Page 52 of Beyond Repair, Part One (Damaged Duet #1)

Nina

T he longer I've been gone, the more my worry worsens. I just know the guys, or at least Trevor will be mad that I left without saying anything. Well, that's not true. I did . I left a little note on the counter saying I needed to run to the store quickly.

Since I've been doing so well, I felt like this was the perfect opportunity for me to prove to myself that I can be an independent woman that didn't freak out in public. I bet I'll be back in time before they notice.

The first half seems to be true, but I'm getting closer to an anxiety attack with each passing second it takes for the cashier to ring up the lady ahead of me.

I had forgotten peanuts in my grocery order this week and what I'm making for dinner needs roasted peanuts to it pull it all together. This is the first meal I'm making them, so it has to be perfect. And peanuts will make it perfect.

So here I am, waiting in line at the gas station a few minutes away from home, clutching a jar of peanuts like my life depends on it. Just when I think it can't get any worse, it's my turn to check out and I swear I completely disassociate.

Gosh, I hope I paid correctly , I think to myself as I rush back to my car. Thankfully, the hard part is over and I can get back home to the guys.

A smile stretches my lips as I recall their boyish laughter out by the fire. With beers in their hands and heads thrown back, I felt such a rush of love that there was no way I could have interrupted their moment.

I'm afraid they'll realize I'm too much of a burden for them, which is part of the reason I've been white knuckling my newfound happiness like it's the only thing connecting me to them. I know it's not true, but it also feels good to feel...well, good .

I've spent so long suffering in silence, it's amazing to release the little girl I used to be and play. I've laughed so much these past three or four months amongst some tough moments of panic that I feel like maybe, just maybe, I can live a normal life.

So yes, I left by myself to get peanuts without verbally saying anything because they deserve their own little slice of heaven too, which I'm pretty sure is what I witnessed right before I left.

Rounding the neighboring car, I pull my keys from my sweatshirt pocket—yes, I'm still self-conscious—and flip it around to find the unlock button. I reach for the handle just as I hit the button but stop when movement on the other side of the hood draws my attention.

Life stalls.

My heart stops beating.

And my soul backpedals into a dark, safe trunk where the world won't hurt it. Where he can't hurt it.

Except, it's not just my soul that stumbles backward, my feet do too. My hope for a beautiful life isn't the only thing to crash and crack open to bleed.

"No. No. No!" With each heart shattering plea for the universe not to do this to me a second time, I step back. Then another, and another, until I'm so twisted up inside that my feet follow suit, then send me crashing to the ground.

Pain slams through the back of my head with a resounding boom , jarring my teeth and plummeting me into a pit of darkness that doesn't feel safe. Because while my mind is blacking out with the agony of cracking my skull on the curb, my body is left at his mercy.

Mr. M found me.