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Chapter Three: Addy

It was almost midnight when Addy realized she’d need a lot more than a bottle of beer to soothe her nerves. She wasn’t even sure liquor would do her any good. A swift kick in her fiancé’s ass was what she really needed.

“Ryan, don’t do that.” She withdrew, her body rigid as his hands trailed down her chest, caressing the skin peeking through from where the shirt didn’t cover her.

“What’s wrong?” he purred in her ear. The sharp scent of booze mingled with his breath, and Addy tried not to flinch. “It’s a celebration, baby, so let’s celebrate.”

“I’m not in the celebrating kind of mood,” she said.

“You were just accepted into medical school, love. Why wouldn’t you want to celebrate?”

“Because the stupid party downstairs is over-the-top, and I wish Lisa hadn’t thrown it.”

“You know Lisa,” Ryan said. “Everything has to be some huge extravaganza with your roommate. You know she’s just proud of you. We both are.”

“And I appreciate that,” Addy insisted. “But I’m tired, Ryan, and I’m not in the mood for sex.”

She struggled to catch her breath and ease her racing heart as Ryan pulled back. Irritation showed plainly on his face, and she wanted to run before things got worse; run away and never return.

“C’mon, baby. You love me.”

How cliché. She had to focus on not rolling her eyes clear back into her skull as Ryan’s fingers dropped from her breast.

“Yes, I love you.” She sat up, reaching for the jacket on the edge of her bed to put it on, all the while fighting the urge to add that sometimes she also wanted to knock his fucking head off. “I wouldn’t want to marry you if I didn’t love you, but I am not in the mood.”

Addy stood to leave, but Ryan caught her wrist in his fingers and pulled her back down. His hands were rough on her arm, squeezing, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of wincing in pain.

“Just wait a minute,” he insisted. Her chest felt tight as she waited for him to fly off the handle. He didn’t, though. He was smiling. That smile could fix everything, and Ryan knew it. Usually, that smile could make Addy feel better without him having to do anything. Sometimes that stupid, charismatic smile made it all better.

Just not tonight.

“I don’t want to fight with you. Not tonight, Ryan.”

“I guess I don’t understand what the problem is.” His tone didn’t match the cheesy grin on his face, and Addy pulled back again without even realizing it. She was treading on dangerous territory, and she knew it.

“Please don’t drink anymore.” She let herself fall back into his arms, the familiar scent of her comforter beckoning her in. She should never have allowed Lisa to throw such a ridiculous party for her. A mere hour in and all she wanted to do was hide under the covers and fall asleep.

“You seem repelled by me or something,” Ryan said. His breath was hot on her face.

Shocked as she should have been to hear that, Addy wasn’t surprised by those words. She knew as well as he did that their sex life was blah, and she wanted to tell him that the reason there wasn’t more sex was because it was hard to enjoy something that was supposed to be so intimate when there was no feeling, no emotion, and no pleasure. Sex had become a chore for her, a meaningless act that merely evolved from the desperation of allowing Ryan to get his kicks so he wouldn’t turn to drinking instead. That little plan had succeeded for a while; so long as she sexually pleased him, his drive to drink wasn’t as high.

“It’s not you,” she said, and that wasn’t entirely unbelievable. Ryan was great in bed, a well-known womanizer in high school. It was all she’d heard in the hallways of her school before they’d dated. So, no, it wasn’t him, it was her. Addy did not doubt she was defective, because it was common knowledge that a man like Ryan could please any woman. But while it wasn’t a problem for him or about him, this somehow didn’t make her feel better about it.

“Then what’s the problem?”

For a brief second, she almost got up and let him have at it just so she could get on with the night, but she reminded herself that she couldn’t always be the first one to admit defeat. He could try, too. He could fight for her as she did for him every day.

“The problem is, I don’t want to be having this fight right now,” Addy said. A drunk Ryan was a Ryan she didn’t want to be around. He was ruining this; a scholarly celebration of her accomplishments had turned into another nightmare. “Can you please stop drinking? I think you’ve had enough.”

