Page 36 of Dart to Me
A twinge of something—jealousy? concern?—passes through me. “Of course.”
She catches my expression. “Not because... It’s not like that. I just need to make sure he’s okay. This happened to him because of me.”
“Because of Rick,” I correct gently. “But I understand. We’ll go together.”
Inside the house, exhaustion hits us both like a physical weight. I fumble with the keys, the pain medication making my movements clumsy. Ellie takes them from my hand, her fingers gentle as they brush mine.
“Let me,” she says, unlocking the door.
The familiar comfort of my home—our home, increasingly—feels different now. Tainted somehow. I glance at the windows, suddenly aware of their vulnerability, wondering if Rick hadbeen watching us through them. How long had he been stalking her before making his move?
“I’ll check the locks,” Ellie says, reading my thoughts. She moves through the house methodically, testing each window, each door, drawing curtains closed against the night.
I sink onto the couch, my arm throbbing. The doctors said to expect pain for several days, to keep the wound clean, to watch for signs of infection. Simple instructions that feel impossibly complex right now.
Ellie returns, her face pale but composed. “Everything’s secure.”
“Come here,” I say, patting the cushion beside me with my good hand.
She hesitates, then joins me, careful not to jostle my injured arm. We sit in silence for a moment, the day’s events replaying in my mind on an endless loop. Rick’s face, the knife, the blood—my blood—spilling onto wooden floorboards.
“I keep thinking about what he said,” Ellie whispers finally. “About being inside my head forever.”
I turn to look at her, this strong, beautiful woman who’s endured so much. “He only has the power you give him.”
“Is that true, though? Because right now, I can’t stop hearing his voice. Seeing his face.” She shudders. “What if he’s right? What if I never escape him, even with him locked away?”
I take her hand, intertwining our fingers. “Then we fight it together. Every day, if we have to. We replace those memories with new ones. Better ones.”
She leans against me, her head on my shoulder. “I’m so tired of being afraid.”
“I know.” I press a kiss to her hair. “But you’re not alone anymore.”
“Neither are you,” she says softly.
We stay like that, finding comfort in proximity, until my medication pulls me toward sleep. Ellie helps me to bed, her movements gentle as she arranges pillows to support my injured arm.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” she says, turning to leave.
“Why?” I catch her wrist with my good hand.
“You need to rest. I don’t want to hurt your arm accidentally.”
“I need you more than I need to avoid bumping my arm,” I tell her honestly. “Please stay.”
She hesitates, then nods, slipping under the covers beside me.
ELLIE
Once Miles isout of the hospital, Julian and I decide to get away. Things have been a lot for me lately. Nightmares. Anxiety attacks. Rick has gotten into my head, but the police assure me he is going to prison. But my head doesn’t seem to believe it. So the more miles between him and I - the better my anxiety.
He suggests we drive out to the coast, where he has rented has a small cabin just steps from the water. I hesitate at first, not wanting him to exert himself too much after everything, but he insists. “Fresh air, ocean breeze, no alarm clocks - exactly what the doctor ordered,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting in that half-smile I’ve come to depend on.
The drive takes four hours, but with each mile marker we pass, I feel the knot in my chest loosen just a fraction. By the time we’re winding along coastal roads, windows down and salt air rushing in, I’ve stopped checking the rearview mirror every thirty seconds.
The cabin is perfect in its simplicity - weathered cedar shingles, and a wraparound porch facing the water.
“This is exactly what we needed,” I say that first night, wrapped in a blanket on the porch swing as the sun dips below the horizon. Julian nods, his arm around my shoulders.
