Page 14 of A Monster Is Coming

He went to reach for me, but I held my hand up. “Which I totally get, but I feel fine. No stiff muscles, no other worries or concerns.” I started to chuckle, trying to distract him. This helped me scramble to my feet. “Thank you,” I said.

I hesitated before heading toward the changing rooms, but I didn’t even get a step before Peter grabbed my hand and pulled me close.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

“Nothing. There is no problem.” We were very close, and for some odd reason, I didn’t know if I liked it. I was trying not to freak out.

“Haven’t I shown that you can trust me?” he asked.

I’d not really been assessing him on trust. Did I believe he was who he said he was? Part of me did. The one side of my brain that had to wonder why a hot guy would work at a gym in a small town. I’d made up all kinds of stories during my lunch break and slow periods at the diner, to help stave off boredom. None of them made any sense. I’d thought he could be an assassin, part of the Italian Mafia, part of the British Mafia—I didn’t even know if there was a British Mafia—or a gang, maybe. Again, I wasn’t exactly up to date on the kind of rival gangs my father had enemies in. He might not even be the enemy to my father. For all I know, this was his right-hand man.

Then, I’d decided he was a runaway like me. Or, he was just plain and simply a guy trying to find his place in the world. I was both—a runaway who was trying to find her place in the world without causing anyone to get hurt.

“Ugh, I really … I don’t even know why I have to trust you, but work is calling.” Also, I had a strange sensation as he held onto my hand. I … kind of liked it. I think. Again, I’m not sure. I’m not used to men touching me, unless it’s my dad giving me a beating or a punishment for whatever bad stuff I’d been accused of, mainly by my mother. There went the sucky memories again.

It wasn’t so bad, not all the time.

Not that I can remember a good time with my dad. He’d never been the kind of father I could get a hug from. He never kissed my boo-boo or told me everything was going to be okay. Never. Neither had my mother. Whenever I did get a cut or graze, I had to take care of it myself.

Peter let me go, and I nearly breathed a sigh of relief. I had to get away, as far away as soon as possible. This was scary.

I stepped into the changing rooms, going to my locker like I did every day. Grabbing my stuff, I snuck into the bathroom and changed into my waitress uniform. My hair was nearly dry from doing the cooldown stretches.

Opening the door, I almost jumped out of my skin. There was one of the women I noticed lurking around the gym the past few days, watching Peter.

“You know, he will never go for someone like you,” she said.

Normally, I’m very good with names and faces, but I was drawing a blank with this woman.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

She took a step toward me and then pressed a long, thin finger against my chest.

“Back the fuck off him. He’s not yours to have.”

I was being threatened. This was now clear to me. The woman startled me because she had a wedding ring on her hand.

“Look, I don’t know who you are, or why you’re even doing this, but you’ve got this all wrong. Peter is helping me learn to swim and that is all.” I wasn’t here to cause problems. All I wanted was to be invisible.

She glared at me, and I quickly left the changing rooms, stepped out into the main entrance of the gym, only to come face-to-face with the problem.

Peter was growing a little fan base. Again, it wasn’t hard to see. Being a waitress made me seen but not heard, and allowed me to listen in on all kinds of conversations. I was aware he’d taken on more clients, which brought me back to the trust issue.

I couldn’t help but worry. The heavy brick in the pit of my stomach that caused me to freak out, also helped keep me on my toes.

“You’re ready?” he asked.

No, no, no, I wasn’t ready. This was not helping me. The idea of coming to the gym was to lose weight. To attempt to change what I looked like. I knew this wasn’t going to be plastic surgery kind of changes, but it might help me become unrecognizable. Yeah, I even struggled not to mock myself at the very thought.

“Look, I think I should go alone today.” As I made the suggestion, I was already walking toward the main doors in the hope of doing exactly that, only Peter had other plans.

What was it with this man constantly grabbing at me? This wasn’t fair. He all but dragged me to his car. I wonder if I could still scream “stranger danger,” and whether it would count. Not that I was going to do that.

Being dragged to a car by a guy I didn’t know wasn’t exactly knew to me. My dad had a tendency to do it often. He’d send one of his goons to pick me up. The first time it happened when I was a kid, I was so excited. My dad had come to get me. Well, not my dad, but someone who knew my dad, worked for him. Yeah, for some reason, that ended up with me getting my face slapped and locked in my bedroom for the weekend, with someone pushing only bars of candy beneath my door. By the time he left, the place was trashed, and Mom was crying. I did have an en-suite bathroom, so there were no worries about toilet breaks.

That happened often, which sucked big time.

It didn’t take me long to figure out a way to escape. No one came to check on me, so finding a ladder and using all the courage I could, I’d climbed out of my bedroom window and made my escape.

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