Page 58 of Ordinary Secrets

“We’re over!” Arella shouts, and it surprises me. I never pictured her as a shouter, especially not with such venom. “Why can’t you get that through your head?”

Nathan continues as if she hasn’t said a word. “I’ll tell them that we have our moments here and there. I’ve been telling them that anyway, so they’ll believe me. Everyone thinks you call me up weekly because you can’t stay away. You know they’ll listen to me with my dad there. Then I can press charges against this fuckwad.”

The flames in my palms flicker. Heat forms between my fingertips. If I don’t control myself, this entire apartment will go up in flames. If this guy knows what’s good for him, he’ll shut the fuck up.

I don’t take my focus off his bloody face. “Call the cops, Arella.”

In the corner of my eye, she sets her phone down. “No.”

Finally, I look at her. “What?”

“He’s right, Trey.”

“Again—what?”

“I’m not going to risk him getting you in trouble.”

“And I’m not going to let him get away with hurting you!”

Arella squares her shoulders. “You can, and you will. We’re letting him go. We can talk once he leaves, then decide if we’ll call the cops or not.”

I shake my head. “Let’s skip the talking part and call now.”

“Trust me, Trey. Just let him go.”

She’s asking me to trust her—the one thing I’ve been trying to get her to do with me since we met. Victor’s words echo in my head.

“To get, you need to give.”

I’ll trust that Arella has a good reason why she doesn’t want to call the cops. But I still can’t let Pencil Dick walk away freely.

With a grunt, I grab the shithead by his shirt and drag him down the hall.

“Let go!” He claws at my hand.

In Arella’s bathroom, I shove him into the tub, where he can bleed some more without getting it all over the carpet. He stumbles backward, landing on his ass.

I point a stern finger at him. “Stay here, asshole. You open this door, and I’ll cave your face in so hard, a bat will make you its home. Got it?”

“Fuck you!”

I can’t control myself. My balled fist strikes him in the gut. Twice. “Got it?”

The troll-faced jerk off curls into himself, gasping for air as he nods.

“Good.” Shutting the door behind me, I make my way back into the living room. Arella is in the same place I left her. “All right, babe. Let’s talk.”

She hooks a thumb toward the front door, raising her eyebrows with a wordless question.

I nod, then follow her out.

A yellowy moon hangs above us in the black sky as we face each other on the front lawn of her apartment complex. Arella hugs herself as if she’s freezing. She’s not. It’s June in California.

I think about holding her, but I don’t know if that would comfort her or make her tense, so I decide against it. Quietly, I wait for her to explain. To tell me why we aren’t calling the cops. Why we’re standing outside instead of in there, making sure her ex knows he’s never allowed to breathe around her again. Instead, she just stares at the grass.

“Arella?” My voice is calm, even though I’m fuming. “You know, I don’t care about him pressing charges against me. I want him behind bars and away from you.”

“Me too,” she says softly.

---