Page 120 of The Space Between
It’s a promise.
A reminder that he’s always watching.
I left him but I was wrong to think I would ever truly be free.
No matter how many times Gruene holds me, no matter how many nights I fall asleep in his arms, the shadow of what I ran from willalwaysfind me.
I grip the wheel. I breathe. And I try to remember what it feels like to be strong.
WhenI finally do get home, Gruene is sitting on his porch with a beer in hand. His eyes lift the second I pull in.
I nearly lose it. I want to run to him. But I don’t. I compose myself. I swallow back my fear and I paste on the mask I’m so good at wearing.
Tyler made me this way, and I can’t tell Gruene.
He’s so fragile, so uncertain that he has the right to move on. I can’t. I can’t rock the boat. I can’t tip the balance. If I do, he’ll pull away again. He’ll see the panic in my eyes and backpedal. Opening the door, I walk toward him. He doesn’t move.
He watches me. He sees me. When I stop in front of him, my hands are shaking even though I’ve tried to stem them. He notices and stands—of course, he does—walking straight to me and wraps his arms around me.
He doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t hesitate. He just hugs me, pulling me into himand I fall apart right there.
For the first time since that message came through earlier, I don’t feel owned by someone who doesn’t have the right, I feelheldby the man who owns my heart.
Gruene
I knowsomething’s wrong the second she steps out of the car.
She’s not walking—she’s orbiting… not in the peaceful way either. It’s like she doesn’t know where her feet are… like her bones don’t want to hold her up anymore.
Blakelyn doesn’t see me at first. She’s too far inside her own head. Her arms are tight to her sides, eyes are wide and terrified and fixed straight ahead. Her mouth is drawn tight. Her lips are white, and her body is taut… as though she bracing for impact.
But… I see her.
I’m moving before I realize it, before the beer in my hand even hits the porch.
She looks up just as I hit the bottom step and when her eyes lock with mine—somethingbreaks.
Not just in her. In me. “Blakely?—”
Her knees buckle and I catch her, wrapping my arms around her body and pulling her into me, supporting all of her weight. Her breath stutters against my chest. Her hands fist in the back of my shirt like I’m the only thing keeping her from coming apart. And the tension and fear within her roll off of her in waves.
“What happened? What’s wrong, Blakelyn? ” I bark, my voice rougher than I mean it to be.
She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t answer. She just shakes her head and presses her face harder against me, her breath is ragged, and tears soak through my shirt.
“I’ve got you, baby” I murmur. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
What the fuck is going on? What happened?
I don’t know if that’s true. I don’t know if I have her. I don’t know if she’s okay.
I haven’t seen her like this.
Not even when she told me about him. About what he did to her.
What the hell is happening?
I don’t ask again.I don’t know if I want the answer.
