Page 42 of Break

Setting the medical file to the side, a sigh escapes me. “This shit is bananas,” I mutter under my breath.

“Aside from what I’m looking at, what in particular makes you say that?” Max’s gruff voice asks me.

Lying back in my seat, I spin my thumbs around each other as I stare at the ceiling. “He got mad at literally everything. One event says that she talked too much, the next she didn’t say enough. One complained of something she made him for dinner, the next was that it was a meal she should have known he hated. She didn’t go grocery shopping early enough, then she spent too much of his ‘hard earned money’. The house isn’t clean, but she spends too much time cleaning when she should be focused on him. It’s fucking endless. Damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. How does someone survive like that?”

“He tracked her,” Ethan adds, speaking up for the first time.

Nodding, I don’t hold back my shiver of disgust. It was obvious after reading the texts that he would monitor her location on her cell. Constantly question why she was in one place for what he deemed was too long of a time. If he didn’t like her answer, he would accuse her of flirting or cheating with someone.

I’ll admit that I don’t know Mina well, but a certified flirt is not how I would ever have labeled her.

Leaning back further, I thread my fingers behind my head. I run over all the details laid out on the coffee table in front of us, and our last interaction with the stunningly beautiful and broken woman upstairs.

She’s not what I expected when I showed up today. Well, being stand-offish and uneasy around us was expected, especially shortly after the trauma she endured. But that bit of fire we saw before she went to her room was a surprise. It also gave me a sense of relief that Danny hadn’t completely taken everything away from her. Also, hope. Hope that we’ll get to see her come out of her shell and learn who she really is.

“What do you think she meant when she said she didn’t have a choice? Marrying Danny, I mean?” I question them. Lowering my eyes, I see Ethan is no longer paging through the papers, but Max is still staring at those damn photos. “Put the fucking photos down now, Max.”

He scowls as he tosses them down. The photos spreading out in a line, resembling a deck of cards spread out across a dealer’s table. Scrubbing his face with his hands, he mimics my pose as he thinks. “I don’t know. How does an adult woman not have a choice to sign her name to a marriage certificate?”

“Do you think he had something on her? Like blackmail?” The moment I ask, I know it’s an idiotic suggestion, and Max’s snort is enough to know he agrees.

“Doubtful. Maybe she felt like she couldn’t tell him no, like a sense of responsibility?” I turn Max’s idea over in my head and dismiss it.

“Responsibility for what, though? They were just neighbors. I could see her feeling like she couldn’t tell him no, though. But whycouldn’tshe say no? You think there was something going on between them before he told us they were together?”

Shrugging, he’s just as clueless as I am. “Maybe. At this point, I wouldn’t put it past him.” Max sits up and puts his elbows on his knees, hands hanging loosely between them. “Actually, if you think about it, he was always hyper-focused on her. It’s like he always said things to encourage us to not interact with her. You guys remember my ex, Raquel?”

When we indicated we do, he continues. “After she showed up for prom, she told me later that night that Danny was blowing her phone up for days before she finally responded to him. He was desperate for her to show up as my date, told her how depressed I was without her. He even offered to buy her dress and give her gas money to come. Maybe all of that stemmed from jealousy that Mina agreed to go with me?”

Scoffing at that, I shake my head. “What a fucking psycho. So, let’s assume he had a thing for her back then; how does that escalate to her not having a choice?”

“It was my father.”

Whipping my head to the doorway, I find her standing at the bottom of the stairs, fidgeting with the straps of her sling nervously. She’s not wearing it, and her hair is wet like she just showered. Standing up, I walk toward her slowly. “Why aren’t you wearing it? Should you be walking around without it on?”

Her face turns red before she looks down. “I can’t get it back on.”

Well,thisI can certainly help her with. “Would you like me to help you?” Looking at the wad of cloth she’s holding, I study it. “Can’t be too complicated.”

Nodding in thanks, she hands me the sling. She turns sideways, bringing her line of vision in contact with Max and Ethan, who are still sitting around the mound of documents. It’s obvious that we’ve been studying them. Clearing her throat, she looks at Max. “I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. It was rude and I shouldn’t have lashed out like that, especially when you’ve opened your home to me. It won’t happen again.”

“Mina, you don’t have to apologize for calling me out when I’m wrong. I’m sorry that you ever felt like I was the enemy in your story.”

I pause my movements when Max apologizes, surprised that he was gentle with her. He’s a nice guy, it’s just that not many people get to experience it because he has a hard outer shell. Often times he comes across as an asshole.

Mina shifts to look up at me and I’m stuck when her eyes meet mine. I knew they were brown, but up close like this, they’re more like an earthy, rich color with strands of amber highlights. From a distance, it’s easy to write her off as average looking, brown hair, brown eyes, but she really is lovely.

Swallowing, I resume securing her arm, apologizing softly when I shift her into an uncomfortable angle. “Sorry, I’m almost done.” To distract her from what I’m doing, I ask, “What did you mean it was your father?”

She chooses not to answer me. Instead, she points to the documents that are spread out. “Is that about me?”

Ethan, who has only been an observer since she entered the room, tells her, “It is.”

Embarrassment wafts from her when she takes a step back toward the stairs, like she wants to escape our judgement. Reaching my hand out, I touch her lower back to stop her. “Would you explain it to us? We’re trying to get the full picture, and we don’t understand what you mean your father made you.”

She doesn’t move away from me but makes no attempt to step further into the room. “It’s going to sound ridiculous.”

“We won’t judge you, sweetheart. Help us understand,” I encourage her, dropping my hand and stepping away to give her space.

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