Page 105 of Deliverance

Zander takes a moment to digest my question. “You can’t get tired of something that’s your normal.”

I shudder. My head spins from the realization that being with Zander means putting my own life on a display. The comfort of my privacy will be gone and all my secrets will be out in the open. Like bones for the scavengers to collect and munch on.

Old memories come back to me, playing against the backdrop of my consciousness the way a projector would play a movie.

Mrs. Jacoby, I know you’re scared. I know you don’t think there’s a way out of this situation, but there is. All you have to do is file charges against your husband.

Today, he broke your ribs; tomorrow, it will be your skull. Think about it.

“Drew?” Zander’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

My attention snaps to his wrist resting in the folds of the white hospital blanket. Silently, I reach out and lace our fingers together, examining the rough feel of his skin and the solid weight of his hand.

The sensation sets off something in me. Emotions whirl through my stomach and wrap around my heart.

“I was worried about you.” I lift my face to look him in the eyes. “And I haven’t been worried about a person for a very long time.”

His grasp tightens and we sit like this—quiet and still—for what seems like forever.

“Do you think you can spare a few days at the end of the month?” Zander finally asks.

His question catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I never took you out on a date.”

“Oh… But why is it a few days?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

He grins. “I promise you’ll like this one.”

I turn his words over in my head, then nod. “Okay.”

“Great. Now, all I have to do is get out of this place.”

Today, Miranda is wearing a dark green blazer and black high-rise pants. Like Tina, she pays great attention to each and every detail, and I feel out of place in her opulently decorated office. My knee bounces beneath the light fabric of my skirt and my nerves are raw.

“An emergency protective order would be my preference in a case like yours, but it’s usually the police officer responding to a domestic violence call who contacts the judge,” she says from across the desk. “And since there’s no evidence of assault, that option is out of the question.”

I let her words settle before I spill the next question, “Will this somehow hinder my divorce?”

“Not necessarily.” Miranda shakes her head. “He’s not contesting. You said he didn’t try to approach you?”

“No.”

“Sounds like, right now, he’s just being a nuisance. But because he’s traveled across the continent to be here—where you are—it means he’s got something up his sleeve. If I were you, I’d be very careful and I would still file a restraining order.” She stresses the last part of the sentence.

“Regardless of the previous charges or lack thereof?”

“That’s right. You can file a restraining order against anyone at any time. You don’t need to have official records of abuse. Even if you’ve never filed charges against him before or he’s some random guy you’ve never met, you can still do it.”

The word “abuse” makes me flinch. I’ve worked hard to be someone other than a victim and Miranda’s vocabulary eviscerated my independence in less than a second. It’s not her fault, though. She’s just doing her job.

I fidget and run my sweating palm over my skirt to straighten the wrinkles. “Where do we start?

“Well”—she scribbles something on the notepad—“we can definitely apply for a temporary restraining order. Considering your husband’s history of violence, I’d say we can claim you are in immediate danger and need protection right away. I don’t see how a judge could say no. But keep in mind that a temporary restraining order usually lasts up to fifteen days or until you have your full court hearing.”

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