“You think I’ve had enough?”

The tone of his voice made her freeze where she was. The ice-cold, mocking pitch was all too familiar.

“I think you could slow down.” She kept her voice steady, angry with herself for wanting to curl into a little ball and cry. There were many things in her life she could control, and that kept her content. Unfortunately, Ryan was not one of those things.

Addy reached over to touch his face, feeling the light stubble under her fingers, but he slapped her hand away. His eyes flashed red-hot with drunken rage, the vibrant hazel shade she loved so much echoing with disgust. She pulled back, her skin and her pride stinging with pain. She hated nights like this, nights where she had to be a parent to Ryan and not be his fiancée. A few beers in, and he could be fun, relax a little, and have a good time. Two shots of whiskey, and he’d become handsy. (Not just with her but with every walking human possessing breasts.) A few more after that and he’d be an asshole, and suddenly Addy was not only his caregiver but the object of his wrath.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Ryan stood from the bed and ran a hand through his short blond hair. His movements were stiff, jaw tense, veins in his arms popping. A navy recruit fresh out of high school, Ryan certainly didn’t lack the soldier physique. While this was usually something Addy could appreciate, his physical strength became an issue when alcohol came into play.

“I’m just concerned for you,” she said, but that was bullshit. The concern she held was for herself, though she’d never tell him that. She was self-sufficient and driven, a girl who did what she wanted to do and took no shit along the way. But sometimes love was a tricky thing, messy and damaged and twisted… and always in more ways than one. “I can have Lisa wrap up the party downstairs, and you and I can go get something to eat—”

“I’m not hungry,” he said and reached for his shirt. Without thinking twice about it, Addy stuck her hand out to stop him. Her fingers brushed his arm, and Ryan wheeled around, the heel of one hand slamming her hard in the chest. “I said, no!”

She stumbled back, gasping for air. The pain he inflicted this time was much more than a sting, and she doubled over as agony rocketed through her upper body. She steadied herself on the bed, one hand over her pounding heart, eyes on the man standing in front of her with his fist raised. She closed her eyes, expecting another blow, but it didn’t come. When she forced herself to open them again, Ryan was staring at her, swaying drunkenly. He opened his mouth as if to say something to her, and then changed his mind, pulled on his shirt, and stalked off.

Addy watched Ryan walk away from her as he’d done so often before. When he was safely out of view, she sank to the floor, arms around herself, ashamed and guilty. She hadn’t expected an apology from him. That would come tomorrow during the hangover when he remembered what he’d done to her again. It was always again.

Ryan always apologized later, after the fact, with a bouquet of beautiful flowers or a nice date. He’d take her in his arms and stroke her hair and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. He’d tell her how sorry he was that he’d hurt her and that it wouldn’t happen again, not on his watch, because he loved her, and according to Ryan, “When you love someone, you can’t keep hurting them like that.”

Taking a deep breath to pull herself together, Addy stood up. She winced as she lifted her arm to smooth back her hair. As she leaned down to double-check herself in the vanity mirror her eyes caught sight of the lovely bouquet of red roses near the window. Hanging from the vase was a heartfelt congratulations card from Ryan, handwritten with the same love and admiration he showed for her in his sober moments. Hanging from the glossy vase was a diamond necklace; expensive, brilliant, flashy. It was one she’d had her eye on for months, a piece of jewelry she’d seen displayed in the window of a charming shop in downtown Seattle. There had been no affording it then, not as a pre-med student who lived off ramen noodles and coffee. Ryan had come through, as always, because Ryan was the perfect man.

When sober, anyway.

Addy unclasped the necklace from where it hung and dropped it onto the vanity. She was too bitter tonight to wear it for him, not after their argument just now. She also wouldn’t want it to draw attention to the potential bruise forming on her chest from where he’d slammed her with his hand.

