Page 38 of Run to Me
Weeks go by and I find myself in a dark parking lot, stopping a man from forcing a woman into his car against her will. And it doesn’t stop there. I start wandering into random bars, and get invites to parties where men try to slip drugs into peoples drinks or get too handsy in some dark corner. It’s almost as if the universe is sending these people my way on purpose, or drawing me to the places where they are. Sending them to jail just isn’t enough.
I find where they work and get them fired from their jobs. I break up their relationships. Make their lives difficult, forcing them to always watch their backs like they’ve done to others—wanting them to know what it’s like to live their lives in constant fear.
And when I no longer accidentally stumble upon them, I go looking for them, needing more. Needing to teach worse people a lesson. People who deserve the pain and suffering I used to think I did. People who are like my dad. Because if I stop them, they can’t hurt anyone. If I stop them, I’m not the monster in my dreams. The more of them I stop, the further I get away from being my dad.
I play his words—“Make me proud”—in my head, right before doing the opposite.
Eighteen
Nate
“Oh, come on, just close your eyes for a few minutes,” my boyfriend Glen says, taking my hand.
“But what if I accidentally walk off the deck and straight into the lake?”
He laughs, kissing my ear. “I won’t let you.”
“But—”
“Just do this for me, please.”
I blow out a long sigh, slumping my arms in defeat. “Fine. I just don’t understand what you have to show me out here that I haven’t already seen.”
“You’ll see soon enough,” he says, smiling.
“Not if you’re making me close my eyes,” I grind out, and that earns me another laugh from him.
I take one more look around us before shutting my eyes and letting Glen slowly pull me forward, my shoes occasionally clipping onto the wood with uncertainty.
“Are you keeping them closed?”
“Yes,” I say, sounding impatient and annoyed.
“No peeking, you hear?”
“Alright, alright.” I let out a soft grunt and he doesn’t say anything for a long time, my chest fluttering in anticipation. Why are we out here on such a cold day? What could he possibly show me out here that I haven’t seen before, and why is he so damn quiet suddenly?
The boards wobble under my feet and I wipe my sweaty palm on my pants, feeling him tug at my other hand slightly as something hits the deck with a soft thud.
Oh no. Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is? It can’t be. I have to be getting it wrong. My heart rate picks up, breaths shallowing as he clears his throat.
No. No. No. It’s happening. It’s actually happening. It was only a matter of time, right? I’ve been with the guy for three years, what did I expect? For him to want to play unserious boyfriend forever?
He’s known where my heart lies this whole time—I’ve made sure of it. He says he doesn’t care when I know he does, but I think he’s holding on to hope like I still am, only we’re doing it with different people in mind.
I thought if I dated others, making it look like I’ve moved on, Jace would finally come back, and my mom wouldn’t hesitate so much whenever she tried to invite him over for the holidays. But neither has happened. Jace is still there and I’m still here, wishing the man in front of me was someone else.
A knot forms in my throat when a kiss is pressed to my knuckles. “You can open your eyes now,” Glen says, sounding more nervous than I feel.
When my lids slowly peel back, Glen is on one knee, holding a black velvet box in his hands. All the air leaves my lungs. I hold on to the railing to remain steady on my feet, my heart racing a million miles a minute against my pressing hand. I already know the answer to his question before he asks it. No doubt in mymind it’s the right one either. On the other hand, when I so much as entertain the idea of saying yes, all dread seeps in tenfold.
“Nate. I never thought I could fall so quickly for someone until I met you. I can’t imagine going on without you forever at my side.” He takes a breath, his smile shaking. “Will you make me the happiest man alive and be my husband?” I place my hand on top of the box, shutting it as he attempts to pop it open.
“I . . .” I rub a hand roughly over my face, closing my mouth before opening it again. “I could never love you the way you want me to.”
“You don’t know that.” His eyes are begging and I feel like shit for putting him in this position. This started as a fling. Something to pass the time and fill a temporary void—nothing serious. I told him over and over. Still, he broke the rules and fell for me anyway. He isn’t the only one who fell for the wrong person. I recognize the desperation and heartache in his eyes. Seven years ago I saw the same emotion pouring from my reflection in a bathroom mirror. I hated myself that day, and I hate myself now too.
I cup his face, leaning down. “Yes I do. My heart belongs to another and always will, whether he’s with me or not. I’ll never fully be yours or anyone else’s.”
