Page 44 of Trapped and Tackled

“For how long?” I wonder.

She snorts. “I don’t know. We’ve always been complicated.”

“Yeah,” I agree, thinking of Craig. Were we complicated from the beginning, and it took me too long to realize it? There were red flags that I ignored, mentally coloring them beige instead.

“What the hell happened with Craig anyway?” Marlowe asks, reading my mind. This time, there’s a glint to her eyes, an understanding, that wasn’t there the first time she asked me when I arrived home.

I close my eyes and snuggle against her shoulder. “It was bad, Mar,” I murmur, my voice scratchy.

“How bad?” She squeezes my hand, a silent show of strength. And one I need if I’m going to admit all the things I’ve been bottling up for months.

“I had to leave.” My fingers twist together, my nails cutting into my hands. “Craig was…complicated. Controlling.” I hold my breath the second the words pierce the air.

Marlowe wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I snuggle closer. She doesn’t say anything and her acceptance, her lack of judgement, encourages me to continue speaking.

“When things became stressful at work, he would drink. And when he would drink, he’d get mean. Violent.”

Her hand tightens on my shoulder, her fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt. “Did he ever hit you?”

I nod, my eyes welling with tears. “It was only?—”

“Don’t do that,” she cuts me off. “Even one time isn’t a justification, Leni.”

I close my eyes as a tear slides down my cheek. “I know.”

“But you left. You came home,” Marlowe points out.

“I should have left sooner.” I sound miserable. But how could I not? Admitting this, even to my best friend, is like shining a glaring spotlight on all my mistakes. On all the times I should have spoken up but didn’t. Should have left but stayed.

“You got out, Leni. Don’t look back and beat yourself up. The truth is you’re here and you’re safe. You’re back.”

I pull in a deep breath, hold it in my chest for several heartbeats, and release it. “I’m back.”

“Have you talked to anyone? Like, a professional? Or the police?”

“No,” I admit, feeling defeated.

“You still can.” Her voice is gentle.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll think about it.” But will I?

“You seem more like yourself than you have in over a year,” Marlowe comments. “Calmer. Happier. Just…more you.”

I nod, smiling softly. “I feel more like myself too.”

Except for Craig’s messages, which continue to light up my phone, I feel stronger too. More in control of my future. More capable of making life decisions.

While a small part of me wonders, and worries, if Craig will show up in Knoxville, a larger part of me knows I’m safe. Dad and his entire football team would have my back and knowing that some of the strongest, fastest, and biggest men in the country would show up for me eases my mind. It’s something Craig knows too and I imagine that’s why he’s still sending me texts instead of knocking on Dad’s front door.

“Does Talon Miller have anything to do with that?” Marlowe wonders and I hear the curiosity laced in her tone.

I’m silent for a long beat before a tiny chuckle falls from my lips.

“Oh my God!” Marlowe swats at me. “Are y’all dating?”

“No, no.” I shake my head. “Nothing like that.”

“But you want to?” she presses.

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