Addy could hide things well. It was an art she’d perfected over the years, an incredible poker face that came in handy when all she wanted to do was fall apart and succumb to the vexing madness of her crushing thoughts. Sometimes they were too much, her emotions, and yet on the outside nobody would guess she was screaming for help, begging for an escape, always wondering if there was more to this life than what she could see in front of her.

She closed her bedroom door behind her and walked steadily toward the living room, ignoring the curious stares of the surrounding partygoers. Most glances were from women just like her who could sense that pain in another being; a tear-stained face, a stiff walk, drooping chin. While so many people in Addy’s life could detect that something might be wrong, nobody could ever figure out just what it was. Including Addy herself.

The dull thudding in her chest had faded, but she already knew when she took off her clothes before bed tonight, she’d find it developing there, black and blue and tender.

She grabbed a drink from the cooler by the wall and took a seat on her and Lisa’s faded couch, tucking her legs beneath her. As she chugged her beer, wishing she’d started drinking earlier, she caught sight of the letter sitting folded on the coffee table. Someone had used it as a coaster, but Addy couldn’t find the desire to move it out from under the collecting condensation. The professional stamp on the front of it said it was from The University of the Washington School of Medicine. And inside that letter was a brief hello, congratulations, a high five for being accepted into medical school. “You are one of so few, Miss Connor, so pat yourself on the back for working tirelessly for so many years.”

Blah. Blah. Blah.

She rested her eyes on the letter for a moment, chewing her bottom lip. Years and years of backbreaking work, of all-night study sessions, of stressful classes, and days and nights of endless, sob-worthy tests and exams. All this work, all that time, and she was finally there.

A dream come true, that was, and yet somewhere in her heart, all she wanted to do was cry.

“Jungle juice?” Lisa dropped next to her on the couch and handed her a red cup filled to the brim with some concoction Addy couldn’t recognize. Dressed in a mini skirt and a sequined tank top, Lisa clutched a bottle of beer between fingers with blood-red fingernails, frizzy hair down and wild about her face. Her normally fair complexion became flushed, eyes glazed over in a half-drunken stupor. “What do you think of the party?” She shouted over the music. “Everything you hoped for?”

“And then some,” Addy responded, and she forced a smile for Lisa’s sake. She bit her lip to keep herself from saying she wished she was still at work, running EMS calls and celebrating her acceptance to medical school in the most appropriate of ways she could, by saving lives. Forget Ryan, forget the whole party; she hated these things.

Addy, however, said none of that, because her roommate and best friend tried hard to make events special, to celebrate Addy’s success. The least she could do was pretend to be grateful, even though she knew damn well that maybe two or three people in the entire house knew who or what the party was even for. Not that Addy minded. She could have a good time if she wanted to. It was her party, after all.

She set the bottle of beer down and sipped the new concoction, trying to place the different liquors. She tasted vodka… Malibu Rum… Everclear, maybe. While Addy hated the thought of losing control and doing something stupid under the influence of alcohol, she felt tonight she deserved to relax a little. Losing control frightened her; it was the reason she wasn’t big on drinking. She’d seen firsthand what liquor could do to a person, and she wanted no part of it.

“Hey.” Lisa elbowed her softly in the ribs. Addy winced, drawing in a sharp breath, but Lisa didn’t seem to notice. “You know I’m proud of you, right? Not that I didn’t think you would get in, because we all knew you would, but I’m so proud of you.”

“I know. Thank you.” She tilted her head to rest it on Lisa’s shoulder and closed her eyes, wishing that life could slow down for a bit, give her a break. She felt she could sleep for days, months even, but it was rare that she didn’t feel that way anymore. Every day seemed like the next, a mundane routine in her super-controlled world. The thought of med school exhilarated her as did anything in academics, but at the same time, it made her tired and anxious, a shitty combination for anyone, but especially for her.

“Who is Ryan talking to?” Lisa asked, pulling Addy from her exhaustion. “Don’t tell me it’s that blond bimbo Melanie Drake.”

