Page 53 of Dear Roomie
We both still bear the bruises from his behavior, yet he’s already back in her good graces. It’s sickening. My fingers graze the still-healing cut on my lip, and she winces. At least she realizes how this looks. I didn’t have illusions that she would dump her boyfriend and come running into my arms—I’m not an idiot—but the James I thought I knew, the one who stared down a complete stranger and let him have a piece of her mind, has too strong of a backbone to go crawling back to the man who keeps hurting her.
“I’m gonna go dry off,” I tell her, my voice hollow. I shake my head as I step away from her, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she forgave him.
“Morgan, wait…let me explain.” Her voice shakes, and she gets up from the couch to follow me. I quicken my pace, reaching my door before she can even move around the couch.
“There’s nothing to explain,” I tell her as I step into my room.
“Please…” Her desperate plea breaks some of my resolve.
“There is nothing you can say that could help me understand this.” My words are harsh, but there’s no venom behind them. “Hehurtyou. He assaulted me. He’s lucky the cops didn’t get involved, or he’d be looking at charges for batteryand possession. I just thought you would be smarter than—you know what, never mind. I’m not doing this.” I raise my hands in surrender and step back into my room. “Have fun on your date.” The door slams behind me, echoing through my too-empty room with a resoundingbang.
I sink to the ground with my back to the door and drag my hand through my hair with a heavy exhale. The unmistakable sound of James’s soft cries bleeds through the walls, and my gut twists while my heart aches, but this isn’t on me. I didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know. My head hits the door as I stare up at the ceiling. I can’t sit here and listen tothatand not try to make things right, but there is nothing I can do, not this time.
With a sigh, I pull out my phone and shoot a quick message off to Nathan asking him to meet me at the gym. My clothes are still dripping, but I don’t see any point in changing only to get soaked again, so I grab my gym gear and flee from the apartment without waiting for Nathan’s reply.
***
“Again,” Nathan commands as he repositions the sparring pads for my strikes.
Sweat drips down my face, stinging as it rolls into my eyes. I wipe it away with the back of my arm and roll my shoulders, squaring up with the pads. We’ve been working on this combo for the last twenty-five minutes, and I can’t get it right.
My fists fly in what should be a familiar pattern, but my timing is offagain, and Nathan’s pad glances off my forehead as I miss the dodgeagain.
“All right, I’m done,” I growl as I rip my gloves off and hurl them across the small training room. They slam into the mirror-lined wall and bounce onto the padded floor.
Nathan watches my outburst with a raised eyebrow. He takes off his pads with a deliberate lack of haste and grabs a towel to wipe the sweat off his face. I wish I had thrown my gloves at him instead.
“Are you ready to talk about what’s been bothering you?” he asks, dropping to sit on one of the aluminum benches.
“Nothing is bothering me,” I grumble. Nathan doesn’t justify my obvious lie with a response, merely raising a skeptical eyebrow instead.
With a sigh, I join him on the cold bench and brush my sweat-soaked curls back from my face. Of course he’s picked up on my mood. I’ve been off my game all evening, though I was hoping he’d let me take it out on the punching bags instead of wanting to talk about it. We sit in silence for several minutes before I finally spill what’s been eating me up inside.
“James is still with Tanner. After everything that happened over the weekend, she forgave him.” I shake my head, still unable to understand it.
“So?” he asks. His voice is serious, and his face is locked in a neutral mask.
“What do you mean ‘so’?So, James is still with the guy who punched me in the face and left bruises on her.So, he could hurt her again.So, she’s making a huge mistake.” My voice rises with each sentence. How can he sit there so unbothered by this? He was there—he saw how that monster acted.
“Morgan, man,” Nathan says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “This is going to sound harsh, but you need to hear it: James and Tanner’s relationship is none of your business.”
His words hit me like a slap in the face, and I physically recoil. I open my mouth to protest, but he shakes his head, cutting me off.
“I get the frustration, I really do. Tanner is a grade-A douchebag, but that doesn’t change the fact that James is a grown woman who can make her own choices.”
“But he might hurt her again,” I argue.
“Yeah, he might,” he agrees with a nonchalant shrug that makes my fists clench. “But he might not. Either way, she has to make this decision for herself. She doesn’t want or need you to save her. If you want to be her friend, be her friend, but you can’t be her friend if you are going to act like a jealous asshole.”
“I’m not jealous, I’m worried. Tanner’s dangerous. I can’t stand by and watch him hurt her.”
“So you are going to alienate her further by acting like an ass? What happens when she actually needs your help, but you’ve pushed her so far away, she won’t ask for it?”
The fight drains out of me in an instant.
He’s right.
She doesn’t need my judgment, but she will need a friend in her corner when Tanner inevitably screws things up again.
