Page 37 of The Space Between
One ankle hooked over his knee, arms crossed, face set like stone. He says slowly, “You left and didn’t tell me. Didn’t tell Reece. I came to check on you and you were just gone.”
Closing the door, I lock it behind me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think to tell you. I’m sorry you worried. I called my principal and met with her at the school… about Tyler, and yesterday. She knew. The sheriff called her.” I set my bag down. “He found me through my hiring. It wasn’t on purpose. No one from the school leaked anything intentionally. I was sent a mass ‘welcome’ email and someone recognized my face. I’m a damn good teacher. They mass responded to it and said I used to have a different last name… Tyler’s. That’s all it took.”
His eyes stay on mine. Sharp. Searing. “You used your real name.”
I blink, “I had to. I’m a teacher. I have to use my government name in official capacity. I didn’t think that he’d look for me using my actual name. I should have. But I didn’t.”
“For payroll,” he says.
“Yes.” I reply, my brows drawing together.
He stands abruptly. The chair legs screech against the floor as he grips the back of his neck. “Jesus, Blakelyn.”
I flinch.
Is he pissed at me? Or at the fact that Tyler found me?
“I didn’t choose to be found,” I snap. “I didn’t hand him a map and invite him here.”
He exhales through his nose. Jaw tight. Shoulders braced. “Didn’t say you did. But he does know where you are, and you and I both know that he is going to come back. Men like that…”
He’s right. Tyler will absolutely be back.
He thinks I’m his possession and I dared to leave him. He’ll come back. And if I don’t leave with him… he’ll try to make good on his promise.
And now, Gruene is involved… which also means, he’s in danger.
He’s pacing now. I can see the rage is back, boiling beneath the surface.
“I took every precaution,” I say, lower now. “And I still couldn’t stop him. He found me and I’m sorry you’re involved.”
Stopping his pacing, he turns. He sighs, “Blakelyn, I don’t give a fuck that I’m involved. Iaminvolved, and he’s not going to touch you. I promise you that.”
We stare at each other across the room. Two people who just made each other feel like something wasstarting—and now we’re teetering on the edge of ruin.
“Are you staying?” he asks.
“I don’t want to run again.” I reply.
“That’s not what I asked.” He retorts.
I square my shoulders. “Yes, I’m staying.”
He nods, only once, and then, he leaves.
He doesn’t say goodbye. He doesn’t offer comfort. He doesn’t tell me what to do. He justwalks out the doorand I stand there in the heat of his absence and wonder if that’s all this was ever going to be.
Does he want me to leave?
That night,I wake up to lights in the distance, but not on the road.
He’s on thewater.Two beams flicker near the bend, just beyond the grove. It’s too late for floaters and too early for morning fishermen. I watch from the dark window, my heart pounding so loud I can hear it in the room.
Then, I see him.
Gruene.
He’s in a boat, in the river. He’s setting something along the banks. The lights on the boat reflect on the water and he has a rifle strapped across his back.