Ryan was across the floor, talking to a young, perky blond-haired woman. The girl leaned into him, her manicured hand caressing his back as she giggled something in his ear. Ryan reached out to the girl and squeezed her shoulder, hand lingering a few seconds too long. The blonde laughed—her high-pitched giggle ringing through the air—and said something else, but Addy couldn’t hear the words over the roar of the music.

She raised the cup to her lips and took another sip, wondering how many more drinks she’d have to chug before she could get that image out of her head.

“Shit,” Lisa said. “She might as well be sitting in his lap. Is she even legal?”

“He’s drunk and mad at me,” Addy said, and she realized she was trying to make excuses for him. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that was exactly what she was doing. That was all she ever did; make excuses for Ryan.

“I’m drunk, too,” Lisa said. “But you don’t see me climbing into your lap.” She paused, grinning. “Not that I wouldn’t jump on that train.” She laughed, nudging Addy, but in a moment, her face was serious again. “Are things okay with you two?”

“Fine,” Addy said. She felt the overwhelming urge to add another layer of clothing so Lisa wouldn’t be able to somehow spot the bruise on her chest, or the fading bruises on her arms from a drunken escapade with him two weeks ago.

“Fine?” Lisa’s eyebrows shot up, and suddenly Addy wished she was anywhere else but there. She cleared her throat, eyes fluttering from Ryan and down to the booze-infused liquid sloshing around in the cup.

“I think I want to end it.”

“With Ryan?” Lisa gasped, drawing stares from across the room.

“Shhhhh!” Addy hissed, flushing. “Yes, with Ryan. I think I want to end it.”

“Why?” Lisa asked. “Has he done something? I mean, we all know he’s a chauvinistic pig, but I thought you knew that when you started dating him.”

“I knew that. I mean, I know that.” Realizing that she’d been clenching her jaw painfully, Addy tried to relax.

“Are you telling me you’re going to break off the engagement?” Lisa hissed, and Addy cringed at the thought of that. With men like Ryan, women didn’t end the relationship. He did, and only on his terms, nobody else’s.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she said. “I just want to enjoy my night.”

“What a dick weed he is,” Lisa said.

“You told me you’d stop saying that.”

“I haven’t said it to his face in, like, three months. Progress.”

“Progress,” Addy agreed. More than anything, she wanted to tell Lisa the truth; that Ryan hit her sometimes when he drank. But she felt scared, scared to hear what her best friend would say, terrified that Lisa would judge her, ridicule her, or even worse, pity her.

“You should be happy, Addy.” Lisa dropped her hands in her lap and met her eyes. “With life. With getting into medical school. With Ryan. But you’re not happy, and I know you’re not happy, and I wish you would talk to me.”

Addy hesitated for a moment, her eyes on Ryan, wanting nothing more than to let it all spill out. No, she wasn’t okay. It wasn’t just tonight she’d considered—for the umpteenth time—leaving Ryan. Breaking up with him. Kicking him to the curb. No sane person could understand her desire to stay with him, and the worst part was, there was no desire anywhere in the equation. Desire didn’t keep her chained to a man who hit her. Desire didn’t make her stupid or petty or weak for staying with him.

Fear did. Fear of Ryan. Fear of what he might do to her if she tried to break up with him.

He’d threatened her before in a drunken state, made it clear that if he couldn’t have her, nobody would. And that very fear kept Addy coming back, accepting the apology, loving him even when she knew she shouldn’t.

“It isn’t something you should have to think about,” Lisa said, sensing her hesitation. “Loving the right person means that even in the bad moments, you know you wouldn’t want it any other way. It means that come hell or high water, you’re safe and loved and respected by that person, even through difficult times. That’s what matters.”

“I know,” Addy said.

“Do you though?” Lisa reached out and rested her hand on Addy’s arm. She leaned in, lowering her voice. “I don’t want you to end up with someone like your dad, Addy.”

