our weekly pizza picnic on the living room floor—a tradition that had started the night I moved in, when he’d cleaned this whole place for me.
Tessa followed my gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line. But instead of giving me another lecture, she just gathered her purse and stood. “I should go. El’s got that thing at the orchard tonight.”
I walked her to the door, both of us carrying the weight of words still unsaid.
She paused on the threshold, wrapping me in a fierce hug that caught me off guard. “Just... promise me you’ll be careful, Lane.”
I squeezed her back, breathing in her familiar scent. “I know what I’m doing.”
After she left, I straightened the throw pillows and gathered our wine glasses, humming quietly to myself. The fading sunlight streamed through my still-curtainless windows, painting golden stripes across my hardwood floors. Three months in this cottage, and I still hadn’t gotten around tohanging curtains. But somehow that felt right—letting the light in, not hiding anymore.
The sound of a car door closing outside made me smile. Right on time. Chase always teased me about being ready exactly at six, said my military precision about pizza night was adorable. I wiped my hands on my shorts and headed for the door, not even bothering to check who it was through the window. After all, this was Sable Point. This was home. This was safe.
For the first time since leaving Peter, I finally understood what it meant to feel secure in my own space.
But then I opened the door.
“Hello, wife.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
ELENA
Then, July 2024
The ballof lead formed in my throat in a millisecond before plunking to the bottom of my stomach. This was every nightmare I’d ever had come to fruition, but how could I have been surprised? I should have known he’d come for me, should have known he wouldn’t give up so easily. I let myself get too comfortable living my happy little life in this happy little town. Too good to be true.
When I left Peter, sure, I spewed some threats. But all I’d actually done was file for divorce.He must have been served.My attorney had told me three weeks, and foolishly, I hadn’t been tracking the days. I’d been too wrapped up in Chase, in living a life free of the emotional and physical abuse I’d endured daily for years.
My soon-to-be-ex-husband stood on the front porch of thelittle cottage that had become my sanctuary, holding the pizza meant to be delivered by the sweet, acne-riddled teenage boy who dropped it off every Friday evening. Peter’s eyes were wild, vengeful. His hair was more askew than I’d seen it in years, and his clothes were rumpled—almost like the papers had been dropped in his lap this morning and he drove straight here.
