Page 80 of Lady and the Butcher

I had been the woman who let a man with calloused hands and blood on his knuckles tell me when to eat and sleep and open my thighs. And I liked it. That was the part that scared me most.

I pulled a suitcase from the closet and dropped it on the bed. The sound startled me. Final. Loud.

I packed slowly. Jeans. Tees. A soft sweater for ocean wind. A swimsuit. Running shoes. Practical clothes. No lingerie. Myhand hovered over the ivory set he’d picked. I pulled back. That belonged to him, and I couldn’t bring it to my father’s house.

The more I packed, the lighter my chest felt.

I paused and watered the plants. The leaves lifted like they’d been waiting for an apology. I tossed the cloudy water and washed the glass. I gathered the birth charts and slid them into a file crate. The small acts stitched me back to myself.

By the time the zipper met itself at the top of the suitcase, fear crept back in.

What if he came by tonight? What if he called and I didn’t answer? What if he walked into The Nesting Place tomorrow and Mei said, “She’s gone to Florida,” and I wasn’t there to explain?

He could be furious. When he was furious, the air bent.

I paced the room, hands tight at my sides.

What was the alternative? Stay until I couldn’t tell my heartbeat from his? Wait until I looked in the mirror and saw only his reflection?

No. I needed this.

I called the shop first. Mei picked up on the first ring, voice calm like a lake.

“Hey, it’s me,” I said.

“Hey, boss,” she said, and I wanted to hug her through the line. “Everything’s good. You sound … far away.”

“I’m here,” I said. “But I’m going to Florida for a few days.”

A beat. “Good.”

“You don’t even know why.”

“I don’t need to,” she said. “When do you leave?”

“Today. Or tomorrow, if I chicken out.”

“You won’t chicken out,” she said. “Do you want me to tell customers anything if they ask?”

“Tell them I’m with family,” I said. True. “And that I’m reachable by text if a crisis hits.”

“I’ll cover,” she said. “Go breathe.”

I swallowed. “Thank you.”

I texted Reese.Taking a short break. Can you keep covering if anything pops? Shop has the schedule.

She sent three hearts and a thumbs up and aGo”

I wrote Stephen a message and stared at it.Going to see Dad for a few days. Don’t freak out.I added a second line.How are you feeling?I didn’t hit send. If I told him before I told Atticus, it would turn into a whole thing. I saved it in drafts. It felt like cheating on honesty, and I let it sit, anyway.

I called Dad.

He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey,” I said. “Can I come down for a little while?”

“Of course,” he said like I had asked him if water was wet. “You want the back room or the front?”