She looked away from Lisa, holding back tears, trying to rein in her desperate emotions. Before Lisa could reach out to her, she stood up.

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

Lisa said something that Addy couldn’t hear, but she didn’t bother turning to ask as she pushed her way through the sweaty crowd of people. Once safely inside the empty bathroom, she locked the door and stood in front of the mirror, letting the tears flow free. Mascara ran down from her lashes, clinging to her cheeks. She yanked a square of toilet paper off the holder and scrubbed, desperately trying to cleanse her skin of the black smudges.

As she dropped the crumpled tissues into the toilet, the sleeve of her jacket rode up. She caught sight of three things at once: pink, jagged scars on her forearm, fingerprint-sized bruises settling on top of those, and just below that, a shimmering rock newly glistening on her left hand. She pulled her arm back and stared at the ring, ignoring the scars and the bruises as she moved her fingers back and forth to watch the diamond catch rays of light. It was a beautiful ring, one she would never have expected from anybody, let alone her high school love interest, Ryan Parker.

There was another side to Ryan, the side Addy had fallen for. He was a successful man, a man with money and smarts and class. A proud military man who came from a respectable family, Ryan was in his second year of law school. He was kind, the man who showered her with lavish gifts and bouquets of silk flowers for no other reason than because he could. A handsome man, and intelligent, the top of his class.

Sober, Ryan was every woman’s dream.

When they’d dated in high school, she’d only seen the beautiful side of him; the sweet, charming, adorable man who could take her in his arms and make the world better, even if just for a moment. It wasn’t until they were two years in before Addy caught her first glimpse of his alcohol-induced rage.

The first time he’d ever hit her, she’d had a black eye for weeks. She’d left him then, angry and hurt, and he’d begged for her forgiveness. He’d held her and cried and told her it would never happen again. And she believed him. How could someone vow to love another person so unconditionally, but continue to hurt that person?

On the other side of the bathroom door, people were laughing. Addy heard Lisa shout something, but there was no making it out. She was drunk and probably flirting with some random guy lucky enough to act interested.

Addy closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. Her heart was pounding in her ears, so distinct it was unsettling. She stepped back to compose herself and bumped into the magazine holder behind her. Some personal hygiene products clattered to the floor, and Addy knelt to pick them up. Near her foot, a spare blade from Lisa’s razor had fallen off the shelf and onto the floor.

Addy stared at it, a knot of emotions tightening in her chest. Without thinking, she reached down and picked up the razor head from the floor. She brushed her hair back with one hand, unable to look at herself in the mirror again. Holding her breath, she put the cold steel of the razor against the back of her hand.

A sense of excitement buzzed through her; it was a familiar feeling, one of power and control. She pushed harder. The skin under the blade turned white as the circulation smothered. She lifted the blade from her hand. The white faded, allowing the pink of blood to escape back into the area under the skin. Swallowing her hesitation, she rolled up the sleeve on her left arm, ignoring the red, jagged scars already mingled with the fingerprint bruises from Ryan. She pressed the blade to the thin veil of skin and pushed.

There was pain at first, accompanied by the initial moment of shock. Addy put more pressure on the razor blade, her breath coming out in raspy gasps as the shiny steel punctured the skin. A drop of blood pooled at the tip, so dark it was crimson. The pain turned into satisfaction, and she slid the blade across the skin in one clean cut. In a single instant, blood pooled to the surface. It was shiny and mesmerizing, taunting her, beckoning her in. She rested the blade one inch down from the first cut and sliced quickly, once more, until there were two blood-soaked lines on the surface of her arms.

And then another.

Addy embraced the pain; it was a sharp slap of reality. It was a pain that spoke to her, a pain that assured her she was in control of something, anything, in her life. The pain she inflicted on herself felt different from the pain Ryan inflicted on her. It made her feel in control.

