Page 15

HALLIE

I see dim headlights parked outside my house. Checking the time—it’s eleven p.m.

Who the hell?—?

A weird feeling settles in my gut.

I pull into the garage and hit the remote to shut the doors. My hand slips into the glove box for my gun. The cold weight grounds me.

I grab my phone, finger hovering over Conan’s contact. Then?—

Bang, bang, bang.

A loud knock sends a jolt through me. I nearly drop the phone.

“Hallie! It’s me. Ben.”

A groan slips out. The hundred missed calls didn’t send a clear enough message?

I slam the car door and storm through the garage entrance, swinging open the front door.

“What?”

He flinches, just slightly, then his eyes rake over me. I grip the door tighter.

“I want to talk, Hallie. Please?”

There it is. The puppy dog eyes. The ones that used to work.

“No. Fuck off.”

“It’s important. If you hear me out, I can stop it. If you take me back, you’ll be safe. You need me.”

I grit my teeth so hard it hurts.

“No. No, I don’t, Ben. I don’t need a cheating, lying asshole of a boyfriend. I don’t need anyone. Now get off my property before I call the cops.”

His eyes flicker. Something darker. Scary.

He lunges.

The door flies open, knocking me off balance as he shoves his way inside.

“Listen to me!” he shouts, voice wild.

Bertie barks like mad, growling, hackles up beside me.

“Shut that fucking mutt up and stop being a stupid bitch. I’m giving you a way out!”

His voice cracks. He’s manic.

“A way out of what?” I ask, my voice steady, masking the fear rising in my throat.

I’ve never seen him like this. Ben’s always maintained control.

Now? He’s unhinged.

“It’s all a game,” he mutters, yanking at his hair. “A sick and twisted game.”

“Are you high? Or drunk?” I ask.

His head snaps up. Red eyes. Wild stare. I’d say he’s high.

“No,” he snaps.

“Right. So what game are we playing? The one where I’m a stupid bitch who takes her cheating ex back? Because I’m not playing.”

I slip my phone out of my back pocket, careful not to let him see.

“We’re playing the one where his whore ex takes him back so she doesn’t die.”

My breath catches.

“I’m calling the cops, Ben.”

He lunges again.

His hand clamps around my wrist, and the phone goes flying. We crash to the floor.

Pain explodes across my forehead as I hit the side table. A scream tears from my throat.

“Get off me!”

I kick, hard, landing a shot to his stomach. He rolls off with a grunt, and I scramble away.

I grab the lamp from the floor, gripping it like a bat.

“I’m trying to save you! Hallie, I fucked up. I did something bad—and now I’m trying to stop it.”

I don’t care. He’s not going to scare me into taking him back.

I crawl to my phone, snatch it, and type 9-1-1. I hold it up, thumb poised over the call button.

“Get out or I’ll press dial. Your choice.”

I feel the blood trailing down my face, warm and sticky. My hands tremble.

His face twists with rage.

“You’ll fucking regret this. Good luck, Hallie.”

He storms out.

The door slams so hard the walls shake. Tires screech, and he’s gone.

I don’t move.

I just stand there, heart pounding against my ribs, breath ragged.

Then I sink to the ground. My knees give out. Tears stream down my face. My whole body trembles. I clutch my legs to my chest and try to breathe.

I’ve never feared for my life before. But that was terrifying. I don’t want to be here.

Bertie whines and nudges his nose against my shoulder. I bury my face in his fur. This is the one thing that grounds me. The only connection I have left to Dad.

After I clean up the blood and throw some clothes into an overnight bag, I grab Bertie and leave.

I shoot a quick text to Lily:

Me

Crashing at yours tonight. Don’t ask. I’m okay. I’ll explain when I get there.

Part of me wants to call Conan. He’d show up. No hesitation.

He’d make me feel safe. But I don’t make the call.

I’m not his burden.