Page 1 of When You Blush

Prologue

HARPER

Two Years Ago

One time when we were in the kitchen, and he was getting water out of the fridge, he growled at me like he was a wolf and I was the bunny.

He literally stood there, glared at me as his water bottle filled, andgrowled.Not in a sexy way.

In a ridiculous, I almost laughed way.

He sleeps on the couch, mostly because he knows I hate that. He knows I hate the silent treatment, too.

And he hasn’t spoken to me in three weeks. Not a single word.

Why is he behaving this way? What stunt did I pull that was so egregious that it earned this behavior fromthe one person in the world who’s supposed to love me more than anyone else?

Because I picked up an extra shift at the hospital and couldn’t go with him to his buddy’s party earlier this month.

That’s all. I went to work.

I’m a nurse, and we were short-staffed, so I picked up a shift, and to punish me, my fiancé hasn’t spoken a word to me in almost a month and treats me like I’m the shit on his shoe.

Honestly, the silence has been great.

And his ignoring me has created the space I need to plan my exit strategy.

Because after three years of putting up with his mood swings, lectures, body shaming, and cheating on me with just about anyone with a heartbeat,I’m over it.

I’ve been over it for a while but didn’t have anywhere to go.

Okay, that’s notentirelytrue, and Ava, my best friend since we were twelve, would be appalled and likely slash my tires for eventhinkingthat I couldn’t go to her. But her family has already done so much for me.

I can’t run to the Hendrix family every time life gets hard.

Now, if Nathan—not Nate. He hates nicknames.—can just hold on with his silent treatment for three more days, I can leave while he’s gone for a work trip this weekend, and it’ll all be over.

Am I a chickenshit for packing up and leaving when he’s none the wiser?

No. I’m not. Because Nathan can be a violent asshole, and I don’t want to chance that this will be the first time he hits me and holds me hostage in our house. Make thathishouse. Because when we chose and bought the pretty little bungalow just outside of Portland, he refused to put me on the mortgage. It’s only in Nathan’s name, which works well for me.

I have no responsibilities here.

In three more days, I will fly out of Portland to Charlotte, where I’ve taken my first traveling nurse assignment.

A new life.

Freedom.

Anything but what I’ve been living.

I’m sitting on the couch with my laptop, looking at used car listings in Charlotte, when Nathan walks into the house, glares at me, and paces into the kitchen.

He often comes home on his lunch breaks. I used to think it was because he wanted to hang out with me, but now I know it’s because he’s checking in on me. He doesn’t trust me. Not because I’ve ever done anything to betray his trust—aside from planning my escape—but because Nathan himself isn’t trustworthy. So he comes home every day on his lunch break to make sure I’m where I say I am.

I refuse to share my location on my phone.

He doesn’t say a word as he makes himself a sandwich, and I continue staring at my computer.