The blade dropped from Addy’s fingers, clanking to the bathroom floor, now tinted with blood. She slid down the wall, droplets of red smearing on her skin as she rested her head in her hands, body shaking with sobs, thinking again of the blow of Ryan’s fist against her chest. She remembered the agony she felt on her arm the last time he’d grabbed her in a drunken rage; recalled the time he’d hit her in the face, giving her a bloody nose, before breaking down in sobs and apologizing to her. It was a game with him. I hate you, but don’t leave me. It won’t happen again. I promise.

Trying not to spill blood on Lisa’s fluffy bathroom rug, Addy reached for the roll of toilet paper and ripped it from its holder, unraveling a wad and pressing it against the gashes on her arm. Her other hand inched toward the razor blade, and it took all the effort she had in her not to put it against her skin again. The satisfaction had dissipated, and now, the pain was pulsating up and down her arm. She had to stay in control of this, too, no matter how ridiculous it seemed.

On the other side of the door, another laugh echoed down the hallway. Addy realized that she could end it all right now and nobody would even know—maybe not even care. But was there a heaven? Was there a hell? She didn’t believe in such things, and it made the thought of death that much more frightening.

Addy didn’t want to die, not really. She loved her job, her school, the chic little apartment on campus she shared with Lisa. She enjoyed life, especially when the veil of black sorrow and nagging unhappiness lifted a little and she could breathe again. Oh, but the anxiety, the need to control everything, that was the worst, even worse than the sadness. Her drive to do well, to do flawlessly, pulled at her every day. There was no mediocre in her life, there was only faultless perfection, and she knew, probably, it would one day kill her.

The blood from the incisions on Addy’s arms soaked through each wad of toilet paper. By the time the flow finally stopped, six people had pounded on the door, yelling about having to pee. She stood and pulled the sleeves on her arms down over the raw, jagged marks before rinsing the razorblade and tossing it into the trash.

Addy found Lisa sitting propped up on the edge of the couch with her legs crossed, flaunting the flawless skin, breasts nearly falling out of the top of her tank top. She had switched out her bottle of beer for a fifth of vodka, and there were two men, one on either side of her, vying for attention. In her free hand, she was holding a joint.

“There you are,” she called, giggling. “Do you want me to get you a drink?”

“No. Can you let Ryan know I’m going for a drive? I have his keys; I need some air.”

“You’re going for a drive this late at night?” Lisa asked. She sat up, slapping one of the groper’s hands away. “Where to? Are you sober?”

“I don’t know where to, and I’m all right.” Addy shrugged on her jacket and turned back to Lisa, feeling concern creeping down her neck for her friend. Lisa had always been a badass, and Addy had seen outright the force behind a punch she offered to any assholes who might not leave her alone. If only Addy had those balls, she’d knock Ryan the hell out. “Are you okay here by yourself?” she asked, side-eyeing one guy trying to stick his tongue down Lisa’s throat. Before Lisa bothered to answer, however, she yanked her face away from the stranger’s tongue, and quick as lightning grabbed his genitals in one hand, squeezing. The kid made a sound that was something between a squeal and a gurgle and sank to his knees in front of her.

“Can’t you see I’m talking?” Lisa snapped. She released her grip on his testicles and turned back to Addy. “All good here. How about you? Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later.”

“Sure.”

Addy gathered her jacket and made her way out into the cold of the night, grateful for the muting of the noise as she shut the door behind her. She took in a lungful of crisp, fresh air and walked through the dark toward the SUV. She needed to get away from it all before she lost her mind.

The rain pounded down hard outside, shattering like glass against the pavement, soaking her to the bone. Twice, she got caught in the muddy pits of the driveway and almost fell. As she reached for the driver’s side handle, the front door slammed behind her.

“Where are you going?” Ryan shouted, his voice muffled by the roar of the rain.

“For a drive.” From where she stood, Addy saw him roll his eyes, exasperated before he turned to open the door back up. He yelled something to his friends inside, then turned around and stepped down from the porch, setting the half-empty cup on the railing to stuff his hands into his pockets. He swayed as he approached her.

“What’s the problem, baby?”

