Page 54 of Her Puck Daddies
“No one has ever laid their hands on you?” he presses, watching me closely. And again, I answer him honestly.
“No.”
“But someone didn’t treat you right. Someone you trusted. Who?” His guess is spot on, and it unnerves me how accurate he is. “A romantic partner? A boyfriend?”
“My husband.” The words slip out before I can stop them. I’ve been trying so hard to distance myself from Dean, even though he’s being a complete ass about the divorce.
“You were married?”
“Technically, I think I still am.” Sven pulls his hands away from me immediately, like I’m a hot stove he’s just burned himself on. I feel the space between us grow. My internal struggle is getting the best of me.
God, Ava, get it together.
“But I’m divorcing him. I served him with papers before I left Newark. And everything was on track, until my lawyer recently said he hasn’t been able to reach him.”
And just like that, the whole, ugly story spills out. Without mentioning his name, I tell Sven everything about Dean’s massage therapy business and how I worked for him. How things went from good to bad to worse after we got married. How Dean manipulated and gaslit me, gradually stripping me of my independence. By the end, he even stopped paying me, trying to keep me trapped in his grip.
“I also caught him being an unfaithful jerk,” I continue, my voice tight, “so I made a plan and bided my time. When Cecile called to let me know the Avs had hired me, it gave me somewhere else to go, with the little bit of resources to follow through. So, I left. Escaped, really,” I finish, the anxiety obvious. My heart is thumping loud enough to drown out everything else.
Sven’s features darken noticeably. “And this guy, he doesn’t know where you are?”
“No.” I quickly add, “He shouldn’t, at least. But he’s been a pain.”
Sven’s brow furrows even deeper. “How?”
“By harassing my best friend back in Newark.”
“So, this guy isn’t giving you the divorce you asked for and is going after your friend for information about you?” His incredulous tone makes it hit harder.
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” I mutter, but the weight of his words settles in, making the reality feel even heavier.
“How would you put it? Ava, you could be in danger. You’re scared of—what’s his name?”
“Dean Masters,” I sigh. Who am I defending anyway? Sven should know.
Sven’s gaze sharpens. “Your friend already put out a restraining order on him. Maybe you should, too.”
“Maybe, but I have nothing to prove that he’s been stalking me,” I explain, even though the thought has crossed my mind. “He doesn’t know where I live or that I’m traveling all over.”
“Where do you live?” Sven asks suddenly, his tone insistent.
“Why?”
“Because you shouldn’t be there alone.”
Not again.
“Sven, I can handle my problems by myself—”
A knock interrupts, followed by Brucker’s voice. “Hey, Ava, I’m here.”
I glance at Sven, then back at the door. “Gotta go,” I say, firm.
“Fine. But I’m taking you home later.”
“That’s silly and unnecessary.”
Hecrosses his arms, his biceps flexing with the movement. “Why?”