“I don’t have a problem,” Addy stopped outside the car door, staring at him. “Do you mind? I need to clear my head.”

“Hey.” He stepped in front of her, blocking the driver’s side door. “Tell me what the problem is.” When he lifted his hand to her face, Addy pulled away.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, trying to slip past him.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

Addy could see he was sobering up, and that made her angrier than any terrifyingly drunken escapade he’d performed tonight. Here he was, the compassionate man she loved, and now everything could be beautiful again in his perfect little world.

“Ryan, not now, okay?” Addy reached for the door handle once more, but he beat her to it, grabbing the keys in her hand to pry them from her fingers.

“What were you doing in the bathroom?” he said. “You were in there too long.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked carefully, but she already knew where the conversation was going. Her cutting was no secret to him, and he hated it as much as she hated herself for it.

“You know what I’m talking about. Is that what you were doing in there? Hurting yourself?”

“It’s none of your fucking business.” She pulled her sleeves down farther to hide the brand-new gashes, heat rising to her neck with shame.

“It is my business. You’re my fiancée. I care about you.”

“You care about me,” Addy repeated. She was cold now, standing out in the rain, pelted by the chilly droplets. The water-soaked straight through her layers of clothing and chilled her core. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked at Ryan. “So, you’re the only person allowed to hurt me, is that it?”

Silence settled between them, a silence so heavy it weighed on her chest, forcing her to catch a breath before she passed out. Ryan stepped forward and leaned in, just slightly, but it was enough to make her stomach tighten with apprehension. His lips were near her ear, one hand reaching to take hold of her upper arm in a gentle but warning grip.

“Not tonight, Addy,” he said. “We won’t discuss this here.”

She hated his tone, the way he tried to belittle her, speak to her like she was a child on the verge of a punishment. She pulled her arm away from him, and he let her do so. No way would he hurt her out here, where they were fair game for prying eyes or passing drunks. No, not here. He wasn’t that stupid.

“Why can’t we discuss this here? Why won’t you help yourself, Ryan? You say you love me, so prove it.”

For a weak moment, Addy had the urge to pull him into her, to kiss him and plead with him and ask him why their relationship was in such shambles and why he wanted so desperately to hurt her. But she didn’t. Instead, she pried the keys from Ryan’s fingers and slipped past him, sliding into the driver’s seat to turn on the car. She wanted him to stop her, to talk to her, to tell her that, yes, he would get into therapy and, yes, he loved her more than he loved the bottom of the bottle.

But he didn’t. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and hovered near the open door. “Where are you going?”

Addy hesitated. “I have things to think about.”

As she drove, tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision. She hated feeling this way, an unfortunate victim. She had always pitied those battered women she’d heard about; the moms and daughters and wives stuck in controlling and demeaning relationships, romantic or otherwise. It was sad, and it was heartbreaking, but even more, it was pathetic.

No, Addy was pathetic. She was these women, the wife with the bruised eye and the daughter with the fat lip. She was the woman that Addy herself had often pitied in her field of work, the girl whose hand she held, reassuring her, after another violent bout with a boyfriend. She was no better than any of them, and she knew it.

Her acceptance into medical school had been such a short-lived celebration. For a moment, reading that letter, she’d felt like maybe it would all be okay, and things would somehow come together like the warped fairy tale she’d always dreamed of. They’d be a beautiful couple, she and Ryan; successful, married, and most of all, happy. One day they’d have children, and Ryan would be as devoted to them as she hoped he would be to her. He’d love them and cherish them and give them whatever they wanted.

Until he took his first drink, anyway, and then they’d be back to square one.

She had to end it with him. It was time. Their relationship was only getting worse, not better, and Addy couldn’t fathom spending the next sixty years living with his violent mood swings while he only got worse. Anger was replacing her fear, and it was time to rip off the Band-Aid, time to leave before it was too late. She’d seen the movies; she knew the turn these things eventually took.

The rain came down hard, pounding on the roof, drowning out the sound of the radio in the background. Addy drove fast, hitting wet spots on the asphalt, feeling the SUV skim over the water at a dangerous speed. But she kept going. She wanted nothing more than to get away from the pain and heartache that consumed her life.

A sound like a gunshot reverberated through the car, shaking the SUV savagely. Addy let up on the gas, cursing, knowing all-too-well that a tire had just popped on Ryan’s car. As she eased the vehicle to the side of the road, a Mustang roared past, leaning on their horn. Addy put up her middle finger and slammed the vehicle into park, resting her head on the steering wheel in defeat. She couldn’t bear to call and ask Ryan for help, especially after the argument they’d just had. She was tired, it was still pouring rain, and the last thing she wanted to do was change the fucking tire.

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there behind the wheel of the SUV when there was a rap on the window. She started, heart leaping in her throat as she turned to see a hooded figure standing outside the window. She rolled it down, droplets of rain hitting her face.

“Hey,” the man called through the rain. He wore a zipped black jacket, the hood drawn up over his head and a tattered backpack slung over one shoulder. “Do you need a hand?”

He didn’t remove his hood, but Addy could see his features. He was young, a year or two older than she was, maybe. His dark hair poked out in disarray around his forehead, and a five o’clock shadow was appearing on his narrow chin. Dark bangs shadowed his magnificent blue eyes, and when he looked at her, Addy felt as though this stranger standing in front of her was looking straight through her.

“Uh. Yeah, thank you.” She tore her gaze from the guy’s face and got out of the car, forgetting momentarily about the drama with Ryan. The guy dropped his bag and helped her retrieve the spare tire and jack from the back of the SUV. As Addy handed the jack to him, their fingers brushed, and a small tremor of desire traveled down her arm. Her breath caught in her throat, heart thumping wildly against her chest. The man’s eyes fixed on her face, drifting from her squinted gaze, and down to the lip she was absentmindedly chewing on.

“No problem,” he said and pulled his hand away from hers. Addy stepped back, swaying, trying to gain composure. She cleared her throat and focused on the sound of the rain to force her back to reality.

“I appreciate the help,” she said. “One of those days, you know?”

The guy scoffed as he kneeled to get to work on the tire, but a smirk played on his lips. Addy once again found her eyes searching the dark lines on his face for a few seconds too long.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know how that goes.”

Since he didn’t offer his name, Addy didn’t ask. She stood back instead, admiring the way his hands worked confidently and flawlessly on the car, even in the rain. They were rough and calloused hands, worn tough by years of demanding work. At one point, just briefly, the stranger removed his hood to push back his disarray of black hair, and Addy felt a warm puddle of drool pool beneath her tongue.

“Just take it slow on the way home,” he told her when he finished. “It’s a pretty solid spare and shouldn’t give you problems but be careful in the rain anyway.” He tossed the flat tire into the back of the SUV and then turned to smile at her. The stubble on his face made her want to run her hands over his chin, and she cursed herself for even thinking like that. Despite her plan to end things with Ryan, she was not an unfaithful woman, especially not with a stranger she didn’t even know.

“I appreciate the help,” she said again, drawing her hand behind her back so she wouldn’t go in for a hug or something. “Thank you.”

“No worries.” The guy patted the hood of the car. “Good luck, huh? I hope the night gets better for you.” He picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder as Addy got into the SUV and fished for the keys in her pocket.

As she tinkered with the ignition, the thought of going home to Ryan sat heavy in her stomach. She exhaled and closed her eyes, watching the man walk away from her. Above them, another clash of thunder shook the sky, and the rain got thicker. Addy started the engine and rolled down the window.

“Hey!” she called. She stuck her head out the window, ignoring the pelting of rain against her face. “Do you want a ride?”

The guy turned back to her, hands in his pockets. He tilted his head to the side as if pondering this. Then he smiled. He had an endearing smile, and it made her skin tingle.

“That would be great,” he said. “Thanks.”

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